LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA DAVIS Ls strjs xetrxed, thr- ln-f^jit iii'joxi Tose Ancl Lathed, tlie city 11 lier mellow- liglit-' E.xgx- 61- LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA CHIPS FROM THE WORKSHOP, PARNASSUS, THE OUTLAW'S DREAM, THE OLD MAN'S COUNSEL. OTHER POEMS. B Y C H ARLES I VES. NEW HAVEN : HITCHCOCK & STAFFORD, PRINTERS, MDCCCXLIIJ. ENTERED, According to Act of Congress, in the year 1843, by CHARLES IVES, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Connecticut. TO MY CRUTCHES, LONG TRIED AND FAITHFUL, THE CHERISHED COMPANIONS OF MY SOLITUDE, WHO SUSTAINED ME WITH UNWAVERING FIDELITY BY DAY, AND WITH A VIGILANCE THAT NEVER TIRED, A WATCHFULNESS THAT NEVER SLUMBERED, A DEVOTION PURE, DISINTERESTED, AND STEADFAST, GUARDED MY BEDSIDE DURING THE DARK AND SILENT WATCHES OF THE NIGHT, WHOM NO ADULATION CAN FLATTER, WHOSE EQUANIMITY NO CENSURE OR ABUSE CAN DISTURB, WHOSE MODESTY IS ONLY EQUALED BY THEIR WORTH, THIS BOOK IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED, BY THEIR OBLIGED AND GRATEFUL FRIEND, THE AUTHOR. The author presents his grateful thanks to his friends and fellow citizens of New Haven, and to the officers and students of Yale College, for the prompt and liberal manner in which they have sub scribed for his book. It is a source of deep regret to him, that his little volume is not more worthy of their attention. CONTENTS. Dedication, - 3 PARNASSUS, - .... 9 THE OUTLAW'S DREAM, OR THE OLD MAN'S COUNSEL, - 61 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Farewell to Connecticut, - - - 115 Letter to Henrietta, - 121 To Emma, - 126 Lines Inspired by some Rheumatic Twitches, 128 To Rebecca, - 129 To Clarissa a Valentine, - - 130 An Evening Ramble on the Alleghany Mountains, - 131 Musings on Death, - 134 To Ella, - - - - - 136 O Call Again, 139 A Stray Angel, - - 140 The Withered Rose, 141 Lines Addressed to a Lady upon the Receipt of a Splendid Cactus, - - 142 Lines Written after a Pleasant Interview with I know who, 144 Love and Fire, .... 146 CO NTENTS. To Mary a Valentine, - 149 Lines Addressed to a Lady, who told the Author that her Eyes were Gray, - 151 The Fairy Wreath, - 152 Love at the Virginia Springs, 153 Lines to an Absent Lady, - 164 The Myrtle Wreath, 165 What is Death, - 167 A Dream of Childhood, 170 Cold Water, - 172 The Author to his Readers, - - - - 175 PARNASSUS, AN INTRODUCTORY POEM. ANALYSIS. A pilgrim wanders to the foot of Parnassus the ideal mount of poetry. His appearance and character in part described. He addresses the mountain, and his voice alarms its guardian spirit. A dialogue ensues. The spirit is amused with his appearance, and astonished at his presumption. It tries to persuade him to wait the return of health and strength, before he attempts the difficult ascent. Is unsuc cessful. The pilgrim thinks if blind men have succeeded, the lame ought not to be discouraged. The spirit tells him they were able to ride a bold and fiery steed called Pegasus (the embodied fancy.) This steed the pilgrim calls for, and being willing to run all risk, the spirit agrees to gratify him, provided he answers certain questions satisfactorily. It inquires if he is rich, and upon being answered in the affirmative, tells him there is no chance for success. The pilgrim explains what he means by riches not gold, palaces, &c., but friendship, love, and the ties of consanguinity; that time is wealth, contentment, and the power the mind possesses of appropriating and enjoying the property of another ; freedom from care and fear of loss ; conversing with men of genius through their works; republican institutions this leads to " The Patriot's Song." The spirit then inquires if he has been to college. He laments that he has not. The spirit tells him he has no cause to mourn it will not retard his suc cess. The last inquiry is, if he is nobly born. The pilgrim replies that he was his father and his mother's father were both sons of Vulcan. Satisfied with his answers, the spirit calls for Pegasus describes the whip, ambition ; the spur, passion ; the bridle, reason ; tells him he must expect to suffer want at first, and that he need not be alarmed by the self-constituted guardians at the foot who will try to frighten him ; that there is no great highway, and that he must make a path for himself. The pilgrim mounts. For his success, the reader is referred to future pages and to coming years. PARNASSUS, AN INTRODUCTORY POEM. I. A YOUTH from home, and friends, and country straying To where Parnassus lifts its head on high, Paused at its foot, and while the mount surveying, A tear was seen to dim his anxious eye, And oft his laboring breast brought forth a sigh ; Like aspen leaves his bony fingers shook ; At which no one would marvel or ask why, Could they on him, then, on that summit look ; But Hope soon banished Fear, his heart fresh courage took. II. I will not now describe the dress he wore, But merely say his coat had once been new, Its threads were villous in the days of yore, But what its color was, no mortal knew ; 2 10 PARNASSUS. Some thought it had been black, some brown, some blue For light and heat, air, water, and old Time, Had greatly changed, if not improved its hue ; And when fops laughed, he did not care a dime ; No virtue it conferred, to wear it was no crime. III. His hat was alamode when first he bought it, And though an exquisite might deem the brim A little narrow, he for years had thought it A paragon in shape, size, color, trim In fact, it was the hat that suited him ; For he had learned, from Fortune's frowns no doubt, If he would banish Want, with visage grim, He must, when Fashion turned right square about, Keep all his old clothes on until he wore them out. IV. Lean was his visage, sickly, pale, and wan, For fell Disease had marked him for her own ; And ere his sun one third its course had run, Life's lamp burnt dim, and health and strength had flown ; And he was doomed to reap who ne'er had sown, (For such is sometimes heaven's all-wise behest,) Yet to his lips repinings were unknown ; The bitterest draught, he said, was often best, And microscopic man complains when most he's blest. PARNASSUS. 11 Y. Some looked quite sad, that shook him by the hand, They thought him hovering o'er that dark abyss Whose depths unknown lead to the spirit-land, Where greater ills await, or greater bliss Than e'er was felt, or e'er conceived in this, If holy books speak true, and holy men ; At which he smiled and said, they could dismiss Their fears he should not leave them yet, and when Death came he might himself look sad- but not till then. VI. As noble virtues oft the bad redeem, 'Gainst none he harbored malice or ill-will, And there were many he did much esteem ; Though warm affections cold neglect can chill, The memory of the past he cherished still. Nor deem that love was to his breast unknown, Or beauty's glance could not his bosom thrill, Admiring many, he had loved but one, Yet cruel Fortune frowned, and bade him live alone. VII. The cloud-capped mountains and the stars above him, Lakes, rivers, oceans, were his bosom friends ; But does the storm-cloud, does the damp wind love hiin ? Alas ! their cold and chilly breath but lends 12 PARNASSUS. New power to torture, and to pain that rends And racks his shattered tenement of clay, And o'er eternity's dark gulf suspends His brief existence : yet, perchance, they may Be sent from some bright world to hasten him away. VIII. So heavy was the load himself had borne, The cup so bitter he was doomed to quaff, That when for little griefs he heard men mourn, Instead of pity, he could only laugh ; And had he prayed to heaven in their behalf, 'T would not have been that he with them might share it, That God would stay his chastening rod or staff, But that he'd lay it on and never spare it, Till they had better hearts and souls and backs to bear it. IX. Thus war-worn veterans wounded, maimed, and scarred ; The lone survivors of a thousand fields Of blood and carnage taught to disregard The battle-shout, at which the firm earth reels, The roar and din of conflict, and the peals Of death from out the hoarse harsh cannon's mouth Thus, thus, I ween, the blood-dyed warrior feels, Who hears the boasts of pugilistic youth, When Bacchus fires their blood perchance the sunny South. PARNASSUS. 13 X. When base and craven souls did bow the knee To rank, vain titles, wealth, power, pride, or birth, He scorned their truckling, and right haughtily Looked down upon those air-blown sons of earth, Whose tinsel greatness oft provoked his mirth ; His homage he reserved for God's nobless, For heaven-born genius, and for real worth ; Though rude and rough, like costly gems, their dress, The diamond-hues that scintillate their worth confess, XL He looked with interest on the busy world, And pondered much upon the changing scene, And paused where pleasure's eddying circles whirled, And e'en o'er ruin's vortex dared to lean, That he might there some useful lessons glean To guide his footsteps in the coming years ; He was not dazzled by earth's outward sheen, And yet to him 'twas not a vale of tears, Though 'mid its fruits and flowers apparent ill appears. XIL As stands the sapling which the tempest shook, Bowed, bent, and broken by the angry blast, Wearing in Spring the yellow, deathly look Of Autumn, and its bright green glories cast 2* 14 PARNASSUS. Like blasted hopes, marking where Ruin passed So stood the pilgrim ; bowed but not depressed, His ardent mind with aspirations vast, And high was filled ; and it must be confessed, Wild, groundless seemed his hopes who thus the mount addressed : XIII. " Thou glorious summit where the Muses dwell, And minstrels charm the happy hours away, I long to tread your heights and bid farewell To these dull plains : and on thy breast to lay My weary head ; compelled too long to stray Amid life's dark, and damp, and gloomy vales ; And, though my heart has never known dismay, I fain would mount where ideal bliss prevails, Where Fancy plumes her wings, and spreads her fairy sails. XIV. " Far-famed Parnassus ! round thy rocky base A weary pilgrim would no longer roam, For high above his eyes delighted trace, Where thou dost lift to heaven thy lofty dome , From whence those sounds of thrilling music come, That burn and glow with such celestial fire ; These charmed the pilgrim in his distant home, Who now, with vain presumption, would aspire To sweep those magic strings, and wake that magic lyre." PARNASSUS. 15 XV. Thus spake the youth his loud, clear voice alarmed The watchful spirit who long since was sent To guard and keep the sacred mount unharmed ; And oft their rashness pilgrims did repent, And wish, too late, that they had been content, Nor tried in vain to climb who scarce could crawl ; For to the spirit powerful arms were lent ; Contempt and ridicule obeyed its call, And e'en its very silence could the heart appall. XVI. Alas, that earth should blast a spirit's joy ! But this was sighing o'er its luckless doom, To watch both night and day its sole employ. To heaven-born spirits earth is Joy's dark tomb Without death's quiet ; 'tis a fruitful womb, Whose children people and compose a hell ! But joys and sorrows, barrenness and bloom Are relative ; those who were born and dwell On Greenland's shores, do love their cold bleak mountains well ; XVII. And should they roam beneath a southern sky, 'T would breed a fever in each frigid vein ; Thus could we reach the heaven for which we sigh, If all unchanged, we could not there remain, 16 PARNASSUS. But would thank God to show us earth again ; x Can mortal eyes gaze on the sun's bright light ? Our very pleasures are increased by pain, And were not man a weak and par-blind wight, He would long since have learned God orders all things right. XVIII. How beautiful that mount to look at ! Yet An irksome task the guardian genius had, For countless aspirants did aye beset The hill on every side, and all were clad With self-sufficiency and pride good, bad, Indifferent ; of all that countless throng Two thirds at least seemed fools three quarters, mad ; Yet some choice spirits, doubtless, were among The host, whose hearts were pregnant with immortal song. XIX. Roused by his voice, perhaps by pity moved, The spirit towards the pilgrim did advance ; With searching looks now each the other viewed The spirit's mirth increased with every glance, And laughter smiled upon its countenance : " From whence and who art thou ?" at length it said, " What strange, sad fortune what mysterious chance To this lone mountain hath thy footsteps led ? Thou surely canst not hope those lofty heights to tread !" PARNASSUS. 17 XX. Calm, cool, collected, fearless, and unawed, With firm resolve implanted in each look, And an indifference stoics might applaud, No notice of the speech the pilgrim took; But first the dust from off his clothes he shook, Then gently asked, regardless of its frown, " Is that Parnassus ?" Spirits ill can brook Such cold indifference from a youth unknown More rude it seemed, though for it custom might atone. XXI, " Who art thou and from whence ? I asked, young man, Which thou must answer without much ado, Or feel a spirit's curse, and hear its ban !" " The first already I supposed you knew, For thy keen glance did pierce me through and through ; Names are mere sounds, before thee I now stand, And thou canst see both what I am and who ; And I have also told my native land, In terms e'en mortal men, if shrewd, might understand." XXII. His racy answer much the sprite annoyed, But to seem angry 'twas in vain it tried, All sternness fled before such cool sang froid ; So, casting harsher words and looks aside, 18 PARNASSUS. It with becoming mildness thus replied : " Thy words are false, though specious, pert, and tart ; Hadst thou lived longer, thou hadst not denied Man's name is oft his most important part But how canst thou affirm thou told me whence thou art ?' XXIII. The youth rejoined : " Earth's sons have many ways To answer questions, and have ye but one ? When words deceive, some action oft betrays The hidden truth ; looks tell what hands have done, And men make known their hate to that they shun ; Dress, habits, manners speak, when mouths are shut ; As sable skins proclaim a southern sun, My question in reply to those you put, Declared to thee aloud : ' I'm thine, Connecticut !' " XXIV. " A Yankee's logic ! shrewd and fitly spoken ! I might, indeed, have known from whence you came ; There is no better sign, or seal, or token Of a true Yankee, than the one you name, And for my dullness I am much to blame. But what strange fancy, pray, has brought you here ? Thou canst not climb the mount, for thou art lame ; And it were new, and marvelous, and queer, To carry ' Yankee notions' where there is no gear ! PARNASSUS. 19 XXV. " But you, 'tis said, are an ingenious race And famed for prudence ; hence may have foreseen That feeble steps cannot the mountain trace ; Or, having heard what dangers intervene Steep rugged cliffs, with yawning gulfs between, And frightful horrors, painful e'en to mention You now have come to set up some machine, For there appears no bounds to your invention ; Pray tell me fairly, Sir, if such is your intention? XXVI. " But hark ye ! if so, the attempt is vain ; For though ye rib the earth from sea to sea With iron ; and to the long and loaded train Yoke the red lightning ; though the winds to thee Yield up their strength, and thy supremacy The rivers own thou canst devise no mode By which to increase the facility Of access to the minstrel's blest abode ; But all must toil and tread where all have ever trod." XXVII. " You may dismiss your fears," the pilgrim said, " Though noted is the land from whence I came For its inventions, ye have naught to dread ; No such wild fancy ever will inflame 20 PARNASSUS. A Yankee's bosom, as the one you name ; Though mountains bow themselves, and valleys rise At our dread mandate, yet the mount of Fame Is sacred ; while competing for the prize, All short and easy modes of access we despise. XXVIII. " To make machines or cross roads, strongly savors Of conscious weakness, but our lot we cast With honorable rivals, and no favors Ask ; when the timid pause and stand aghast, Our hopes are bright, our aspirations vast ; Although the prize may be beyond our reach, Yet had the present ne'er excelled the past, Could timid Caution Enterprise impeach, And Prudence cast Hope's bold, gay bark upon the beach. XXIX. " Nor do I seek, in this most barren spot, Commercial gain ; to bring our far-famed ware To such a market, were indeed a blot On our good name. Must I to you declare Some scaled those heights, and made a lodgment there, Whose sightless orbs could not detect the light ? If blind men triumph, shall the lame despair ? I am, 'tis true, in a most wretched plight, But not so bad as those who grope in endless night." PARNASSUS. 21 XXX. " Although," replied the sprite, " some who were blind Have tried to climb the mount, and have succeeded, Yet for each Homer thousands you will find Who left advice and protests all unheeded, And learned too late that one thing more was needed ; They had not Milton's eyes, yet .could not ride The well known, bold, and fiery steed that he did, And when the vain attempt they madly tried, Soon headlong they were hurled far down the mountain side. XXXI. " And art thou tinctured with the same ambition ? And can it be you seriously intend To try your fortune while in this condition ? If so, let me advise you as a friend, Awhile, at least, this project to suspend, Till health returning bids Disease retire, And Strength and Vigor all their influence lend ; A sickly load soon Pegasus would tire, Droop Fancy's wings, and quench Imagination's fire. XXXII. " Besides, ye know not, dream not of the toil, The hardship, and the danger of the way, Which oft have made the boldest hearts recoil, When 'wild ambition led their feet astray. 3 22 PARNASSUS. But all must one day for their folly pay A fearful price ; and though postponed awhile, There's ample interest for each hour's delay. If Vengeance seems to sleep, and Justice smile, How soon the victim learns 'twas only to beguile !" XXXIII. The spirit paused the listener's brow was knit, His lips scorn shook, while Indignation burned Upon his pallid cheek : " Thy words befit," He said, " a craven spirit, but are spurned By one whose purpose Fear has never turned. Go prate of hardship where the faint winds sigh And they may hear thee : I long since have learned To fix my thoughts and aspirations high What may and can be done, we know not till we try. XXXIV. " Bring forth the steed ! I must and will advance ; Without some venture what can man obtain ? Tired of her frowns, dame Fortune may, perchance, Light with a smile her adverse face again ; Men call her fickle, and the changing vane Is thought her symbol ; yet she's been to me As stable as the hills ; thus to remain In thick-veiled darkness would unsex her ; she A female ? Where has woman shown such constancy ? PARNASSUS. 23 XXXV. " Bring forth! bring forth the steed ! Thy fear and doubt May fright the timid or deter the weak ; But had each rock a tongue should each tongue shout Its warning and each note like volleyed thunder speak, They could not shake my purpose ; I will seek Though perils lurk in every forest leaf To climb the mountain to its topmost peak ; If thousands fail, there's more to share the grief; And brighter, greener laurels crown the minstrel chief." XXXVI. He ceased ; but still the flashing of his restless eye Declared the settled purpose of a soul, Resolved at every hazard to defy Whate'er opposed his progress to the goal On which his heart was fixed. Nought could control His ardor weak to do, yet bold to dare ; And 'mid defeat such boldness can console The aching heart, and drive away despair : But what the spirit said my pen must now declare. XXXVII. " When youth and health with confidence are swelling, It is not strange that oft they seek to climb The mount where minstrels have their happy dwelling, And Music, lingering on the shores of Time, 24 PARNASSUS. Gives birth to strains immortal and sublime ; But when the lily drives the rose away, And pale Death points to heaven's more favored clime, I marvel much that you should hither stray, To wake earth's harsher lyres and sing a transient lay." XXXVIII. To this the pilgrim was about replying, That though heaven's harps, the music of the spheres, Might cheer the darkened prospects of the dying, While life's red currents beat, no childish fears Should banish joy, or cause ignoble tears, That earth was his to-day, and he should try, Whate'er might be his doom in coming years, To climb the mount, however steep and high When thus the sprite resumed, preventing a reply : XXXIX. " I see your mind is fixed, and that persuasion Can do no real or apparent good, But thou wilt learn too late how much occasion Existed for my counsel ; to obtrude Such warning and advice unasked, seems rude Perchance my words too harsh, my looks too stern ; But when the halt and sick false hopes delude, I melt with pity, or with anger burn, And am compelled to urge or force them to return. PARNASSUS. 25 XL. " But thou dost call for Pegasus a steed That very few can ride, that few have rode ; Small, small will be thy chance, yet great thy need Of his assistance, for though Want will goad, And Instinct guide, where Art has made no road, Without Ambition's whip and Passion's spur, He sinks inactive 'neath the cumbrous load ; And then, the weak and timid to deter, He hurls them from his back when these his mettle stir. XLI. " I like your courage, confidence, and zeal, The firm resolve which nought can bend or bow, The aspirations words and looks reveal, The mind resolved to win, it knows not how, And I will bring the steed if thou canst show That thou art worthy such exalted honor, For 'tis not every mortal we allow To rudely gaze, much less to get upon her, And most of those that do, are taught ere long to shun her. XLII. " Some questions must be asked, ere I comply ; And first let me inquire if thou art rich ?" " Croesus himself was not more rich than I." " Then all your hopes are vain ! In Mammon's ditch 3* 26 PARNASSUS. " The sordid grovel ; Pegasus would pitch And stumble 'neath the dull and heavy load ; And where the Muses dwell, there is no niche In which the useless treasure could be stowed ; Men cannot wake the lyre when gold their hearts corrode." XLIII. " I little thought a spirit need be told," The astonished pilgrim to the sprite replied, " That real wealth does not consist of gold. That unbought friendship, which, when ills betide, Like raging tempests round the mountain side, Shines like the sun which gilds the mountain's head, Dispels the clouds on which the storm-gods ride He values more whose palace is a shed, Than all the gold that sleeps within earth's rocky bed. XLIV. " But who with sacrilegious hands would dare To weigh with gold the earthly heaven of love ! What heart did ere its holy raptures share, By moonlight on the shore or in the grove, And then so fiendish, so inhuman prove ! A solitary, bleak, and barren isle, If shared with one who round the heart has wove Her charms like chains, with many an artless wile, Would like Elisium wear one bright, unclouded smile. PARNASSUS. 27 XLV. " The sire that calls the blue-eyed boy his own ; The wife that greets her infant with a kiss ; He that a brother's, sister's ties has known, And shared a mother's love, and felt its bliss- Are surely rich, and know what true wealth is. Though in the world to come they dream of heaven, Such are the joys these ties confer in this, When called to leave the earth their hearts are riven, Though one sure key to bliss they know to Death is given. XLVI. " There is one great estate God gives to all, Though not to all alike, for he bestows His favors with a partial hand ; men call It Time. When Death confers the grave's repose, Eternal ages will, perchance, disclose What now religion dimly shadows forth, And some believe, some doubt, and some suppose Showing what mighty scenes in time had birth, When some who people distant worlds dwelt on the earth. XLVII. " One little spark the moral world may melt ; A thought for ages live when we are gone ; A single act may make its influence felt In every star round God's eternal throne ; 28 PARNASSUS. A word, if fitly spoke, may still speak on, And move men's minds in every age and clime ; A day an hour has seen vast kingdoms won And each and all, with eloquence sublime, Proclaim to man the worth, the priceless worth of time. XLVIII, " Dollars and pounds are a fallacious measure Of real wealth ; the poorest man alive May have his garners filled with costly treasure, And from his broad estates each year derive A princely income ; craven souls may strive To do him homage for they swarm like flies Around corruption, and on offal thrive : He might be rich, but in his soul there lies A burning, maudlin thirst for more, that never dies. XLIX. " 'Tis not in splendid vessels or rich freights, Which proudly float or line the crowded docks Nor in the size or value of estates, Where many a verdant field at famine mocks 'Tis not in lowing herds or bleating flocks, Or treasures worshiped, hoarded, but not spent, 'Tis not in deeds, or mortgages, or stocks, That true wealth lies : -a body bowed and bent With ingots of fine gold, is poor without content. PARNASSUS. 29 L. " The rude, rough cabin dingy, dark, and small If o'er its humble hearth Content preside, Not the proud palace with its marble wall, Its couch of ease, its luxury, its pride, Where Music's voice is heard, and fair forms glide Can ere in wealth compete, in bliss compare, If this one treasure only is denied ; These form the tinsel and the outward glare Of wealth its life, its soul, its substance is not there. LI. " There is in nature an agrarian law, Which to one level brings both rich and poor I mean not Death, from whose insatiate maw No treasures, honors, titles can insure, - Whose might omnivorous, all alike endure But the power of mind ; by which, sight serves in lieu Of ownership ; all life's few wants procure, The rich their large estates can only view, And these the poor behold aye, and enjoy them too. LII. " I gaze with rapture on the verdant fields, It is in part for me that they are sown ; For me spring blooms, its fruits the autumn yields, Though not a rod of land I call my own ; 30 PARNASSUS. To title-deeds my name is all unknown, Which saves much trouble, time, and anxious care ; Insurance, taxes, law-suits, cause no frown ; No worthless spendthrift ere can be my heir ; No deadly feuds arise where there is nought to share. LIII. " The splendid palace calls me not its lord ; The flower-decked cottage on the clear lake's side, Where sylvan shades adorn the bright green sward, And graveled walks the verdant lawns divide, And rosy health and competence abide Men call not mine ; and yet they yield to me A bliss for which, perchance, their owner sighed In vain ; all that is beautiful I see What else save toil and care and trouble pray, has he ? LIV. " When the proud city gleams with lurid light, And loud shrill voices and the pealing bell Grate on the hushed and listening ear of night, And fire and smoke and flame and maddening yell Give to the earth the semblance of a hell Roused by the cry, their golden visions gone, The rich, with fears each look proclaims too well, Inquire if with the smoke their wealth has flown While I, secure from loss, composedly sleep on. PARNASSUS. 31 LV. " Of all that float upon the treacherous sea, And tempt its unknown depths, its currents cross, Not one, I trow, ere heard or cares for me, Not one, were I to die, would dream of loss, Feel severed friendship's pang, or love's remorse : In ocean's dark blue depths should they go down, Wrecked every ship, and every man a corse, My heart, although not steeled, could hardly groan O'er wealth, and love, and friendship it had never known. LVI. " When shedding blood ? O no ! not blood, but ink Which makes no widows, leaves no orphans weeping ; Or when my fevered lips delighted drink From wine cups ? No ! know ! in them lie steeping The roots and seeds of hell ! Fiends there are keeping Their watch for souls ! But when I quaff the lore Of other times, and midnight winds are sweeping Around my dwelling, I might more deplore Their violence, had I aught to lose on sea or shore. LVII. " This calm, unruffled quiet ; this relief From cares that canker and corrode the soul ; This freedom from that deep, though borrowed grief, That springs from fear of loss ; this self-control, 32 PARNASSUS. That brings wants and desires within the goal Of prudence and of reason ; this refined, Celestial wealth, stands first upon the roll Drawn from the heart, and quarried from the mind ; Should heaven bestow no more, I'll think her not unkind. LVIIL " O, who would mourn a lack of other treasure, Who in the strife for gold would ere engage, That can contrive each day to find some leisure, To reap the wisdom of a former age, And feast the soul on each undying page Which genius covered with her words of fire, When many a bard, historian, prophet, sage, Gave birth to thoughts which never can expire, Till the archangel's trump sounds o'er earth's funeral pyre ? LIX. " Who can be poor, when, thronging at his call, The sons of genius from each clime appear ? When through the printed page he gains from all The garnered treasures of each studious year ? If for the tribute of a listening ear Each mind yields up the lore God gives in trust, Say has the man who will not pause to hear Aught that's immortal ? No ! Contempt, disgust Would banish deathless spirits from such sordid dust ! PARNASSUS. 33 LX. " The honored fathers of ray country died, And dying left a legacy behind, For which the world in vain for ages sighed, And sought 'mid blood and tears, but could not find, For clouds and darkness brooded o'er mankind. The glorious heritage of freedom ! France Awoke and saw but reeled and fell ! Her mind, So long immured, was blinded by one glance ; Reason run mad, and Freedom fled her God was chance ! LXI. " The priceless legacy of Liberty ! By tyrants banished from her ancient seats, Beyond the Atlantic's wave compelled to flee, Her steadfast followers from all lands she meets, The deep dark forests yield them safe retreats, And though pursued, from many a strong hold driven, Yet with her spirit each brave bosom beats, And victory crowns the chosen sons of heaven ! He needs no other wealth to whom their fame is given !'' XLII. With patriot ardor now the pilgrim burned, His feelings rose and kindled with his theme, He seized the rude rough harp which he had learned, In his far home, upon his native stream, 4 34 PARNASSUS. Without the aid of rules to wake, and deem Its discord music ; it had conspicuous hung Across his shoulder ; how his notes might seem In such a spot he thought not, but among Its strings his fingers ran his voice responsive sung THE PATRIOT'S SONG. 1. When Albion's haughty rulers thought To bind with iron bands the free, In other climes the Pilgrims sought A home for banished liberty. Behind them were their father's graves Before, the stormy ocean's waves. 2. The " May Flower" brought the choicest seed That Britain's famous isles could yield; (*) An unseen hand the Pilgrims led, The God they worshiped was their shield. They hardly touched the virgin earth, When lo ! it gave vast empires birth ! 3. The dawn arose on Plymouth rock A glorious harbinger of day ! The night of ages felt the shock, PARNASSUS. 35 And fled to western wilds away. Retreating still, Pacific's roar Will soon proclaim " It is no more !" 4. How like enchantment cities sprung From out that " dark and bloody ground," ( 2 ) Where oft terrific war-whoops rung W'ithin the forest's depths profound ! Where red men kept the deer at bay, Or wily foes in ambush lay ! 5. Upon our broad and noble streams The Indian's bark was wont to glide, But ah ! no more the rude oar gleams Upon the gently swelling tide ! No more by summer moons they lave Their dusky limbs beneath the wave ! 6. Their council-fires have ceased to burn Along Atlantic's sounding shore, And naiads o'er the lakes now yearn In vain, to hear those strains of yore, When far and near the echoes rung, And maidens, love men, war songs sung. 36 PARNASSUS. 7. One wave of Time alas ! but one ! Has hallowed with their dust the ground, And left us nought of nations gone, Save here and there a funeral mound ; While on our plains the arrow head, Proclaims the prowess of the dead. 8. Why should we pause to mourn their doom ? Death may to savages be gain, ( 3 ) And millions, shouting o'er their tomb, Declare they have not died in vain ! Who that beholds our altars rise, Will ere lament the sacrifice ? 9. What splendid victories were our boast ! What laurels our brave armies won, When Britain sent her hireling host Against the gallant WASHINGTON ! Tyrants may read on hill and plain, Freedom ne'er draws her sword in vain. 10. War came once more with gory hands Lo ! where yon noble vessel rides ! What dauntless spirit now commands, PARNASSUS. 37 And conquers with " Old Ironsides ?" Death's late decree can nought annul ! Must I reply departed HULL ! ( 4 ) 11. When, where, and how we gained renown, Who fought, who conquered, and who fell, On sea and land what deeds were done Do not our glorious annals tell ? And does not every school boy know How JACKSON triumphed o'er the foe ? 12. O may our laurels green remain ! Our banner ne'er o'er recreants wave ! But proudly float, without a stain, Above the free, the good, the brave ! Nor foreign foes, nor civil wars, Disgrace its stripes, divide its stars ! 13. From age to age, till Time expires, Let nought occur to mar our fame, But then, as now, our altar fires Burn with a bright and dazzling flame ! No more no more shall Freedom roam, She's found, at last, on earth a home ! 4* 38 PARNASSUS. LXIII. The pilgrim's song from cliff to cliff ascended, While Echo, bounding from her rocky cave, Caught up the strain ; her voice with his was blended, But for each borrowed note she many gave ; Then all was still and silent as the grave. Fearing his zeal had led his mind astray, The pilgrim did the spirit's pardon crave" For this his thoughtless and obtrusive lay ; When passion bade him sing he could not disobey. LXIV. The spirit smiled, and answered, without chiding, If he could make such melody below, There was but small occasion for his riding The famous steed, although his prospects now Appeared more flattering than an hour ago ; " You have no gold 'tis well ; such cumbrous freight Has paved life's ocean with Hope's wrecks. But thou, Perchance, canst Homer's deathless songs translate, And art in college lore and parchment honors great ?" LXV. " Alas !" the youth replied, " Greek is to me What to blind Homer English would have been, If then extant a hidden mystery ! The venerable walls of Yale I've seen PARNASStTS. 39 From the first dawn of childhood, and have lain At night beneath their very shadow ; they Have often served the purpose of a screen From the hot sun ; yet there escaped no ray To change the darkness of my mental night to day. > LXVI. " A thousand times her graveled walks I've trod ; Arid where her noble elms their broad arms spread, A thousand times reclined on the green sod ; And gazed as often on the stars which shed Their radiance upon her ; o'er my head The winds have passed that fanned her, and her sun Gave me its light ; in nature's book I've read From off the page that opes around her ; one Material world all have the mental was unknown ! LXVII. " I saw the tree of knowledge. 'Twas to me As in the dawn of time to my great sire Though beautiful, forbidden. Being free, He ate, and sinned, and fell ! To see admire And feel the inward workings of desire To gaze for hours approach and touch ! and taste ! And by one act the treasure to acquire, Was what all men would do so did the best, And Adam's fall the frailty of the race expressed. 40 PARNASSUS. LXVIII. " I've shared his doom, and felt his curse, and would Have been content had I enjoyed the fruit : 'Twere cheap to toil for such ambrosial food, Which raises man above the groveling brute, And gives to dust a godlike attribute. But I have labored for my daily bread, And if of knowledge not quite destitute, It is because a few chance leaves were shed, Which I at night have gathered, and upon them fed." LXIX. " It is not those whose minds are cramped by rules," Thus to the pilgrim now rejoined the sprite ; " 'Tis not the cions of the famous schools, Who climb the farthest up the dizzy height ; ( 5 ) The Muses seem to take the most delight In those on whom malignant stars look down ; ( 6 ) Fortune's spoiled child is but their parasite, The trencher-friend of genius, and the tone In which he sings is borrowed, yielding no renown. LXX. " Some birds when caged may sing and seem to thrive, But such, if free, would never mount on high ; Imprisoned eagles do not long survive, Their aspirations reach the upper sky, PARNASStTS. 41 And on the sun they gaze with longing eye ; When heaven's high vault they can no more explore, Their proud wings droop, their lofty spirits die ; But should they live, their glory would be o'er, Transformed to barn-yard fowls, the eagles are no more. LXXI. " Thus genius often pines when college bred, O'er nature's wide domains it longs to soar, Hold converse with the stars, and fearless tread Where mortal footsteps never trod before ; It rears its altars on an unknown shore, From whence its orisons to heaven ascend : Such is its nature ; but compelled to pore For years o'er the dull linguist's page, and spend Its youth and strength in chains it finds a speedy end. LXXIL " Genius is freedom's child, and like its parent Abhors all fetters, and ill brooks constraint ; As in its nature liberty's inherent, In college halls it oft receives a taint. Yet gyves and chains the powers of some augment The servile neck seems fitted for its yoke But read earth's annals mark the eminent, Those who like Shakspeare sung, like Henry spoke Thou'lt find them self-made men, storm-hardened like the oak. 42 PARNASSUS. LXXIII. " Would all plants prosper in one common soil ? The same degree of moisture, light, and heat Which makes one flourish, would another spoil ; And the amount of pruning which is meet Perhaps for this, would be for that too great ; As wide diversity exists in mind ; Who trains it well must needs discriminate, But those to whom this duty is assigned, Treat all alike. Are not such mental gardners blind ? LXXIV. " Of schools and colleges and books deprived, Men may hive wisdom and be truly learned ; ( 7 ) From whence has human knowledge been derived ? Before 'twas written was it not discerned ? Untaught mind found the food for which it yearned A few choice crumbs from Nature's boundless store- No mortal yet has Wisdom ever spurned, Who humbly asked admittance at her door, And all the sons of men may banquet on her lore. LXXV. " Locks, bars, and bolts were broken by the Press That power which gives eternity to thought ! To learning now, all all may have access, The poorest beggar need not live untaught : PARNASSUS. 43 But if this knowledge were more dearly bought, Would not the treasure be more highly prized ? Men seem content to read what others wrote, Hear with their ears, see only with their eyes Bowed down with other's thoughts, O how can genius rise ? LXXVI. " Through toil and fire gold struggles into life, In worthless ore deep in the mountain hid ; All gems (except the first and best a wife) Are sought for long before they are espied, Diamonds in sand and pearls in ocean's tide : 'Tis thus that genius often lies concealed, But with Herculean arm it throws aside The portal of its tomb, arid stands revealed In native vigor strong, untaught to bend or yield. LXXVII. " Her sons alone climb up this sacred hill, And not a few have made a lodgment there, Whose deathless strains will never cease to thrill ; For Time, who levels mountains and makes bare And desolate the valleys, can't impair Their melody ; 'twill live and breathe and burn Forever ! Cheered on by them, let none despair, Sigh o'er their fate, for college honors mourn ; But I've one question more pray, wert thou nobly born ?" 44 PARNASSUS. LXXV1II. " In what this mental phantom may consist," The youth replied, " men differ. While some claim It lurks beneath a long and formidable list Of titles, and attaches to a name, The others smile contempt, and cry out shame ! Nobility and greatness is confined, ('Tis thus by far the largest part exclaim,) To purity of heart and strength of mind, To those whose acts improve and elevate mankind. LXXIX. " Though such may leave behind a flood of light, A father's acts descend not to his son, ( 8 ) His blood, estate, and name he may transmit, But millions reap the fields which he has sown, And share the glory that his deeds have won. Thus when at eve, in robes of splendor dressed, Behind the hills retires the setting sun, The clouds, its offspring, lingering beams infest, Then darkness covers all, but the green earth is blessed. LXXX. " Ere memory's mirror or the plastic mind Of childhood bore a father's image ere The roots and tendrils of young love were twined Around a father's heart, heaven's doom severe PARNASSUS. 45 Transferred his spirit to a happier sphere, Leaving my helpless infancy bereft Of the kind hand that should sustain and rear : The mother of his babes, thank God ! was left, Though bitter was the cup her lips with firmness quaffed. LXXXI. " But I was nobly born free from the load Of titles, honors, and corrupting gold ; * An honest man 's the noblest work of God' Such was my sire ; at least so I've been told, And such is he whom I in dreams behold And call my father. He was Vulcan's son ; Hard were his hands, his spirit pure and bold, For this had freedom, those had labor known : My mother's sire likewise had Vulcan's bellows blown." LXXXII. " Hold ! hold ! enough !" the spirit loudly cried, " I will not ask, you need not answer more ;" Then with a voice that shook the mountain side And echoed through the woods like the loud roar Of distant thunder with a mystic power That made rocks tremble like the fragile reed, He called for Pegasus. Quick from a bower Of gorgeous flowers came forth a fiery steed, When thus the spirit spoke and bade the pilgrim heed : 46 PARNASSUS. LXXXIII. " This Pegasus Imagination Fancy (for by all These names the famous animal is known,) From dangerous heights is liable to fall, And oft the rider o'er his head is thrown : A vagrant steed ! to useless wanderings prone ! But skill and strength his rovings must restrain, Else for neglect defeat will soon atone ; Repentance then may come, but come in vain Man can't restore the past, or live life o'er again. LXXXIV. " The whip is called Ambition. Rightly used It will do much to speed thee on thy way, Like every good thing it may be abused, And many a rider it has forced astray ; On Ruin's rocks their mangled bodies lay, Far down the precipice of Folly ; there They will remain as beacons, while Dismay With ghastly eyes and wild disheveled hair, Broods o'er the scene and cries with loud shrill voice- Beware ! LXXXV. " Of great importance thou wilt find the spur, There's nought like this to make the courser feel, But those who use it peril must incur ; 'Tis made of Passion not of cold, hard steel PARNASSUS. 47 And fires the blood, and makes the hot brain reel : A wise discretion should control its use, But placed so out of sight upon the heel, The spur is liable to great abuse, And then, and then alone, it proves most dangerous. LXXXVL " Reason has furnished Pegasus a bridle, To guide his wanderings and his fire restrain, Without its constant use 'twere worse than idle To try the mountain summit to attain ; A strong firm hand should hold and guide the rein, And every movement of the steed direct. Ambition, passion, reason these though vain. And impotent for good alone, effect Most grand results combined though some with them are wrecked. LXXXVII. " All must expect, while toiling up the steep, To meet ten thousand thorns for every flower ; Those who their lyres upon the summit sweep, Have nought to fear ; but few at first procure E'en food for nature's cravings, and endure Lean hunger's pangs, the wretchedness of want ; ( 9 ) In all save conscious strength and hope most poor, The pilgrims with resistless ardor pant, And haggard Famine goads them up the steep ascent. 48 PARNASSUS. LXXXVIII. " Lying in ambush round the mountain's base, Self-constituted guardians of Parnassus swarm, ( 10 ) Debarred from joining they would judge the race, And all to their ideas must needs conform ; When armed with common sense they do less harm, (This useful weapon is on some conferred,) But many a youth their blusterings alarm, And some who might Jiave climbed have been deterred- But spur thy courser on bold riders are preferred. LXXXIX. " There is no great highway, no beaten track, To guide the wanderer to the minstrel's grot ; Of scattered, rambling footprints there's no lack All such avoid pass on, and heed them not : Who tamely follow, wander far remote, And never reach the precincts of the Nine, Their labor lost their names and deeds forgot Their tomb an empty and deserted shrine Oblivion their pall, 'neath which no laurels twine. XC. " Seek, then, no hackneyed road, avoid the throng, With dauntless courage those must be imbued, Who strive to join the deathless son's of song : Pierce the dark depths of deepest solitude, PARNASSUS. 49 Where nought to mar your progress can intrude, And make yourself a path amid the gloom ; Self-taught all lurking dangers to elude, The frowning precipice, the torrent's foam, The yawning gulf you'll cross, and reach the minstrel's home." XCL The eager pilgrim paused not to reply, But thanked the spirit for his counsel sage, Then tried to mount but Pegasus was shy Of such a strange and uncouth personage : But soon its timid fears he did assuage, And from the saddle bade the sprite farewell : Let Time the gray-beard, and each coming page, Proclaim the secret they alone can tell How high the pilgrim climbed, and what at last befell. 5* NOTES TO PARNASSUS. NOTE 1. PATRIOT'S SONG, STANZA 2, p. 34. " The ' May Flower' brought the choicest seed That Britain's famous isles could yield." Allusion is here made to a remark which I have often seen quoted, that " God sifted three kingdoms in order to obtain the pure wheat for the planting of America." NOTE 2. PATRIOT'S SONG, STANZA 4, p. 35. " How like enchantment cities sprung From out that ' dark and bloody ground.' " The phrase " dark and bloody ground" was originally applied by the Indians to Kentucky, from the number of sanguinary contests which had occurred upon her soil. No reader of American history will question the propriety of its application in the text to our whole country. NOTE 3. PATRIOT'S SONG, STANZA 8, p. 36. " Death may to savages be gain." The condition of the Indians in the world of spirits forms an inter esting subject for speculation ; but as the truth or fallacy of our ideas upon this subject can never be decided in time, and as the materials upon which to ground our belief are so scanty, the writer confesses his ignorance, and expresses no opinion. Preferring, however, to look at all times upon the sunny side of objects, and to give to the creations of fancy a pleasant and agreeable character, he only expresses the hope, that those rude and unlettered men may have so seen the Great Spirit in his works, and hearkened to his voice as it came with sweet incense 52 NOTES TO PARNASSUS. on the breeze, or ascended from the verdant banks of the winding river, and the deep bed of the mountain torrent, or shook the earth with awful sublimity from the cloud as to have more than realized the fond dream of happiness with which they solaced themselves while living ; and that they may now be roaming the beautiful banks of some celestial river, quaffing joys from unfailing fountains, relieved from the necessity of guarding against the white man's avarice, and avenging the red man's wrongs. NOTE 4. PATRIOT'S SONG, STANZA 10, p. 37. " Death's late decree can nought annul ! Must I reply departed HULL 1" These lines were written last winter, soon after the intelligence was received of Com. Hull's decease at Philadelphia. As I could not refer to all who distinguished themselves during the last war with Great Britain without making the song too long, I have merely alluded to Com. HULL, who commenced the war with a brilliant victory on the ocean, and to Gen. JACKSON, who fought the last battle at New Orleans, and achieved a victory whose brilliancy is unparalleled in the history of modern war. NOTE 5. STANZA LXIX, p. 40. " Tis not the cions of the famous schools Who climb the farthest up the dizzy height." I refer to HOMER, the greatest poet of antiquity ; to SHAKSPEARE, the greatest dramatic writer that the world has seen ; to POPE, who is with out a rival in the field of didactic poetry ; and to BURNS, the idol of his own country, and the admired of all others. I believe that it will generally be found that those who have courted the muses with suc cess, and were educated at the universities, have looked back with disgust upon the drudgery of college life. This was eminently so of BYRON, and what its effect was on the free spirit of the author of Par adise Lost, may be inferred from the fact that he was one of the last upon whom the penalty of corporeal punishment was inflicted. The mode of training and the studies pursued in our literary institutions, may be serviceable to many, but I am inclined to think them unfavora ble to the development of original genius, and not adapted to the intel lectual wants and aspirations of the poetic mind. NOTES TO PARNASSUS. 53 NOTE 6. STANZA LXIX, p. 40. " The muses seem to take the most delight In those on whom malignant stars look down." HOMER and MILTON were both blind. The former was an itinerant rhapsodist, and the latter was for some time a schoolmaster. At the restoration of Charles the Second, Milton considered his life in danger and remained concealed until the passage of the " Act of Oblivion." He was twice married, but was not very fortunate in his alliances. His first wife very soon deserted him, but afterwards returned and lived with him till her death. POPE'S life was a continued disease. He was de formed, and always suffered from great bodily weakness. SCARRON, a French burlesque poet, having appeared at the carnival of 1638 as a savage, his nudity attracted the attention of the multitude ; he was hunted by the mob, and being compelled to retreat, he secreted himself in a marsh. " A freezing cold seized him, and threw him, at the age of twenty-seven, into a kind of palsy ; a cruel disorder which tormented him all his life." " It was thus," he says, " that pleasure deprived me suddenly of legs which had danced with elegance, and of hands which could manage the pencil and the lute." Balzac said of Scarron, that " he had gone further in insensibility than the stoics, who were satisfied in appearing insensible to pain ; but Scarron was gay, and amused all the world with his sufferings." For some account of the calamities of RICHARD SAVAGE, who was dogged by misfortune from his cradle to his grave, the reader is referred to " Johnson's Lives of the British Poets." AKENSIDE was a butcher till the age of twenty-one, when a wound pro duced from the fall of a cleaver, confined him to his room, and led him to devote his time to study. Sir WALTER SCOTT had a club-foot, and LORD BYRON'S right foot was deformed. That this stimulated his lordship's literary ambition is clearly indicated in the " Deformed Transformed." He says : "Deformity is daring. It is its essence to o'ertake mankind By heart and soul, and make itself the equal- Ay, the superior of the rest. There is A spur in its halt movements, to become All that the others cannot, in such things As still are free to both, to compensate For step-dame nature's avarice at first. They woo with fearless deeds the smiles of fortune, And oft, like Tiinour, the lame Tartar, win them." 54 NOTES TO PARNASSUS. The author of Childe Harold was also unfortunate in his marriage, for his wife after living with him a year returned to her father's residence, and he saw her no more. These and other calamities which might be mentioned, doubtless did much to make those who experienced them the men that they were. That which appears to our short-sighted and su perficial minds to be a misfortune, is made by a wise and overruling Providence, to minister to our happiness and glory. It was the difficul ties with which our father's contended their persecution at home, their perils upon the ocean, the wilderness to be subdued, the tribes to be conquered, the rights with sleepless vigilance to be guarded, and the foreign armies to be captured or destroyed that enabled them to lay the foundations of an empire whose free institutions and unexampled prosperity are alike the wonder and admiration of the world. See note 9, p. 56. NOTE 7. STANZA LXXIV, p. 42. i "Of schools and colleges and books deprived, Men may hive wisdom and be truly learned." The lives of distinguished men abound with anecdotes which show what vast acquisitions can be made of useful knowledge, under circum stances the most adverse, and difficulties apparently insurmountable. There is no young man, whatever may be the obstacles with which he is surrounded, that may not, by a careful improvement of the scraps and odd ends of time, become truly learned. Let not the laboring man sigh for the benefits of literary institutions which are beyond his reach. Let not those whose hands are hardened by the honorable toil which secures them a subsistence, harbor vain regrets, or despair of satisfying the as pirations of a mind which pants for that wisdom which expands, im proves, ennobles, and elevates. Those err exceedingly who suppose it necessary to pursue a certain prescribed course of study, under the di rection of a chartered coterie of distinguished men, within the classic walls of some time-honored institution, in order to secure the highest literary attainments. These may serve as valuable auxiliaries, but they are far from being essential. There is" no mystery about the thing, but every man, in college or out, must make himself. It is by study by mental labor by " the sweat of the brow," that knowledge is acquired. On the printed page we have the collected observations and experience of others ; but with no book save the book of Nature with no guide but reason with no instructor but God much, very much may be ac- NOTES TO PARN 7 ASSUS. 55 complished. The poorest child, however, at the present day may ob tain books, and the rudiments of education ; and it has been truly re marked, that he who can write and read, and has a knowledge of addi tion, subtraction, multiplication, and division, may learn any thing. The greatest linguist of this, or perhaps any age, is a blacksmith, who has acquired a knowledge of some thirty different languages, though toiling eight hours a day at the anvil ; and yet he has not passed the meridian of youthful manhood. In our own city, ROGER SHERMAN, one of the illustrious signers of the Declaration of Independence, worked as a journeyman shoemaker after he was twenty-one years of age. JAMES HOGG, the Ettrick Shepherd, learned to read after he was twenty years of age. Dr. HERSCHELL, whose discoveries have caused his name to be written among the stars, was once a fifer boy in the British army. GIFFORD, who was for several years the learned and talented editor of the London Quarterly Review, was apprenticed to a shoemaker, and has given an interesting account of his poverty and perseverance ; but I have only room for a single sentence ; he says : " I had not a farthing on earth, nor a friend to give me one ; pen, ink, and paper, therefore, were for the most part as far out of my reach as a crown and scepter. * # # # I beat out pieces of leather as smooth as possible, and wrote my problems upon them with a blunt awl ; for the rest my memory was te nacious, and I could multiply and divide by it to a great extent." Pope ADRIAN, the sixth, was the son of a barge builder. Being unwilling that the night should pass by unimproved, and unable to procure lights, he was in the habit, when a boy, of availing himself of the public lamps at the corners of the streets, and in the porches of churches. Probably nine ty-nine out of a hundred of the distinguished men of our own country, have risen from the depths of poverty and obscurity. It is an encoura ging fact, and its influence will tell with mighty power upon the destiny of our young republic, that the two brightest names on our annals are those of self-made men. The one with only a common school educa tion, baffled, defeated, and captured with undisciplined troops, without money, and almost without arm, the most skillful generals of the most powerful nation in Europe, at the head of armies elated with the re membrance of former victories, and confident in their well known su periority in military knowledge and experience, and in all that consti tutes the sinews of war. The other, a mechanic, who, devoting the in tervals of labor to study, acquired an earthly immortality, and lived to 56 NOTES TO PARNASSUS. see himself ranked, by the unanimous consent of the civilized world, among the most distinguished philosophers, statesmen, and sages. NOTE 8. STANZA LXXIX, p. 44. "Though such may leave behind a flood of light, A father's acts descend not to his son." IPHICRATES, a distinguished Athenian general, who, according to Rollin, " is ranked among the greatest men of Greece," was the son of a shoemaker. He first served as a private soldier. The king of Thrace gave him his daughter in marriage. When reproached before the judges for the baseness of his birth, by one who prided himself upon an illustrious ancestor, he replied with all the force and eloquence of truth, " The nobility of my family begins in me; that of yours ends in you" NOTE 9. STANZA LXXXVII, p. 47. " But few at first procure E'en food for nature's cravings, and endure Lean hunger's pangs, the wretchedness of want." The poverty of authors, and especially of poets, is proverbial. After they have acquired a reputation, (which is a Herculean labor that re quires time,) their poverty is generally the effect of improvidence, and a want of worldly wisdom. But I ascertained the other day from sources entitled to credit, that in this country even those poetical works which are applauded, do not always sell. OTWAY, " one of the first names in the English Drama," died at the early age of thirty-four, " in a manner," says Dr. Johnson, " I am un willing to mention. Having been compelled by his necessities to con tract debts, and hunted, as is supposed, by the terrors of the law, he re tired to a public house at Towerhill, where he is said to have died of want ; or as is related by one of his biographers, by swallowing after a long fast, a piece of bread which charity had supplied." Johnson says, there are grounds for believing this account of his death incorrect, but that it has never been denied, " that indigence and its concomitant sorrow and despondency, pressed hard upon him." PETER CORNEILLE, a great French dramatic writer, died in extreme poverty, though his literary labors had been well rewarded. DRYDEN wrote to live, and supported himself by his pen. GOLDSMITH was always poor, though he NOTES TO PARNASSUS. 57 received large sums from his works. He was improvident and addicted to gaming. Having little money he traveled generally on foot, and be ing something of a musician, he frequently initiated himself into the good graces of the peasantry, and obtained food and lodgings, by play ing upon the flute. When SAVAGE was engaged upon his first tragedy, he was for a considerable part of the time " without lodgings, and often without meat ; nor had he any other conveniences for study than the fields or streets allowed him; there he used to walk and form his speeches, and afterwards step into a shop, beg for a few moments the use of the pen and ink, and write down what he had composed upon paper which he had picked up by accident." He died in prison, where he had been confined for debt. CRABBE went to London in 1780, at the age of twenty-six, and found upon his arrival, that he was " master of a box of clothes, a small case of surgical instruments, and three pounds in money." He was soon reduced to the extremity of want. He spent all his money, sold his clothes, pawned his watch, and got in debt to his landlord. He applied in