Q 3 m — (-1 6 g =^=^ 1 — 7 = ^— za 3 m 7 m 4 = — 1 ^SS ^ 6 l^ir.i iw.'X'V'ji'T-r :.^ . BY A , H) THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES A colijEction of POEMS AND SONGS DESCEIPTIVE. SENTIMENTAL & HDMOEOUS BY J. C. TROTT. HALIFAX : " Guardian " Printing Works, George Street. 1895. To Poetry To a Violet To a Daisy Thou Art Passing Away Love... The Masher O To a Buttercui) 'Tis Better on Before A Tribute Norah Doone An Old Old Story Carpe Diem The People's Park At Home Natui-e's School The Snow ^ Speak the Triitli ... The Power of Kindness... The Solo Boy A Literary Tragedy A November Day The Meimaids Robert Burns A True Alan The Forest The Rejirieve My Little Boy Who Died (Tuardian Angels A Birthday Wish (Jeneral (4ordon ... A Political Ballad Pleasures ... Tho' Far From Thee ... The First Kiss May and December Autumn Practical Sympathy True Nobility 'Tis the Voice of the Comp. Descent is Easy The Si)ecial Correspondent O Never Say Die ! Kvening The Lay of the Lost Minstrel . Spring Bradford ?■. Halifax Life's Alchemy Only a Circus Clown An Invocation to Nature Who is My Neighbour?... Speak no 111 Actin' Webb Charity PR )NTKNTS. TmIa 1? Page. mr Page. 1 The Young .. 65 2 The Portrait of a Critic ... .. 67 3 A Quiet Mind .. 69 4 Consider the Flowers ... .. 70 5 Trip to the Isle of Man ... .. 71 6 The Parting .. 73 An Aged Pilgrim 74 8 Waifs and Strays 75 ... 10 Morn .. 76 ... 12 Experience... .. 77 ... 12 To a Rose .. 78 ... 15 Faded Leaves .. 79 ... 16 The Spirit of S]iriiig 80 ... 19 The Return to Wisdom ... .. 81 ... 20 The Hero 86 ... 21 The Green Dell 88 22 " Guardian "r. "Courier" 89 ... 23 Nis-'ht Thoughts .. 90 ... 24 A Tribute .. 93 ... 26 The Poet's World 94 .. 27 A Pastoral ... .. 95 ... 28 Poverty .. 96 ... 29 A Jingle .. 98 ... 31 Where are the Nine ? ... .. 99 ... 32 An Autumn Memory .. 100 ... 33 The Gift of Poetry .. 102 ... 34 The Priest's Secret .. 103 ... 36 A Voice from the Sky ... .. 10(i ... m A Life Thought .. 108 ... 37 The First Psalm .. 109 ... 38 The New Year .. 109' ... 39 Burlesque v. The Drama .. Ill ... 39 A Word of Consolation ... .. 114 ... 40 The Winter Months of '95 .. ik; ... 40 Life .. 117 ... 41 To Scotland .. 118 ... 42 The Poet's Joy .. 119 ... 43 A Night Reverie .. 120 ... 44 A Greeting .. 122 ... 45 A Song .. 123 ... 46 Deeds rer.s?<.s- Creeds .. 124 ... 48 The Day is Dark and Dreary .. 125 ... 49 A Midnight Catastrophe .. 120 .. 51 "Faithful unto Death"... .. 128 ... 52 A Christmas Story .. 129 ... 54 Verbum Sap .. 134 ... 55 A Prologue .. 134 ... 56 The Constant Heart .. 136 ... 58 Be Still .. 1.36 ... 60 The Bee .. 137 ... 61 A Ballad .. 137 ... 62 The Flight of Summer ... .. 138 ... 63 A Tribute .. 139 861900 CONTEXTS. For Love and Chivalry The Jester's Love... Till Death do part A Lament . . ■Carissimma The Tale of Life ... My True Love The Lady of the Land The Jester The Tale of Love ... Drive Them Back over the Tarry Not Memory He Has Gone Life's Inequalities The Emigrant Ship My Lady Sleeps ... Sleeij, Calmly Sleep The Lovers... The Idiot Lad Our (4ifts ... The Old Year My Love Fancyland ... The Author's Aspiration Page. 140 141 142 143 143 144 146 147 148 150 Water 151 152 152 154 155 156 158 159 160 lt>4 16(i 161 107 168 169 The True Politician To Peace O Sing those Songs Again Daffodils In the Gloaming The Girl I Loved Long Years Ago Rules of Life Christmas is Here The Sea The Buccaneer The Wind ... The Little Messenger Earth and Heaven Hojie A Life Thought A Greeting ... "Ave Maria" The World's Needs England's Duke is Satisfied Only an Old Old Ditty ... The Hours of Life Sonnets To a Disappointed Genius Page. 170 171 172 173 174 175 175 176 178 178 180 182 184 185 187 189 189 190 192 192 193 194 195 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. Abraham, H. J., Tarish Church Choir Ashworth, Normanton, Gibbet Street Almond, W., 1, Milton Terrace Almond, C, do. Ackroyd, W., Borough Analyst Angus, Mrs. G., H, Pembroke Street, Glasgow Alter, J. A., 5, Knight Street . . Ashworth, Mrs. F., 39, Holly Grove Ansteed, W., Theatre Royal . . Brooke, The Ven. Archdeacon, The Vicarage Blatchford, M. J., . . Barber, L.. C, " Guardian " Office Bates, M., do. Beaver, W. H., do. Berry, J. (Messrs. Helliwell's, Crown Street) Balmforth, William Ernest, " Guardian " Office Barnes, A., Parish Church Choir Bentley, Bobinson, Dean Clough Bedfoid, Charles, Mount Street Brearley, T. H., Parish Church Choir Burke, G., do. Bentley, H., do. Brookes, W., do. Binns, J. V., do. Blakey, Alfred, do. Beverley, B., do. Bailey, Ernest, 7, Manor Drive Bates, James (Messrs. Walton's, Square) Brier, J., Woolshops Bentley, J. Tasker, 10, Victor Terrace Bowman, H. H., J. P., Savile Grove Brook, J., Post Office Bowles, J. J. (My Bootmakers) Bo wker, C, Kingston Bairtitow, J. (Messrs. Seed Brothers) Bromwich, Miss, Raglan Street Beton, Hy. E., Heathfield Place Birtwhistle, W. H., Lower Cross Street Bell, Henry, Cash Supply Stores Brook, William, Waterhouse Street Bailey, W., Solicitor, Waterhouse Street Bulmer, T. Edgar, Willow Bank Bottomley, Robert, 17, Milton Terrace Clucas, Charles, Grand Theatre Crabtree, Edward, " Guardian " Othce Couldwell, J. W., Wards End. . Crabtree, W., Conservative Union •Collins, J., Parish Church Choir -Crossland, J. H. 1 1 1 1 •) 1 1 1 1 5 5 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 3 1 1 II. LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. Cooke, William, Bull Green . . . . . . . . 1 Coates, Lister, George Street . . . . . . . . 1 Growther, T. G., Parish Church Choir .. .. ..1 Cooper, J. H., do. . . . . . . 1 Cliff, J., Barum Top .. .. .. ..1 Coekroft, Ernest, Post Office .. .. .. ..1 Clayton, J. S., Kingston .. .. .. ..5 Crossley, J. E., Craven Terrace .. .. . . 1 Crawshaw, J. H., Earl Street . . . . . . . . 1 Cotton, A., Yorkshire Penny Bank .. .. ..1 Copley, Wright, Hose Street, . . . . . . . . 1 CoUinson, T., J.P., Waterh'iuse Street .. .. ..1 Collinaon, E., St. John's Place .. .. ..1 Collins, Mrs., 17, Dumbarton Road, Glasgow . . . . 1 Cawthra, J. S., 3, Gladstone Road . . . . . . I Douglas-Hamilton, Rev. H. A., Holy Trinity Vicarage .. 1 Dunstan, W. H., Parish Church Choir . . . . . . 1 Dennis, J. R., Dean Clough .. .. .. ..1 Dobson, — (Messrs. Simpson & Son) . . .. . . 1 Dixon, H., Argyle Press . . . . . . . . 1 Dobson, C, Craven Edge .. . .. ..1 Denham, W., St. James' Street . . • • . . 1 Davenport, Thomas, 46, St. Augustine's Terrace . . . . 1 Dolan, Dr. T. M.,Horton House .. .. . . ;? Drake, H., Akroydon .. .. .. .. l Dobson, G. G., 8, Lewis Street . . . . . . 1 Earnshaw, S., Ferguson Street .. .. .. 1 Fielding, L., " Guardian " Office .. .. ..1 Fleming, F., The Boulevards . . . . . . -1 Fleming, J. A., Pellon Place . . . . . . . . 1 Fleming, J. W., Corn Market .. .. •• .. 1 Fish, W. H. . . . . . . . . - • 1 Foster, H. E.. Solicitor, George Street .. •• ..1 Foster, J. W., Square Chapel . . . . • . . . 1 Fox, C. J., Architect, George Street .. .. .. 1 Foster, Frank, " Guardian " Office . . . • • 1 Foster, J. W., do. .- •• •• 1 Farr, J., Crown Street .. • •■ •• .. 1 Greenwood, F., "Guardian" Office .. •• .. 1 Garland, W. H., The Boulevards .. •• •• 1 Gibbs, W. P., Post Office . . • - • • • • 1 Garside, J. E., (Mr. Walshaw's, Northgate) . . . . 1 Gaukroger, W., J.P., Fernside .. •• .. 1 Gordon, Canon, St. Marie's Rectory .. .. .. 1 Graydon, Rawdon, 30, Southgate .. •• .. 1 Garside, G. E., King Cross Street .. •• -.1 Greenwood, J. W., Parish Church Choir . . . . . . 1 Haigh, W., 31, Stirling Street.. .. ■• •• 1 Halcrow, J., " Guardian " Office . • • • . . 1 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. III. Heap, W., (Mr. Learoyd's) .. .. .. .. 1 Horsley, F., Cross Hills Coal Club . . . . . . 1 Halliday, J. E., Northgate (Mr. Fawthrop's) . . . . 1 Huntriss, E., Hopwood Hall .. .. .. .. 1 Hitcben, J. H., Parish Church Choir . . . . 1 Hey, C. H., Bull Green . . . . . . . ." i Higgins, C. A., Bull Green .. .. ., .. 1 Hadfield, J. K., Tfcbnical School .. .. 1 H.ill, Dr. J. W., Moor Royd . . . . . . . . i Halliday, John, St. Augustine's Schools .. .. .. 1 Holroyd, B., Parish Church Choir . . . . 1 Higden, W. H., Holy Trinity School . . . . . [ l Haicb, J. J., Central Hall .. .. .. .. 1 Hanson, Ehud, Clare Road .. .. .. .. 1 Horsfall, Richard, Sooodley House . . . . . . 1 Hogg, -John, Brunswick Street . . . . . . I Hey, Hanson, Battinson Road . . . . . . 1 Haigh, Miss, 2, West Grove, Wellington Street . . . . 1 Halliwi-iU, J. D., 3, Pear Street, Kingston . . . . . . 1 Halliday, J., 67, Clare Road . . . . . . . . 1 Harper, B., Pellon Lane .. .. .. .. 1 Hallas, Gledhill, Stainland .. .. .. .. 1 Holdsworth, W., Auctioneer, Northgate . . . . . . 1 Haigh, W. (Messrs. Carver & Co.) .. .. ..I Hill, E. H., Harrison Road .. .. .. .. 1 Henderson, Rev. R. A., Parish Church . . . . . . 1 Holt, James, 34, Hyde Park Road . . . . . . 1 Hirst, David, Baines Street . . . . . . . . 1 Hird, Rev. H. G., St. Mary's Vicarage . . . . . . 1 Ibberson, C. W., John Street . . . . . . . . 1 lllingworth, T., Crown Street . . . . . . . 1 Imbery, J., 16, Hyde Park Road . . . . . . 1 Jackson, W., Post Office . . . . . . . . 1 Jowett, J. E., Osborn Terrace, Queen's Road . . . . 1 .Tackaon, J. W., Sanitary Department . . . . . . 1 Johnstone, Rev. A., Park Place . . . . . . 1 King, J. W., " Guardian" Office .. .. .. i Kitchen, T., do. . . . . . . ] Knowles, J., Gibbet Street . . . . . . . . 1 Kerr, J. R., Square .. .. .. ..2 Iversbaw, Leonard, County Court . . . . . . 1 Knights, Miss H., 25, Savile Crescent .. ., .. 1 Kershaw, J. B., Fountain Street . . , . . . 2 Kirk, Major, Harrison Road . . . . . . . . 1 Lister, H., Hanson Lane .. .. .. ..1 Lewthwaite, Rev. T., All Souls' Vicarage. . .. . . 1 Lawrence, John, Green Lane . . . . . . 1 Lister, J., M. A., C.C, Shibden Hall . . . , .. 'j Learoyd, J. I., Commercial Street . . . . . . 1 IV. LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS, Lawrence, Frank, Green Lane Lent, Walter, King Cross Littlefield, A., 2, Bedford Street, Gibbet Street Lowe, E., Eussell Street Linley, J., West Hill Park Lister, A., 31, New Road Mumby, C, " Guardian " Office Manson, W. Innes, Lightcliffe. . Marchant, J. C, Dean Clough Morton, J., Pellon Lane Mitchell, David, Griffin Hotel.. Morton, S., Parish Church Choir Mitchell, F., Wards End Mitchell, J., Dean Clough Mitchell, Louis, 37, Swinton Terrace Maude, Richard, Aked's Road. . Mitchell, W. H., Wards End . . Mitchell, J., Kingston Millson, Rev. F. E., Balmoral Place Mackrell, J., Hopwood Lane . . Marsh, G., Silver Street Milligan, George, Organist McNicoll, Dr., Manchester Road, Southport Martin, W., Falcon Laundry . . Midgley, W., Harrison Road . . Mahony, E., North Parade Moore, H. E., Holmfield Mitchell, J. H., Greetland Naylor, G., Post Office Normanton, J. W., St. James' Road North, George, Crown Street . . Nettleton, A., Dean Clough Neville, J. L., Theatre Royal . . Normington, J., 37, Violet Street Gates, W. H., Stirling Street . . Gates, George Alfred, Bangor Street Oliver, A., 33, Milton Street . . Ogden, J. H., " Guardian " Office Ogden, A. E., do. Osier, Rev. C. H., Parish Church Priestley, T., North Bridge Priestley, J., Waterhouse Street Pritchard, Charles, Portland Place Patterson, W. A., Milton Place Pickles, Miss, Messrs. Seed Bros. Patchett, J. J., Alma Street . . Pole, C, Town Hall Parkyn, Rev. N. L., Lightcliffe 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 2 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 5 1 1 1 2 1 1 1 1 1 3 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 2 2 1 1 1 1 1 LIST OF SUBSCRnSERS. Katclilife, J. W., " Guardian " Office Beeves, H., do. Robinson, W., Roebuck Yard . . Eatcliffe, Albert, Horley Green Road, Claremount Eowe Miss, Gladstone Road . . Eowe, Rev. G. F. H., Gladstone Road Roper, Frank, North Parade . . Robertshaw, Misses, Parliament Street Robinson, — , Parish Church Choir Renton, Miss, 25, Savile Crescent Rhodes, C, Silver Street Riley, J. T., J.P , Savile Lea . . Robertshaw, J., Town Hall Riley, T., Post Office Rouse, C. H., Norfolk Place . . Rigden, E., 55, Caledonia Road, Glasgow. Robinson, Henry, Bank House Reid, T. M., Crown Street Rawnsley, G. R., Waterhouse Street Riley, G. M., Commercial Street Roberts, John, Bell Hall Robertshaw, Mrs., Back Gerrard Street Sutcliffe, J., " Guardian " Office Sandie, R. W., " Guardian " Office Shaw, E., Post Office Seed, Joseph, Crown Street Seed, Tom do. Seed, Alfred do. Seed, George do. Seed, Albert do. Smith, David, Haley Hill Simpson, C, Akroydon Seed, Walter Sladdin, J., Gladstone Road . . Sykes, — Storey, Walter, King Cross Street Spencer, Councillor W. H. Spencer, Councillor J. T. Shepley, Harry Smith, Thos., Holly Grove . . Smith, Rev. M. C, Parish Church Scarf, J. Holly Grove Sheard, — , Messrs. Bracken & Co. Sharpe, G. F., Crossley Street.. Smiih, Adam, Heath View Singleton, R. H., Chester Road Smith, Mrs. M. A., 10, Prince Edward Street, Glasgow Smith, Thomas do. do. Smith, Miss R. B. do. do. Smith, Miss Lily do. do. 2 1 2 5 vr. LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. Shaw, S. v., Commercial Street Swale, J. S., 19. King Cross Street : Stott, J. W., Post Office ■Stubbs, T., do. Sladdin, J., 3, Holden Street . . Stafford, E. P., King Cross Street Stock, Rev. W. L., IG, Trooper Lane Smith, Councillor G. H., The Gleddings rSmith, W. J., School House, Thelfall Spencer, W. B., Governor Street Taylor, C, Parish Church Choir, Tetlaw, Handel, 25, Hanover Street Topham, Dr. A. S., Fountain Street Taylor, E. T., Post Office Thornton, A. G., Broad Ptoad, Sale, Cheshire Taylor, J. D., Princess Street . . Trott, R., 16, Edward Street, Deptford Utley, Samuel, C.E., Norfolk Place Walker, Mrs. T. J., 25, Savile Crescent White, J. H., " Guardian" Office Wilson, A., do. Whiteley, G., do. Wade, S. T., Roseberry Terrace Wilson, T., Gibbet Street Whitaker, Aid. J., CrHven Lodge West-Symes, Dr. E., Hope Hall Walsh, C, Co-operative Stores Wormald Miss Whitehead, J., Moorland Terrace Wilson, E., George Street Winter, Rev. E.,Elland Womersley, W. C. Wade Street Wild, T., Stannary . . Walshaw, J., Northgate Winter, J. W., The Boulevards Williamson, J., Station Bookstall Waddington, J. H., Draper Whiteley, W., St. James' Road White, Councillor W. Workman, F., Gibbet Street . . Williams, W. C, George Street Wood, J. S., " Courier " Office Wilkinson, Robert. Fountain Street Walton Keighley, The Woodlands Webster, C. E., Silver Street Wainhouse, William, Kinf^ Cross Street Wright, Dr. J. Crossley, Park Road ^Worsnop, A., Wards End PEEFACE, In submitting this collection of Poems and Songs to public consideration, I desire first of all to thank the numerous subscribers whose generous support has rendered possible the .achievement of a long-cherished desire. With regard to the work itself, I trust it will be found that in the various subjects treated of I have not attempted flights beyond my powers, but that, remembering the old saying that ^" fools rush in where angels fear to tread," I have pursued the vid media of safety, and confined myself to efforts well within the scope of my capabilities. Although probably the severely classical may be unable to discern much to either gratify the taste or appeal to the intellect, still I venture to hope the general run of readers will be able to derive both pleasure and profit, and also feel in the different portrayals of human character and experience that " touch of nature that makes the whole world kin." Painfully conscious of my many deficiencies, I must ask the reader's kind indulgence for any errors in construction or other little literary blemishes that may present themselves. Trusting that my humble eftbrts may commend themselves to your favourable consideration, I remain. Yours respectfully, J. C. TROTT. TO POETRY. n WEET Poesy, if thy bright h'ght lO I'»ut beam upon my way, This soul of mine can know no night; But, bless'd by thine Aeonian ray, Unbroken, cloudless, endless day. If but thy precious priceless gift My lowly soul possess, I liave a lever that can lift My heart above the ills that press In this drear mundane wilderness. Let but thy thrilling tuneful lay Fall on my ravish'd ear. All worldly tumults die away ; Then swiftly discord, doubt, and fear Vanish to more congenial sphere. With thine inspiring matchless fire touch each " trembling string " v)f my poor un instructed lyre. And various ((tuneful strains forth bring, Music's sweet soul awakeninsr. Kind Muse, my Alma Mater be, 'Neath thy benignant rule, Taught in thy great academy. Wise shall I grow tho' deemed a fool By this world's cold prosaic school. Could I but wield thy facile brush. What pictures wondrous rare AVould I portray — the crimson blush Of placid evening mildly fair — Or morning grand beyond compare ! Tiien beauteous Spirit, dispense Thy wonder-working power ; The fervour rich, the bliss intense Of thy unpurchaseable dower — Poesy's amaranthine flower. TO A ViOLET. CHILD of obscurity, Nestling in purity In the green dell ; Hid in thy lone retreat, Scatt'ring thy pei'fume sweet Where flowerets dwell. Mantl'd in modest grace. In thee my thought can ti'ace Type of that mind Which far from mortal ken, Far from the haunts of men, Noble and kind, Spends all Life's fleeting hours, All of its varying powers, In noble ways ; Shedding a fragrance round Earth's saddest, darkest ground,. Seeking no praise. Unknown, unrecognis'd, ' Often but little priz'd. Lowly, obscure ; Cradl'd in low estate, Scorn'd by the rich, the great, Worthy tho' poor. Bloom on, dear lowly flower, So may the Heavenly Power Teach us, that we May thy sweet worth discern, And the grand lesson learn Taught us by thee. :i TO A DAISY. SAVEKT flow'ret, clad in snowy white, Or in a vest of crimson bright, Meekly raising thy pui'e heaci From thy scented, verdant bed ; Gazing up with reverent eye To the vast expanse of sky — In simple trusting innocence Appealing to Omnipotence To grant thy tiny life a share In His all-embracing care. Happy in thy lowly state, Careless thou of Time or Fate ; The poet's pet, a brilliant gem In fair Flora's diadem. Teacher great in humble guise — Teaching alike foolish, wise ; Preacher thou most eloquent — Preaching lowliness ; content, Thankful when the sun's bright smile Woos thy blushing face awhile ; Uncomplainingly resign'd, When the angry tyrant wind Rudely smites thy trembling cheek Ever trustful, hopeful, meek, In thee a lesson deep we see Of patience in adversity — Hoping on for brighter days, Chpery skies and sunshine's rays. lowly daisy, e'er in thee, A Vtright example may we see ; Like thee may we be meek and pure, Be patient hardship to endure. Resigned unto His sovereign will, Whose power the universe doth till. THOU ART PASSING AWAY. fnHOU art passing away, but we will not deplore thee, L Though sorely it grieveth us from the 3 to part, ^Vhen we think of the glory that lies on before thee, With humble submission we see thee depart. 'i'liou art passing away, and we would not recall thee To this land of sorrow e'en had we the power ,^ On that tranquil shore no ills can befall thee ; No trouble-eharg'd clouds upon thee e'er lour Thou art passing away, hands rev'rent and tender Shall clothe thy still form for its last narrow bed, And a grief-stricken train shall solemnly render The last that affection can do for the dead. Thou art passing away, through the glittering portals. To the bright golden streets and the gem-sparkling phiiu, Where the rapturous hosts of redeemed immortals Make the balmy air ring with their ceaseless refrain. Tho^ art passing away, but we in our sorrow, ."Should not mourn over thee as those without hope, liat patiently wait the Eternal to-morrow, Heav'u aiding us well with our trial to cope. Thou art passing away, and we too must follow And quit this vain region of transient delight ; Earth's goodliest things, how poor and how hollow Appear they when view'd in Eternity's light ! Thou art passing away, and, blessed assurance — Through our Father's great love we may meet thee ngtiin ; How the hope fills our bosom with strength and endurance, zind aids us to carry our burden of pain ! 5 LOVE, WHAT force in the world is so potent as love ? The tempest may fright us. the earthquake remove, The roll of the thunder our minds may appal ; But love is a power greater stronger than all. Scare a being on earth but his sovereignty owns ; He sways like a despot proud kings on their thrones ; He rules the poor peasant who sighs in the grove, As his heart vainly strives with the power of love. Cupid ! a ruthless young tyrant thou art, Inflicting deep wounds with thy random-sent dart ; How often thou banishest sleep from the eyes, As vainly to woo it some poor lover tries ; Go seek where ye will, ye never shall find A monarch who wieldeth more sway o'er Mankind. Go ask if you will yon proud millionaire — Why he I'oams through his grounds with so pensive an air Why so troubl'd his mien, so haggard his face ] Why he wanders alone at so laggard a pace 1 And the pet child of Fortune's sad answer shall prove 'i'he exquisite toi'tures inflicted by Love. Ask too that brave sailor bo}- high on the mast, As the stout vessel trembles and reels in the blast. What is it that keeps him so calm 'raid the storm *? And he'll own with a blush — the sweet features and form Of a dearly loved maid, like an angel of light. Shine clear on his path through the tempest's dark night ; And as the good ship through the boiling surf moves, He is cheer'd by the thought of the sweetheart he loves. And have we not seen, too, the bold son of Mars Return home unscathed from the perd of wars To be vanquish'd at once by Beauty's bright glance, And yield at first prick of the young tyrant's lance I How that bosom as firm as his cuirass of steel, That never a tremor of terror did feel When bullet and sabre assail'd him in vain Hath been Mounded and torn by Love's blissful pain ! LOVE. Ask that child of sweet fancies as by the lone stream He thoughtfully roves — wliat's his favourite thtme 1 And his face will be wreath'd with a halo of light, As he smilingly answers, Love's heavenly delight ; Yes he sings " la grando passion " so wondrously strong, Yes love is the bard's sweetest, favourite song. THE MASHER O. (After Burns — A considerable distance.) HEIGHO the Masher The tight-panted Masher If there is ought amazes me It is the modern Masher 0. The curly-brimmed hat Masher The street-parading Masher Bowing to "'Totties" whom he meets, The lady-killing Masher 0. The fashion-watching Masher '1 he "jam-pot " collar'd Masher With '■ eyeglass in his ocular," The empty-headed Maslier 0. The leering, ogling Masher The bar- frequenting Masher Spending his father's hard won-pelf. The trade-despising Maslier 0. The idle, worthless Masher The bla/^e, rakish Masher 'Twas Nature who produced the man, But " brass " produo'd the Maslier 0. The art- affecting Masher The Wilde-adoring Masher The quite too utterly intense, The " high " aesthetic Masher 0. Ileigho the Masher () would to God the Masher Might be a useful manly man. And cease to be a Masher ! TO A BUTTERCUP. DEAR flow'ret, sorrow fills my breast, As I survey thy golden crest, That erst ou Nature's velvet vest So brightly shone, By Ruin's ruthless power oppress'd. Thy beauty gone. Bright darling of the rural glade, In sweet simplicity arrayed, O'er thee fond zephyrs as they stray'd Made music sweet, Alas ! now mangled 'neath the tread Of passing feet. We saw^ thee e'er reviving Spring Came forth on rainbow-tinted wing To metamorphose everything, A courier gay — Nature's pursuivant, heralding Appx'oaching May. When merry-hearted buxom May Beam'd brightly on the prospect gray, And thickly drap'd hedgerow and spray In blossom white, She smil'd on thee, her fav'rite fay. With deep delight. When Summer ope'd his golden reign. Clothing in radiant tints the plain. And Flora, with a beauteous chain Deck'd field and bower. We saw thee foremost in her train. Thou pretty flower. As summer clouds that melt away Before the sun's all powerful ray. So transient was thy life's brief day — With sudden blow — Misfortune mark'd thee fjr her prey, And laid thee low. § . TO A BUTTERCUP. Perchance some happy child at plaj^ Releas'd from pedagogic sway, Came with his noisy comrades gay, A frohc baud, And tore thee from thy home away With reckless hand. Type art thou of some luckless bard. Who labours manfully and hard To win Dame Fortune's kind regard, Then sees life's game Close e'er he play his winning card For deathless fame. Ah ! sadly dost thou illustrate. Poor flower, in thy hapless fate, The frailty of this mortal state — Life's slender thread — This isthmus that doth separate Us from the dead. Flower, from thy doom we learn that we, Sooner or later, fade like thee ; But all who tread unswervingly Fair Wisdom's way, Are blessed, let the stern decree Come when it may. 'TIS BETTER ON BEFORE. ye who tread life's pilgrim away _ With weary heart and sore, Find hope and comfort in the thought- Tis better on before. Though circumstances adverse be. And scanty be your store ; Be patient, brighter days will come ; "Tis better on before. 'tis better on before. 'riiough you may be beset by foes Who wound you o'er and o'er, A crown awaits the victor's brow ; 'Tis better on before. Ye struggling souls, who life's dark sky With anxious eyes explore, List, as Hope whispers in your ear, 'Tis better on before ! Though oft with gloomy fears oppress'd On this wild rocky shore, " He oriveth His beloved rest ; " 'Tis better on before. What though we be of low estate, Of origin obscure, Christ many mansions hath prepared ; 'Tis better on before. Were this cold world our only rest, Unblest were we and poor ; This life is but a fleeting dream, 'Tis better on before. Though Ruin threaten our frail barque, And well nigh whelm it o'er. We'll make the port of Heaven's deep calm ; 'Tis better on before. What though friend after friend depart, And leave vis lone and sore. This life's a scene of constant change, 'Tis better on before. Tf langour's soft insidious touch This mortal frame steal o'er. There is a laud where none are sick, 'Tis better on before. Why should we mourn our lov'd ones gone As though all hope were o'er ] The saying's truth they sweetly prove — 'Tis better on before. 10 'tis bettbh on before. rp There's not an ill this world contains That Heaven cannot cure, Ye heirs of immortality, 'Tis better on before ! The clouds that gather in life's sky And dim the prospect o'er, Piei'ce with the eagle eye of faith ! 'Tis better on before. Then come what may — earth's keenest woes- We'll dread them all no more ; They but endure for a night, 'Tis better on belore. A TRIBUTE. {Line-i written on hearing a bird singing in a Wood at Dayhrealc.) SWEET bird, warbling all unseen. Hid within thy covert green From intruding mortal eye. Hymning the awakening sky, Pouring fortli serenely gay Thme unpremeditated lay To welcome the approachnig day When the faint incipient flush Of Aurora's rosy blush Softly gilds the mountain's brow, And tinges verdant vales below. Pretty feathered troubadour. Opening thy melodious store Of Heav'n-given minstrel lore ; Making vocal the still wood With thy melody's full flood. Thou merry-hearted forester, A TRIBUTE. 11 Dame Nature's willing chorister ; Awaken'd by thy tuneful voice, The daisy opes its yellow eye ; For joy the gentle breezes sigh, The lovely flowerets rejoice, And bashfully uplift their heads From their dew-bespangl'd beds, To listen to thy matin song — A beauteous sympathetic throng. Bright Phoebus, as he strides along, Like mail-clad warrior bold and strong With warm approval lists thy lays, And generously largesse flings, In golden glints on thy soft wings, And thus thy tuneful toils repays. Thou tiny soul of joy and glee, Fluttering with ecstacy. Making known with rapturous zest, The joy that animates thy breasr — Teeming with a sweet unrest. I love thy tender simple strain, Strong antidote to care and pain ; Sweeter to me thy artless trill By far than train'd artistic skill, Where ofttimes affectation's art Plays so conspicuo\is a part. Sing on, dear bird, pour forth at will, His praise Who gave thee thy sweet skill ; Conti'ibute thou right lavishly Thy share in Nature's minstrelsy ; Mingle thou thy pure refrain With the universal strain That through Creation's wide domain Rolls on in volume rich and grand, O'er azure sea, o'er smiling land, Till blends it with the ceaseless song Of yonder blest angelic throng, AVhile countless ages roll along. NORA DOONE. T FONDLY lov'd a maiden fair, X I liv'd but in her eyes, And all the mundane scene for me Contain'd no dearer prize ; Wliile some crav'd wealth, and rank, and pnwor, I ask'd no richer boon Of Fortune than to win the heart Of lovely Nora Doone. I won her heart ; Love's flowery path I trod with footsteps light, And deem'd not that my beauteous day Could ever know a niofht : But from my lip the nectar cup Was dash'd and shatter 'd soon ; For envious Death tore from my arms My lovely Nora Doone. Ye little birds, lament with me ! Ye streams that ojHde along ! Ye restless plaintive breezes, swell The melancholy song ! My hopes like dead leaves thickly lie By Autumn's breezes strewn ; And Life presents no charm for me Since 'reft of Nora Doone, AN OLD OLD STORY. IN a squalid London attic. By a candle's flick'rnig light Sits a weary woman sewing, Toiling far into the night ; Grief and want have left their impi'ess On her figure slim and weak, And a fatal tinge of crimson Mantles her once rounded cheek. AN OLD OLD STORY. 10 III her face the ling'ring traces Of a beauty wondrous rare May be seen amid the ravage Sorrow has effected there ; Now, her eyes, once mildly lustrous, Gleam unnaturally bright, And her hair's dishevelled tresses Fall upon her shoulders slight. Once she was a happy maiden — Source of ever new delight Unto fond indulgent parents — - Of her home the joy, the light ; Petted darling of the village, Pride of all the country sice, In her innocence and beauty Happiness personified. How her honest rural lovers Sought for and did fondly prize As a treasure rich and precious One kind glance from iier bright eyes ; At her mandate roam'd the forest, Cull'd for her the fresh wild floA\crs, Deem'd the hours spent in her service Brightest happiest of hours ! But, like bird of evil omen, To that peaceful village came A gay votary of fashion — Bearer of a lofty name — Came he with his polished manners This poor maiden to ensnare, Lure her from the path of virtue, Wreck her life so young and fair. Ah ! that fiital ill-starr'd meeting — Memory's regretful glance Often brings the scene before her — The rural fete, festive dance ; The hastily sought introduction, And the strani^er's ai-dent ofaze, IToney'd words of adulation. Fascinating winning ways. AN OLD OLD STORY. Then the frequent secret meetiiiu — Fond embrace, impassioned kiss — - Solemn vows of true affection — Her sweet dream of coming bh"ss — • Conflict between love and duty- Dark temptation — hasty flight From the dear parental homestead Under cover of the night. 'Tis, alas ! the old, old story — Woman's trust, man's treachery — Story but too oft repeated In the world's dark history ; the bitter disenchantment — Waking from a vision fair, But to find hopes fondly cherish'd Vanish'd into empty air ! Now alone, betray'd, deserted. All her beauty's brilliant bloom Faded as a lovely flower Blighted in autumnal gloom ; Life denuded of its brightness- Nought her broken heart doth crave But to rest from earthly sorrow In the quiet of the grave. So the poor soul sits and labours. Slowly drooping day l)y day. Sinking 'neath her heavy burden. Stranded on Life's ocean way ; God of Mercy, save and pardon This frail victim of deceit ; Draw her by Thy loving Spirit, Lead her gently to Thy feet ! Teach her, all-pitying Saviour, Thou did'st come to save the lost— Thou Who purchased Mankind's pardon At Thy life's infinite cost ; Guide her through death's darksome valley To the haven of the blest, " Where the wicked cease from troublinQ- And the weary are at rest." 15 CARPE DIEM. PLUCK the lovely crimson rose, While its beauty brightly glows Ere the wind with angry gust Trail its petals in the dust. On yon azure-mantl'd sky. Gladly feast the eager eye ; Ei'e the sombre storm-clouds gather, And there cometh stormy weather. Soon will yonder golden sun His diurnal course have run ; Swiftly he his zenith wins. Swiftly hia decline begins. List to Pleasure's dulcet lute, Ere it lieth broken, mute, And deep dirges of despair Swell upon the saddened air. Tender lovers, while ye may, Wander through Love's flowery way ; Age, aiTayed in cold and gloom, Soon will steal your youthful bloom. Laboui''s hardy children, seize, Treasure each sweet spell of ease ; Duty's summons loud and cle-ir, Soon w'ill sound upon your ear. Of no future fondly dream, Tinted by Hope's solar beam ; But the present be our care. Let us make it bright and fair. If to-day be calm and fair, Who would be a prey to care ? Take no thought about to-morrow, Courage from the present borrow. Thus, with spirits stout and brave. Sail we o'er life's restless wave ; Eating what the Gods provide, Happy, wdiatso'er betide. THE PEOPLE'S PARK. ( Through the generosity of the late Sir Francis Grossle;/, Bart., M.P., presented to the Corporation of Halifax, and opened on the 14th of August, in the pear 1S57.) RESPLENDENT Muse, sweet spirit, deem'd by some Of heavenly birth, to my assistance come ! Hail, loveliest thou of all the lovely Nine, Whose peerless rays with dimless lustre shine ! Tutor'd by thee, most benignant Maid, Fain would I learn the poet's " tuneful trade ; " Vouchsafe to me the true Aeonian fire, And boldly sweep my inartistic lyre ; TUume my soul with thy celestial spark While I essay my theme — " The People's Park." Three long decades have roll'd their circling way Since that auspicious, memorable day. When with eclat its gates were open thrown Unto the people of our " good old town " — Fair progeny of that munificence. Which bless'd and blessing, widely did dispense Its golden store without regard to creed. Prompted alone by love of goodly deed. Be ever praised that kindliness of heart That fondly strove with Charity's soft art, In harmony with heaven's noble plan. To bless and cheer the changeful lot of man ; While throbs the heart, and memory holds its seat. Shall gratitude the Crossley's praise repeat. A pleasaunce fair, tho' of dimensions small, A sweet boudoir in Nature's splendid hall, Snugly enclos'd within a verdant square Of arborets and foreign saplings rare ; A picturesque and beautiful retreat. Yielding the studious eye refection sweet. Trim well kept paths and lawny beds declare With glad consent the gardener's lavish care ; And richly bright successively appear The varying blooms that deck the floral year. Pleasant its aspect when reviving Spring Waves o'er the scene his wonder-workinjr winaf ; When surly Winter, gi-owling with dismay. His howling minions gruffly calls away ; THE people's park. 17 And Flora comes the season fair to greet, Laying her earliest offerinjjfs at his feet ; Beauteous when comes, child of you glorious globe, Gay Summer, in his many-coloured robe ; The skies put on their most superb array, Their richest tints the flowers and trees display, And like a thing of life the fountain gay Tosses aloft bright showers of silvery spray. The grass is dyed in deepest emerald green ; Refulgent Sol, presiding o'er the scene, Illumines all with his unrivall'd shine ; Like burnish'd silver gleams the serpentine, O'er whose clear face, with graceful arched throat,. The swan majestic tranquilly doth float. While ducks respectful paddle in its wake, Or eager rush to catch the floatino- " cake " — As on the bridge delighted urchins stand. Dispensing bounties with unstinting hand. Pleasant it is in leisure hour to sit As youth and beauty lightly by us flit, On buoyant step, in healthful bloom array'd — The sturdy youth, the modest, graceful maid — Free from their toils in factory or mill, Full of young hope, rpgardless of the ill That may lie hidden in the future's haze, Contented with the present's cloudless days. Nor shall the Muse disdain to notice here That spot familiar, to our elders dear. Which with the title proud, " Park Parliament," Is dignified by general consent ; Within whose quiet well-sheltered retreat, Our aged sires, worn with the burden, heat Ot Life's stern fray, in solemn conclave meet ; Old cronies here each other warmly greet, Here hold the frequent serious debate ; Here settle oft the great affairs of State, Or fondly eulogise some hero great ; Tell of Time's changes, pleasures pass'd and gone,. The trials borne, the people they have known ; To Heav'n resigned, beguiling thus away The closing hours of Life's declining day. 18 THE people's park. Still further aid me, Muse, while I regard With thoughtful eye the spacious promenade — The level terrace, graced on either side With fragrant beds, the florist's special pride — Bright dainty beauties, exquisitely choice, Laid out in many an ingenious device ; The massive cannon, frowning grimly down, Stern witnesses of Albion's great renown, Telling of noble actions nobly done, Of daring deeds, and battles bravely won. The grand pavilion, fittingly, I ween. The central feature of the pleasant scene. Nt shall the classic eye seek vainly for The sculptor's art and mythologic lore ; See Telemachus, victor from the fray, Laying aside his militant ai-ray ; Diana, beauteous Goddess of tlie Chase ; The Dancing Girl, in attitude of grace ; Oreat Hercules, the ancients' hero grand. Firm as a rock in kingly pride doth stand ; Apollo, Jove's illustrious progeny, The God of Music, Science, Poetry ; With Sophocles, the lustre of whose name Won for Athenia everlasting fame ; The Music Maiden with her tambourine; Uurivall'd Venus, Beauty's peerless Queen, Lend dignity and finish to the scene. When melancholy Autumn gazes down Upon the prospect clad in russet brown ; Tho' daylight shortens and the flowers are few, And frequent teardrops Nature's cheek bedew ; When leaves lie thickly on the humid ground, While breezes sigh portentously around. And Nature shrinks, as from impending harms ; E'en then the scene hath its peculiar charms. In all the seasons of the circling year — In Spring's bright blush, or Winter's frown severe, Rich gleams of Beauty's heavenly light appear. Still, as Old Time goes on his busy round. May our glad feet within the Park be found. And may we have enlightened eyes to see AT HOME. 19 Fair Nature's gifts display'd so lavishly ; And e'er may Heav'n smile brightly on our town, Prosperity our labours richly crown ; May we advance in all the arts of peace, Our want diminish and our wealth increase ; Upon us Knowledge bend her kindly glance, ]VIay Science, Art, and Literature advance ; And Halifax be never lost to fame While we can boast the Crossley's honour'd name ! AT HOME. A FISHER lad puts out to sea ; The breeze is whistling merrily. His blue eye beams with love's soft light ; His true love waves her kerchief white Till o'er the wide expanse of blue His boat fades swiftly from her view ; While he sings, as he cuts the snowy foam, " To-morrow will see me safe at home." The maiden looks on the angry sea, The billows leap tumultuously ; Dark clouds on the wind's strong pinions fly, Red lightening cleaves the ebon sky ; The thunder's verberating roll With terror fills the maiden's soul — She prays, as her eyes o'er the dread scene roam, *' that morning were here and my love at home." •(jray morning dawns on the treach'rous sea. Smiling in cruel placidity ; Tlie bright sun darts his glances warm On the beach, where lies a lifeless form ; And bending beside it a weeping maid — All life and hope from her bosom fled ; No nioi-e to her arms her love will come. For the fisher lad is safe at home. I'O NATURE'S SCHOOL. ALL ye who would enrich your mind With knowledge of the deepest kind,. Should seek it in fair Nature's scliool ; Beneath her kindly gentle rule, No mind so barren, warp'd, or dull, But from her open page may cull Instruction of the highest worth. No boundaries of caste or birth Are recognised in her bright hall ; Her hand impartial levels all The fine distinctions of mankind. She but requires the pensive mind, Encompass'd in patrician frame, Or in a mould of lowlier name. The son of toil 's as welcome here As is the offspring of a peer. Wide open stands her college door To great and small, to rich and poDv ; The treasures of her beauteous lore She in her volume grand displays, 2Vnd blest are they who spend their days Amid her soul-entrancing sights. Tasting her exquisite delights — The flowers with their varying hues ; The heavens with their wondrous views; Majestic Ocean's azure face ; The golden sun's unrivall'd rays; The tender moon in softer sheen Enfolding Evening's peaceful scene ; The myriads of lustrous stars Careering in their silvery cars ; The lofty mountains, giant trees, Deep tranquil valleys, greeny leas. And songsters' thrilling minstrelries. Uniting all in one bright plan, With sweet accord they speak to man— Incentives noble they present And use the sti'ongest argument To wean him from each low pursuit THE SNOW. 21 That tends but to degrade, embrute. My brothers, all these voices hear ; Whatever be your status, s;phere — Xoble or simple, sage or fool. Enrol yourselves in Nature's school. THE SNOW. THE angry northern winds do blow, And borne upon their pinions light, Whirling in fimtastic flight, Descends the powder'd silvery snow. Swiftly the wold and towering height, Field, meadow, undulating dale Are cover'd with a beauteous veil, Shimmering like silver bright. How gay the landscape doth appear, Drap'd in its fairy-like array ; The icicles on hedge and spray Sparkling like jewels, coldly clear ! A wondrous artist is the wind, Working at random his mad will, Portraying with unstudied skill Pictures that charm the pensive mind. Dame Nature, in her wintry garb, Festoon'd with spotless, downy wreath, Is beauteous, tho' her icy breath Pierceth one like a pointed barb. Art baffl'd views the splendid scene, Her highest powers inadequate Such pictures to delineate ; Poorly she imitates, I wean With years of labour hard and slow The fairy views superbly bright Created in a single night By the wild vagaries of the snow. 22 SPEAK THE TRUTH. SPEAK the truth ! Tho' the act Cost thee dear ; Have nothing to regard, retract, Nought to fear. Speak the truth ! Whatso'er Be at stake ; Straight step over Virtue's fair Pathway take. Speak the truth ! Let its rays Brightly shine ; Be it clothed in homely phrase, Or in fine. Speak the truth ! At any price Hold it fast ; Heav'n will reward your sacrifice At the last. Speak the truth ! 'Tis a gem Brighter far Thau stones in royal diadem, Or a star. Speak the truth ! Stars shall fade,. Gems decay ; Truth, in dimless sheen array'd, Shines for aye. Speak the truth ! Fear not man, Tho' he rave ; Tho' thou'rt weak, Jehovah can Make thee brave. Speak the truth ! For its sake Men have died ; Their souls have risen from the stake Glorified. Speak the truth ! Not in wrath. But in love ; That tempted souls from Sin's dark j-ath- Ye may move. THE POWER OF KINDNESS. £3 Speak the truth ! In youth, or age Falsehood flee ; Against it fiercest warfare wage Incessantly. Speak the truth ! When is pass'd Life's brief day, The God of Truth will at the last Be your stay. THE POWER OF KINDNESS. DKEP down in every human heart, Within some secret cell, However crush'd by sin and woe. Sweet chords of music dwell — Which rise and fall in cadence grand When waken'd by Love's gentle hand. No soul, however vile and dark, Wherein we may not trace Some flickerings of the " vital spark " Of purity and grace ; None so debas'd but in them shine Some beamings of the light divine. A kindly word, a deed of love. Tears shed in sympathy, The hardest heart may melt and move, Where cold austerity Tends but to harden and repel ; Nought can resist Love's gentle will. Yes, Love's a sweet a beauteous gift By God Himself bestow'd On finite men, their hearts to lift To Heaven — Love's bright abode ; And he who loves his fellow-man Best carries out Jehovah's plan. H' 24 THE SOLO BOY. (Dedicated to Walter CrawHhaw, of this toivn, who iva^ solo hoy at (ht Parish Church at the time the poem was written. ) E sits within the carven stall — The dux of all the songsters small, In surplice white, and mnslin collar, Denoting him the music scholar ; With leadership and pride of place Writ large upon his rosy face. About him are the lesser fry, Gazing with proud and envious eye On their young chieftain in his seat, Each wishing he'd a voice as sweet And strong as his ; for well know they Whate'er the service for the day — Roberts in F, Garland in A — His voice rings out distinctly clear Above his very best compeer. Free, as the lark on heavenward wings, His varyiTig notes the youngster sings ; The music of each sacred strain Floats through the venerable fane ; His song takes hold of many a heart And oft th' unbidden tear will stai't — Meet tribute to the singer's art. The congregation know him well, And love his triumphs oft to tell. Ah ! happy singer, well for thee Could these bright days for ever be, And thou a star serenely shine In music's firmament divine. Alas ! on Time's fleet uinions borne, There dawns a fatal Sabbath morn. That dims, as clouds a summer sky, The lustre of the solo boy. He manages the Psalms all right, The service sings with all his might \ But, as the anthem goes along, The singers feel there's something wrong ; His voice, erstwhile so strong and clear, THE SOLO BOY. 25 Is weak and quav'ring as with fear ; Then, as he struggles on liis way, The youngsters hear with dire dismay Their luckless leader crack on A. how by words shall be express'd The pain that fills his boyish breast, As, shrinking from the rnaestro's eye, He heaveth many a bitter sigh. And feels and knows, with bosom sore, His solo days are almost o'er ! Grieve not too much, dear solo boy, The closing of thy day of joy. We in proverbial parlance say That every dog but has its da.y. Decay and failure wait on all AVho tread this roving mundane ball. The flowers wear their fair array But for a transitory day ; The fleetest racer on the track Becomes some day the jaded hack ; The belle that sets all hearts aflame The wither'd, worn, decrepit dame ; The batsman plays his brilliant game ; Time flies, and he is but a name, Sweet singer, w^ell jou've played your part In the sublime celestial art ; And, having done your very best. You now must give way like the rest. Then chorister, despond no more ; Who knows what Fate may have in store ? As time goes on perchance you'll find Dame Nature will again be kind. And unto thee the power impart To labour in the beauteous art ; Perhaps the vaulted aisle again May echo to your ringing strain. But if not, then " fond Memory " Will prove a faithful friend to thee ; She oft will pour into thine ears The music of these earlier years ; 26 A LITERARY TRAGEDY. Oft to thy tear-dimra'd eyes recall The dear familiar choir-stall. Ill fancy, wearing with delight The surplice and the collar white, Thus shall you live again with joy The days when you were solo boy. A LITERARY TRAGEDY. In Three Acts. (After Gilbert.) Act 1. AN editor sits in a dingy old den, his shining scissors near His good right hand, and a " Devil's Own " pen in his editorial ear ; With a stony stare and a brow of care he toils assiduously ; Not a moment must stop he, for waiting for " copy," six hungry " comps " there be ; 'Twas a pleasant sight to watch him write with a hand so light and free ; It did me good, as there I stood, to see such industry. Act 2. Now a rhyming rip, v>ith a stealthy step, climbed softly up tlie stairs. In his hand a book, he'd a weird wild look, and his clothing needed repairs. He gazed at that slaving scribbling scribe with meek humility, Then said he'd a poem he'd much like to show him — a gem of poesy ; And there I stood, in a pleasant mood, expecting soon to see That office floor steeped in the gore of the man of poetry. Act 3. The editor gaz'd like one half craz'd, but ne'er a word spake he ; Then he gave a lurch, and slid from his perch with fierce alacrity : He grabb'd that weird and wild-eyed bard and dragg'd him to the door ; Downstairs he shot him, from top to the bottom, and the rhymer was no more ; And the editor then sat down in his den and laugh'd with fiendish glee ; So, bards, beware ! and avoid the lair of the man of industr}'. 2r A NOVEMBER DAY. ALL Nature's rub'd in gloom to-day, Above, below, around ; The sun witholds his golden ray ; Upon the humid ground In sodden'd clusters lie the leaves, The heavens darkly frown, And freely from the dripping eaves The rain drops patter down. The bird upon the leafless tree No silvery pa!an sings, But droops in dull despondency Its saturated winus. o The spectral trees unto the sky Uplift their naked arms, The restless breezes moan and sigh ; Denuded of their cliarms Fair Flora's rifl'd bowers stand. And vapours thickly rise, LTntil it seems as if the land Were blended with the skies. A dense impenetrable gloom Rules over all the scene, Enfolding as within a tomb The daylight's cheery sheen. Yet doth this dismal, gloomy scene — This dark November day, A useful lesson teach, I wean — To me it seems to say : The way to happiness and light Oft lies through sorrow's gloom ; There must be winter's withering blight Before the spring's bright bloom. 28 THE MERMAIDS. Be patient ; yet a little while, My aspect cold and grey Must give place to the sunny smile Of happy blithesome May. Then let us patiently abide Stem winter's circling gloom, Until again, in spring's sweet tide, The lovely flowers bloom. THE MERMAIDS. DEEP fathoms 'neath the restless sea, In many a beauteous cell, Embosom'd in tranquility The lovely mermaids dwell ; Laving in Neptune's current gold Tlieir shapely forms and heads of gold. Where pinky coral gaily gleams And pearls like rainbows shine — Their lustre rivalling the beams Of jewels of the mine ; And grows full many a strange sea flower. Is the mermaids' hidden fairy bower. They are the syrens of the sea Who smile but to destroy. As v.'insomely, seductively, By wile and art they try To lure the mariner to his doom And shroud his form in a watery tomb. When tlie favouring currents flow- All placidly along, With Pleasure seated at the prow Their heart with courage strong ; €o Neptune's gallant ofi'spring true, The wearers of the jacket blue. Ah, thoughtless mariner, beware ! 'hiese houri of the sea, With winning smile and tresses fair, They bode no good for thee ; For, like their land-born sisters, they llegard thee as their natural prey. 29 ROBERT BURNS. ONE day I saw a picture fair that fill'd mc witli dcli;,'ht, It represented Poetry, in flowing robes of white, Her brow adorn'd with classic bays, her harp slung by her side^ Throwing her mantle over Burns, auld Scotia's joy and pride. There stood the honest ploughman in homely garb array'd, His bonnet doflPd right courteously before the lovely maid, And near beside him was the ploiigh behind whose iron share In loueliTiess oft plodded the deathless " Bard of Ayr " — That glittering constellation in the firmament of ftime, A "gifted peasant" destin'd to immortalize his name And bequeath unto posterity a legacy of song, An untold wealth of melody, rich, bountiful, and strong. I gaz'd upon the picture, until lost in reverie quite, Methought the senseless canvas seem'd aglow with living light, Teeming with objects beautiful array'd in brilliant beams^ Hills, dales, and flowery valleys, green meadows, silvery streams — The food and inspiration of the poet's varied themes. Then pass'd before my vision in grotesque fantastic train The mai'vellous creations of his busy, facile brain. First, immortal " Tam Shanter," as on that dreadful night. When mounted on his "gude auld mare " he urg'd his headlong flight Past Alloway's " auld ruiu'd Kirk," athrough the storm and dark^ Pursued by imps and warlocks, led by lissome " Cutty Sark." I saw him gain the " key-stane " by " gude Maggie's " gallant jump. Heard the fiendish yell of triumph as " Nannie " by the rump Fast gripp'd the luckless mare and rove her tail out by the stump. I overheard the dialogue between the " Brigs o' Ayr," As they in altercation past and present did compare ; I noted the " Twa Dogs " as .in converse grave and gay They discoui'sed vipon the customs, follies, fashions of the day. And then methought I view'd with inexpressible delight The tender scenes depicted in the " Cottar's Saturday Night ; " I saw the humble toiler beside his ingle bright. His children's ruddy faces illum'd with Love's soft light, As for a transient season he lays aside his care — In his dear lov'd ones' pleasures with youthful heart to share ; I heard the grand old psalm tune swell on the stilly air. 30 ROBERT BURNS. Mark'd the patriot aud saint as he breath'd the fervent prayer That heaven would guard " auld Scotland " with a peculiar care. Then all the scene was chang'd, and I marked the noisy glee Of Willie, Rob, and Allan, the boon companions three, The lads that " were na fou, but just a drappie i' their ee ;" Saw the poet in the field bending o'er the startled mouse ; Mark'd him sitting in the Kirk as he gravely watched a louse Marching in and out the trimmings of a lady's Sunday bonnet — Heard his chuckle of delight as he penn'd his verses on it ; In fancy almost caught the pathetic " fare thee weel " With which the bard concluded his " Address unto the Deil ;" Then heard that plaintive dirge — of pain and sori'ow borne, As the anguish-stricken poet tola how " Man was made to Mourn," W^hen he saw with tearful eye " Man's inhumanity to man " To discord change the harmony of Nature's noble plan ; Last, I stood within his cottage when, as he sat alone, The Muse again appeared to him and claim'd him as her own, And o'er his soaring soul difFus'd her spirit-stirring fire. Tuning to noble lofty flights his untaught rustic lyre, Bidding him climb with steadfast step the steep ascent of fame, And gild his country's annals with the lustre of his name. Then waking from my reverie, I thought with deep regard On the virtues of this wondrous and incomparable bard ; His lofty-soul'd disdain for the soulless venal tribe Who prostitute their genius for place or filthy bribe ; His stern incisive censure of national misdeeds. His heartfelt deep aversion to lifeless forms and creeds. And patriotic pleadings of his lov'd Scotland's needs ; His hatred of injustice, inherent sense of right, Fierce scorn for all oppressors and willingness to fight In freedom's holy battle, his grand superb disdain For all who us'd Religion for purposes of gain ; That sturdy independence that fain would suff'er want Than cringe before Earth's great ones and play the sycophant. And on his many errors I look'd with lenient eye As I thought of his sad story — how much there was to tr}' A being so impulsive, so prone to go astray And let his baser passions his nobler nature sway. Then I thought with deepest pleasure of the good his songs have done. A TRUE MAN. 31 The comfort and the blessing they have been to many a one ; How many a drooping spirit held down by grief and pain Hath been help'd along Life's jonrney by the mnsic of his strain. How those songs retain their sweetness, their elevating power, Still exercise their influence in sad or festive hour, Still wield with subtle magic their soul subduing art, Filling with pride and pleasure each true-born Scottish heart ; And those glorious masterpieces so lofty and sublime Shall shine in dimless splendour upon the scroll of time, Like flowers amaranthine and beautiful for aye. Imperishable monuments triumphant o'er decay; For while this wand'ring planet on her axis daily turns Shall endure the glorious memory and songs of Robert Burns. A TRUE MAN. I love the man who loves his kind ; The man whose comprehensive mind No boundaries knows of caste or creed. Who ever at the cry of need Will bend a sympathetic ear ; Whose constant spirit will not veer About life shifting weather-vane ; But true and faithful will remain Through weal or woe beside his friend, His worth and goodness know no end ; He cannot witness mortal pain AVithout an effort to restrain Pity's involuntary tear. He, when is pour'd into his ear Some moving tale of human woe. Can ever feel the generous glow Of Charity's ennobling flame. This is a man for whom I claim The highest praise, the best regard — The true man's well-deserv'd reward — This is the manhood I commend ; Kind Heav'n ! Provide me such a friend, Him to my soul I'll tightly clasp, And nought but Death shall loose my grasp. 33 THE FOREST. I LOVE the forest's still retreat — Far from the city's hum — No worldly tumults come To mar the happiness complete ; Here Solitude her peaceful throne Hath set, and reigns supreme, alone. 'Tis sweet to sit in thoughtful mood In eve's calm hour, 'Neath Fancy's power ; As memories sweet — a holy brood — Like visions bright before us rise, Then fade from our regretful eyes. I love to tread the sylvan glade And pensively explore Its verdant velvet floor, By Flora's busy hand array'd In robe of deopl) -tinted green, Where many a starry flower is seen. Nobles may boast their mansions fair. Where cunning art Plays its bright part ; Where painting rich and carving rare. Chaste Statuary, gilded sheen, Conspire to beautify the scene. But give me Nature's pure demesnes,. Sweet fairy bowers Bedeck'd with flowers, Made vocal with the thrilling strains Of songsters warbling joyously ; this is pleasure rich to me ! What power in this stillness dwell ! No noisy throes Of striving foes ; O forest ! to thy peaceful cells Oft would my joyful steps repair, And snatch a rest from worldly care. u THE REPRIEVE. THE deep boom of the castle bell Reverberates o'er hill and dell, Sounding a mortal's dying knell. Miserere Domine ! The pris'ner in his donjon cell Hears the deep tone of that sad bell ; Its summons stern he knows full well. Miserere Domine ! woeful sight for mortal eye, A gallant youth led out to "die; Kind angels tend him from on hioh Miserere Domine ! o' Between his guards with steady pace, With form erect and fearless face, He goes, the pride of his proud race. Miserere Domine 1 The doomsman stands in grim arraj', And hovering o'er those turrets grey, Insatiate Death awaits his prey. Miserere Domine ! His aged mother, too, is there, With bending form and snowy hair, Breathing on high the tremulous prayer. Miserere Domine .' The teardrops lave his limpid eye, His bosom heaves a long, deep sigh, As to his love his fond thoughts fly. Miserere Domine ! The kind confessor tends him there. An aged priest with brow of care, With solemn rite and holy prayer. Miserere Domin That dauntless soul that, like a rock, Had stood mid battle's fiercest shock, Approaches now the fatal block. Miserere Domine ! 34 MY LITTLE BOY WHO DIED. But hark ! a murmur passes round ; Is clearly heard the clatteriug sound Of horse hoofs beating the hard ground. Miserere Domine ! Dashing along at lightning speed, A courier urges his brave steed ; Shouting aloud he bids them heed. Miserere Domine ! On, courier, on ! Each sinew strain. On, gallant horse ! The courtyard gain Ere the red stream the stone floor stain. Miserere Domine ! A moment, and upon the scene, The pris'ner and his doom between, They stand with pardon from the Queen. Gloria tibi Domine ! O rapture ! bliss without alloy, What words can tell the maiden's joy, Or mother's, as she clasps her boy ] Gloria tibi Domine ! To Heav'n, Who intervened that day, The headsman's horrid hand to stay, Ascends the glad triumphant lay — Gloria tibi Domine ! MY LITTLE BOY WHO DIED. OFT o'er my mind a sweet sad thought Will come in pensive hour — A tender i-ecollection fraught With deep mysterious power ; And then my fancy seems to see A bright form by my side — Smiling with fond delight on me — My little boy who died. MY LITTLE BOY WHO DIED. 35 The' many years their course have sped Since tlie dark angel came Into our home on errand dread — Our darhng one to claim ; The soft unbidden tear will fall, My weakness who shall chide As memoiy fondly doth recall My little boy who died ? I see again the fair green field We roam'd with busy feet, Tlie butterfly that whirling wheel'd The summer flowers sweet, fairer prospects now he views Than earthly scenes supplied ; He roams mid flowers of fadeless hues, My little boy who died ! Ah ! sacred is that little drawer, Embalm'd with many a sigh, Where, dearer far than pearly store, Our darling's treasures lie — Drum, trumpet, lamb with fleece of snow, Top, soldiers side by side — Dear trifles that delighted so My little boy who died. Tho' other little pattenng feet To meet me run with glee ; And other little voices sweet Make merry minstrelsie ; Yet still there mingles with my joy A grief I cannot hide — The thought of that dear little boy — My little one who died. And oft a tender, silvery voice Seems speaking from the sky. Saying : — " My mother dear, rejoice ! I'lie time is drawiu": nitrh When we shall meet ; " then calmly still In patience I abide ; Until I join when 'tis God's will My little boy who died. 36 GUARDIAN ANGELS. GUARDIAN Angels, beings beauteous, Quitting oft their blissful bowers, Unto heavenly mandate duteous. Visiting this realm of ours ; God's delighted, willing minions, Serving in His temple bright, Bearing to these dark dominions Blessing;s on their pinions white. Hovering o'er some lowly dwelling, Comforting the troubled heart ; When the storms of life are swelling Hope and courage they impart ; Spreading the inspiring vision Oft before our tearful eyes — Glimpses bright of fields Elysian — • Golden streets of Paradise. Oft in faithful vigil bending O'er the bed of innocence, From all evil dreams defending ; Unto faith and penitence Harden'd sinners gently gaining, Guiding the rash steps of yuuth, Tempted ones from ill restraining, Winning them to Wisdom, Truth. Beauteous Spirits, watching o'er us As we tread this earthly mnze, Lighting up the way before us. Guiding through Life's devious ways, Whispering your sweet evangels, Fainting hearts to bless and ciieer ; Stay with us, kind Guardian Angels, Till earth's clouds shall disappear ! A BIRTHDAY WISH. MAY each recurring natal day Find you pursuing Wisdom's way ; Treading with firmer steps the road That leads to happiness and God. TO GENERAL GORDON. GREAT Gordon, lion-hearted soul. Saint, hero, true philanthropist, Thou t^'pe of liighest chivalry ! Who can recall thy hapless doom — The tale of thy untimely fate Unmov'd, nor shed soft Pity's tear ? Now numbered with the holy dead, All undisturb'd by earth's alarms. The fragrance of thy pure grand life Remains with us who mourn thy loss. Ill can we spare such men as thee ; The roll of our illustrious dead Contains no brighter name than thine. While Memory's faculty remains With each true son of Albion, The splendid lessons thou hast taaght — Thy manly Spartan fortitude, And sense of duty strong and high, Thy perfect disregard of self, Insensibility to fear ; Thy tender, ceaseless sympathy With all the sorrows of thy race, And never-failing interest In every object tending to The elevation of mankind Can never be forgot. Again We feel the bm-deu of suspense That weighed our anxious nation down, When in the hour of urgent need. Responsive unto Duty's call. Thou sped'st upon thy lonely way Athwart the Desert's arid waste To aid the helpless Soudanese Against the Mahdi's phrenzied hordes. And how for twelve dark weary months With patient courage thou did'st wait That look'd-tbr succour which, alas ! Thou wert not destined to behold. Then came that memorable hour When Treachery's infernal arts Accomplish'd that which force of arms 37 38 A POLITICAL BALLAD. Had vainly striven t© achieve — When pour'd through Khartoum's massive gates- Like surging waves the ruthless foe — Who, senseless to thy priceless worth, Unmov'd by Pity's softening power, Upon thee fell with cowai-d force And blotted out thy glorious life. Ah, then what tears of bitter woe Our stricken sorrowing nation shed, And men all felt that from their midst Hud pass'd one of the grandest souls That e'er inhabited the frame Of man. Rest, gallant warrior, rest ; No more o'er thy intrejjid heart Shall earthly tempests fiercely beat ; No more shall cold indifference Ere wound thy earnest fervent breast. And if the lessons thou hast taught. By Memory's impressive power Be deeply graven in our minds, And others of Britannia's sons Thy lofty actions emulate, Not vainly hast thou liv'd and died. A POLITICAL BALLAD. THE Grand Old Man to the war hath gone, At St. Stephen's you will find him. His grand old axe he hath girded on. And his Homer slung behind him ; Upas tree, cries the G.O.M., Tho' all the Tories praise thee, I'll hack thee branch, and root, and stem, And to the ground I'll raze thee. Greater than Dilke or Chamberlain I've made a name in story ; I treat with most superb disdain The ilk that's christened Tory. No Churchill's tongue shall flurry me With dire threats of exposure ; I'll drown him in verbosity And crush him with the Closure ! a9 PLEASURES. ALAS ! the fairest, sweetest flowers Wear their beautiful array But for transitory hours E'er they yield unto decay. Pleasures are like fading flowers, Flitting gleams of golden light, Swift as meteoric showers, Gone ere you can mark their flight. Robber Time, with ruthless fingers. Dims the eye and lines the cheek, Till of beauty's light there lingers But a faint a shadowy streak. Still the heart doth fondly cherish — Treasure up the precious rays ;. Memory will not let them perish. The sweet joys of bygone days. THO' FAR FROM THEE. THO' far from thee, dear maid, I rove, Ah ! think not I can faithless prove ; Where'er I I'oam no sun can shine Upon a dearer lace than thine ; The brightest day is but as night Unless thou'rt near to bless my sight — Bereft of thee, my light of light, Life hath no charms for n^e. Can I forget thee 1 Aye, as soon As yonder mellow-visag'd moon Can cease to shed her silvery beam On tranquil wood and slumbering stream. Where'er I be, on ocean main. Or on some distant foreign plain, hi fi\ncy sweet again, again, I'll feast my eyes on thee. 40 THE FIRST KISS. LET poets sensuous combine To rave about their ruby wine ; With fulsome phrase let them extol The pleasures of the flowing bowl ; I sing a far serener joy — Pure gold unmingled with alloy ; The nectar rich of earthly bliss — That lovers taste — the first sweet kiss. Yon miser in his dingy den Go mark as o'er and o'er aeain He counts with wildly gleaming eyes His shining hoard that outspread lies ; His sun and centre sordid self ; His sumvium honum filthy pelf; How mean, how poor a joy is his Compared with love's first tender kiss ! That pensive student as he toils To wrest from Learning her fair spoils While all the world is wrapp'd in sleep ; His inward glow of rapture deep As he discerns from Nature's page Some lesson hid from bearded sage, HI rivals the delicious bliss Of love's impassioned sweet first kiss. Then let the poets have their wine And loudly in its praise combine, The wretched miser feast his eves Upon his glitt'ring golden prize. The student nightly o'er his page Drink in the learning of his age : I ask no sweeter joy than this — The joy of joys, love's fond first kiss. MAY AND DECEMBER. A SHORT time ago in the papers 'twas seen That an old man had wedded a maid of eighteen Like King David, may be, he requir'd a young lass To revive him, while she wanted him for his brass. 41 AUTUMN. SUMMER'S rich hues have died away, And mellow Autumn now is here ; He comes his kindly part to play, And crown the circling year. A crown of varied-tinted leaves Upon his jovial brow he wears ; A jDriceless load of golden sheaves Within his arms he bears. Season of mirth and fruitful ness. Bringing the husbandman's reward For all his hopes, anxieties. His labours long and hard. He comes with timely hand to grease The flagging wheels of Industry ; To make them i"un with power and ease And work more evenly. He opens Plenty's ample horn. And pours upon the heaving plain Her luscious fi'uits — the generous corn, " Bright Ceres' golden rain." The pleasant sounds of Harvest Home Ring blithely o'er the gladden'd plain, As forth the merry reapers come In busy jocund train. The skies are bath'd in mellow'd light. The fields are ting'd with sober brown ; And with a lustre mildly bright, The harvest moon beams down. 1 with what powerful eloquence Doth Autumn's voice unto us preach, And truths of deep significance In solemn accents teach. He bids us mark the flower, the leaf. Clad in the garments of decay ; And hear them breathe this sentence l^rief. Thou art but for a day. 42 PRACTICAL SYMPATHY. He points out in the falling leaf Token of Death's prevailing power ; And teaches in the full-eared sheaf The resurrection hour. This world of ours is God's great field, Where w^e by thought and action sow The pregnant mighty seeds that yield Eternal weal or woe. So may we live and labour here, That we can view without dismay The Harvest of the World draw near — The final reaping day. PRACTICAL SYMPATHY. " TTOW sorry I am," you oft hear people say XI As they view the misfortunes of others, But practical sympathy how few display To their indigent sisters and brothers ; Protestations of pity sans generous aid Are worthless to persons in trouble — Mere meaningless jargon, a hollow parade, As bodiless as a soap bubble. This statement to illustrate, let me repeat A story I somewhere have read Of the Merchant and Quaker who met in the street, When the former in confidence said : Poor G 's going down I hear on good grounds, I feel awfully sorry I vow ; Quoth the Quaker : I feel five hundred good pounds- In my pocket, Friend, how much dost thou 1 Merely telling the poor man who begs at your gate You feel very much for his woes Will not help in the least his pangs to abate If away from you empty he goes ; No ; practical sympathy, that is the best, Kind Nature's akin-making touch ; As is well by the old Latin proverb express'd, " He who promptly gives, gives twice as much." 4a TRUE NOBILITY. CHILD of labour, don't repine , That a lowly lot be thine ; Deem it not unmix'd misfortune That toil, privation, are your portion. Tho' your status be ignoble, You may live a life right nobkv That shall dignify your state, Make you really, truly great, If with actions good and true, You Life's joui'uey way bestrew. The man of honest, simple heart. Daily playing well his part ; Does his work with single mind. Sympathizes with his kind In the hour of pain and grief; Lends with ready hand relief. Succours the distress'd, the poor, Even from a scanty store ; Sheddeth Pity's melting tear When is breath'd into his ear Some sad narrative of woe ; Or displays the fiery glow Of indignation on his cheek When he sees the helpless weak Bullied by the tyrant strong. Or oppressed by fraud or wrong ; Who will whisper kind reproof In the ear of thoughtless youth When from Wisdom's pleasant way Evil tempteth them to stray ; In short, who in a thousand ways A lively interest displays In all pertaining to his race : I say in this man we can trace The lines of true nobility, Altho' no garter at his knee Denote him one of hiy,h demee. Yet still in Nature's kindly plan, He is the genuine nobleman, In Virtue's Aristocracy Holding honourable degree. 44 THE VOICE OF THE "COMP." 'rpIS the voice of the Comp, I hear him complain, X As he peers iu the box : What, no copy again ! Not the ghost of a " par," not even an " ad " ; It's enough to make even a clergyman mad. To be kept idle thus is really hard •' lines ;" If I could I'd establish a system of fines, So that whene'er the copy ran out, do you see. The Reporters should stump up the sum of" 3d." Later on in the day I hear him again. This time 'tis the Header that causes him pain : He's the bane of my life, so frequently bringing Me out of my " frame " through neglecting his " ringing." Oft and oft in a week does he play me that trick ; Sometimes as I'm cheerfully filling my " stick," JM umber bawls the lad iu imperative tone, And I put up a prayer as I waltz round the stone, But to find after all 'twas not in the copy, And if in at that moment the Reader should pop, he Would hear me in strong terms express my opinion ; But he keeps out of sight the pen-driving " minion." I think you will own 'tis a very hard " case " To be, tho' no Nimrod, called out to the " chase," Especially just when I'm most anxious to be In-scooping the " sheks." with a column of " ruby." Tho' I lecture him on typographical " rule " My technical teachings are lost on the fool ; He listens with such an indifferent air, I might just as well talk to my " clump " I declare. I suppose I must just let him have his own way, And bear with his awkwardness day after day, Till I go to the land of the happy and blest Where " Readers" cease troubling and "Comps." are at rest. 45^ I DESCENT IS EASY. N " facilis descensus est " There is a bitter truth expressed, Which oft we see exemplified In overthrow of pomp and pride ; Some haughty son of high estate Fell'd by a sudden blow of Fate, As lightning cleaves the sturdy oak With ra,pid overwhelniino- stroke. Or like the meteor that flies In vivid splendour through the skies ; Awhile in transient brilliance flashes. Then sinks o'erwhelm'd in smoke and ashes. Or like the lovely fragile flower That wears but for a fleetine hour Its fragrant beautiful array, Then yields to darkness and decay. We see a man of wealth one day Bowl tianquilly along Life's way In Fortune's gilded chariot light, Whose every prospect seems most bright ; To him his lowlier fellows bow, And, in their envy, wonder how The Fates with such a partial hand Deal out the good things of the land ; And why it seems ordain'd that they Should have to labour day by day With but a scant precarious pay. But mark that lovely crimson rose, As brilliantly its beauty glows, Dewdrops on its petals slight Glittering like diamonds bright In the sun's refulirent lioht ; Ravishing the charmed eye With its fair form and gorgeous dye ; Diffusing its aroma rare Upon the balmy morning air. Ah ! 'neath that beautiful array Lurk envious Death and dire decay ; For if we lift the tender leaf, And gaze attentively beneath, 46 THS SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT, We see the hideous loathsome form Of the destroying canker-worm. And so it is with mortal man Full often in Life's complex plan. We see him in the festive hour, Beneath the spell of Pleasure's power, Assuming with most subtle art A smiling face, the while his heart. To some deep hidden grief a prey, Consumeth gradually away. Then envy not the rich and great — The splendid sons of rank and state ; They have their sorrows and their cares, Trials, innumerable snares. The rather cast your eyes around The little plot on Life's vast ground In whicii is fix'd your lowlier fate. And in it sti'ive to cultivate The peaceful fruits of Righteousness, That yield nor strife nor bitterness; But the sweet flowers of Virtue, Truth, That bloom in amaranthine youth When worldly pageant and display In rusty splendour fade away. Seek, seek to cultivate the mind ; Live, live to benefit your kind ; A noble life, a spotless name, Are fairer far than empty fame. To live in Virtue's whiteness dress'd Is to be happy, to be bless'd. THE SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT. (Sung by Mr. C. Clucas in the Nautical Operetta, " Sons of Neptune.") I'M a literary wonder — an independent scribe — Who never makes a blunder, and never takes a bribe, I've a modus operandi entirely my own, As contributor to journals of a highly moral tone ; No human weakness ever gets the upperhand of me, Encas'd in incorruptible impeccalnlity • For I'm the very soul of honour and Nature's nobleman, The correspondent of the Courier and Guardian. THE SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT. 47 Upon this roving planet I keep my Argus eyes, And the doings of its people very closely scrutinize, No little peccadillo, nor smallest circumstance Of the trivialest nature eludes my vigilance ; I do my level best to be thoroughly aujait With everything transpiring around me day by day ; To be on the qui vive ever is the literary plan Of the correspondent of the Courier and Guardian. I can analyse a dog fight with dialectic skill, Describe in racy jargon the latest little " mill " ; I give the truest prophecies in every branch of sport, Or authentic information of the goings-on at Court ; Abuse some budding author, criticise the newest play. And dub it " awful rot " in my inimitable way ; For a complete encyclopedia, a Protean-minded man Is the correspondent of the Courier and Guardian. Many a weighty mission I have been on in my time, From the freezing frigid zone to the tropics' torrid clime ; Oft on the rolling billows heard the tempests crack their throats, Or on gigantic mountain tops I've jotted down my notes ; Stood on the battlefield with cannon's fiery breath All around about me belching forth red ruin, pain, and death ; Of many a " campaign " have I closely watched the " plan," As correspondent of the Courier and Guardian. Of the adventures of the " Neptune " just now it is my lot In my eighteen carat form full particulars to jot ; I affably converse with the communicative tars, List the howling of the wind and pen my glowing "pars." I paint attractive pictures of life upon the sea. And rave about our nation's maritime supremacy, In a style that demonstrates that I'm just the very man As correspondent of the Courier and Guardian. Tho' somewhat at a loss for naval phraseology, Scarcely able to determine hard-a-port from hard-a-lee, And tho' upon the average I'm sea-sick twice a day, My time upon the whole passes pleasantly away ; And when our foemen duly have been sent to Davy Jones, And Peace again returning hushes Battle's blustering tones, In the march of civilization still I'll occupy the van. As correspondent of the Courier and Guardian. 48 "NEVER SAY DIE! " NEVER say die ! In darkest hour, Tho' over Life's sky The storm-clouds lour ; Tho' dreary be the path you tread, And tempests gather overhead, Never say die. never say die ! Tho' foes assail, Tho' dark danger nigh The cheek may pale ; Without a friend to aid and cheer, And not a ray of hope appear, Never say die ! never say die ! Resolve not to yield, Nor, coward-like, fly From Life's battlefield ; Like true Britons fight till the last gasp of breath, And no victor own but all-conquering Death. Never say die ! never say die ! The strife must cease, And by and bye. Come rest and peace ; Pleasure's fair train in bi'ight array. And halcyon harmonious day ; Never say die ! never say die ! Be patient, strong. With hopes on high March straight along ; Until shall come the glorious day When all Earth's clouds shall melt away ; Never say die ! 49 EVENING. NOW dusky-visag'd Evening flings Her ebon-tinted circling wings Atliwart this scene of mundane thinyrs. *o^ Low sinks the kingly orb of day, Illuming with his dying ray The lofty hill tops f^ir away. High mounted on his silvern car Comes forth the beauteous evening star, Shedding its radiance from atar. Pale Phcebe climbs her lofty hill, And to the assemblage fair and still Announces her imperial will. Foremost in her attendant train, Careering o'er the ethereal plain, Bold Charles directs his shining wain. Stern Mars in armour dazzling brioht. Great soul of courage and of might, Waveth his blood-red banner bright. •&• Orion's sparkling belt is seen. The Pleiades in brilliant sheen. Adding their lustre to the scene. '& O'er meadow, copse, and silent wood, And slumb'ring sti*eam deep quietude, Iiike peaceful dove, doth sweetly brood. The lowing cattle slowly wind Their homeward way, the honest hind Trudging wearily behind, Now chime sweet Memory's silver bells, Bright Fancy weaves her magic spells, As on the past the mind oft dwells. Then come array'd in lustrous light A train of pleasant memories bright, And fade from our regretful sight. 50. EVENING. That peaceful thatch-roof'd cottage, where,. Kneeling beside our mother's chair, We breath'd the oft-repeated prayer. That little picturesque retreat. Our village home, its meadows sweet, Its one long solitary street. A father's face benign and sage, Conning intent the Holy Page, His form bow'd 'neath the weight of age. With tear-dimm'd eye perchance we trace A dear lov'd sister's kindly face, The joy, the darling of the place. That sailor brother's well-knit form We see amid the raging storm. And breathe the supplication warm. That He Who holds both sea and land Within the hollow of His hand Will still the waves at His command And guide the good ship o'er the sea. Through billows leaping furiously. To the haven where they fain would be. These friends so constant, kind, and true, From whose companionship we drew Such pleasure, wistfully we view. Kind, faithful hearts, the true, the brave, Scatter'd about by Time's strong wave, And many slumbering in the grave. come dear light of by-gone days, And bend on us your cheering rays. Oft 'mid the Present's gloomy haze. Yes, come to us again, again, Bringing sweet pleasure in your train, Till re«t we from Life's weary strain ! 51 THE LAY OF THE LOST MINSTREL. U Pols' the water-butt he stood To serenade his love ; A merry maid in mirthful mood Lay listening above ; Anr] as he strumm'd his light guitar, And utter'd notes divine. The cats chipp'd in from near and far, And the effect was fine. He sang the first verse of his lay, The second did begin, When lo ! the blessed lid gave way. And he went flopping in ; Beneath the moon's soft silvery ray, In water to the neck Lifeless but beautiful he lay — A melancholy wreck. The minstrel from the water-butt Himself did extricate ; When what should meet his optic but His darling's pa irate, Who lamm'd him with a cudgel thick In fashion most unkind. The while the faithful dog did stick Unto his pants behind. A warning take, ye youths who read This touching little lay, Perchance 'twill stand you in good stead If you should go to pay Your tribute to some lady fair In amatory strain, Of water-butts, sticks, dogs beware. And spare yourselves much pain. 52 SPRING. THE zephyrs softly murmur spring To tepid airs, and everything Assumes an aspect fair and gay ; The skies are deck'd in rich array Of azure blue and silver grey ; Exulting Nature seems to say : " Cold "winter's rule hath pass'd away ; No longer 'neath his iron sway, In deathly gloom we languish — Pass'd is our time of anguish." The angry hyperborean blasts That fiercely rag'd o'er lonely wastes, And in green dell and sylvan glade Such havoc mercilessly made, Have sought again their native north, And comes the smiling season forth, Like captive loosen'd from his chain ; Now sports fair Pleasure on the plain, Attended by her jocund train. The sun diffuses his bright sheen O'er all th' emancipated scene ; He scatters with his fiei'y breath The darksome mists, the earth, beneath His ardent, all- transforming glance, Awakes from her protracted trance, And yielding snows in livid tide, Along their sinuous courses glide ; The husbandman, with ready hand, Breaks up the loosening fallow land, And trustfully implants his seed Tn the reciprocating soil, Then patiently awaits the meed Of profit due to honest spoil. The budding trees in promise show Summer's ripe charms in embryo ; The fields with eagerness disown Their ragged robe of dingy brown For a sweet garb of tender green ; Enraptured with the lovely scene, The little birds begin to mate, SPRING. 55 And loud of coming pleasures prate. The clamorous rook, with noisy zest, On swaying bough constructs his nest ; Hear we the cuckoo's plaintive note — Sweet harbinger from sphere remote — And blithely through the meadows gay The sportive lambkins frisk and play ; jSIow gambolling with awkward stride, Anon, crouching at their mothers' side. See we the pretty flowers again Bespangling o'er the verdant plain — Fair daffodils, the violet blue, Pale buttercups, primroses too ; The crocus pure and snowdrop white, The crimson-crested daisy bright, The wallflower sweet in mingling brown and yellow, And pretty stock with fragrance richly mellow ; Rich foretastes of the scented dowers That lavish Flora on us showers. Welcome ! thrice welcome ! gentle Spring ! Bearing to us on lightsome wing, Like beauteous bird of omen good, Array'd in all thy plentitude Of charms, thy tide of joy and mirth To cheer our long-expectant earth. Dear Spring ! the aged look for thee With sober-eyed expectancy. While Memory back to them doth bring Bright visions of their life's sweet spring, When all the prospect seemed most fiii^. And all unknown were grief and care. Young folks, with more impulsive gaze, Wait eagerly thy sunny days ; Pale invalids, with longing eyes. Look for thy sunny, genial skies. So they may quit their sad sick room, With all its loneliness and gloom, To breathe thy balmy vernal air And gaze upon thy beauties fair. True type of sunny-visaged Hope, Whose aid enables us to cope 54' BRADFORD V. HALIFAX. With all the varying ills of life ; And in the midst of all its *^tnfe, Her radiating beam displays, And bids us look for brighter days ; Welcome in all thy pleasing arts, Thou gladdener of human hearts ; With blandishment and witching wile, With pearly tear and sunny smile, Rule us awhile with kindly sway ; All, all thy opening charms display, And onward point our sanguine gaze To Summer's grand imperial blaze. BRADFORD V. HALIFAX. THE Bradford came down like a wolf on the fold, But for once in a way were awfully sold ; Poor little Joe Hawcridge was very soon done, And Kitchie ne'er fram'd once to get in a run. Alas ! for poor Bonson, their pet and their ])ride ; How galling to see all the tactics he tried Foil'd time after time b}' Schofield and Buck, Who, tho' lacking iia size, are Guliaths in pluck. And their forwards^ too, fairly were run off their feet By their clever opponents, so dashing and fluet ; Amongst whom Cope, Wilkinson, Denni«, and Clowes Made one of their best and most brilliant of shows. Suffice it to say that the close of the game Saw a fresh triumph added to Halifax fame. And Bradford once more clearly prov'd they're unable To turn upon Dodd's merry players the table. There was general rejoicing all over the town That the almighty Bradford again had gone down ; For the Halifax folk never happier seem Than when their pets vanquish the " Gentlemen's Team." Whatever on earth will 13radfordians say This dreadful disaster to argue away 1 They can't find a loophole, but this, don't you see — They were minus their umpire — the fam'd *"A.B. P." -'*A. B. Perkins. 55 LIFE'S ALCHEMY. AS olives crush'd 'neath heavy weight Emit a perfume rare, Which, wafted on the gentle breeze, With fragrance fills the air ; So many a precious thing of earth To pain and sorrow owes its birth. Oft from some troubl'd bosom, crush'd Beneath a load of eare. The fragrant odours are diifus'd Of virtues rich and rare ; Virtues, whose lustre shines more bright Than glittering silvery stars at night. •Oft 'tis some trying circumstance In Life's mysterious plan Whose pressure tends but to enhance The real worth of the man ; Yes, often Sui?ering's crucial test Evokes all that is truest, best. When everything is going right 'Tis easy to be strong, But manhood's grit is best display'd If, when affairs go wrong, Men face them with undaunted heart, And play the truly manly part. Oft Sorrow's subtle alchemy Wise Nature doth employ To separate effectually The gold from the alloy — And mean, ignoble, base desires Are killed by Pain's consuming fires. In Music's complex scheme we see That Joy's resounding strain Oft meets and blends harmoniously With minor chords of Pain ; So when sweet notes and discords meet Life's harmony becomes complete. 56 ONLY A CIRCUS CLOWN. ONLY a simple circus clown, Careless if Fortune smile or frown, I dance, I sing, I joke and tumble, My repertoire a perfect jumble ; A medley strange, kaleidoscopic, Embracmg every varying topic. With pride my motley garb I wear ; My watchword is " Begone, Dull Care ! " To please mankind 's my happy mission ; I am society's physician. Administering pleasant pills To cure the social body's ills. I open wide the radiant portals Of Mirth's gay hall to weary mortals ; 'Tis mine to make them laugh and smile,- Their cares and troubles to beguile. Still, though I aim to make folk laugh, I sometimes mingle with my chaff Wisdom and Truth's immortal grain ; I scatter o'er Life's dreary plain Stray gleams of Wit's refulgent light ; I in my humble way unite The humorous and philosophic ; And though a section misanthropic — The captious, hypercritic folks — - Fall foul upon my little jokes, And dub them " fossils," " antiquated,"' " Chestnuts " rehabilated. Yet others, easier to please, Receive my funniosities And at my cranks and sallies roar As if they'd ne'er been heard before. As slyly round the ring I peep, Or over clumsily T leap, Then tumble in an awkward heap, My well-known " Here we are again " Evokes loud laughter's cheery strain. E'er fresh to them 's my oldest quip. And when I seize the Master's wliip To make the pony jump at will, ONLY A CIRCUS CLOWN. 57 Their shrieks the bright arena fill. Ah, thoughtless souls, they see in me But merriment and gaiety. While oft is rankling in my heart Sad Sorrow's venom-pointed dart. They scarcely think a motley vest Can hide a sorrow -stricken breast ; That he who entertains them so Can claim acquaintanceship with woe. * •* * Well do I mind one winter night ; The " House " was full, my heart was light ; As I was entering the ring Someone the direful word did bring That my dear wife at home lay dead ; The message well-nigh turned my head ; To leave the place how I did yearn. But no one else could take my turn. With whirling brain and phrenzied eye I clear'd the ring ; my usual cry Rang bravely—" Here we are again." 0, who shall tell the poignant ])ain That rung ray breast as round I strode, Watching the lady as she rode ! As she jump'd through the paper'd hoops I strove to utter joyous whoops ; I did my tricks, my sayings gay I struggl'd manfully to say ; But, no, my nature would have vent, And, to the great astonishment Of all assembled in the place. The tears cours'd down my painted face, As the poor clown, with anguish wild, Wept in the circus like a child. * * * Long weary years have passed away Since that e'er memorable day ; I've trod the path of life alone And many cares and trials known. I strive to overcome my grief. And find sweet moments of relief o8 AN INVOCATION TO NATURE, In trying to enliven others. Methinks this life of ours, my brothers, Is something like a circus ground, Wherein we wander round and round, In tawdry tinsel bravely dress'd ; Where bitter sigh and simrkling jest, Sweet songs of pleasure, dirges drear, Rich rays of hope, dark clouds of fear Mysteriously meet and blend. And thus my way I onward wend, A pupil in gay Humour's school, A simple-hearted roving fool ; No better thing of Fate I ask Than strength for each day's varying task, And mirth's irradiating ray To cheer the darkness of my way. And when my circus days are done, This life's mysterious journey run. It may be He Who reigns above, The God of Goodness, Grace, and Love, Will on me leniently look down. Though only a poor circus chjwn. AN INVOCATION TO NATURE. SWEET Nature, o'er me breathe thy magic breath, And wake my spirit from its sleep of death ; Encircle me with tljy irradiant wings. And from this sordid scene of mundane things Transport me far to some congenial clime, Unmarr'd by discords, passions, follies, crime. To thy hid beauties ope my heavy eyes, Command my dorm.mt powers to arise. Before me wide unfold tliy noble plan. Display the destiny of finite man. Arise, my soul, and spread thy fleeting wings. And let us leave awhile these worldly things — This scene of mingling meetings and farswells, Gay wedding peals and sad funei-eal knells ; Where puny man fumes out his little day. To Fate's caprices but the helpless prey ; This cunning game wherein the craftiest win. AN INVOCATION TO NATURE, 59 Where might is right, and poverty a siu. Here spotless Virtue chxd in tattered rags, AVith aching feet limps o'er the cruel flags, While Gorgon Vice with arrogant displa^^ In Fortune's car glides tranquilly away; Fat Opulence glares at the sons of need, Reirarding them as of inferior breed. IJirth, i-ank, and wealth — the social trinity, The modern Baal, the sovereign deity To whom mankind inflect the servile knee ; Where man's apprais'd not by inherent worth Or genius, but accident of birth. Ah, nobler he who proudl}'^ stands erect In all the dignity of self respect — The grandest sight in all this earthly plan. An honourable, upright, manly man — A scion true of Virtue's noble race, With goodness, truth imprinted on his face ; Upon whom Honour from her shining throne Hath set her seal and claimed him as her own ; In naked majesty of worth an-ay'd Scorning to learn the sycophant's vile trade. How mean is he, tho' clad in courtier garb, By meanness thriving, while tlie pointed bai'b Of outrag'd conscience wounds Ijis guilty breast, Filling his soul with discord and unrest ! But Nature's son, enraptur'd with her charms, Shunneth alike the wide inviting arms Of syren Pleasure with her fleeting joys. And proud Ambition's dearly purchas'd toys. Dearer to him the peaceful rural scenes. Where Nature reigns, most beauteous of Queena ; Where lovely objects everywhere abound, Brought by the changing seasons in their round. Enlist me, Dame, within the faithful band Whose joy it is to serve at th}^ command ; I fain would swell the ranks of that brigade. True followers of the sweet .Eonian Alaid ; Her tuneful songs I fain would learn to sing, And soar aloft on Fancy's eagle wing Until I reach the beautiful retreat, Parnassus high — the Muses' native seat. 60 WHO IS MY NEIGHBOUR? WHO is my neighbour 1 Is it he Whose house adjoins m}' own^ Whose lot in life is thrown Within the same community ] Is he my neighbour, who repairs With me to the same shrine ; Whose voice ascends with mine In alternating psalms and prayers 1 Who is my neighbour 1 He whose creed Is quite in harmony With tenets held by me, And greets me with a warm God-speed V Is he my neighbour who at will With ease displays The glorious rays Of knowledge, scientific skill 1 My neighbour is that hapless soul — That child of want With hunger gaunt, O'er whom Misfortune's billows roll. My neighbour is that man of crime On Kuiu's brink. From whom ^^e shrink, His manhood blighted in its prime. My neighbour is that thoughtless youth ; My duty is In kindliness To speak to him in soft reproof. My neighbour is that peevish child Who weakly moans ; Its fretful tones Be mine to soothe with treatment mild. The Indian with swarthy skin. The iVfrican, Or Yellow man, Are all my neighbours, kith and kin. SPEAK NO ILL. Gl My neighbours everywhere are found — Where'er I roam, Abroad, at home — ■Scatter'd to Earth's remotest bound. SPEAK NO ILL. SPEAK no ill of one another Brethren, as ye tread Life's way — Remember each man is your brother, Say the best that you can say. Children of one common Father, Dwellers in one common clay, 'Stead of harshness should the rather Mutual tenderness display. Speak no ill, but fondly cherish Charity within thy breast — Let all spleen and rancour perish, Overcome by that kind guest. Speak no ill, no, not when even You are call'd to suffer wronsf • Forgive, if you would ba forgiven. Bear it patiently ; be strong ! Speak no evil of your neighbour, Be not false or insincere ; Be not doubled-tongued, but labour To preserve a conscience clear. Judge not harshly when some error Lies beneath your righteous gaze ; Be pitiful, fierce censure's terror Ne'er won sinners from their ways. Speak no ill, but striving rather To do all the good we can, We shall please our Heavenly Father, While we bless our fellow-man. 62 " ACTIN' WEBB." (ABriggus"do.") FROM Halifax one summer day Some hardy youngsters bent their way To spend a jolly afternoon Down at Brookfoot. Behold them soon Whei'e Calder pours along in pride His silvei'y pellucid tide. From where they stand they hear the brawl And rushing of the waterfall. 'Twas natural that such a scene Should bring before their fancy keen Niagra fam'd and poor Webb's fate ; Whose doughty deeds to emulate One daring youth the thought conceiv'd. He in his inmost heart believ'd That safely o'er the aforesaid falls His frame could float ; so of his smalls He very soon himself divested, And sportively the current breasted. With pride he takes his varying strokes — Now " breast," now " side " ; their little jokes His comrades crack at his expense. While he enjoys himself" immense." Then one got in below the fall, In order if he heard him call For help, to i-ender all the aid He could. " But he was not afraid," he said ; He'd heard chaps say to do it " reight " — To keep the body firm and straight Was all a fellow had to do, And let the current pull him through. So quite convinc'd tho.t he was right. The youth prepar'd him for his flight. At first he got on very well. But " lack-a-day," sad truth to tell, His head shot under, and his feet Were overturn'd, and a complete Grand series of somersaults And unexpected graceful vaults He turn'd. With ooze and slime as black as ink, CHARITY. 6'i The refuse wash'd up from the " Sthik," His frame was cover 'd, and his bones, Through contact with the cruel stones, Fair "wark'd " again. what a i)Hght The youtli was in, and what a sight Did he present as to the shore He struggl'd ! How his mates did roar With hiughter at his sorry figure ; He was as black as any " nigger ! " But sympathising with his griefs, They clean'd him with their handkerchiefs ; He left the spot in sober truth A sadder and a wiser youth. And as he homeward took his way He to his trusty chums did say : " I won't act Captain Webb no more ; I have had sufficient I am sure." CHARITY. ("And notu aUdeth Faith, Hope, Charity, these three, hut tht greatest of these is Charity." — Corinthians xiii., IS.) I SING the praise of Charity, That precious priceless rarity, would that we could see, Amid the darksome noxioxis weeds Of unkind woi'ds and loveless deeds, More of its radiancy. What pregnant seeds of grief and woe Do man's inhuman actions sow Within the soil of life. That duly in the social field Bring their inevitable yield Of malice, discord, strife ! How chang'd 'twould be, if only man Would study Nature's kindly plan, And, in its workings, see How seeming hostile forces move Each in its own ajDpointed grove. Yet blend harmoniously. (34 CHARITY. Yon golden sun that gilds the plain, Soft dews and fertilizing rain, The frost, the changing wind — Divergent paths they all pursue, With one grand, common end in view- The good of human kind. And shall these senseless forces roll Concordantly to their great goal. And godlike, reasoning man. By envy, malice, rancorous ire, By thoughtless selfishness conspire To mar the noble plan 1 Ah no ! within the heart's deep cell Kich chords of music latent dwell Which, waken'd from above By Charity's resistless hand, Shall rise and fall in cadence grand. The harmony of love. In what doth Charity consist ? In heading a subscription list 1 In giving to the poor 1 Altho' 'tis noble work indeed To minister to mortal need, Still it does something more. In comprehensive, kind embrace It fain would fold the human race. And know nor castes nor creeds ; Asking no party shibboleth, And having but one rule of faith — Not empty words — but deeds. True Charity with tender art. Seeks to relieve the wounded heart, To comfort the forlorn ; Doth e'er with sympathetic voice Rejoice with those who do rejoice, And mourn with them that mourn. THE YOUNG. 65 It doth not vaunt itself on liif'h : Nor view with supercilious eye, As of inferior breed — Those rear'd in Poverty's rude shed, 'Mid dire privation nurtured. The hapless sons of need. Doth not with exultation scan The errors of a fellow-man, But with a kindly voice Bids a poor wand'rer try again Virtue's fair patliway to regain, While angel hosts rejoice. If to these ends our varying powers Were spent, Love, Joy, like lovely flowers, Would sweetly spring to birth ; All Discord's jarring notes would cease, And Plenty, universal Peace, Prevail upon the earth. Thus let us pass Life's fleeting days, In varying spheres and varying ways Contributing our share To usher in Love's golden reign. That our dark earth may bloom again. Like Eden's garden fair. For Faith and Hope must fade away, Ending with Life's little day, But greatest of the three — Triumphant o'er the conquering tomb, Immortal Charity shall bloom Through all Eteruitv. THE YOUNG. THE sanguine spirit of the j'oung In roseate-tinted sheen Gilds every opening scene 66 THE YOUNG. Of Life ; Hope with her flattering tongue Singeth to them inspiring measures ; Fancy waves lier magic wand And opens out her pictures grand — A realm replete with sweetest treasures Springs up before their eager gaze ; They bask them in the golden rays Of youth's irradiant, vigorous sun ; Onward impell'd by keen Desire, On steps that never seem to tire Athrough the busy course they run ; They roam through Pleasure's golden palace, Nectar draughts of joy they quaif From her brimming sparkling chalice ; With beaming eyes and merry laugh. Launched upon Life's swelling tide, Lightsomely their vessels glide ; Nought reck they of reefs and shoals, Careless, hopeful, sanguine souls. Pale-fac'd Care with wrinkl'd brow From the scene averts his gaze ; He quits the uncongenial clime. And sullenly abides his time. Which cometh soon he well doth know ; Future dark untoward days, When he shall sheathe his rankling dart Relentlessly in each sad heart. Ah ! youthful spirits, have your day, Be ye happy while ye may ! Dream your bright illusive dreams, Treasure up the beauteous gleams, Revel in your fairy bowers, Pluck the rainbow-tinted flowers, Fill with bliss each fleeting day, All too soon will come the fray, With its tumults and alarms, Angry skies and clashing arms. When Fancy will have had her day, And stern fac'a Fact will wield the sway ; Then youthful souls, be blithe and gay, December soon doth follow May. 67 THE PORTRAIT OF A CRITIC. I'M a self-appointed mentor, and it is my little plan To try and make myself as disagreeable as I can ; cultivate assiduously a pleasant little way Of being most offensive in wliat I have to say ; My highest happiness it is to wound the hiniian heart, Give me the tiniest loophole, and with consummate art The keen edge of my sarcasm will 1 insinuate ; In all the varying games of life [ strive to demonstrate O'er all mankind mv measureless superiority ; So if you'd see a genius just turn your eyes on mp. My little mission is to feed the flickeriag flame of art, To science, music, poetry finality impart ; A lengthy start can I concede to Mr. Oscar Wilde, And all the Nine regard me as their dearest fav'rite child. If he were here I would not fear illustrious Apollo, While as for Socrates and Co., I'd smiply beat them hollow. In the glorious realm of rhetoric I could with greatest ease Eclipse the classic Cicero, or great Demosthenes ; In short, search all this planet, and find me if you can Just such another talented and versatile a man. With " eye-glass in my ocular " and classic brow severe. The bosoms of beginners do I inspire with fear ; I make a great impression upon inexperienced youth, Who ret'-ard me as an oracle, the fountain-head of truth : No kind of game do I regard as infra dignitatem, Youth, age, or beauty, all alike, relentlessly I slate 'em ; " Week in week out, from morn till night," away at them I hammer,. At this one's weak chronology, another's shaky grammar^ Full many a literary brow of laurels have I shorn. And made the wretched scribblers wish they never had been born.. Behold me in my sanctum as o'er the newest serial I flash my eagle optic with glances magisterial, I sentence pass upon it in something like this style — The orthography is dreadful, the syntax simply vile. I ne'er in all my lifetime read such execrable " rot," The writer has no notion of working out a plot ; The people are insipid, the thoughts are bald and crude, And never quit the region of threadbare platitude. The manuscript I then dismiss without another look, And bid the author burn it and try to write a book. 68 PORTRAIT OP A CRITIC. Perchance a wretched dabbler in mediocre verse Invites my kind attention while his lines he doth rehearse I note his trepidation, although he strive to mask it, And cheerfully I mention the editorial basket ; I note his look dejected as I smiling hint that he Must not expect to mount far up the great Parnassian tree. Then for his delectation I crack a little joke About the flame poetic but ending oft in smoke ; And as away from me he turns with disappointed sigh, "There ! I think that's settled him," exultingly say I, Should a man send me a letter that is somewhat poor in style, A rich vein of amusement it affords me for a while ; I show the wretched missive to acquaintances in town. And it is music in my ears to hear them run it down ; I care not for the poor man's want of opportunities, To ridicule his errors doth my fancy richly please ; What's that I hear you murmur — a breach of etiquette 1 That is one of the few things I have to learn as yet, — That such a genius as I must be kept down by rules Formulated for the guidance of prim old-fashion'd fools. But 'tis when at the opera I'm seen in all my glory, I take in with a single look the principals before me ; My ample stock of lyric lore I air with look profound, And raise my voice so it may reach the people sitting round : The contralto and the tenor they cannot sing at all. While as for the soprano — Lord, how the jade does squall ! And the deep portentous frown that gathers o'er my face Displays my disapproval of the efforts of the bass ; They're but a set of marionettes, I say contemptuously, It ne'er was my misfortune a poorer lot to see. And if I'm ask'd the question by some carping critic elf, How it IS I never think of doing anything myself? My answer is, why can't you see, I really am so throng Discovering the many ways where other folk go wrong, Besides — this little fact you have to bear in mind — My forte is the destructive, not the constructive kind ; And thus it is I pass the even tenour of my days. Content with shewing others the error of their ways ; My occupation, like Othello's, is gone if my wit May not display by noting other people's want of it. A QUIET MIND, THERE is a precious priceless gem ; No brilliant in a diadem Can boast a ray so pure, refin'd, That gem of gems — a quiet mind. Some seek for bliss in Beauty's glance, Or Pleasure's giddy mazy dance ; More lasting bliss is theirs who find The heartsease of a quiet mind. The dwelling-place where fancies sweet, Calm thoughts, and feelings exquisite In loving union are combined, Is that sweet cell — a quiet mind. Though circumstances conflict wage, Though trouble's tempest swell and rage ; We can meet all with heart resi Wherever his pleasure commands them. True lover of Nature in every phase, His eye can perceive her fair beauty, (Jouceal'd from the wurldlinji's material sraze : Her service is bliss, not mere duty Perform'd in a cold, perfunctory way, But a deep, ever-deepening pleasure. The heart's willing yielding to Nature's soft sway ; Yes, this is the bard's richest treasure. He knows that the mistress he faithfully serves Is as kind as slie's peerless-sly beauteous, A handmaid benign whose heart never swerves From her followers patient and duteous. 95 A PASTORAL. "f 7E Shepherd swains, to me give ear. X See, bright Sol hides his glowing crest Behind the curtains of the west ! And mild-eyed Evenir.g draweth near In dusky robes and shimmering veil. AVith visage beautiful, tho' pale, She walks the ethereal streets along Attended by a brilliant throng Of courtiers clad in silvery sheen, Bright subjects of a beauteous queen. The wearied birds are slumbering, Deep stillness wrappeth everything ; The flow'rets close their starry eyes, And like a pearly necklace lies The dew upon each slender stem. ^olus bi'eathes a requiem O'er the departing gleam of day; The owlet from the turret grey Utters its pit^rcing plaintive cries; Round the blind bat whirling flies. The lover to the lonely grove Telleth the story of his love; He tunes his lowly Doric reed To her, alas ! who will not heed, Soft Lydian strains, which, as they swell, Interpret but alas ! too well The pangs that in his bosom dwell. Ye shepherds, all due watch must keep, "From danger guard your helpless sheep That in the fold contented feed ; As night approaches, pay due heed Lest Keynard come, the wily thief. With gleaming eye and cruel teeth ; Or wolf that bays with hollow cry The moon as she sails calmly by. Shepherd swains, to me attend, Well your helpless charges tend ; If one weary eye must sleep Let the other vigil keep. Till the first faint crimson ray Herald the approach of day. 96 POVERTY. OF all the ills that flesh is heir to There is not one to be compar'd to- The cursed ill of poverty ; lu it exists, it seems to me, A multifarious misery, The asfgregate of all the woes That agitate and discompose The mighty sea of mortal life. And wrack the human breast with strife^ Foul source prolific from whence flow Dark streams which poison as they go. Frail mortals, reuder'd desperate By want, privation, perpetrate Actions from which their hearts recoil ; But, tempted by the thought of spoil, They haste to satisfy their needs By ruthless predatory deeds. How often, too, the beauteous maid, In youthful innocence array'd. Is yielded up a sacrifice To him who bids the highest price ; Perchance, to save the family pride. Becomes a sad, unwilling bride — Warm youth allied to palsied age, Condemn'd, poor soul, upon Life's stage To represent her wretched part. Who a:ives the hand without the heart. Or mark that youth whose thoughtful brow The stamp of genius doth show ; Converse with him, and you shall find He has superior powers of mind ; His eyes beam with intelligence, But galling, grinding indigence Holds him witliin its iron chain ; His mental labour is in vain : The world at large may never know The mighty, glorious thoughts that glow Within the fnrnaca of his brain ; Hence grand inventions with their train. Of useful offspring may be lost povERTr. 97 For lack of means to pay their cost. See Virtue, bow'd 'neath lieavy load, Limp painfully along Life's road, Winning but by incessant strife His daily bi-ead, the prospect rife W'^ith doubt, anxiety, and fear. As he surveys his lov'd ones dear, Misgivings well nigh whelm him. o'er Of what the future hath in stoi'e. Tlie invalid witli pale, worn face, Who longing yearns for change of place — The health-imparting genial air Of some salubrious climate, where A rest from Life's unceasing strain May bring back health and strength again. Alas ! against such luckless mortals -Are firmly clos'd the pleasant portals Leading unto the happy ground Where ease, rest, peace, and hope are found. Yet have I, wondrous to relate. Heard prolix orators dilate, With unctuous sonorosity Oa the blessedness of poverty ; Employing sundry pious saws And platitudes about the laws Of Nature, to persuade their hearers To see the beauties of such theories. They strive to shew 'tis Heaven's will That some should eat and drink their fill Of Earth's good things all through their life, While others have its care and strife. But me these preachei's but amuse As they express their simple views With prim, smug face, and pious air ; 'Tis easy work for those who share The benefits which means afford — To say — trust ye in the Lord I Commit yourselves unto His care Who, in His gracious goodness ne'er Will see His children lacking bread. I sometimes fancy, if instead 98 A JINGLE. Of favouring us with such discourses, These worthies from their own resources Would help the poor, whose pain and care, They from the pulpit oft declare They do so earnestly deplore, They'd do a very great deal more To win the masses to their side Than oratory's flowing tide, However orthodox and true, Will ever have the power to do. A JINGLE. YE men of the rhyming fraternity, Upon whom with smiles of maternity The Goddess divine Doth tenderly shine. Bright Poesy's gay confraternity. Ye courtiers in Nature's sweet palaces. Who quaff from her joy-laden chalices. Whose mystical art To each poetic heart, Ambition, joy, comfort, and solace is. Unlearned in lore academical ; Remote far from factions polemical. Philosophical schools Where they lay down the rules Of leges mechanical, chemical. Bred and born in Worth's doughty democracy, To which the dull-braiu'd mediocrity Has admittance denied. In spite of his pride. Though a scion of earth's aristocracy. Though the world at large pay little heed to you,. Materialists say there's no need for you ; Yet this sad world of ours May be cheer'd by the flowers Ye throw o'er its path, so God speed to you. 99' WHERE ARE THE NINE? WHERE are the nine ? in accents sad Once ask'd tlie Christ, Who came to men To heal their sonls and make tliem glad ; But one return'd ; were there not ten ? Where are the nine 1 there is but one 1 Sadly exclaim'd the Son of Man, To thank God for the mercy shewn. But one — this poor Samaritan. Long centuries have roll'd their course Since Jesus trod Life's weary way ; And yet, with still increasing force, The question might be ask'd to-day : Where are those souls on whom the Lout So much of earthly good bestows ? Alas ! sad answer to record — But one of ten whose bosom glows With warmth of genuine gratitude. Alas ! how very few who raise To Him, the Giver of all Good, Tributes of grateful, heartfelt praise. Shall He Who op'd His sacred veins To cleanse us from a fouler blot Thau leprosy's dread, loathsome stains ; Can such a Saviour be forgot 1 Lord ! in Thy boundless plenitude Of power and grace, our hearts endue With never-ceasing gratitude, And strength to follow Thee anew. Acknowledging in all our ways. Eternal Lord ! thy love and power, be Thou with us all our days Our Hope, our Wisdom, and our Tower ! 100 AN AUTUMN MEMORY. ONE afternoon in Autumn, The sky was drear and gray, Absorb'd in meditation I took my lonely way. It was in Essex County, Near unto Ingatestone — A little rural hamlet Sequester'd and unknown. Most dreary was the prospect — The trees were well-nigh bare ; No birdlings' merry trilling Resounded on the air. The hedges were all dripping With freshly-fallen rain ; The breeze was sadly moaning, Like one in mortal pain. As if in sore displeasure, The Sun withheld his ray ; In sodden'd yellow clusters The dead leaves thickly lay. Gleam'd through the tangl'd hedges The berry's crimson head ; The tiny acorn cower'd Within its leafy bed. No sound disturb'd the stillness But the cawing of the crows. Sitting in solemn conclave Upon the leafless boughs. All Nature was a-mournino', Her darling Summer fled, And freely fell her teardrops Upon Earth's humid bed. AN AUTUMN MEMORY. 101 And as I stroll'd on, musing, The solemn passing bell 'Gan suddenly a-ringiiig Its sad resounding knell. Then, gazing up the roalway Far as the eye could see, I dimly saw some figures Slowly approaching me. Becoming then quite curious To know what this might be, That seem'd like a procession Advancing steadily ; My laggard step I quicken'd Into an eager stride, And in another moment A touching scene I eyed : 'Twas a little funeral party Walking with solemn tread, Bearing a tender infant Unto its earthy bed. No sable plumes were nodding In sombre gorgeous state ; No pageant incidental To obsequies of the great. There was the tiny coflfin Borne on a farmer's cart, Drawn by a little donkey, That seem'd to play its part Just as the human mourners. Walking with subdued tread, A young child held the bridle And gently strok'd its head. The broken-hearted parents Follow'd the lowly bier. Throbbing with deep emotion. Shedding affection's tear 102 THE GIFT OP POETRY. O'er tlie sweet bud they chei-ish'd, Now fragrantless and dead, The day-star of their dwelling, Their light of life now fled. With thoughts too deep for language Gaz'd I upon the scene, The lowly little cortege. The parents' sorrow keen, Until a pathway leading Unto the burial place The little party enter'd. And faded from my gaze. THE GIFT OF POETRY. AS wandering breezes careless sweep The strings of an .l^^olian lyre, Awakening Music from her sleep ; So often the poetic fire In richest waves of f>irvour rolls O'er many unknown lowly souls. Just as from e ich unconscious string, Sway'd by the breeze's gentle power, Rich vai'ying chords of music wing Their flight athrough the stilly hour — So oft from lowliest sons of earth Come tender strains which owe their birth To some mysterious power within, Beneath whose hidden gentle sway, They calmly move amid the din And conflict of Life's fleeting day — A beautiful refining guest, The joy, the solace of their breast. A treasure to the world unknown Oft by some nameless one possessed ; How rich the spirit that doth own A gem so rare, his lot how bless'd ! To what grand heights may he not rise With such a rich and precious prize ! 103 THE PRIEST'S SECRET. (Suggested l>i/ a picture in Gray'n vnndoic) 'mis now the tranquil placid hour X Of Evening, bird, beast, and flower Are wrapp'd in undistui-b'd repose ; Day's wearied monarch downward goes, Illuming with his dying gleam Hill, landscape, meadow, winding stream. Pale Cynthia, Creation's queen, Benignly vieweth the fair scene — On high she liangs her silvery lamp ; The faithful stars with steady tramp Patrol the wide ethereal camp. In friendliness they seem to smile Upon the gray cathedral pile — Scintillating, trembling, gleaming, Through the colour'd windows streaming, Blending with the sacred light On the altar burning bright. Softening the cold grey stone ; While the Vesper's solemn tone Floating on the stilly air Calls the monks and nuns to prayei*. Pass they on in holy column, While rich music grandly solemn Tlirough the massy fane is roU'd From the organ's mouth cf gold ; As, in the antique chamber high, Absorb'd in fervent rapture, I Touch with a sympathetic hand The polished keys, and melting chords Summon forth at m}' command — Strains too beautiful for words, Which, as they vibrate and roll Flood with bliss my listening soul. Then Fancy, from her hid retreat Comes forth outspreading pictures sweet, And Memory rings her dulcet bells, Binding my soul with magic spells — Presenting to my wistful gaze Familiar scenes of bygone days : 104 THE priest's .secret. My vilhige home I fondly view, Live o'er again my happy childhood ; Again I roam the tangl'd wild wood, Follow the stream that meander'd tliroughi Its mossy banks with rippling sound ; The busy windmill whirling round, AVhose noise the village seem'd to till ; The ivied church upon the hill ; The breezy, pleasant, ample green, Of artless mirth the frequent scene ; That tree with spreading foliage, AVith seats beneath, whence wenried age Could view the pleasures of the young, Or gossips ply the unwearj'ing tongue. I see again our dear old cot — That dear lov'd well-remember'd spot- In fancy almost seem to catch The creak of its old rusty latch. My father sage, my mother dear, Then to my tearful eye appear — Long years have pass'd since they were laid To rest beneath the yew tree's sh.ide. And ! oft comes a vision fair — A face of beauty wond'rous rare — My dear lost love beside me stands, She seems to spread her snowy hands, And fix on me her large deep e} es ; Then, as within my eager grasp. Her beauteous mould I strive to clasp,. Away the lovely vision dies, Leaving my soul engulph'd in gloom As darksome as the cheerless Tomb. And then the old, old weary pain With fx'eshen'd force comes back again ; The wound I fancied Time had heal'd Re-opes, my heart that I had steel'd Against the blind God's wild delight, Again acknowledges h's might ; For I, the pledg'd and tonsur'd priest, A secret hold within mv breast Which nought but Death can e'er remove — THE TRIEST's secret. lO^' The secret of a long-lost love. Long years ago I lov'd her well, Her heart it throbb'd reciprocal ; She was my sun, my star, my lite, I sought to \.in her tor my wife ; But merciless parental pride Decreed her loftier position ; She must not be a poor man's bride, And on the altar of ambition My beauteous love was oftered up. Ah me ! bitter was the cuji — Two lives their cursed pride did sevei' ; With tears we parted, and for ever. I could not bear my simple ln)me, I was a hopeless homeless ranj^er ; Where'er my weary steps did roam Gladness unto my heart a stranger. I wander'd sadly up and down, Through sleepy hamlet, busy town. Or ancient cities of renown — A stranger traversing strange ground — - Until my weary footsteps found A refuge in the quietude Of this, a holy brotherhood. The priesthood's solemn vows I took And worldly things for aye forsook. Oft times, as in my lonely cell In meditation deep I dwell. Will come to me a blissful thought With sweetest influences fraught, That nerves me for my life of trial, Of penance, vigil, self-denial. The brethren as they calmly go Upon their way will never know The under-current of unrest That finds a lodging in my brenst. precious thought ! there comes a day When all Earth's clouds shall melt away. And I and my lost love will meet In Eden's beauteous garden sweet. Kought, nought the perfect bliss shall mar. lOG A VOICE FROM THE SKY. In the sweet song: no discoi'ds jar, Nor pride parental raise a bar Our tranquil souls to come between ; But free from sorrow, free from sin, Unfetter'd by the fleshlj'^ chain Of this poor mortality, We'll roam the fair Eiysian plain And drink of true felicity. Roam amid the beauteous bowers Deck'd with amaranthine flowers, While enraptur'd myriads string Their harps to the Eternal King. * * * Thus cheer'd along my pilgrim way, I journey on from day to day ; Succouring the sick, the poor, Bringing from the plenteous store Of my heart's experience sad Sympathy that maketh glad Many sorrowing hearts around Fainting on Life's battle-ground. Fill'd with holy thought and deed, Fly the days with bwiftest speed, Bearing me to that sweet clime, Tlie rest beyond the hill of time. A VOICE FROM THE SKY. Q FATED by my ingle bright On a dreary winter night, 1 ponder'd o'er my luckless plight, Weary, alone, While whirl'd the snow in furious flight And winds did moan. I saw my expectations cross'd. The hopes I so long cherish'd lost. Like flowers nipp'd by Winter's frost And cast away ; Or vessel water-logg'd and toss'd On raging sea. A VOICE FROM THE SKY. 107 Methought that I had beeu mistaken In the course which I had taken — All my confidence was shaken — Sad was my heart ; I griev'd that I had undertaken The minstrel's art. All silent was my feeble lyre, No faintest spark of Nature's fire, Responsive to my fond desire, Cheer'd witli its ray ; My weary feet and lieart did tire Of Life's hard way. A deep despondency fell o'er me, All darksome was the way before me. And, like an ocean wildly stormy. My bosom heav'd ; With none to cheer, to reassure me, I deeply grieved. Thus brooding my misfortunes o'er, I rose and strode my cottage floor Awhile, then open flung the door, And on the sky I gaz'd, as Boreas wild did roar, With pensive eye. In dense black clouds the sky was dight, Sweeping along in swiftest flight Before the tempest's gathering might ; Up gazing far, I saw amid the gloom of night A bright red star. And then I saw a huge black cloud Enfold it as within a shroud, Then pass away, while clear and proud The star still beam'd, Laughlno; defiantlv and loud To me it seemed. iOt> A LIFE THOUGHT. 'Twas blood-red Mars, and then as I Stood watching him with eager eye, Methought that from the distant sky The star did call, Like silver clarion ringing high That thrill'd my soul. He cried aloud, the hero bright : O mortal, faint not in the fight ; With patience climb the rugged height. Through all your foes Cutting your way till Fortune's light Upon you glows. Strengthen'd by that heroic star, Fixed in his blazing battle-car, Again I armed me for the war, That winter night, Resolv'd that nought my course should bar To Fortune's height. A LIFE THOUGHT TO labour on witli cheerful breast, To strive to do our very best, I take to be the proper plan To be pursued by finite man. Not idly dream of fate or luck, But try what industry and pluck, With hopefulness and patience, too, Combined, will help a man to do. Choose e'er the right, the wrong refuse, Look straight before thee, take short views Drink moderately of Pleasure's cup ; Wait not for something " to turn up " (Micawbei'-like), but bravely toil To win your guerdon fair of spoil From busy Industry's vast field. Fight on ; know no such word .is yield Until Death's overwhelminii: blow Descend on thee and lay thee low. THE NEW YEAR. 109 THE FIRST PSALM. BLEST is the man who doth not walk, Nor stand in sinners' ways ; Nor sitteth where the scornful talk With bold derisive gaze. Who from the statutes of the Lord Derives a deep delight, And ponders o'er the Sacred Word By daytime and by night. He shall be like a fruitful tree Well nourish'd by the flow Of waters, in prosperity His leaf shall bud and grow\ But with the ungodly 'tis not so, Who tread not Wisdom's way ; They're like the chaff the wind doth blow And scatter far away. For in the dreadful Judgmeiit Day These sinners shall not stand, But seek to hide themselves away From His avenging hand. For all those who His will obey The righteous Lord doth know, But sinners shall be cast away And perish in their woe. THE NEW YEAR. BORNE swiftly hence by Time's on-rushing tide, Hath sped away another circling year ; And in the Past's dim ocean deep and wide. Its joys, its sori'ows, fade and disappear. On the strange current of a new-born year We launch the frail vessel of our life. Athwart its unknown depths our way to steer, With mingling hopes, doubts, fears, conjectures rife. 110 THE NEW YEAR. The past year with its follies, failures, sin, Vows unredeem'd we never may recall ; To strive to mend our ways may we begin, And to the Heavenly Power for succour call. Perchance the year just ended may have brought To very many much of care and woe ; Dark troublous times, with deep affliction fraught, Dear lov'd ones by relentless Death laid low. To such, may be, as if to make amends, This New Year comes with brightly smiling face ; As Heaven iis sweetest consolations sends. And sunny smiles grief's bitter tears replace. We know not what the future hath in store, 'Tis from our gaze by love and wisdom hid ; Could we but see what waits us on before. Our hearts perhaps would sink o'erwhelm'd witli dread. Though health, friends fail us, earthly joys be few, A.nd troubles come in like a swelling tide ; There's One that 'midst it all will e'er be true, Who closer than a brother will abide. If but the Eternal Pilot guide our bark 'Twill weather the most trying storms of fate ; It must be well when all appears most dark. Though tempests rage around infuriate. Let Faith and Hope perform their lofty part. Enabling us to meet the ills of Time With tranquil mind and with undaunted hearr. As those who seek a far serener clime. This I conceive to be our wisest plan. To labour on, to strive our very best To raise ourselves, do all the good we can, And leave to All-wise Providence the rest. With loftier objects, hearts more kind and true. Adorning well our varying estate. Pursue we then with hope and courage new The untrodden path of 1888. Ill BURLESQUE V. THE DRAMA. IT was a beauteous stilly summer night ; The azure sky was bath'd in lambent light ; Pale Cynthia had hung her silvery lamp High in the midst of the ethereal camp ; The shining stars — a myriad glittering globes — Sparkl'd and flash'd like gems on regal robes ; All nature seem'd to rest from labour's throes, And everything invited to repose. Ye genii who rule the realms of air, Ye sportive elves, the reason strange declare That caus'd the pensive bard to leave his bed And wander through the chilly streets instead ; As carelessly he murmur'd the refrain Of some old song, he wander'd down Green Lane ; All heedless as to where his footsteps strayed. Crossing St. James's Road, down North Parade Awhile he strode, and then inclin'd his feet In the direction of Commercial Street ; Thence passing, he his steps did onward wend Until at length he found he'd reach'd Wards End, Then near the statue of the Consort good He paus'd awhile in meditative mood. * :;: >:= * As if to rouse him from his reverie, The Town Hall clock announc'd the hour of three, And instantly the Parish Church clock too Asserted that tlie statement was quite true. Turning to leave, the Royal met his eyes, And lo ! a sight that filled him with surprise. A brilliant dazzling radiance seem'd to shine O'er the dilapidated Thespian shrine, And, gazing up towards the balcony, Two lovely female forms the bard did see. One was a stately tall majestic maid, In modest robe of sombre hues array'd ; A crown of classic bays adorn'd her head ; She mov'd along with calm and queenly tread. In sooth she was a noble regal dame, Of lineage great ; the Drama was her name. The other was a phantom frolic wight, 112 BURLESQUE V. THE DRAMA, In flimsy gown of tawdry tinsel dight ; A merry maiden, gay and picturesque ; Jolly, bizarre, and rightly hight Burlesque. She heeded not the other's witherins: olance. But with a roguish grin eyed her askance ; A moment at each other thus they gaze. And then they spok^ in controversial phrase : Drama. Avaunt, thou giddy elf, and quit my sight ! Poor empty thing in shameless costume dight ; How darest thou intrude upon the stage, Sphere dedicate to wisdom deep and sage 1 Burlesque, extravaganza, comedy, Whate'er thy name, it matters not to me. Hence ! hence, 1 say, seek the congenial sphere Of music-hall, to puerile palate dear ; And ne'er again intrude upon my sight In my domains, my home, my place by right. Burlesque. What means this outburst of bombastic rase 1 Ancient anachronism, who says the stage By a prescriptive right belongs to thee 1 Old party, you've to reckon now with me. I care not for your scorn, your haughty mien, Your angry aspect of an outrag'd queen ; I quail not at your posings statuesque ; This fact know thou, that I, despis'd Burlesque, Have come, and what is more, have come to stav^ In spite of all you choose to do or say. Drama. Ye sacred Muses ! must I then thus hear This rowdy ribald glibly at mo jeer ] public taste, and hast thou i-each'd this pass, To seek thy entertainers from tliis class — Mere mountebanks, a giddy careless throno-. The votaries of the dance and comic sonf 1 The stage should hold aloft to Nature's view Her likeness touch'd with Truth's unfiidino- hue ; Paint Villainy, with intricate device, BURLESQUE V. THE DRAMA. 1 13 And reprobate proud, Gorgon-visag'd Vice. The stage should be an ever-sacred slirine Erected for the worship of the Nine ; Here should we learn to shed tlie pitying tear With poor Ophelia and mad King Lear ; View swart Othello's blindly-jealous rage, Which Desdemona's death could but assuage ; List moody Hamlet's sad soliloquy, And learn with noble Brutus how to die. Burlesque. ■Cease, pedant, cease your rhodomontade strain ! Believe me it is utterly in vain. Mark what I say : the British public shrink From any play that calls on them to think ; At home they have enough of that to do Without it at their entertainments too. What care they for your Desdemona's woes, Your Romeo and Juliet's dying throes 1 Who wants to sit and squeeze out maudlin tears O'er Hamlets, or East Lynnes, or mad King Lears 1 All they desire is just to simply sit While sylph-like forms before them lightly flit ; Bask in the sunny beams of Beauty's glance, And gaze on Pleasure's giddy mazy dance ; The while the merry pun and catchy song ■Conspire to chase the lagging hours along ; Given half-clad girls, a coster, and a dog. And nought on earth their happiness can clog. Drama. ■0 dire descent from Genius's high planes ! What folly thus to worship limbs, not brains. Incredible ! It surely cannot be That people long will rest contentedly With such unsatisfying pabulum ; I still will hope the day must surely come When nobler tastes shall enter on their reign, And sweep away this empty-headed train ; In Lethe's Stygian waters them submerge. From which they never shall ag-ain emerge. 114 a word cf coksolation Burlesque. Now there you are, old lady, wrong again ; Your lofty aspirations are in vain. Make up your mind, you'll never see that day : Our managers know well it will not pay For higher things to ti-y und form a taste ; Their money and their time they will not waste. Grand Opera even looks on me with dread, And, buUrush-like, bows a diminished head ; For, heedless of her wealth of melody. The public flock to feast their eyes on me. I take more money in a single show Than you in all the week, and that you know ; Take my advice, fox-ego your haughty pride, And promptly range your talents on my side. Drama. And this to me ! Consort with such as you I A stupid, vulgar, rowdy, motley crew ! What ! prostitute the genius of the stage. And pander to a foolish frivolous age 1 What ! win vile gold by fostering low taste ? No, rather in tlie desert let me waste ; Before I'd ai'i in such a base intent, To die outright I'd rather be content — Thus spake tlie maid in fierce indignant strain, .When down there came a heavy shower of rain, And in a pensive mood each went her way, Resolv'd to have it out some other day. A WORD OF CONSOLATION. I STOOD within a churchyard One sunny sabbath day, And gazed with sadden'd eyes on The tokens of decay That in such sad profusion Bestrew'd the hallo w'd ground^ Wliile o'er the peaceful prospoct A silence reign'd profound. A WORD OF CONSOLATION. 115' The stillness was but broken By niurmiws of the breeze, Breathing its soft requiem Athrough the leafy trees — A dirge it seem'd to fancy O'er those in Death's embrace, Wrapp'd in tranquil slumber 'Neath the earth's green face. Methought, as I stood gazing, Each sad memorial stone With eloquence seem'd gifted. And in a gentle tone Bade me not mourn as hopeless Dear ones to rest thus laid, But think of them as living, In fadeless bloom array'd. And as the melting tear-drops Bedimm'd my mourning eye, And from my bosom's depths came- A deep, a troubl'd sigh, Within my ear seem'd sounding A sweet, a gracious voice, In utterances so precious As made my heart rejoice, " Weep not," said it, " I am the Resurrection and the Life ; Weep not, for they are blessed, They rest from earthly strife ; Why thus in hopeless sorrow, Poor mortal, dost thou grieve ? For they do live for ever Who in my Name believe." Bless'd word of consolation ! How tranquilly to rest Sank 'neath its soothing power The storm that swept my breast ; And as I left the churchyard It seem'd as if a ray Of brightest heavenly sunshine Had fallen on my way. 116 THE WINTER MONTHS OF NINETY-FIVE. WITH salt tears streaming down her nose, The Muse give utt'rauce to her woes, As I narrate in mournful rlivme The terrors of an awful time — A page of history destin'd To linger long within the njind Of all among us who survive — The winter months of Ninety-five. 'Twas on the New Year's natal day The fell fiend first began his sway ; With frost and snow, with snow and frost Alternatelv to rule the roast ; With his keen breath, like pointed barb, That pieic'd e'en through the stoutest garb, 'Twas no light task to keep alive In those cold months of Ninety-fi^e. Poor little ones were lacking bread, And clam'ring loudly to be fed ; Distracted parents full of care, Right on the verge of dark Despair ; Homes destitute of food and fire Because the toilers wanted hire — Bees frozen out of Labour's hive In those dark months of Ninety-five. Wake, Grititude, awake the strain ! Tell how the piercing cry of pain Fell on Benevolence's ears. And call'd forth Pity's melting tears ; How Charity, most beauteous dame, Upon the scene with promptness came. Sources of succour to contrive In those sad months of Ninety-five. All honour to the noble band, All honour to each read}' hand Uprais'd to scatter wide relief, And stem the torrent-tide of grief ; And when is pass'd the time of need. Oft Mem'ry shall applaud the deed. How our Borough kept her poor alive In those cold months of Ninety-fiv -. 117 LIFE. Imus'd in deep perplexity Ou Life's uuravell'd mystery, lu all its deep complexity. I thought on Nature's mighty plan, And in its working seem'd to scan A likeness to the state of man. I on huge mountains cast my eyes, Saw their colossal summits rise Until they seem'd to prop the skies. And nestling lowly at their feet, The vales array'd in verdure sweet, Symbol methought most clear and meet,. Of Mankind's varying estate — Patricians powerful and great ; And plebeians born to lowly fate. Then I beheld the trackless sea. Now rapt in deep tranquillity, Anon upheaving restlessly — Its alternating calm and strife A picture of this mortal life. With mingling joy and sorrow rife. The heaven with ever-changing scene, Now deck'd in robes of brilliant sheen, With clouds and darkness oft between. And so 'tis with Life's chequer'd sky ; At times all bright, no dark clouds nigh, Or when no blue can we descry. The floods that sweep the mountain's side ; Huge rivers rolling in their pride, And mirthful rills that murmuring glide, Contributing from varying source, Each in its own appointed course, To swell the deep's stupendous force. lis TO SCOTLAND. So on the breast of Life's strong tide, Resistless, swelling, deep, and wide, The human currents onward glide Till verberates from shore to shore Great Gabriel's dread trumpet roar, Proclaiming Time to be no more. TO SCOTLAND. HAIL, " Bonnie Scotland," beauteous laud ! I sing thy prospects bright and grand — Heav'n-touching azuremantl'd mountainSj Thy silvery streams and dancing fountains, Unrivall'd panoramic views Deck'd in innumerable hues, Turgid torrents fiercely sweepiug. Silvery cascades lightly leaping, Romance's favourite retreat, Sweet Poesy's own native seat. Mother of Bruce, of Burns, of Scott, Can such a country be forgot 1 Where Nature picturesque and rude Reigns in her wildest grandest muod. Vast moors extending to the view Huge seas of mingling brown and blue, The sombre heath and waving dell, Home of the pretty heatherbell. Pure Patriotism's fairest shrine, Flooded with Freedom's light divine ; Thy fiery-hearted sons have broke For ever the oppressor's yoke, And freely pour'd their life's rich tide To keep intact thy ancient pride. The theatre sublimely grand Hast thou been, illustrious land. Of many a great momentous drama In Time's swift rushing panorama. Would that I had a Burns's lyre Swept with the true ^Eonic fire. That I might fitting preons raise O glorious couutry, to thy praise ! 119 THE POET'S JOY. TENVY not the rich, the great, Their golden store, their grand estate, Their splendour and their luxury, Or long ancestral pedigree. I see the children of ambition In eager quest of power, position, A famous name, a place at court, And not a single envious thought E'er finds a lodging in my breast, Though oft by earthly ills distress'd. Though Fortune's darlings pass me by, Or bend on me a scornful eye, I have within me stores of wealth Which all their hoards of golden pelf, However great, can never buy — A gift bestow'd by Heav'n on high. This is my all, my better part, The Muse's secret mystic art. Ah, yes, though poor and feeble be The strains the Goddess giveth me. They yield to me a vein of joy. And find my powei'S sweet employ. "She is the star that cheers my lot And brightens up the tiny spot Where my unhonour'd lot is cast ; My refuge from the howling blast Of fickle Fortune's adverse wind ; The peace that solaces my mind When Poverty and carking Care Would leave me prey to dark Despair. When Grief's sharp pangs assail my heart, When trials come, and friends depart, Then iu the constant Muse I find A healing balm, a friend most kind. Though rude and halting be the strains I raise, although to reach the lofty plains Of Helicon's harmonious height. Where burns the grand ^Eonian light, "I fail, and may not emulate 'The songs of bards of lofty fate. 120 A NIGHT REVERIE. Those gifted souls whose names sublime- Adorn the lustrous scroll of Time, Still, humbly following in their wake. My lower path through Life I'll take, Contented with a few stray beams From Poetry's translucent streams ; My one great hope, my chief desire, The real, the true poetic fire. A NIGHT REVERIE. OLD Sol hath run his race diurnal. And yielded unto shades nocturnal^ In silence wrapt the hills eternal And slumbering streams, Fair Cynthia with smile maternal Upon us beams. The trembling stars their vigils keeping,. Bright meteoi'S o'er empyrean leaping, Soft dews in glistening silver steeping The pretty flowers, With curl'd-up petals, calmly sleeping In fairy bowers. The restless zephyr softly blows Wand'ring 'mid the leafy boughs. The glowworm's lantern brightly glows,. With deep delight, The darkness-loving owl forth goes To greet the night. . Far out upon the mighty deep. While wearied sailors soundly sleep. The watch his lonely guard doth ktep With cheery ray, The little stars down on them peep. And guide the way. By Slumber's weighty breath oppress'd,. The labourer takes his well-earu'd rest, No cares disturb his honest breast, No terrors move. Peace brooding o'er his humble nest Like gentle dove ! A NIGHT REVERIE. 121 The wily poacher spreads the coils, Anon he views the feather'd spoils Entangl'd in his cunning toils, Safe in the snare. And triumphs inly as he foils The keeper's care. Alas ! Night, beneath thy shade. In Sin's fair panoply array'd. To ply the harlot's hellish trade Doth shameless go That frail one erst a guileless maid. Now fallen low. The sentinel with steady tramp Paces around the tented camp. Mid pestilential vapours damp And beasts of prey, Till Morning lights his cheery lamp, And 'gin's the day. Oft o'er and o'er again do I Athrough the solemn hour lie, While busy Fancy forth doth fly Fi'om her retreat. And spreadeth out before the eye Her pictures sweet. What care I for the loss of sleep, A rich reward of bliss I reap — Inspiring thoughts and lessons deep My toils requite, And my poetic senses steep With deep delight ; Oft as thy solemn hour comes round,. O peacetul Night, shall I be found Ready to roam the ethereal ground Of fancy bright ; My love for thee still more abound Majestic Night ! 122 A GREETING. YE faithful followers of the Muse, Ye pensive-soul'd Bohemian crews, Who study Nature's varying views With willing heart, xVnd for your better portion choose The tuneful art. Ye thoughtful race, who lonely wander Through Nature's realms and deeply ponder, Finding your love for her grow fonder Each day that flies, Who know no hope nor wish beyond her Sweet mystic ties. Extol the watching charms of Nature, Sing descants on each lovely feature Presented in her grand portraiture In earth and sky. To hymn her praise bid every creature With rapture vie. Sing of her undulating valleys, The still sweet woods and verdurous alleys. Sing golden Sol as forth he sallies, Like gallant bright, When Morning floods her orient palace In roseate li";ht ! o Accept the humble commendation Of me, a bard of lowly station. Whose highest hope and aspiration Is to attain, Help'd by the Muse's inspiration. Fame's bright domain. o Though captious critics sneer and carp, Let not their spleen your spirit warp. But with the music of your harp Their murmurs drown ; Stand up to them, and they will sharp Leave you alone. A SONG. 123 Call on these idle soulless elves 'I u do some decent work themselves, 'I'o close their spleen-emitting valves, And sympathise With e'en the lowliest soul who delves For Honour's prize. I know no nobler spectacle Upon which mortal eyes can dwell Than on some soul who labours well To mend his state, Whose breast Ambition's fire doth swell With purpose great. Though low your lot, and scant your purse, Though Fortune's frown your pathway curse, Word-painters of the universe, Ye men of rhymes ; In varying strains the themes rehearse Of these strange times. Toil bravely on, each tuneful soul, Heed not, though adverse billows roll. With virtue, prudence, self-control, Pursue your way, 'Unto your aspiration's goal The poet's bay ! A SONG. DEAR bygone days, sweet bygone days. How oft, amid our grief and pain. We backward turn our wistful gaze. And would that ye could be again ; Life's morning hours, when woe and care To our light bosom strangers were. Dear bygone hours, sweet bygone hours. Unto our fancy's eyes ye seem To represent the faded flowers That tell of Summer's golden dream ; Life's fairest hours, so calm and bright Alas ! for ever ta'en their flight. 124 DEEDS VERSUS CREEDS. METHINKS it is a small affair indeed Whatever be a man's reli<;ious creed ; What matters it what tenets he believes? What are these things but merely lifeless leaves f While actions are the goodly luscious fruit. How many men most orthodox to creeds With firmness hold, and yet are, by their deeds^ As far remote from God-likeness and love As this our globe from yonder vault above ; In practice not much higher than the brute ! There's one will say he loves his fellow-man, And yet, perchance, that very mortal can Unmov'd behold another in distress, And him relieve not ui his wretchedness. Though able. What's the value of his creed ? 'D^ Another no profession makes at all, In brief, may be what true believers call An infi('>^l, yet play the nobler part, And demonstrate himself of better heart ; A Christian truly, not in word, but deed. See we a man considerate and kind, Of charitable views and breadth of mind. Upright and manly, honourable, true. And we behold, alas ! there are so few, A genuine man, a gem of priceless worth. Yet here and there such noble souls are found,. True warriors on life's stern battle-ground, Who prove themselves by many a goodly deed- Superior to mere holders of a creed, Whose good too often owes to fear its birth. Above the conflict of contending creeds The world calls out impatiently for deeds. It cries aloud : — Ye Christian folk, live out That love ye talk so fluently about ; Display the proofs of your sincerity. THE DAY IS DARK AND DREARY. 125 We're wccary of your inconsistent ways, Your hollow, vain rhetorical displays ; Why do ye fail so signally to reach The lofty standard ye so ghbly teacli ] Is it a myth your boasted charity 1 ! would we all but practise what we preach. By acts of good confirm the good we teach ; Were we more real, genuine, sincere. Then would Religion's beauteous light appear And fill this dai'ken'd world with radiancy. THE DAY IS DARK AND DREARY. THE Sun in anger hides his ray. The skies are rob'd in sombre gray, The rain falls fast on hedge and spray ; The day is dark and dreary. Dark is the horizon of my life, With gathering clouds of sorrow rife. My breast is full of bitterest strife, And all is dark and dreary. For friends I sigh, and sigh in vain ; No Koul is near to soothe my pain, Life's load to aid me to sustain. Nor comrade kind and cheery. I yearn to reach that tranquil shade 'Where, by Earth's tumnlts undismay'd, -AH calmly rest the peaceful dead. No longer sad or weary. 126 A MIDNIGHT CAT-ASTROPHE. THE shades of night had settl'd down O'er S-w-y Bridge, that risiiiij; town And silence solemn and profound RuVd all, above, below, around. A trio — husband, wife, and son. Their day's appointed duties done, All peacefully had sunk to rest, By Morpheus's weight op})ress'd. Through dreamland's region calm siiIKk'' They sweetly roam'd, while busy Time The "wee sma " hours hurried throu^^. When suddenly there swiftly flew Through the still house a dread alfirm That soon disturb'd their slumber ca|ift\ And startl'd Sleep in deep chagrin Disgusted bolted from the scene. An awful bumping row they hear That fills their very soul with fear. Awakes the echoes of the nioht, And all their comfort puts to fligli'. Erect in bed the aged pair Upsprang, while every startl'd haii Upon each hoary time-worn pate Stood up like soldiers stiff and sfr:ii Scarce knowing what ought to be 'i- They summon first their only son. And pour into his youthful ears The doleful story of their fears. A member of a fire-brigade. Of coiirse, he scorn'd to seem afrani Quoth he, just let me see the thirf And soon the scamp will come to All in their sleeping garb array 'd, A very striking group they made, . The hardy youth his hatchet gras His Bire unto his bosom clasps A MIDNIGHT CATASTROPHE. 127 His trusty friend, his good " ash plant," Well-i)rov'd in many and many a " rant," And, bidding the old dame go first, They nerve themselves to meet the worst. Downstairs they creep with bated breath And trembling feet, while thoughts of death In varied forms and dreadful pains Rush swiftly through their heated brains. Around about they keenly stare. But nothing meets their vision there Explanatory of the noise, And Hope again the bosom buoys. The youth opiu'd they were mista'en, And mov'd they got to bed again, Which *' motion " well was entertain'd, And soon their chambers are regain'd. When lo ! the noise with double force, Renews itself, and so perforce. Those stairs they must descend again To seek the cause of all the din. Around again with vigilance In every hole and nook they glance, Until, despairing, the old " felJar " Suggests that they should try the cellar. Accordingly they bend their steps Into the cellar's gloomy depths, And, nerving them for mighty blow, They look round for the lurking foe. how they rav'd and stamp'd and swore When downward gazing, on the floor The figure of a cat they spy, At which the irate youth let fly. It seems, like all the feline ilk, Pussie was very fond of milk. And, having come across a jug, Had tightly wriggl'd in her " mug " 128 "faithful unto death." In her keen quest for bovine spoils And herself fasten'd in the toils ; Then vainly striving to get free, Had bump'd and hammer'd vigorously, So causing the alarming noise That banish'd their nocturnal joys, That dragg'd them from their cosy bed And filled their bosoms with such dread. But, laughing at the harmless scare. To bed they once again repair, Right thankful to discover that 'Twas nought more dang'rous than the " cat." MORAL. If you would calmly rest at night, And not be waken'd in a fright, Take ray advice, and be quite sure You leave no milk jug on the floor. U' "FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH." {During an earthquake that took placein a Bussian town inlhclatter part of the year 1S8S, a soldier 7ras guarding the Treasury, and, though walls u-ere falling in all around him, he refused to leave his post tint il ordered to do so by a Sergeant who fortunately had his attention drawn to the ijosition of the gallant fellow.) 'NDYING Fame, upon thy shining scroll Inscribe the name of this heroic soul ! Bright Glory, weave an amaranthine wreath To grace his brow, who, faithful unto death, In peril's hour refus'd to quit his post And won a place amid that glorious host Whose noble actions god-like and sublim.e Live on until the latest hour of Time. Such men as he make any nation great, Add honour to the lowliest estate. may he from a generous country's hand Receive meet guerdon for his valour grand ! And when the dauntless hero's days are o'er, Kind Angels, waft him to the heavenly shore, To wear for aye the conqueror's fadeless wreath, Heaven's crown for all who're faithful unto death. 129 A CHRISTMAS STORY. THERE'S trouble on the mighty soa, Its bosom heaves tumultuously, The wind is howling furiously ; ■Huge, black clouds scudding o'er the sky Presage the dreaded tempest nigh ; From pole to pole red lightning flashes, The awful thunder rolls and crashes, Snow-crested billows boil and leap, Then downward swirl into the deej). All through the blinding surf and spray A gallant vessel ploughs her way ; She reels, she dips, her timbers creak, As heavy seas athwart her break ; High on the giddy reeling mast The reefer sits amid the blast ; He labours bravely in the gloom, Unmoved, resign'd unto the doom That darkly o'er them seems to loom. Ah ! deem not the bold seaman weak, If scalding tears bedew his cheek ; Not for himself his grief has way, He thinks of dear ones far away : Again he sees his native village. The fragrant fields he used to pillage ■Of their gems the starry flowers In boyhood's sunny happy hours. Sees, too, that dear, familiar spot — The little ivy-covered cot, His home, his heart's true resting-place, His widow'd mother's gentle face ; And how his life-blood courses warm As thinks he of another form. That pretty face and head of gold — His sweetheart in the days of old. ■O shall he gaze on her again, And find her to him fondly true, Tu pleasure's draught drown all his pain 1 Thus thinks the reefer ; while the crew Toil on with all their manhood's might, And pray for morning's welcome light. 130 A CHRISTMAS STORY. Heaven aid the vessel and her crew, In mercy guard them safely through The howling blast, from reef and rock, Till rests she safely in the dock ! ^ * ^ * Now turn we to a difterent scene, A tiny cottage bright and clean — Each thing is in its proper place ; No careful eye can fail to trace That order, tidiness are dear Unto her heart who dwelleth here. The little store of homely delf Display'd upon a humble shelf ; The massive chest of sturdy oak, That grand old clock, whose sounding stroke The stillness here for years has broke ; A few old prints upon the walls — Old country scenes, old-fashion'd halls ; The infant Jesus in a manger, A little helpless, homeless stranger ; That Sacred Book — its holy page Youth's wisest guide, the stay of age ; The comfort doubtless of the dame Who sits before the cheerful grate, Gazing into the ruddy flame Leaping and dancing so elate. A gentle white-hair'd dame is she, With kindly eye and placid brow ; Old Time hath us'd her tenderly. Although stern Winter with his snow And frosts severe her eyes have seen Full three-score years and ten I ween ; She sits, a striking illustration Of meek-ey'd, patient Resignation. Fond Memory is busy now, And brings to her remembrance how 'Tis clear, familiar Christmas Eve, And for awhile the dame doth leave The present with its care and pain. And liveth o'er the past again. Distinctly to her tearful eyes A CIIRISTJIAS feTOIJY. 131 The well-beloved form doth rise Of that kind partner fond and true From whom no unkind word she knew, Who long ago was laid to rest Within Dame Nature's tranquil breast. That merry-hearted, handsome boy, Her heart's great hope, her soul's chief joy, A roamer o'er the restless wave, A wayward lad, but bold and brave. She gazes at the vacant chair, Hallowed by many a tear and prayer. Dusted and placed for many a year For him, alas ! that came not neai-. Thus, while her fancy doth explore The past, a knock comes at the door, And entei's then a maiden fair, With eyes of blue and flaxen hair ; A maiden, yet a woman staid, In modest dignity arrayed. Beside the dame she takes her seat, And greeteth her in accents sweet ; A momentary crimson flush Deepens into a vivid blush. Then fadeth from her rounded cheek, As to her friend she thus doth speak : " 0, why should Ralph prefer to roam The treach'rous deep, 'mid storm and foam. And never visit once his home Nor write to you, his mother dear ! My dear lov'd friend, I sadly fear That he on whom we set such store Shall never gaze upon us more. " " Nay ! nay ! my darling, say not so, For anything we two may know. Upon his homeward journey now He may be. Banish from thv brow That saddened look. If 'tis His will Who holds the deep, the lofty hill Within the hollow of His hand. He'll bring him safely back to land. That's right, dear ; cease your melancholy 1 132 A CHRISTMAS STORY, Now fasteu up these sprigs of holly I And here's a bunch of misletoe, Ah ! well I miud, now blush not so, Long years ago he you did kiss Beneath a similar piece to this. Old Christmas comes but once a year, Then, let us make him welcome, dear ! " The girl, cheer'd by the kindly word, Speeds the glad task, when lo ! is heard A firm sharp knock, and then another. And then the joyful cry- — "Ah, mother ! " And, all unscathed from Ocean's harms, Ralph clasps his mother in his arms ; Then turning to his darling Grace, Enfolds her, too, in his embrace. No words can tell that mother's joy, As gazes she upon her boy, "While Grace can only by him stand, And sliyly hold his big brown hand. The cheerful meal now duly o'er. Around the cozy fire they draw, And, with a hand in each of his, Ralph yields himself to perfect bliss. Says he, " You long to know, I 'spose. What has detained me — well, here goes : 'Tis seven years this very day Since the Stormy Petrel sailed away With a cargo rich from Plymouth Sound To Sacramento outward bound. Well, after a successful run, We made the poi't ; our task then done. For merry England we put back, And soon were on the homeward tack. But winds contrary overtook us. From stem to stern they fiercely shook us ; We had to cut away all sail. And outward carried by the gale. We drifted rapidly away. Until on an ill-fated day Quite suddenly there came a squall Athwart our craft, and down went all. A CHRISTMAS STORY, 133 Except a few wlio reach'd an island By floating spar and upturn'd boat, Right thankful but to get on dry land, Though uninhabited, remote. Long dreary years then pass'd away, We Ivept on looliing day by day ; No welcome sail e'er came our wa.y. Oh, how we pray'd that one might come, And bear us safely, quickly home ! At length one day a cheerful shout Came from our comrades looking out. Announcing we had been espied, And there upon the ocean wide A gallant craft came full in view. We hail'd her ; soon a sturdy crew Put off to us and quickly landed ; Into the boat soon we were handed ; The captain, like a Briton true, Did all for us that he could do ; We learn'd that she was homeward bound. And soon again in Plymouth Sound We landed, and you see me here. But now, my lov'd ones, never fear That I will leave you any more ; I'm going to get a berth ashore As watchman, or as coastguardsman. Yes, mother mine, that is ray plan ; And when I'm spliced to you, dear Grace, In this, my own, my native place. Shall be my resting-place, my ho;ne, No more o'er ocean's depths I'll roam." * * * Thus sat they out that Christmas Eve, And laugh'd and talk'd while Hope did weave Her fabric fair of pleasures sweet, Until the pealing bells did greet The dawning of the happy morn When Christ, the Prince of Peace, was born. 134 A PROLOGUE. "VERBUM SAP." FAINT heart ne'er won a lady fair, So saith the proverb ancient ; Therefore, ye timorous lovers, ne'er Be daunted, but in patient, Stout-hearted confidence abide, Assiduously endeavour To win the maid until the tide Of love turn in your favour. Ye who the steep ascent of Fame With eager footsteps climb, Aspiring to inscribe your name Upon the scroll of Time ; Toil on, perchance the kindly Fates May to your side be won, And duly open Fortune's gates Unto their struo;o-liiio; son. Or ye who Learning's classic field With pensive eye explore. Work bravely on until she yield Her wealth of precious lore ; Ye may not reach the fair domains By any royal woy. But by infinity of pains, By labours night and day. H A PROLOGUE. {Wrilie^i for an Old English Vilkuje Bazaar held at Hanorer School early in 1S89.) ■ANOVER'S friends, list while this lowly rhyme Directs )"our thoughts to good Queen Bess's tim That period renowned in Englisli story. When Britain climb'd the bright ascent of glory. Then Albion, 'neath the regis of the Tudor, Securely dwelt and feared not an intruder ; All foreign foes she set at brave defiance. And led the world in learning, art, and science. With patriots such as Sydney, Drake, and Raleigh, The empire grew in peace and plenty daily Until she reached a height of exaltation A PROLOGUE 135 Not yet attained by any other nation ; In town and city toilers dwelt contented, Or village fair, as this one here presented. * -; * Mark well the scene replete with qnaint old charms — Ye village inn yclept " Ye Raleigh Arms ; " Hard by, its neighbour grey, yon ancient arch, Beneath which often times did proudly march Bold belted knights, stout squires, sturdy yeomen, In feudal fray to meet their neighbour foemen. Yon ivy-covered venerable fane, Resounding oft with prayer and holy strain ; The Stocks, wherein the roving knave or fool Oft found a seat his vagrant heels to cool ; The Market Cross, where farmers' wives did meet To sell their poultry, eggs, and butter sweet ; Observe we, too, yon grand manorial hall, Thrown open wide, alike to great and small. * * -x- And do ye ask, what mean these rustic trains Of country lasses fair and sturdy swains 1 These quaint old shops, whose ample stalls display Promiscuous and beautiful array Of fancy wares, all wrought by dexterous hands, Bi'ought o'er the seas from distant eastern lands, From Palestine, from grim, grotesque Japan, Bright offspring of the genius of man 1 The reason of this beautiful display Is, briefly, this, we hold a fair to-day, And all these goods outspread beneath your eye Appeal to you to come and freely buy ; With voiceless eloquence they seein to say. Good people, come and carry us away ; You'll find in us nor blemishes nor flaws, liemember, too, the goodness of the cause ; In after time, you will feel no regret That you thus helped to liquidate the debt Which like an incubus upon our school So long hath lain. Cold calculating rule Put on one side, and hand all you can over, And thus reward the workers at Hanover. 136 BE STILL. THE CONSTANT HEART. THERE is a flower that never fades,. Though others droop aud die, Retainino- its enchautinff hues And fragrance rich for aye : — The flower of the constant heart — hold this flower dear. And prize it as the sweetest thing Upon this circling sphere ! Within the stately princely hall The lovely bloom is found, In scenes of grandeur, elegance, Where luxuries abound ; But oftener in the lowly soul Of some poor child of earth, 'Midst poverty and darkness, shines This gem of priceless worth. BE STILL. BE still, my troubl'd heart, be still f If 'tis thy Heavenly Father's will That trial, pain, shall be thy lot, Be strong and patient, murmur not ; Life's fleeting course will soon be run. The cross be borne, the crown be won. What though friend after friend depart- There is a Friend Whose faithful heart Will closer than a bi'other's cleave ; In Him unfalteringly believe ; His gracious goodness changeth never ; Same yesterday, to-day, for ever. What though the road be long and dark,_ And many a stain of error mark Thy journey o'er the pilgrim way ; Though often worsted in the fray. Let this sweet promise cheer thy breast — He giveth His belov'd rest. A BALLAD. IS'T THE BEE. THE bee that in the summer houi" Flits restlessly from flower to flower, Rich nectar from their opening lips Extracting with delicious sips, Presents unto the thoughtful mind A useful lesson to Mankind ; Which, would they pay to it due heed, Would some day stand them in good stead. Observe the toilsome insect's care — When all is beautifully fair, Disdaining pleasurable ease, Employing all its energies, As if its instinct did foresee A period of necessity ; It taketh Fortune at the tide, When its currents swelling glide ; With arduous labour doth contrive To store with luscious sweets its hive. Perceive, man ! the lesson great The industrious bee doth demonstrate ; Doth not the tiny teacher say : When shines the sun, then make the hay^ Work on and prosper while you may. Yes, labour on, remit no pains. While sickness ne your hand restrains ; Now in the prime of Manhood's power. Provide against a future hour ; To win fair Fortune's cheering smile, With strenuous eftbrts bravely toil Until the sunshine of success la radiant beams your pathway bless. A BALLAD. BE true to me, a lover said. As he bent o'er the golden head Of the fair maiden at his side ; When far away upon the sea. Sweet love, wilt thou be true to me ? I love but thee, the maid replied. 138 THE FLIGHT OF SUMMER. The lover breathes liis sad adieu, Then swiftly o'er tlie waters blue Light as a bird the vessel flies; He goes, nor thinks he to return Till Fortune's favours he shall earn, Then will he come and claim his prize. Long years roll on, he cometli not, The maiden deems herself forgot, And to another lends her ear ; Unto anotlier gives her hand With wealth untold at his command, Nor thinks of him she once held dear. A gallant vessel homeward flies ; With triumph gleaming in his eyes A traveller treads her deck elate; A few short hours, murmurs he, And I my beauteous love shall see Alas ! he recks not of his fate. Unto the maiden he returns. Full soon the cruel truth he learns ; His joy transform'd to ceaseless pain, Again he roams o'er Ocean's breast, To know no more the joy of rest Till kindly Death shall end life's strain. THE FLIGHT OF SUMMER. THE beauties of Summer are fading away, We view their departure with grief and dismay, The varying prospects in sombre garb dight, Too truly narrate the sad tale of his flight. The swallows fly homeward, the flowers are few, The grass is fast losing its emerald hue, The leaves in thick clusters lie yellow and sere. And winds softly murmur in cadences drear As they roam in and out the fast thinning trees; The songsters no longer their gay minstrelsies In rapturous glee pour forth with full throat, A TRIBUTE. 139 But at intervals utter a faint chirping note. Bird, flower, and leaf in mournful tones say : Our monarch, bright Summer, is passing away. Farewell then, grand spirit of beauty and light, Soon, soon thou wilt be but a memory bright. The Seasons' gay king, thou hast well play'd thy part. Hast breath'd sweetest bliss into many a heart, With a rich floral zone hast encircl'd the scene, Bath'd meadow, field, woodland in roseate sheen; In beautiful tints hast thou garnish'd the skies, And spread in profusion rich food for our eyes ; Hast lighten'd our bosoms and dried up our tears, With music delicious hast flooded our ears ; Like an angel of good thou hast cheer'd us along, Dispell'd all our fears, made us hopeful and strong. But now for a season thou goest away. And soon shall we groan 'neath Winter's stern sway ; But when Borean blasts shake the forest and glade, And Earth in her mantle of white is arrayM, We will patiently suffer the cold and the storm, And long for the time when, rosy and warm. Again o'er the prospect thou shakest thy wing. Then farewell, bright Summer, of Seasons the king, A TRIBUTE. (In Memory of the Author's niece, Annie Sutclife, who died Felmmry 19th, 1S94.) METHINKS that Fate ne'er aim'd a crueller blow Than that swift-winged dart that laid thee low, Dear Maid, array'd in all thy youthful bloom, Like a f\xir flower that droops mid Autumn's gloom. Still, while we shed the tributary tear, Yet who of us would wish that thou wert here ] Tf we could only penetrate the haze That hides the future from our finite gaze. Perchance we then might think Death was a friend Who came to thee earth's countless ills to end ; To lead thee to a better land than ours, To glitt'ring golden streets and fadeless flowers ; Where sorrow, sighing, pain, anxiety Come not to mar the deep tranquillity ; No sun to shed its overpowering ray, 140 FOR LOVE AND CHIVALRY. No fears by night, perplexities by day ; Where thou shalt ever bathe thy peaceful breast In the calm ocean of infinite rest. Thus, Annie, would we wish to think of thee, As from earth's ills and sin's pollution free ; Not hopeless thy untimely end deplore ; Thou art not dead, but only gone before. And may those who most keenly feel thy loss With patience and submission bear the cross ; Think that their loss is thy eternal gain, Hope, by God's mercy, thee to see again, And try to say, though sorrow's tempest swell :— " It is the Lord ; He doeth all things well." FOR LOVE AND CHIVALRY. (.4 Son(/.) A WARRIOR resolute and bold, Arm'd cap-a-2jie in burnisli'd gold, Spurs onward to the tourney gay, Elate and eager for the fray ; The favours of his ladye fayre Float bravely on the breezy air, Aud with a merry voice sings he : I fight for Love and Chivalry. Now in the lists, with lance in rest. And victory shining on his crest ; He rushes on the advancing foe. Soon on the green sward lays him low ; With breast elate and beaming eyes Receives from Beauty's hand the prize, 'Midst plaudit loud and revelry, The bright reward of Chivalry. With honour crown'd the gallant knight Rides homeward gaily from the figlit ; His true love from her lattice pane Descrys him spurring o'er the phxin ; Soon to the warrior's ardent breast The lovely maid is fondly press'd ; Dear love, he whispers tenderly, I've fought for Love and Chivalry. 141 THE JESTER'S LOVE. HE was the King's own Jester ; Amidst the courtly throng ^Twas his to mingle daily, With quip, and crank, and song; To drive away dull-visag'd Care From noble proud ana ladye fayre. The pun and merry couplet Could he command at will, The graceful tarantella Perform with featly skill ; Or keep the table in a roar With rosy Humour's pleasing lore. But 'neath that vest of motley There was an aching heart, And in the mirth he call'd forth The Jester had no part ; And none knew 'mid the revels gay The pangs that rent him day by day. He lov'd a noble maiden, A lady highly born ; Ah ! vain the hope that ever She could, his love return ; Look from her altitude sublime Upon the luckless man of rhyme. He watch'd her queenly figure Move in the mazy dance. And would have given his best blood For but a tender glance ; But little reck'd or heeded she, Destin'd a great man's bride to be. Her bridal morn dawns brightly, In beauteous robes array'd, Move belles and gallants knightly, A splendid cavalcade. And just as she became a bride That very hour the Jester died. 142 A LAMENT. TILL DEATH DO PART. TWO tender lovers, hand in hand, Wander by a rippling stream ; They roam through Pleasure's fairy laud, Dreaming Love's delicious dream ; I will be true, he fondly cries, Doubt me not, my beauteous love, True as yon sun that gilds the skies. Nought from thee my heart can move. An aged couple, hand in hand, Sit before the ruddy blaze ; They've almost reach'd the borderland Pilgrims through Life's devious ways ; Through Life's bright morn to its calm eve, Faithful they through woe or weal ; Together now they fain would cleave In life or death united still. A LAMENT. ALAS ! what ills the aspiring bard assail Who seeks the height Parnassian to scale ; What galling fetters chafe his soaring soul, What adverse currents o'er him ruthless roll ; What barriers interpose themselves between Him and the goal his hopes are centred in ! Spending hia manhood in laborious days ; His nights in dreams of amaranthine bays ; The proud man's scorn, the worldling's cynic sneer,. Malignity's keen thrust, and Envy's carp and jeer ; A scant-lin'd purse, friends few and far between, Oay gleams of hope, and disappointments keen ; Inconstant friends, the critic's cruel flailing. Tormenting doubts, misgivings dire of f:\iling ; All these, and more too numerous to name, Obstruct the path of those who seek for fame, In Glory's temple bright an honour'd niche to claim. As loftiest heights encounter fiercest gales, While calm and tranquil rest the lowly vales. They who would tread the higher paths of life CARISSIMMA. 143 Have oft to forge their way through fiercest strife. But as the warrior views with ardent eyes The foe advance, and feels his courage rise, So the true bard, as he surveys his foes, His inborn pluck proportionately grows The obstacles to meet that would his way oppose. The artist, too, who really loves his art, Though doubts and fears betimes assail his heart, Before his vision keeps his grand ideal, And labours on with never-flagging zeal. Let genius in a man but have its root. Be it but tended well, the goodly fruit In time it must inevitably yield. As harvests bless the cultivated field. On then, my friends ! be ye undismay'd ! What e'er the power against your souls arrayed. As when dark clouds disperse with swiftest pace Before the beams of Sol's resplendent face. So shall your genius, with its brilliant light, Disperse your foes, make all your pathway bright. Let nothing then your upward flight retard, In due time Labour wins its fair reward. CARISSIMMA. H, dearest one, my hope, my life, How dark this world would be. One dismal scene of pain and strife Were I bereft of thee ; Wealth, rank, and power have no charms To call forth my desires ; To rest me in thy snowy arms My heart alone aspires. Thy beauteous hair, each silky tress. My pure, my precious gold, Thy tender thought, thy kind caress, My treasury untold ; To breathe the same sweet air as thee Is rich, is perfect bliss ; Thy love can fill with radiancy A darken'd world like this. U4 THE TALE OF LIFE. A TENDER bud ou life's great tree, The helpless little babe we see, Reposing in its tiny cot, The while the eulogistic note Ascending from admiring friends The infant's opening hours attends. A merry-hearted little boy ; No greater cares his thoughts employ Than the dear-lov'd and trivial toy ; A spirit frolicsome and gay Sporting through life's golden day ; Dreaming oft delicious dreams, Wandering by silvery streams ; Murmuring tunefully between Sloping banks of tender green ; Gazing at the azure sky, Chasing the gay butterfly ; Pillaging the scented bowers, Bearing home the pretty flowers, While the mother's heart doth joy To behold her darling boy. The sturdy active vigorous youth Bounding o'er life's pathway smootli. Stranger unto pain and care, Hope presenting pictures fair ; Life one pleasant prospect seems Deck'd in gorgeous solar beams ; Drinking draughts of purest joy, Nought to trouble or annoy. Fancy floating unconfin'd ; Life's sweet seed-time when the mind ■Opes itself unto impression, Ere the fever fire of passion Hath hardened with its lurid blaze — precious, priceless youthful days I Advancing then in Nature's plan, Behold we now the full-grown man ; An earnest being, toiling, striving, THE TALE OF LIFE l4^- Restless, scheming, and contriving; Navigating life's rough sea, Ofttime sailing perilonsly, The waves of ruin wild and dark Threatening his fragile barque ; At times the beams of Fortune's suu Brightly shine his pathway on ; The lover, husband, then the father ; Around him little children gather, Clinging like tendrils round his heart, Nerving his arm to play its part. The music of their simple prattle, In the world's incessant battle Thrills him as ringing clarion call Stirreth the warrior's ardent soul. So he labours hard and long, Singing Pleasure's cheery song, Mourneth now in accents drear Darksome dirges of despair ; Notes of joy and chords of pain Blend in Life's mysterious strain. Then with the lagging step of age He traverseth Life's closing stage Wreath'd in hiemal darkness drear, Perchance of all that life held dear Bereft ; the cheering hopes that lighted. Gone, like the flowers in winter blighted ;. No longer glad his aged ear The accents of his lov'd ones dear ; Like some old tree that bends its form Beneath the fury of the storm, He bendeth low while life doth shed Its winds and tempests on his head. Until beneath the verdant sod He mingles with his native clod. And thus the tale of life goes on — A meteor flash — and then 'tis gone, A strain of music rich and rare That dies upon the empty air ; A tender flower, no sooner blown. 146 MY TRUE LOVE. Than sinks it in some pathway lone. Of all the tales from ancient books By hermits read in peaceful nooks Most wondrous is the tale of life — Bright peaceful hours, dark days of strife. Gay peals of laughter, sorrow's tears, Hope's beaming sunshine, gloomy fears, Clangour gay of wedding bells. Dreary dirge of funeral knells, Perplexity, uncertainty. Care, restlessness, anxiety, Dark clouds with care and sorrow rife, Make up the total sum of life. MY TRUE LOVE. MY true love she is fair ; No lady in the land, However rich and grand, With my love can compare. My true love she is kind — A softer simpler heart, More free from guileful art You surelv cannot find. My true love she is poor. But with her charms to grace My lowly dwelling-place, I ask for laothing more. My true love clings to me Through good report or ill, Come weal or woe, I've still Her love and sympathy. My true love she is dead. Upon her earthy pillow. Beneath the weeping willow They laid her golden head. And I am left alone ; The world is cold and hollow, that I soon might follow Where my true love is gone ! THE LADY OF THE LAND. A LOVELY lady of the land, Living in a mansion grand ; iBeautiful and chaste was she As ever mortal eye did see ; A figure of exquisite mould, Her head adorned with coils of gold Brightly shone her eyes of blue ; All, few were they, and very few, Who could the witchery withstand ■Of this proud lady of the land ! Noble ones of high degree Sigh'd for her, but hopelessly ; ■Cupid aim'd his darts in vain ; Heedless of their heart's deep pain, She would tell them laughingly She preferr'd her liberty ; None would she of nuptial bond. Then her high-born lovers fond Could never hope to win the hand Of this cold lady of the land. But she met her fate one day ; A gallant youth came in her way, And her proud heart had to own At last had come the favour'd one ; But she would not bend her pride — Broken-hearted from her side To foreign lands he went away. And falling foremost in the fray, He perish'd by a foeman's hand, All through the lady of the land. But this lady of the land. Wealthy, beautiful, and grand. Had to feel Love's ceaseless pain. And she wished, but all in vain. He would come again to woo. Oh, he should not vainly sue ! But he came not day by day. And pin'd she gradually away ; Then sank 'neath Death's unsparing hand The beauteous lady of the land. 147 148 THE JESTER. I'M a jester by trade, In motley array'd ; With my bauble and bells I hold forth to the swells , I've quips and I've cranks And comical pranks ; In satirical rhymes I hit off the times, I dwell on each foible and folly ; Mirth follows my track, For I've hit on the knack How to always appear to be jolly. Though the keen tooth of sorrow Is gnawing my heart. Smiling visage I borrow, And practise the art Of always presenting a merry outside To the people around me whatever betide. I can dance at your command Tarantella, saraband ; Rhyme you triplet, quartet, couplet. Clothe my Muse in homely doublet ; Or in vestiture patrician. At home in high or low position ; I'm full of funniosities ; Spai'kling pun atrocities Audaciously 1 perpetrate ; Or with mien demure, sedate, Like a cleric learn'd I prate Of varying theologies. Of bursaries and colleges ; With my caustical wdt Make the " palpable hit ; " With solemn sonorosity Dose you with philosophy, Tricks of verbal jugglery Rattle off like A B C— A model of ability, Of versatile fertility. THE JESTER. 149 In the halls of the great, Mid the grandeur of state, The spirit, the soul of the revels ; Oft when trial, grief, care. Love, pain, hate, and despair Rage within me like so many devils. 'Mid the gay rustic crowd. How the laugh rings aloud At my jokes and my antics so funny, When oft tortures I feel. Wounds that no balm can heal^ No patronage, favour, or money. The plaything, the scorn Of the lottily born, A target at which would-be wits May practise their skill, While oft the gay belle Laughs loud at their salleys and hits. ye damozels fair. And gay gallants, beware ! Lesi the jester his satires do fling ; With the edge «f my dart 1 can pierce each proud heart. As the fowler the bird on the wina-. In a staid party humdrum, The solemn conundrum Propounding with proper decorum, A dull mess of pottage Of dry anecdotage With humility setting before 'em. With a smile on my face I endure while his Grace Drawls forth a long Latin quotation ; Then I ope the scant store Of my classical lore, P^or each prosy divine's delectation. 150 THE TALE OP LOVE. Then the fool must be clever, And never, no never, Be dull, flat, or mopish, downhearted ;. His mirth must not know An ebb in its flow, Or soon on his way he'll be started. His wit must be light, His satire be bright, Corruscations meteorologic. His knowledge of law Sans error or flaw, Convincing and cutting his logic. Like Yorick of yore. The liouse in a roar To keep's his peculiar function, Or my Lord will look black. Maybe give him the " sack " Without ruth or the slightest compunction.- Thus through Life's little day Goes the fool on his way. Strange admixture of mirth, melancholy. And the world much may learn. Had it eyes to discern, From the " Merryman " and from his folly. THE TALE OF LOVE. WHEN mellow Evening's placid beam Bath'd meadow, hill, and slumb'riug stre I wander'd with my own true love Athrough the stilly verdant grove ; I gaz'd upon her ripening charms, And press'd her fondly in my arms, Oft tasting in delicious sips Kich nectar from her ruby lips. As 'neath Diana's glances pale I softly breath'd love's tender tale. DRIVE THEM BACK OVER THE WATER. 151 beauteous love, earth's purest joy, Sweet bliss unmiiigl'd with alloy ; How dark and drear this world would be Without thy lovely radiancy ! What visions fair dost thou unfold, How many a heart like marble cold Hath melted 'neath thy fervent ray, And bow'd to thy resistless sway ! The diamond's dazzling ray must pale Before the light of love's sweet tale. Our vows we fondly did renew, The flatterer Hope fair pictures drew Of joys to come in future days ; The world unto our sanguine gaze Seem'd as a garden wond'rous fair. With luscious fruits and flowers rare ; The memory of that blissful night Oft fills me with a deep delight. When 'neath the beam of Dian pale 1 whisper'd Love's delicious tale. DRIVE THEM BACK OVER THE WATER. WHEN war's ringing clarion the sailor invites To action, no dangers appal him. For the heart of the patriot ever delights To be found where'er duty may call him ; As the shots thickly fly, his courage soars high, At home 'mid the din and the slaughter ; Cries each bold jolly Jack, Now, my lads, drive them back. Drive them back over the water. Ovir ancestors bled in the brave days of old, And won us a name great in story ; Then pass'd down the order to us to uphold The traditions of Albion's glory ; To our charge ever true, our best will we do, Let the foe come from every quarter ; And again and again shall they try, but in vain, We'll drive them back over the water. 152 MEMORY. TARRY NOT. TARRY not, my peerless love, Beneath tliy lattice pane I wait ; Come, and together we will rove Down by the little wicket gate — The dear familiar place of tryst — Where first we told Love's tender tale. Where first thy blushing face I kiss'd Beneath Diana's glances pale. O darksome are the bluest skies, Dull Nature's robe of sweetest green, If the bright sunshine of thine eyes Illumine not the mundane scene ; Arise, come, my life, my queen, I live not until thou art near ; No clouds of earth can intervene, If thou, my orient, appear. MEMORY. MEMORY ! sweet mysterious thing, Thy reproducing power I sing. Led by thy wonder-working hand. How oft into the Pasts dim land Our busy thoughts long journeys make, And, full of wistful longing, take A tender glance at bygone times. In fancy oft, like silvery chimes, Soft, dulcet-like, distinctly clear, There fall upon our listening ear The tones of many a dear-lov'd voice, That erstwhile made our heart rejoice. Soft whispers of some darling one — Who from Life's chequer'! scene hath gone. How oft thy beauteous light imparts Sweet balm unto our wounded hearts ; As through thy telescope we gaze And snatch from glimpses of past days A momentary sweet relief From present trials, present grief. MEiMORY. 153 We wander by the golden shore Of thy fair ocean, and explore Again with busy eager gaze Sweet Childhood's sunny, happy days. We see again the friends so true In whose companionship we drew Sweet draughts of purest happiness, Dear friends, heaven-given our souls to bless, The future to our ardent gaze With Hope's bright glory all ablaze. Alas ! alas ! how very few Have realis'd the hopes that threw Such golden glamour o'er the way In young Life's roseate-tinted day ! How many sadden 'd hearts have prov'd What 'tis to see all hope remov'd, Their glowing visions all dispell'd. Mere flimsy, aerial structures fell'd By the relentless, powerful hand ■Of conquering Time, who waves his wand And works such changes in Life's scene. Victorious Death, with sickle keen, Hath made such desolating gaps In love's bright circle ; now, perhaps, 'The soft, unbidden tear may rise And dim the brightness of the eyes That rest upon this lowly page. As visions of a father sage Come clearly up before the mind. Ye tender tears ! flow unconfin'd ; Sweet are the tears that owe their birth To memories of a father's worth. How sweet the task to fondly trace The bending form and kind grave face Of her who, in our tender years, Sooth'd all our pains and calm'd our fears, And softly woo'd for us sweet rest Upon her tender, faithful breast ; Who closely watch'd our gradual growth From infancy to vigorous youth. Striving with counsels kind and wise 154 HE HAS GONE. To set before our youthful eyes Fair Wisdom's sacred, pleasant road, And, by her bright example, shew'd What 'twas to trust in God always Through brief Life's fleeting, changeful days. What tongue can tell, what measure prove The greatness of a mother's love 1 Its ocean depths what line can sound 1 No better friend on earth is found. How oft amid our doubts and fears, Her soft tones fall upon our ears, Lessening Life's dull weary strain, Tellmg of union again On yonder tranquil shining shore When our pilgrimage is o'er. come fond Memory ! oft again, And lighten up' this earthly plain ; Oft w-hen at close of toilsome day, Our aching frames to rest we lay ; When all-pervading, queenly night. In sable robe enfolds the light. Reveal each dear familiar scene — The things and places that have been, HE HAS GONE. HE has gone, we have parted in anger, He has left me in wounded pride. And a tender word would have recall'd him With swiftness again to ray side ; But pride my affection o'ermaster'd. And that soft word, alas ! was not said ; But, without a farewell, he has left me, And all life's sweet sunshine is fled. He said that I never had lov'd him — Ah me ! how the cruel word went through My heart like the point of a dagger ; darling one, if you but knew How sad is my heart, and how lonely, How dear, how unspeakably dear Thou art, and must ever be to me — 1 would give all the world wert thou near. 1.55- LIFE'S INEQUALITIES. TO some this world's a garden fair, Where flowers and fruit luxuriant grow ; Across their pathway pain and care No soul-bedark'ning shadows throw. To some it is a sterile field, A dreary unproductive waste, And what scant measure it doth yield Is ofttimes bitter to the taste. To some it is a ceaseless fight 'Gainst difficulties — adverse bands, Where oft 'tis seen that might, not right, Triumphant at the issue stands. While, undisturb'd by strife's alarms, Some hold an even, tranquil way, And lovely Peace, in all her charms, Sheds o'er their path her mellow ray.. To some 'tis like an azure sky, Unchequer'd by a speck of grey ; No darksome clouds of sorrow nigh, But one serene, unbroken day. To others, like a funeral pall Appears the aspect of life's sky, That shuts out from the prospect all That's pleasant, cheering to the eye. To some it is a stormy deep ; Huge billows leap, with foaming crest,. And adverse winds in fury sweep — A deep, perpetual unrest. To others 'tis a placid lake, Athwart whose bosom silvery clear In joy and ease their way they take, Without a doubt or thought of fear. In fair Fortuna's chariot bright Some lightly bowl along life's wav, And hail with breast serene and light The joys of each recurring day ; 156 THE EMIGRANl^ SHIP. While others through the gloomy vale Of poverty limp worn aud sore ; Misgivings dire their hearts assail, The wolf stands ever at the door. Ask we the question, why it is Such inequalities there be ] Why some should have so much of bliss ; Others so much of misery 1 That question never will receive Its answer here ; we may not know The why and wherefore till we leave This scene of mingling joy and woe. Whate'er our rank, our portion here : ^ Whate'er of good or ill we have ; With death distinctions disappear ; We all ai-e equal in the grave. Just as through various channels flow The streams that swell the ocean vast, From mountain high, through valley low, And reach the same great bourne at last ; ■So borne on Time's resistless tide, Life's serried masses onward sweep, Through toil and want, or pomp and pride, Into eternity's great deep. THE EMIGRANT SHIP. THE good ship leaves the busy quay, Laden witli a precious freight, She rapidly puts out to sea, With swelling canvas, snowy white. Bearing within her ample breast A little world of doubts and fears, ■Of anxious hearts in eager quest Of brighter days in distant spheres. THE EMIGRANT SHIP. 157 In thoughtful, tearful groups they stand Upon the stately vessel's deck, Gazing intently, till the land Fades in the distance like a speck ; The dire reflection makes them sad That their dimmed eyes shall look in vain, When but a few short hours are fled, For their dear-lov'd land again. The manly youth, the pride, the hope Of some poor lonely widow'd heart, Goes forth with life's stern facts to cope In fertile field or crowded mart. Before his eager, sanguine eyes Fond Fancy spreads a picture fair. Painted in Hope's most brilliant dyes, And pleasure banishes dull care. The beauteovis maid, leaving her home. Drawn gently by Love's silken chain. In simple trustfulness to roam The blue expanse of ocean main, To meet upon some distant strand, The choice of her fond faithful heart. And, bound by holy nuptial band. To constant cleave till death shall part. That erring one, in deep disgrace, Poor exile from his native land, Wearing upon his careworn face The felon's dark degrading brand ; Retreating wisely from temptations. So he, perchance, may earn again, Tn new scenes, new associations, A place 'midst honourable men. The honest-hearted labouring band, Sad children of adversity. Unable longer to withstand The pressure of necessity, Seeking with earnest, anxious eyes A chance in some less crowded sphere, To win 'neath more propitious skies The right to live denied them here. 158 MY LADY SLKEPS. Though dangers manifold and dread May hover darkly o'er their way, Though they perhaps, in watery bed May rest ere dawns another day ; Bright hope each bosom up doth buoy — Trustful and patient, strong and brave. With whispers sweet of coming joy, When they have cross'd the heaving wave. Kind heaven befriend these wand'ring souls, rest them calmly in His care Whose matchless might the deep controls. And rules the boundless realms of air. Soon may they all in safety gain The haven where they fain would be, ■Find home and friends beyond the main, And dwell in calm security. MY LADY SLEEPS. MY Lady sleeps ; kind angels, guard her Through the night's dark solemn hour Here will I stand, her faithful warder. Till on hill, and stream, and flower Bright Aurora's roseate ray Rest, presaging golden day. My lady sleeps, my dearest treasure Safely keep, ye spirits fair ! Morning light can bring no pleasure, Dawni it e'er so bx-ightly fair, Till my lov'd one, safe from harms, Glad my eyes with her sweet charms. Phoebe gilds hor snowy pillow With her softest purest ray ; Philomela on the willow Breathes forth Love's delicious lay ; Angel guards, my love defend. Sweetest dreams her sleep attend. 159 SLEEP, CALMLY SLEEP. SLEEP, calmly sleep, poor child of sorrow ! Sweet be thy dreams, Fond fancies whispering of a to-morrow Ting'd with the beams Of Hope's most radiant, roseate light ; A future fair, all prosperous and bright. Sleep, calmly sleep, wanderer weary ! Forget thy woes ; Forget life's journej'-path, so long and dreary, Its battle throes ; In Lethe's water steep thy wearied brain, And snatch a respite brief from all thy care and pain. Sleep, sailor, sleep ! although thy pillow The restless deep. The ceaseless music of the heaving billow Thy senses steep ; Secure and tranquil on thy rude bed lie. Beneath His watchful care Who rules the sea and sky. Sleep, soldier, sleep ! the cannon's rattle Will thee ere long Awaken ; and the horrid din of battle, Where perils throng Shall summon thee to meet thy country's foes ; Strength for the coming fray find thou in deep repose. Sleep, calmly sleep, orphan desolate ! Safe in His care Whose strong right hand shall make thy pathway straight ; From every snare He will deliver, be with thee in distress, And prove Himself a father unto the fatherless. Sleep, softly sleep, baby innocent ! A shining band Of angels fair, on guardian mission sent, Around thee stand, Enfolding thee within their pinions white, That no ill dreams molest thy slumbers pure and light. 160 THK LOVERS. Sleep, calmly sleep, ye sick who languish On beds of pain ; Whose journey-way lies through the path of anguish ;:. Soon shall ye gain That blissful sphere — that sinless, painless land, Where the redeemed in immortal vigour stand. gentle sleep, worn Nature's faithful friend, In mercy given The ravages of toil and thought to mend ; Sweet gift of Heaven ! All praise be unto Him Whose tender care bestovvs. This inestimable boon — the blessing of repose. THE LOVERS. TWO lovers stand at a cottage door To breathe their sad adieux, The moon beams bright o'er hill and moor And silvers the falling dew ; Fai'ewell ! farewell ! my beauteous love, He whispers tenderly, By yonder mellow moon above, I will return to thee, Ah me, the weeping maid replied, How dark my lot will be When thou my love, my hojDe, my pride. Art on the rolling sea ! And when the tempest's dreaded power Sweeps fiercely o'er the lea, My trembling heart will sink and cower, stay, my love, with me ! Two lovers stand at a cottage door, Long years have roll'd away, Again the moon bathes hill and moor With her soft silvery ray ; As in his arms the maiden fair Nestles right lovingly, She whispers : Heaven has heard my prayer And brought thee back to me. 161 THE IDIOT LAD. WAND'RING low, and wand'ring high, With pallid face, " lac-klustre eye," Peering round with vacant stare, Unkempt and matted his long hair Black as the raven's glossy wing, Now talking loud, 'non whispering, A poor half-witted hapless thing ; Oft on the air his piteous moan And mirthless tuneless laugli were borne From blushing morn to dusky gloaming From place to place incessant roaming ; A sight to make the thoughtful sad Was simple Tom, the idiot lad. His mother, a fair rustic maid, By trusting love to ill betray'd, Into our peaceful village stray'd One day, and begg'd that she might rest. And the sweet baby at her breast ; She said she'd travell'd many a mile, And needed sorely rest awhile ; Touch'd by her looks and tone of grief, The neighbours proffer'd her relief; Good Widow Robins bade her stay With her until her journey way She should be able to resume ; The kind old soul her humble room Shar'd with her sorrow-stricken guest. And bade the weary wand'rer rest. But ere the blush of Morning's light Had tipp'd with gold the lofty height, Her weary spirit took its flight. And when Sol's earliest rays were shed, They shone upon the stranger dead. Then the neighbours fill'd with pity For the tender orphan pretty Left to tread Life's path alone, Took to the helpless little one ; They undertook to bring it up. That while they had a bite or sup 162 THE IDIOT LAD. The child should share. Time roU'd along. Into a lad active and strong The orphan grew, alas ! sad truth, A hopeless idiot from his youth. The name of Tom they gave the boy ; The farmers found him oft employ To run on errands, help with hay, And glean when yellow harvest lay A waving field of golden corn. He was a strange uncanny child, Now quiet, tractable, and mild, Anon impetuous and wild ; Now setting oft' for days together, Regardless he of wind and weather, Roaming the dreary solitude, The lonely dell, the pathless wood ; Climbing with glee the lofty height. Watching the birds till lost to sights Roaming through many a fragrant bower, Culling full many a strange wild flower. And weaving many a chaplet fair To deck some maiden's golden hair. Ofttimes beside the straying stream The hapless lad would lie and dream — In visions sweet his mother dear A beauteous angel would appear, Her face ill um'd with holy joy, Smiling upon her lonely boy. Aw^aking with a bitter sigh To find no tender mother nigh, Then to the village he would come ; A welcome warm in every home Awaited him, for all were glad To see again the idiot lad. The little children ran to him ; He'd humour them in varying whim. I He'd help the tiny babe to walk. Smile at its first attempts to talk. Join in the older children's play, ' Go with them oft on holiday / On many a nutting expedition ; THE IDIOT LAD, 16"3 So generous his disposition That the last morsel he would share ; The wearied youngster homeward bare Upon his shoulders broad and strong, Crooning some strange uncanny song. Often at night when all was still, Seated upon some lofty hill. Poor Tom would gaze with wistful eye Upon the still and solemn sky ; When asked by us in calmer day Why thus he wander'd, he would say : { " No ill can come by day or night "To do me harm; poor Tom's all right." One day, while playing by the stream, The lad was startled by a scream. And turning round, saw with dismay The torrent carrying away The Squire's darling little daughter. Swift as a dart, into the water With exclamation loud he sprung, Grasp'd the poor child, who tightly clung To him till safely on the land He plac'd his charge. With liberal hand The Squire repay'd our hero grand, And all the village were so glad And proud of Tom, the idiot lad. E'er busy Time whose ceaseless range Works in our world such wondrous change, ^Sweeping away the proud, the great, The learn'd and the illiterate, And many a mighty dynasty Into Oblivion's deep wide sea, Brought to our peaceful village woe, For ruthless Death whose cruel blow ■Or soon or late must lay us low To bear away poor orphan Tom With slow yet certain steps did come. The deadly symtoms of his sway Our eyes had mark'd for many a day — The hectic flush upon the cheek. His failing steps and utterance weak, 164 OUR GIFTS. The racking cough that rent his frame, Shew'd the inexorable claim All owe poor Tom was doom'd to pay. Without a tremor of dismay He felt the awful change draw near, And strange to say, his mind more clear Became. The children soft did tread, And stood around his dying bed, While fast the pitying teardrops fell O'er the dear friend they lov'd so well. Then Tom with his poor failing voice Bade them the rather all rejoice That the kind angels soon would come To bear his peaceful spirit home. So gradually from day to day 'Twixt heav'n and earth he ling'riug lay ; At times his busy mind seem'd straying, And he would fancy he was maying, Or wand'ring by the winding stream ; His eyes would brighten with a gleam, And he would murmur with delight : " Where'er I be, by day or night, " No harm can come ; poor Tom's all right." With tearful eyes and downcast head We stood in silence round his bed ; We caught the last few woi-ds he said. Raising his poor thin hand on high. He pointed with delighted cry : " See ! See ! My mother's standing there. " Do you not see her 1 0, how fair ! " Then fell his arms across his breast. And Tom the idiot was at rest. OUR GIFTS. WE are not gifted all alike, To each is severally given His talents, opportunities By the will of All-wise Heaven. OUR GIFTS. 165 To one is giv'n the gift of song, The noble, elevating power That smoothes the wrinkl'd brow of Care And lightens up the festive hour. Another wields with skilful grace The pencil of the artist true, And with facility portrays The lovely face, the pleasing view. Another plies with signal power The ready writer's magic pen. Pleading with moving eloquence The varying interests of men. This one 's endow'd with ready wit, With Intuition's eagle glance, That sees, and seizes instantly Advantages of timely chance, While that man has the wisdom deep, And penetrating gaze to pierce The veil of mystery that enshrouds The secrets of the universe. Another an exhaustless fund Ot humour hath his soul within. With pathos sweetly interspers'd, And mingling mirth and tears doth win. Another the rich tuneful gift Of poetry, whose sacred fire, Excelling learning, science, art, To varying measures tunes his lyre. While firmly in the tender heart Of one, perchance to fame unknown. That noblest, grandest gift of all — Blest Charity — hath rear'd her throne. And all these goodly gifts are given To cheer the changeful lot of man, And shed a beauteous radiance Athwart this life's allotted span. 16(: THE OLD YEAR; OLD year, thou'rt drawing to a close ; We stand to watch thy dying throes ; We see thee draw each hibour'd breath, Like mortal at the point of death. A few more hours and thou'lt be gone, Thy labours o'er, thy journey done — Into Oblivion's dark clime Boi-ne hence by hoary headed Time, Upon whose current swift and strong Man's finite race is borne along Until the Archangel's trumpet roar Proclaimeth " time to be no more." Yet, e'er thou quittest our poor sphere. Fain would I whisper in thine ear The tribute of the deep regard Of me, an unknown nameless bard. For thou hast been to me a friend, And gratitude could ne'er thy end Indiiferently, coldly view. How closely have I watch'd thee through Thy circling way ! I saw thy form, And met thee with a greeting warm, When first a little helpless child Thou on this roving planet smil'd. I mark'd thy gi-owth as week by week Rude tempests brush'd thy infant cheeky When blasts hiemal shook the plain, And Nature, bound in captive chain, Moan'd piteously until, as Spring, Thou didst a bright deliverance bring — Bedizen'd as a lovely maid In beauteous garb of light and shade. Again the birdling's thrilling song On ether mild was borne along , Transformed earth again was seen In her fair robe of vernal green. And on the trees, erstwhile so sere. The buds of promise did appear. Then I thy grander glories view'd When Summer bright bath'd hill and wood MY LOVE. 167 In radiant sheen, and o'er the plain Was hung a flowery-scented chain, And golden-visag'd Sol was seen Presiding o'er the gladsome scene. Then, too, I mark'd with thoughtful eye, As swiftly onwards thou didst fly, Fair Summer's ripeu'd beauties fade Until at length thou wert array'd In Autumn's vest of soberer hues — When deeper shades and sombre views, The yellow leaf and failing light Told eloquently Svimmer's flight. Then Winter with his arrows keen Came in to dominate the scene, Alas ! array'd in cold and gloom, Old year, thou sinkest to thy tomb. MY LOVE. Y love she is a maiden fair Whose deep blue eyes, light golden hairy. M And slender form so frail and slight Enthral me with a giant's might ; Led willing captive at her pleasure. She is my heart's best, dearest treasure. My love is kind, her heart as true As yon ethereal azure blue That richly decks the summer skies; Love beams within her melting eyes ; Secure from all Earth's vain alarms I rest me in her snowy arms. My love's a maid with heart as brave As his who treads the restless wave. Or warrior's who the battle scene Surveys with bosom strong, serene ; And come what may, what ills betide^ She aye will tarry by my side. 168 FANCYLAND. I LOVE to gaze upon the night When all is mantl'd in repose, And over moor and mountain height The moon her chasten'd radiance throws. The countless silvery stars that glow Like jewels in a robe of blue I love to see as on thej go Sailing the aerial ocean through. How beauteous is the rural scene In all its peaceful solitude, The slumbering stream, the meadow green, The solemn venerable wood ! And, gazing up into the night. With fancy's dreamy eye I see A realm most beauteous and bright, A land of deepest mystery. wondrous world of fancy-land ! My weary soul I fain would rest Upon thy mystic airy strand. And quit this region of unrest. Bright faces on me seem to smile, They speak to me in accents kind : Poor mortal, wait a little while In patient trust ; be strong, resign'd. In this fair world are no false friends, No double-minded, insincere. Who use you but to serve their ends Taint not this purer atmosphere. Alas ! oft with a bitter sigh I quit the realm of beauteous dreams To face the stern reality Of this poor round of sordid schemes. O wondrous thought ! This world of ours Might be a region fair and grand. Would we employ for good the powers, The varying gifts at our command. 169 THE AUTHOR'S ASPIRATION. TO your kind query, worthy friend, As to the hope, the aim, and end I have in view. With breast elate and kindling eye, Unhesitating my reply Make I to you : The clouds that o'er my lowly fate So darkly lour to dissipate I mean to try. And np Parnassus's steep side, But once I gain a single stride, Climb by and by. I know that better men than I Have at the same game had a try, And sadly fail'd ; I also know that others, too, Have bravely fought the battle through, And have prevail'd. Although to aid my lofty aim Fair Learning's wealth I may not claim Of classic lore, Than Nature's spirit-stirring fire, The tuneful Muse to sweep my lyre, I ask no more. Though difficulties throng the road That leads to Fortune's bright abode. And skies are black ; Though means are scant, and friends be few, My arduous journey I'll pursue, And ne'er look back. Though adverse billows fiercely roll Their chilling currents o'er my soul, My goal I'll keep Right constantly before my view Until the toiler's guerdon due My efforts reap. 170 THE TRUE POLITICIAN. TRUE-BORN Englishmen should never Be the abject servile minions Of any man how wise or clever ; But should hold their own opinions, Bas'd on Justice, Truth, and Reason, Though the advocates of " party " Dub it " heresy " and " treason," If they fail to give a hearty Vote for any every scheme By some leading light propounded. Any vain Utopian dream On imagination founded. A man should act up to his own, Not another's sense of justice; Better far to stand alone In manly honesty than trust his Conscience to the custody Of some autocratic leader ; His own conviction aye should be His only, his acknowledged leader. Whose strong persuasive eloquence Aye should win his leal allegiance ^ Fearlessness of consequence. Deep disdain for mere expedience ; Honesty in all his dealings. Purity in all transactions, Deaf to sinister appealings Of corrupt dislionest factions ; Contempt for the majority When an unjust path pursuing. Giving the priority To Honour's dictates, never ruing. Let right be though the heavens descend, . Should the true man's motto be, Though it cost him place or friend, Smile of popularity. The only honest politician, The only patriot is he Who, in the face of opposition, Maintains thus his integrity, TO PEACE. ITV* Ne'er to right or left hand swerving, Living only for the right ; True hero he, and well deserving A place in Honour's palace bright. TO PEACE. CALM-VISAG'D Peace, spirit bless'd I Within this agitated bi-east Come take up thy abode ; Diffuse thy beauteous mellow light. And 'mid the darkness of the night Lead me o'er life's rough road. Too long my soul hath been the nest Of care, anxiety, unrest. With all their darksome brood ; spirit, beautiful and kind, People the cloister of my mind With thy sweet brotherhood ! For thee, thou pearl of greatest price. My wounded heart would sacrifice All that mankind holds dear ; Rank, honour, riches, deathless fame. If on my path thy sacred flame Might shine, a beacon clear. Though lowly, insignificant, With thee celestial visitant, Sojourning in my cot; Though destitute of worldly good, Enrich'd with thy sweet quietude, Most blessed were my lot. As He Who bade the waves be still. And still'd their tumult at His will. Do thou, benignant Peace, Breathe gently o'er my troubl'd breast,. Lull all my anxious fears to rest, Bid all my sorrows cease. 172 O SING THOSE SONGS AGAIN. LITTLE SWEETHEART. LITTLE sweetheart, why so cruel ? Why look so disdainfully'? Brighter than the brightest jewel Are the eyes that rest ou me, Gazing with such icy scorn On this sunny summer morn. Little sweetheart, can'st not love me ? See'st thou not my bitter woe; Ah, how shall my poor words move thee, Warm that bosom white as snow ; At thy feet my heart I lay, Dearest lov'd one, say not Nay. Is it vain 1 Must I then leave thee ? Hast thou then no love to give 1 Well, I will not longer grieve thee, Though I know not how to live ; Little sweetheart, I depart, With a sad, a broken heart. O SING THOSE SONGS AGAIN. OSING to me, my mother dear, In accents soft and low. The songs that I so lov'd to hear In days of long ago ; As on my ear they gently fall They soothe me in my pain ; How sweet the memories they recall, sing those songs again ! Yes, sing to me, my mother dear, Each old familiar strain. Until in Fancy's vision clear 1 seem to see again The dear lov'd ones oflong- ago On Memory's golden plain, And I forget my present woe, sing those songs again ! 173- DAFFODILS. PURE paly golden daffodils, The sight of ycu with pleasure fills One's heart ; while yet hiemal chills Tenaciously are lingering, Ye come, bright harbingers of spring, Bringing with you a genial glow Of wai'mth and rush of happiness. The heart of man to cheer and bless. 'Tis sweet to see your yellow bells Waving in the woodland dells ; Nature's sweet children pure and meek. To fancy's ear ye seem to speak With simple unaffected art, And would that we within our heart Did treasure up your pleasant lore ; Ye come to bring the priceless ore Of purest and unmingl'd joy, To find our powers sweet employ. And as at you the pensive eye Gazes, the mind is borne awav, And yielding unto Fancy's sway, Flits on her magic pinions fleet Through an enchanted region sweet, Till, lost in rapture exquisite, We rise above the wearying strain Of earthly cares and worldly pain. And thus, sweet children of the wood, Ye are the ministers of good. Speaking to us the power of Him, Creation's God, the Lord Supreme ; Your tender forms with joy we greet, And render you a tribute meet. Of by-gone days ye sweetly tell ; Waft us to scenes remember'd well ; Our childhood's hour we live again, Again we scour the grassy plain And listen to the birds' sweet strain. Heaven's beauteous mute messengers^ Bringing to us poor passengers .174: IN THE GLOAMING. On this life's tempestuous sea Bright gleams of Nature's radiancy ; Welcome, ye dryads of the dells, Pale golden-crested daffodils. IN THE GLOAMING. SITTING musing in the gloaming By the ingle's ruddy glow, Busy Fancy fondly roaming To the days of long ago ; What a troupe of mem'ries pleasant Visit us in lovely ti'ain, Linking both the past and present In a beauteous golden chain ! Visions of our happy childhood, When in Life's bright morning beam Roam'd we through the tangl'd wild wood Sported by the winding stream, •Gaily through the fragrant meadow Chas'd the flitting butterfly, When no soul bedark'ning shadow Dimm'd the brightness of our sky. Visions of a tender mother, Of a father kind and sage ; How -we seem to see him turning O'er the Bible's sacred page ! A sister fair, a darling brother. All the friends so firm and true, Gazing tenderly iipon us Our fond fancy seems to view. •Glimpses of the dear departed. Visions sweet of bygone days. Gome to us when we're downhearted, Fainting on Life's rugged ways ; Be like guardian atigels near us In the gloom of Sorrow's night, :Sent to strengthen and to cheer us, Guiding us to joy and light. RULES OF LIFE. 175 THE GIRL I LOVD LONG YEARS AGO. 'rnIS but a lock of flaxen hair, J. But 0, how dear it is to me, It oft recalls a vision fair Enshrined within my memory. Earth holds for me no dearer thing ; Its power's secret would you know 1 It brings me back on Fancy's wing The girl I lov'd long years ago. I see the little wicket gate — The dear familiar place of tryst — Where my impatient heart did wait, And her fair face I fondly kiss'd ; While all the myriad stars above Smil'd on two tender hearts below — On me and on my beauteous love, The girl I lov'd long years ago. I see her form of queenly grace Move lightly in the dreamy dance ; Again I see her lovely face Blush brightly at my ardent glance. No matter where I chance to be. She goes with me where'er I go ; In vision sweet I ever see The girl I lov'd long years ago. RULES OF LIFE. ACT according to your light, Ever champion the right ; Strive to keep a conscience clear, Ever upright, true, sincere ; Treasure all Life's fleeting hours ; Labour to improve your powers. Self-reliant, independent. Aye to Duty's call attendant ; Moderately drink of pleasure. Usefully employ your leisure, Violate no natural laws : 176 CHRISTMAS IS HERB, Be not looking out for flaws In another's mode of life ; Shun all bickerings and strife ; Honour give where it is due ; Take not a one-sided view, Truth's irradiating rays Catch by looking various ways ; On this world set no great store,. Of its riches seek no more Thau will satisfy your needs ; Fill each day with noble deeds, Thus ; whatever your position, Be ye plebeian or patrician, Acting in the living present, Making life a picture pleasant Deck'd in sweetly blending colours, God's obedient, willing scholars, Carrying out His every teaching ; All your aspirations reaching Forward to a realm sublime. Upward to a sinless clime Far beyond the tomb and time. CHRISTMAS IS HERE. BORNE on Time's fleeting wing, Christmas is here ! Of Season's Chief and King, Christmas is here !. His jolly, ruddy face. Beaming in every place, Doth sorrow, care, displace, Christmas is here! List to the chiming bells Christmas is here ! Their merry music tells Christmas is here ! To Childhood's bosom light, To Youth, with visions bright. To Age, with tresses white, Alike, how dear ! . CHRISTMAS IS HERE. 177 Ring out your tidings glad^ Cliristmas is here ! Tell to the poor, the sad, Christmas is here. He comes for season brief, Bringing a sweet relief. Tell them to cease their grief — Christmas is here ! Bedeck the stately hall — Christmas is here ! The labourer's cottage small — Christmas is here I Bring the green holly bough. Where the red berries glow, And the pale mistletoe — Christmas is here ! Time of re-unions sweet — Christmas is here ! Dear ones long parted meet — Christmas is here ! Some from the rolling brine, From terra's central line Homeward their steps incline From far and near. Bid discord, malice cease — Cliristmas is here ! Let all be joy and peace — Christmas is here ! Ye rich in this world's good, Out of your plenitude Succour Earth's needy brood — Christmas is here. List to the Christmas bells. Tuneful and clear ! Their cheering measure swells — Christmas is here ! Join we with heart and tongue In the triumphant song, The gladsome strain prolong — Christmas is here ! 1T8 THE BUCCANEER. THE SEA. I LOVE the sea, the grand wild sea, When the wind is whisthng gay and free ; I love it when fair morning breaks O'er its blue face in orient streaks, And Sol pours down his golden sheen ; Superb and gorgeous is the scene, I love to wander by the sea When the wavelets murmur plaintively, And the sportive sea-birds frequent rest Upon its gently heaving breast. That shines like a field of silver bright ; Yes, the ocean then is a glorious sight. And even when the tempest raves, And boil and leap the giant waves, Lifting their whiten'd crests on high Until they seem to touch the sky; Yes, the aspect of the stormy sea Presents peculiar charms to me. THE BUCCANEER. A MERRY-HEARTED Buccaneer, ix Through mist and foam I gaily roam, Nor danger fear ; Though winds may blow or high or low, I laugh ha ! ha ! I laugh ho ! ho ! To friendly gales I spread my sails, And flit o'er ocean's blue expanse ; I laugh ha ! ha ! I laugh ho ! ho ! While song and dance my mirth enhance. Through Neptune's realms a ranger, Singing gaily, Thougli face to face with danger I am daily ; And when the storm is over, Tra-la-la, At ease reclines the rover, Tra-la-la ; THE UUCCANEEll. 17<». 'I'lieu with the magic music of my ha ! ha ! ha ! Grim-visag'd Care I quickly drive away ; And 1 beg to intimate I'm prepared for any fate, For my heart is always gay. When a wealthy prize comes in onr way, My gallant band with ready hand Attack their prey ; As the luckless foe goes down below, 1 laugh ha ! ha I I laugh ho ! ho ! With wealth untold of ffleauiinji' jzold I tightly pack my vessel's hold ; I laugh ha ! ha ! I laugh ho ! ho I I and my vassals strong and bold ; When attack'd by cruisers irate, True and ready, cool and steady They ever find this pirate. Ever ready ; With courage, self-reliance Them I meet and defeat. And laugh in cool defiance As I see them retreat; And when the fray is o'er, with my light guitar^ To pleasure then I yield the happy day ; And my loud ha ! ha ! ringing near and far. Tells the Corsair's heai't is gay. All Love's entangleiiients I shun, And venom 'd fangs of jealous pangs ; Each lovely one 1 love them all where'er I go, I laugh ha ! ha ! I laugh ho ! ho ! The blinded god projects his dart All vainly at the Corsair's heart. I laugh ha ! ha ! I laugh ho ! ho ! And mock at Beauty's wile and art. Their sighs I never heed 'em, Nor their anguish as they languish. But laugh in joyous freedom, As they seek me to vanquish ; Like the wind, inconstant ever, I would roam, I would roam, 180 THE WIND. A mind like mine can never Rest at home. I banish saucy Cupid with my ha ! ha ! ha ! And acknowledge not the pretty tyrant's sway, Ma*"ital felicity will never do me, For my heart is always gay. I gaily sing from morn till night ; AVhile others go through shades of woe My heart is light ; No ebb doth know my mirth's full flow ; I laucrh ha ! ha ! Likewise ho ! ho ! A king I rule, my throne my deck, Of party warfare nought I reck ; I laugh ha ! ha ! I laugh ho ! ho ! As like a bird my barque doth go : To the service of Queen Pleasure Do I daily Yield willingly my leisure. Singing gaily, As through her fairy palace I gallivant And taste her sparkling chalice Jubilant ; I never suffer trouble to disturb my peace, And to all my fellow mortals I would say ; Whether life be short or long, or things go right or wrong, Let the heart be always gay. THE WIND. I SING of the mysterious wind. Through Nature roaming unconfin'd, Roving through the fragrant bowers, Fondly dallying with the flowers, A fitful friend, a faithless lover, A swaggering, i-oyst'ring, reckless rover, Laughing, shrieking, whistling, whirling, Sighing, sporting, raving, twirling Round and round in courselqss caper Unoffending scraps of paper. THE WIND. 181 Bullying the yellow leaves, Moaning round the cottage eaves, Sweeping o'er the sodden'd ground, With a swirling rushing sound; Murmuring plaintive minstrelsies In and oui the leafy trees, Swaying the yellow-crested corn, 'Neath its onward rush o'erborne, In the lonely woodland sighing. Like the sound of mortal dying, Riding on tlie restless sea, Lashing its billows furiously. Till they writhe and leap in pain. Plunging' full fathoms deep again, Mocking the lightning's lurid flashing, The dreaded thunder's horrid crashing,, Drowning the seaman's dving shriek, Exultuig o'er the yielding creak As the feeble timbers break. And now again thou'rt softly playing, Athi'ough the lattice windovv straying. The fever'd brow in coolness steeping Of the tender infant sleeping. wondrous power strange and strong, 1 love thy weird mysterious song ; Sometimes thou hast a soothing strain^ That falls like balm upon my pain, Administ'ring a sweet relief; Anon in melting tones of o-rief Thou singest with unstudied art. Till chords responsive in the heart Vibrate ; thou hast as many moods As Earth's innumerable broods. Mankind's e'er varying emotions Are typified in thy commotions ; Thou'rt full of change, inconstancy, So is our frail humanity, And thou and we from day to day Th' incomparable might display Of Him Who rules with matchless skill The whole creation at His will. 182 THE LITTLE MESSENGER. A PRETTY little flower, Blooming all alone, Fed by sun and shower, By soft breezes blown. Distant from the his^hway, Hid from public view, In a lonely by-way This little flower grew. Growing discontented With its lowly state, The flow'ret fair lamented Oft disconsolate. Fretfully it murmured : " Mine's a luckless lot, Secluded and unnotic'd In this lonely spot. ■*' What use is my beauty ? Seldom passes by Anyone to view me With admiring eye. ^' Wasted is mj perfume On the lone air shed, I'm so very useless, Would that I were dead." There came a little maiden One sunny summer day, Her rosy arms were laden With leaves and flowers gay. " what a pretty flower " Delightedly cried she ; " I'm so glad I've found you ; You must come with me." The maiden in her posy Plac'd the little flower, _And laugh'd aloud in pleasure In the sunny hour. THE LITTLE MESSENGER. 183 Then soon her busy footsteps Carried her away Into a darken'd chamber Where a sick man lay. A strange young man, an exile From his native land ; She phxc'd the rural beauty In his poor thin hand. He gaz'd upon the flower With sorrow in his eye, And from his heaving bosom Came a troubl'd sigh. Thick o'er the fragile petals The tender teardrops fell As Memory recall'd him Old times remember'd well. His mother's fav'rite flower Ft was ; and in a tone Of wondrous moving power It spoke of her now gone. It told of all her goodness To him, unceasing care ; Her days of loving labour, And nights of earnest prayer. And then he saw her lying Upon her dying bed ; He heard as he stood crying The last fond words she said. Again with poignant anguish He saw his life of sin ; With deep remorse reflected How wicked he bad been. And from his trembling bosom Uprose the humble plea — " Against Thee have I sinned — Have mercy, Lord, on me." 184: EARTH AND HEAVEX. And He Who never closes To contrite ones His ear In gracious mercy sent him An answer to his prayer. Then the poor weary wand'rer Sank peacefully to rest, His mother's fav'rite flower Clasp'd tightly to his breast. So the flower that lamented Within its lone abode Became a guardian angel That led a soul to God. EARTH AND HEAVEN. Ir^ARTH hath many a pleasure fair,. J Many a sorrow, many a snare, Hath many a trial hard to bear ; Heaven hath rest from toil and care Earth hath many a prospect bright. Earth hath many a vain delight, Many a labour, many a fight ; Heaven hath realms of dimless light. Earth hath many a pang of woe, Earth hath many a cruel blow, Earth hath many a deadly foe ; No ills Dor harms Heaven's people know- Earth hath many a dazzling light, Earth hath many a withering blight, Many a painful sleepless night ; Heaven hath ineffable delight. Earth hath many a pleasure vain, Many a dreary desert plain, For nought oft times in toil we strain ; Heaven hath incomparable gain. Earth hath mingling sighs and tears, Earth hath anxieties and fears, Sad funeral bells, funereal biers ; But Heaven hath painless deathless spheres.. 185. HOPE. OF all the gracious gifts that God Hath ou the sons of men bestow'd To aid them in Life's pilgrim way None sweeter is than Hope's fair ray. sanguine sunny-hearted Hope, Oft art thou as a timely rope Flung to the soul that helplessly Is borne on the tempestuous sea ! Thou comest deck'd in roseate light Dispersing Sorrow's densest night, When trouble with its circling gloom Enfolds the heart as in a tomb. The lab 'ring man amid the moil Of daily care and arduous toil Experiences thy cheering power, Anticipating the glad hour When he shall to his home repair And find sweet relaxation there. Join in his children's artless glee And taste home's deep felicity. The soldier, too, amid the roar Of battle's din, when cannon pour Their deadly volleys far and wide, Hopes for the time when War's red tide Shall be roU'd back by gentle Peace And battle's dreadful tumults cease : When he may, scatheless from the strife,. Enfold again his own dear wife Unto his manly faithful heart, And from her breast extract the dart Anxiety had planted there. And see again his children dear. 3 86 HOPE. The hope of safely reaching home Cheers the bold fishers as they roam, And mid the perils of the wave Fills them with strength and makes them brave. The invalid on bed of pain Is cheer'd and bless'd oft and again By visions sweet of rosy health, That precious gift — Heaven's choicest wealth. How doth the radiant spirit, too, Paint to the toiling author's view The golden region of success His weary fainting soul to bless ! The merchant, too, whose eye doth range With anxious gaze o'er the exchange, Hopes ardently to realise Large profits from his enterprise. It nerves the timid lover's heart And strength and courage doth impart, As he essays in labour hard To win his lov'd one's kind regard. The student who in labours deep Toileth while others calmly sleep, Hopes for a guerdon for his pains — A place in Learning's fair domains. The husbandman with liberal hand Soweth the seed within his land, And hopes for sun and genial rain To feed nnd fructify the grain. How oft but for the cheering power Would sink the spirit in the hour •Of dire distress when carking Care Leads to the verge of dark Despair. Thank Heav'n that sunny Hope is here, ■^jiilding the clouds that oft appear, Sustaining the frail soul of man As he pursues his measur'd span ! A GREETING. 187 A LIFE THOUGHT. BROTHER, do the best you can ; Envy not thy fellow man If he wiser be than you ; All may not be learn'cl or clever ; Have not the gifts nor the endeavour, Yet all may be kind and true ; All may Virtue's path pursue. 3>rother, though in Learning's school Thou may be esteem'd a fool, You may play a master part In the grand academy Of our vast humanity, With true refinement of the heart, Which scholar's lore cannot impart. The noble with his garter'd knee, His coronet and pedigree, In all the pride and jjomp of state, If heart and conduct be not ritrht. Is worthless in God's holy sight ; The virtuous alone are great. Whether of high or low estate. To love is better than to sway ; To win a soul from error's way Is better than to mount a throne ; To mitigate earth's woes and pains And bind in Love's soft silken chains Humanity from zone to zone Is work that Heaven will proudly own. A GREETING. YE busy scribes, afflicted with Cacoethes scribendi, Ye roving gay Bohemian race, A friendly greeting send I ; £o)i camarades all, whate'er 3'oiir theme, Verse, prose, or fact, or fiction. Do not permit that vile word trite A place within your diction. 188 A GREETING, With the thievish plagiaristic crew Make ye no compromise ; But pure originality With deep affection prize ; In borrow'd hterary pkimes Be not content to shine ; But wear with pride your lowlier garb, Your own robes, if less fine. Stick to your own particular style, Shun slavish imitation ; Let not the thoughts of critics cause The slightest trepidation ; With Nature as your one great book. Her pages bright your teachers, Your only academic lore Her ever-varying features. To win attention to your page, Exhaust your store of tactic ; Adopt concise simplicity, But rarely be didactic ; The thoughts that you would fain express- Hide not with high-flown language That makes the task of following you A. source of cruel anguish. The peacock, georgeous to the view, In plumage richly rare, Emitteth a discordant note That jars upon the air ; So oft, too, pompous prose or verse, Deck'd with pedantic art, Breathes not the soul of music sweet — Its soul, its chiefest part. Thus go your ways, my comrades all, Ye merry men of letters, Scornino; alike the smile or frown Of those your so-call'd betters ; Dispensing in your varying spheres Truth's precious golden light. And, never-wavering fealty swear To honour, justice, right. "AVE MARIA." *rpIS Eveuiug's hour sweetly fair ; JL Upou the stilly balmy air Softly ascends soft the holy prayer Ave Maria. Withiu the convent's peaceful ground A solemn stillness reigns profound, But broken by the sacred sound, Ave Maria. Now meadow, copse, and fairy dell Seem resting 'neath a holy spell ; Tinkles the distant shepherd's bell Ave Maria. The sinking sun's soft mellow smile Eests on the wide cathedral aisle ; Rich music floods the noble pile — Ave Maria. Pale Phoobe looks down from her height. Her soft beam of approval bright Blends with the altar's chasten'd light Ave Maria. To bow before th' Eternal Power The noble from his princely tower, The lowly come in this still hour — Ave Maria. The roving Corsair, fierce and rude. In humble penitential mood. Bows down beneath the holy rood — Ave Maria. It is the hour of Duty's call From state intrigue or tavern brawl, ■Oentle or simple, freeman, thrall — A ve Maria. O mortals, snatch a respite brief From earthly toils, from earthly grief; Jlnjoy this hour of sweet relief, Ave Maria ! 189 190 THE WORLD'S NEEDS. HOW chano^'d this world of ours would be If stead of strife and enmity And acrimonious railing, Deep tender-hearted sympathy, All comprehensive Charity, Were in our midst prevailing. How swiftly Grief's discordant tones Would vanish from our circling zones Disgusted and affrighted ; Could mankind but be brought to see Themselves as one vast family By Love's sweet bond united ! would, would our eyes but see More artless frank simplicity Tu dealings with each other ; Alas ! how grieving to perceive Man striving, scheming to deceive His fellow and his brother. How gladly also would we see 'Twixt practice and mere theory A more distinct connection ; We see around us every day Men contradict the good they say By some unworthy action. Some parsons talk of brotherhood In sermons eloquent and good From pulpits on the Sunday, Then miserably fail to reach The lofty standard that they teach By conduct on the Monday. In our great Legislature too, How much is there expos'd to view To set the spirit grieving ; Men thinking more of " Party " claims Than of the great and noble aims They ought to be achieving. THE WORLDS NEEDS. 191 'o.' What shameless deeds of cruel wron The despotism of the strong, The sorrow and the siofhino- In terrible discordance rise, Piercing the stillness of the skies ; To Heav'n for vengeance crying ! would we make allowance due Whene'er our brethren's taults we view, And mingle with our judgment Mercy's sweet "quality unstrain'd," How know we what might be attaiu'd. Our words may find a lodgement In some forlorn less favour'd soul O'er whom Temptation's billows roll With fell resistless power. Our kindly word, our tender deed, May bring forth, like the little seed, Some day a fruitful dower. If Heav'n hath on us more bestow'd Of light to guide us o'er Life's road Than on our weaker brother, Let us be thankful for that lio-ht. And use the precious beaai aright And ne'er its radiance smother. Tiien every thing ignobly mean, All rancour, prejudice, and spleen. Foul slander and back-biting Would o'er our peaceful happy shore Diffuse their influence no more So withering and blighting. Alas ! alas ! sad thought, that e'er A world so wonderfully fair Man in his little hour. By passion, pride, and selfishness. By malice, anger, bitterness, To mar should have the power. J92 ONLY AN OLD OLD DITTY. ENGLAND'S DUKE IS SATISFIED. { On rtad'mq that the, Diihe of Gamhridge had inspfrfed the Forces ' and expressed himself as " quite satistied. J T7E hardy sons of valiant Mars, \_ With honour crowu'd and battle's scars, The glory of your native land, The bulwarks of our power who stand ; List to my words, and swell with pride, For Royal George is satisfied. What matter it how critics carp And on that old theme ever harp^ The shocking state of our defences And annual growth of their expenses — These pessimistic souls we'll chide. Since England's Duke is satisfied. Though bay'nets break and sabres bend, And many a gallant fellow send Before his time beneath the sod, What if our big guns oft explode And lay more of our own men low Than of the swarthy-visag'd foe ; Ne'er heed how critics may deride. Is T\ot George Ranger satisfied ? Then let us rest with calm belief. And breathe a sigh of sweet relief, To feel assur'd that all is right ; That we can rest us of a night, And not dread waking iu the morn : These jaundic'd croakers we will scorn And beam with calm complacent pride, ;Since England's Duke is satisfied. ONLY AN OLD OLD DITTY. ONLY an old old ditty Sung in a crowded street Of Londnn's mighty city, In falt'ring t-nies but sweet, By a little bright-eyed fair-hair'd iliild A waif in the social desert wild. THE HOURS OF LIFE. 193 Onlj aa old old ditty, But, listening to the strain Sung by the minstrel pretty, Wliat mem'ries live a<>-ain. Awaken 'd by a simple song Sung to a sympathetic throng ! Only an old old ditty, No brilliant lyric flower, In language grand or "witty, Yet full of subtle power To hold and move the human heart With untaught but resistless art. Only an old old ditty, Yet through those standing by There throbs a thrill of pity. While scarce au eye is dry — Meet homage of a gather'd throng To the power of a simple son o- THE HOURS OF LIFE. Tl 7ASTE not the precious hours of life VV On transitory, worldly plensiiros ; Spend not your powers in the strife For perishing material treasures ; But seek for more enduring things — That leave no memories to grieve you, For solid gains that take not winas, Like earthly riches, which oft leave you Treasures of Faith, of Hope, and Love, Heaven's glad joy for earthly sorrow ; Beauteous visions from above. Glimpses of a bright to-morrow In a better world than this, Where there is no sin, no saduess, A realm of never-ending bliss, Never-ceasing songs of gladness. Life's too eai^iest, far too short. To pass in idle, aimless dreaming, In follies, or in sinful sport, Or sordid, avaricious scheminsr. Strive, strive to leave the world 194 SONNETS. Better, purer than you found it ; Jehovah's banner floats unfurl'd, Brethren, up and rally round it ! Inaugurate a new Crusade 'Gainst all the varied forms of evil, God's foes, against the truth array'd, The sinful world, the flesh, the devil. Thus pass ye through Life's pilgrim way Of the Master's will observant ; At the last your Lord shall say : — " Well done ! good and faithful servant. "" SONNETS.— THE CUCKOO. MAY. WELCOME, thou wanderer from land remote. E'er welcome, gentle harbinger of Spring ! Cheering to us thy sweet though plaintive note. To us rich pleasure doth thy advent bring ; Bright pictures ting'd with promise fair of May, Her snowy hedgerows, meadows freshly greeii, With early flowerets making Nature gay. The matchless sun with his irradiant sheen. Dear bird, thou com'st to sound the passing knell Of tyi-ant Winter; starting at thy voice, Chagriu'd he calls away from hill and dell His vassals rude ; earth greatly doth rejoice To see him go with sullen parting roar. And Spring's sweet voice proclaims his reign is o'er. And see ! where cometh smiling rosy May, For season sweet to dominate the scene ; A spirit fair in beauteous array. On her pure brow a chaplet emerald green ; On her white bosom many a brilliant gem Sparklps ; rich odours impregnate the air ; Bright Flora weaves a lovely diadem To decorate her handmaid passing fair ; Rich strains of music o'er the welkin float, As feather'd choirs in untaught minstrelsy Enraptur'd hymn her praise with fullest throat ; While zephyrs dance around in sportive glee ; O'er the grand prospect rings a thrilling voice Crying, May has come ; rejoice, earth, rejoice ! vv TO A DISAPPOINTED GENIUS. lOf/ PATRIOTISM. HO is the genuine patriot ? Is it he Who pins his faith to conquest and to might I And vainly thinks true amor patrice But breathes in those who in the gory fight And pomp of armed battalia take dehght 1 Who glories in grim battle's lurid flames, With ardour climbs the reeking gory height, To whom this life presents no nobler aims Than winning decorations, men's applause, A niche perchance in Glory's gilded fane. Too oft, alas ! regardless if the cause Be such as Honour, Justice, Truth approve ; Indifferent to the misery and pain That mark the path wherein red Mars doth move ] Is not the genuine patriot rather he Who in fair Honour's teachings doth delight 1 And in his inmost soul desires to see His country sway'd by dictates pure, upright 1 Who fondly strives to spread the arts of peace, And nightly breathes to Heav'n the fervent prayer That Righteousness may mightily increase. Rich Plenty yield to toil a guerdon fair ; That man may learn to love his fellow-man. The human race in Learning e'er advance, All in accord with Nature's noble plan. Fair Knowledge bending down her kindly glance, Religion rear in every heart a throne, And love and joy prevail from zone to zone. TO A DISAPPOINTED GENIUS. DO you wonder, my poor brother, Why your merits are pass'd by ; Why you toil long years in patience, But to heave the bitter sigh, Wearied out and disappointed, Your exertions all in vain ; All your soul-absorbing labour So much unrewarded pain 1 196 TO A DISAPPOINTED GENIUS. Do you wistfully look round you For some sympathetic soul That can understand your feelings, Help you onward to your goail Have you found those who though warmest In your praise day after day Would not lift their little finger To assist you on your way 1 Thick as leaves in Vallambrosa People scatter words of praise ; It is easy, words cost nothing, But appeal to them to raise Something rather more substantial. Soon you'll see the proof most clear ; Your remarks are only falling On a deaf unwilling ear. Yes, they'd rathe'* spend their money On a statue to the dead, Than they'd try to help the living ; Yes, what copious tears they sh^d O'er the poor souls they neglected Who have trod this mundane round ; They can better see their merits When they're underneath the ground. Think of that most wondrous genius — The incomparable Burns, Whose bright name shall live as long as Terra on her axis turns. Now, to sing his worth and praises Language Mercury outvies, All they found for him when living Was a place in the Excise. So you see, my weary brother, What a genius must expect — Vapid, empty, fulsome praises ; Solid, pi-actical neglect. Then if you would have your merits Brought before the public eye, If you'd have them do you justice, All you have to do is — die. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. Form L9-50wi-7,'54 (5990) 444 PR 5699 TlilIiAl? 1395 UC SOUTHFRN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY AA 000 367 374 6 .J.;: 1 <■ M'-^ ■:'~:'^'rl.,.]''.