THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES

 
 POEMS 
 
 BY 
 
 SUSAN S. BUTTON 
 
 'JlHOViH-JIRIH" "JEHOVAH-KISSI." 
 
 PUBLISHED FOR THE AUTHORESS, 
 
 LITCHPIELD, OHIO. 
 
 1858.
 
 * 
 
 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1853, 
 BY STTSAN S. BUTTON, 
 
 to the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern 
 District of New- York. 
 
 JOHN A. OKAY'S 
 
 IRE-PBOOF pBnrnxo oFncK, 
 16 and 18 Jacob St., N. T.
 
 PS 
 
 TO 
 
 MY FRIEND 
 R I O H A. IR ID 
 
 TO MY NUMEROUS FRIENDS, 
 
 Who, by their kind sympathy, have alleviated my sufferings, and by their 
 
 generous commendation have encouraged me 
 
 to improve the talent 
 
 WHICH 
 
 MY HEAVENLY FATHER HAS INTRUSTED TO MY KEEPING, 
 
 THIS LITTLE VOLUME IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 
 
 M 
 
 THE AUTHORESS. 
 
 759398
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 IN presenting this little volume to the public, it may not be 
 deemed amiss for me to inform those of my friends who may feel 
 interested in knowing it, how it occurred that I undertook a task 
 which, although performed in the midst of pain, has been to me 
 a pleasant one. 
 
 All who have long been invalids well know that sickness has 
 its peculiar temptations and trials ; one of which is, a tendency 
 to think too much of one's own sorrows. 
 
 To avoid this, and thus benefit myself, and also hoping that 
 notwithstanding I was in a measure debarred from society, I 
 might, should God add his blessing to my humble efforts, be of 
 some use to my fellow-creatures, I made pleasant thoughts the 
 dear partners of my hours of pain ; and in the language of an 
 other, I can truly say that to me "poetry was its own exceeding 
 great reward." 
 
 At length the time came when, with the buoyancy of spirit 
 which usually attends convalescence after a long illness, I went 
 forth and drank freely from the nectar-filled chalice of Nature, 
 and amid her beauties I found new themes, and for a few months
 
 Vi PREFACE. 
 
 wrote more poetry than I had ever before written in the same 
 length of time. But as my health continued to improve, other 
 thoughts, and themes, and schemes of usefulness so engrossed 
 my attention, that for two or three years I found but little time 
 to employ my pen, except in epistolary writing, and made but few 
 additions to my manuscript poems. 
 
 While on a long-anticipated visit to my native home in a quiet 
 valley amid the Green Mountains, in the autumn of 1855, I met 
 with an accident which sympathizing friends deemed "very 
 unfortunate," and which has indeed cost me much physical 
 suffering. 
 
 I became so feeble that for many weary weeks and months I 
 suffered so intensely that much of the time I could not even fix 
 my thoughts on the glories of heaven and the joys of the re 
 deemed, save for a few moments at a time, without greatly increas 
 ing my sufferings. But a brighter morrow was to dawn on me. 
 I was again so far convalescent that I could employ my pencil in 
 writing, although I was seldom able to sit long at the table to 
 write. 
 
 Under these circumstances I have made sufficient additions to 
 what I had already written, to complete the little volume which, 
 on the wings of Faith and Prayer, I hope soon to send forth to 
 the public. 
 
 Whatever reception it may now meet, if in the day when the 
 secrets of all hearts shall be revealed, I shall find that the 
 thoughts which to me have been sweet solaces of a sick-room, 
 and pleasant companions of brighter hours, have gone like white- 
 winged messengers of mercy to soothe the woes of the sorrow-
 
 
 PEEFACE. Vll 
 
 ing, and have led doubting souls to trust in God, I shall then 
 rejoice that I sent it forth ; for, "like Noah's dove," it will come 
 again bearing the olive branch of Peace, far more grateful than a 
 laurel wreath, or costly pearls, or glittering ore from the richest 
 
 mines which earth ever yielded. 
 
 S. S. B.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAQB 
 
 Poesie, 13 
 
 Sunlight on the Mountains, 16 
 
 Pencilings on the Shores of Lake Erie, 19 
 
 Lines addressed to the Patients of Dr. G. "W. Strong, of Cleve 
 land, 24 
 
 Father, let thy Will be done, 26 
 
 The Power of Prayer, 30 
 
 A Sketch 35 
 
 Cleveland (Ohio) Cemetery with Reflections 38 
 
 Adonis, 48 
 
 Jesus Preaching by the Sea-side, 51 
 
 Epitaph, 54 
 
 Evening Thoughts, 55 
 
 To Mr. , on the Death of his Wife, 57 
 
 Christ's Burial and Resurrection, 60 
 
 Slander, 64 
 
 Are the Sainted Dead lost ? 69 
 
 To Mrs. L. H. Sigourney, 72 
 
 The Spirit Bride, 75 
 
 Lines, 77
 
 X CONTENTS. 
 
 MM 
 
 " Brethren, pray for us," 1 9 
 
 To Mrs. P., 81 
 
 Good Night, 85 
 
 To Mrs. M. A. S. B., 88 
 
 Thanksgiving Day, 89 
 
 Thanksgiving Hymn, 93 
 
 To Louisa, 96 
 
 Death of M. E. Knowlton, a Sister's Babe 95 
 
 Fancy's Wreath 99 
 
 To Mrs. , on the Gift of a Moss Eose 103 
 
 Secret Grief, 104 
 
 Epitaph, 1 08 
 
 Lines, 109 
 
 A Farewell to 1849, 1850, and 1851, Ill 
 
 When I would die, 116 
 
 Sickness and returning Health, 118 
 
 Yonder and Up Yonder, 125 
 
 The Indian's Recompense, 128 
 
 An Impromptu, 132 
 
 The Rainbow with Reflections, 136 
 
 On the Death of an Acquaintance, 139 
 
 Prayer, 142 
 
 Faith, 146 
 
 Lines inscribed to an Aunt, 147 
 
 To Mrs. K , with a Christmas Message, etc., 150 
 
 The Childless Widow, 155 
 
 To Mary H. P., 169 
 
 Forests and Forest Teachings, 160 
 
 Evening Meditations, 163
 
 CONTENTS. Xi 
 
 MM 
 Epitaph, 165 
 
 Lines on the breaking of my Harp, 166 
 
 Death of Moses, 169 
 
 "Welcome Home, 174 
 
 To Messrs. J. V. K. S. and T. S. S., and their Families, 176 
 
 Thoughts at a Sunset Hour, 178 
 
 Lines on a Tennessee Rose, 181 
 
 Lines written November 25th, 1852, 184 
 
 The Martyr Bird, 188 
 
 To the Baker Vocalists, 191 
 
 Sympathy, 192 
 
 To "William and E , 197 
 
 Farewell to the Blues, 199 
 
 Visionaries, 202 
 
 Be Kind, 207 
 
 Hope, 209 
 
 The Sitter for a Miniature, 210 
 
 The Young Mother to her Infant, 2 14 
 
 God is Love, 216 
 
 The Dying Wife, 218 
 
 Let me go Home, 219 
 
 Rest in Heaven 224 
 
 To a Poet, 226 
 
 Pleasures of Poetry, 228
 
 Xll CONTEXTS. 
 
 EARLY PBODUCTIONS. 
 
 PAOB 
 
 A Dialogue, 235 
 
 What ia Man, 236 
 
 To my Bible, 238 
 
 The Christian's Wants, 238 
 
 On viewing a Fragile Vine from the Window, etc., 240 
 
 The Pilgrim's Dream, 241 
 
 Elijah at the Cave 243 
 
 lanes, 244 
 
 Musings, 246 
 
 Samson's Escape from Gaza, 247 
 
 Henry Martyn, 248 
 
 On the Death of a Member of the Juvenile Choir, 250 
 
 Lines, 251 
 
 Fancy's Dream, 252 
 
 SCENES IN THE LIFE OP MOSES, 255 
 
 JOSEPHINE, 279
 
 SUGGESTED ON VIEWING AN ENGRAVING OP 
 EETSCH'S POESIE. 
 
 AH ! whither dost speed, gentle spirit and fair, 
 While the breeze lightly plays with the curls of thy 
 
 hair, 
 And thy gaze of deep thought upward turns to the 
 
 sky, 
 
 As 'twould read the sweet wonders it veils from the 
 eye? 
 
 With the snowy- white wing of the swan for thy sail, 
 Sure thou needest no canvas to spread to the gale I
 
 14 LINES SUGGESTED ON VIEWING 
 
 With its eye for thy guide, and its song for thy cheer, 
 With its back for thy seat, and its foot for thy oar, 
 And its lily-white breast for the prow of thy boat, 
 O'er the foam and the wave thou dost peacefully float. 
 
 For the bird of sweet song is companion for thee, 
 As so gently she steers thy fair bark o'er the sea ! 
 Ah ! how proudly she sweeps o'er the ocean's deep 
 
 caves, 
 Nor will heed though thy foot oft be plunged in the 
 
 waves. 
 
 With a pen in thy hand, and a star on thy wing, 
 While thy harp o'er thy shoulder is flung, sweetly 
 
 sing, 
 
 While thine eye, that so steadfastly gazes above, 
 Doth reveal to the spirit its wealth of pure love. 
 
 Thy deep gaze is not fixed on the temple of Fame ; 
 For far higher's thy mark, and far nobler thine aim ; 
 And the steep that so rugged to others doth seem, 
 As so high thou dost gaze, ne'er disturbs thy sweet 
 dream.
 
 AN ENGKAVING OF EETSCH'S POESIE. 15 
 
 While aloft thou dost soar, thy soft pinion to try, 
 Unawares to her fane thou wilt peacefully fly 
 Through her halls thou wilt sweetly though humbly 
 
 then sing, 
 While full high in her dome thou wilt fold thy 
 
 bright wing. 
 
 But not long in the temple of Fame wilt thou stay, 
 For thy birth-place is heaven, and thy home is on 
 
 high; 
 
 And soon quitting her dome, at the. close of the day, 
 As a bird on swift wing, to thy home thou wilt fly.
 
 16 SUNLIGHT ON THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 mt \\t fountains, 
 
 INSCEIBED TO THE LOVED ONES OF MY NATIVE 
 STATE VERMONT. 
 
 SUNLIGHT'S on the mountains, shadow in the vale, 
 And the gushing fountains trill a joyous tale 
 Elvers onward rolling, o'er a stony bed, 
 Time's swift minutes tolling, toll as for the dead. 
 
 Hark ! the birds are singing, " Farewell to the day !" 
 Sweetest echoes ringing, answer every lay ; 
 While the streamlets flowing, fading leaves enfold, 
 -Where the elms are growing, ivy-twined and old. 
 
 O'er the rocks are hanging swaying bush and vine ; 
 Mowers' scythes are clanging, grassy blades entwine, 
 For they're swift descending for a wintry store, 
 And the farmer tending, turns them o'er and o'er.
 
 SUNLIGHT ON THE MOUNTAINS. 17 
 
 Autumn's hues arc blended with the evergreen, 
 Which the young leaves tended, in their glittering 
 
 sheen, 
 While again the mountains, tinged with glorious 
 
 light, 
 Echo forth the fountains' tread from every hight. 
 
 Oh ! my soul is dreaming of my childhood's days, 
 When the sunlight gleaming, I its lingering rays 
 Watched upon the mountain, gazing with delight, 
 Listening to the fountain musical and bright. 
 
 The glorious mountain ! how I love it ! 
 Ah ! who Italian skies would covet, 
 While gazing on the sunlit mountain, 
 And listening to the gushing fountain, 
 And streams from lofty hills descending, 
 
 Enchanting with their wondrous singing, - 
 
 Entrancing with the joyous ringing 
 Of their sweet varying song unending ? 
 
 Around my heart fond memories linger ; 
 For here the impress of God's finger,
 
 18 SUNLIGHT ON THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 With childish eyes I viewed with wonder ; 
 Here saw the lightning, heard the thunder, 
 Which peal on peal sublime resounded 
 O'er hights which the sweet vale surrounded ; 
 Where first I learned to love the glory, 
 And love the grandeur which in story 
 No tongue may e'er relate, nor limner 
 On "glowing canvas" paint the glimmer 
 Of glad Aurora's faintest setting, 
 Sweet meditation oft begetting.
 
 PENCILING*!. 19 
 
 fenrilings 
 
 ON THE SHORES OF LAKE EEIE. 
 
 THE morn was dark, the winds were wild and high, 
 
 And sang their solemn song amid the leaves 
 
 Of graceful elms and noble maple trees ! 
 
 I thought to see thy bosom wildly stirred, 
 
 As stirs the human breast, when grief the heart 
 
 Doth swell ; but when along thy bank I strayed, 
 
 Lo ! not a wavelet on thy shore was seen ; 
 
 Yet farther out upon thy beauteous blue, 
 
 A gentle ripple now and then appeared, 
 
 Which seemed like peaceful beatings of a heart 
 
 With sweetest bliss o'erladen : and I stood 
 
 And gazed with wondering joy upon thy face, 
 
 While warbling birds their matins o'er me sang, 
 
 Till tranquillized with sweetest thought, my pains 
 
 Were then and there awhile almost forgot.
 
 20 PENCILIXGS. 
 
 Another morn I sought the sweet retreat, 
 For happy musings of an earth-bound soul, 
 Which pants for mightier joys, so well designed : 
 Again the winds were wildly singing round, 
 The waves were dashing high, and sent the spray 
 In snowy wreaths upon thy wave-worn shore 1 
 A picture meet of frail humanity, 
 When on life's ocean tossed, till hope's sweet voice 
 Rings through the portals of the heart no more ; 
 When thrilling memories of the happy past, 
 But make the darksome present gloomier still. 
 
 On a rude seat, by Friendship formed, once here 
 
 I sat, to list the music of thy wave, 
 
 While cluster-laden trees shed rich perfumes, 
 
 And promise gave of summer-ripening fruits : 
 
 Sweet Nature's music on the breeze was borne, 
 
 And glad I heard her joyous rnelodies, 
 
 While she in sweetest numbers praise-notes sang : 
 
 But yet over my spirit sadness stole 
 
 Sadness at thought of sorrow not my own, 
 
 But hers who for an only brother* mourned, 
 
 * Andrew M. Sigourney.
 
 PENCILINGS. 21 
 
 Who in life's early spring was called from earth, 
 
 While Hope a wreath of rosy fragrance twined, 
 
 And sweet Affection held it o'er his head ! 
 
 I thought how soon again the vine would bloom, 
 
 Which shed its fragrance through the lonely mansion 
 
 Where parents' and a sister's tears flowed free, 
 
 While love-lit eyes, which Death was dimming, gazed 
 
 Invitingly on eyes that answered love, 
 
 And by a look which words could not express, 
 
 Seemed gently beckoning dearest friends to heaven. 
 
 While on thy shore I sat, and all around 
 
 Was sweetly beautiful, I thought how soon 
 
 Love o'er his peaceful grave would rosebuds strew, 
 
 In memory of the withered, faded ones, 
 
 Affection on his snow-white pillow laid, 
 
 When Death, with Mercy's angel at his side, 
 
 His spirit upward called to God and heaven. . - 
 
 So with thy loveliness inspiring me, 
 
 I strove some words of cheer for her to write ; 
 
 For I, who by an only brother's side 
 
 Had watched, when Death with upraised sword 
 
 seemed near, 
 Full well might guess that sister's agony.
 
 22 PENCILINGS. 
 
 Again when thou wert calmly beautiful, 
 And eventide was near, I sat me down 
 In musing mood upon thy much loved shore : 
 A light breeze stirred thy bosom peacefully, 
 And gently, gently out upon thy depths, 
 A boat, with whitened sail, was gliding on ; 
 And while it floated on thy limpid wave, 
 A holy lesson of sweet faith imparting, 
 My soul so buoyant grew, it seemed almost 
 Some drops from out the crystal sea of heaven, 
 By angel hands were sprinkled on my heart. 
 
 And when the glorious sun descended low, 
 With bounding heart I watched the setting orb, 
 Which, like a golden boat tossed on the wave, 
 Sank slowly down behind thy waters blue ; 
 But still its glory lingered on the cloud, 
 Which shone like fiery pillar of the Lord, 
 Which at Jehovah's gracious mandate rose, 
 To guide the wandering hosts of Israel. 
 I gazed with silent, but with heart-felt joy, 
 And then sweet Hope, from out her golden horn, 
 Poured precious oil upon my gladdened heart, 
 While faith, with voice enchanting, to that heart 
 Sang gladsome notes of holy trust and sweet repose.
 
 TENCILINGS. 23 
 
 lake so beautiful ! I bless my God 
 
 For the sweet music of thy voice so grand ! 
 
 1 listen to thy lullaby with joy, 
 
 And grief is rocked to sleep while thus I list, 
 And as thy wave leaps up, so leaps my heart, 
 Exultant 'neath the gladdening smile of Heaven. 
 
 O beauteous lake ! v the memory of those hours 
 Which on thy shore in thoughtfulness I've spent, 
 "When gladness made my heart its own ^Eolian, 
 And when its quivering strings reechoed notes 
 Heard only by my joyous spirit's ear, 
 By me can never more forgotten be. 
 
 Over my heart Hope scattered richest dews, 
 And as a withering plant, by timely rains 
 Eefreshed, lifts up its head exultingly, 
 So rose my soul in grateful praise to Heaven ; 
 For long Disease had held me in her cage, 
 And here her bars of iron so strong were loosed, 
 And like an uncaged bird, I roved again 
 O'er hill and dell, with footstep light and free ! 
 Then wonder not that I, while life shall last, 
 Must beauteous Erie ever love and praise.
 
 24 LINES ADDRESSED TO THE PATIENTS 
 
 ADDRESSED TO THE PATIENTS OF DR. G. W. S., OF 
 CLEVELAND. 
 
 " TEA, e'en in agonies forbear 
 To doubt Almighty love; 
 Whate'er endears eternity, 
 Is mercy from above." 
 
 THEN though dark clouds o'ercast your spirit's sky, 
 And fondly-cherished expectations fail, 
 And waves of deep affliction shall arise, 
 Still let the star of Hope beam brightly on : 
 A sunlight from above may gild your morn, 
 If ye trust in " Him who doeth all things well." 
 Then though your cup of life with gall seems 
 
 filled, 
 
 And fondly-cherished hopes, like withered leaves, 
 Swept by a fiercely rude autumnal blast, 
 All buried lie, fear not, but " look aloft !"
 
 OF DR. G. W. S., OP CLEVELAND. 25 
 
 Yea, see the star of Hope beam through the clouds, 
 And trust in " Him who doeth all things well." 
 
 For though the heart oft dreads life's bitter things, 
 And tremblingly doth taste Affliction's cup, 
 We know beneath the gall there sometimes lies 
 The honey pure of sorrow sanctified ! 
 
 Then 'mid life's joys and griefs, oh! trust in 
 
 Heaven ! 
 
 And when the death-damp on your foreheads lies, 
 Oh ! may your spirits with the shining bands 
 That walk the verdant fields of Paradise, 
 Arrayed in robes of Jesus' righteousness, 
 All free from sin and pain rove joyously. 
 
 Heaven grant that there we meet, a band un 
 broken, 
 To sing of " Him who doeth all things well."
 
 26 " FATHEK, LET THY WILL BE DONE." 
 
 it 
 
 lathor, let Cto TO k tow." 
 
 '^-^1 6 ' 6^0 
 
 " FATHER, let thy will be done !" 
 From the lips of God's dear Son, 
 Came these -words in sorrow spoken, 
 Of his boundless love a token, 
 When, with spirit almost broken, 
 In Gethsemane he prayed ; 
 When the night he was betrayed, 
 His sad heart petition made 
 To the Father's love and power, 
 'Mid the horrors of that hour ^ 
 When the anguish of his soul, 
 Caused great drops of blood to roll 
 Oft from off his troubled brow. 
 See him in submission bow 
 Hear the Father's only Son ! 
 On the cedar's nightly hum, 
 In that hour of woe and care, 
 Echoes forth his earnest prayer,
 
 " FATHER, LET THY WILL BE DONE." 27 
 
 That the overflowing cup, 
 To its dregs he may not sup ; 
 Yet his faith hath victory won, 
 For breathes he forth in plaintive tone : 
 " Father, let thy will be done." 
 
 Ere with traitor's kiss betrayed, 
 
 Ere in mocking robes arrayed, 
 
 Ere the gall to his lips was pressed, 
 
 And the earth, in darkness dressed, 
 
 Groaned for him a deep and long farewell, 
 
 Louder than the peal of loudest bell, 
 
 With a more than prophet's eye, 
 
 He beholds his destiny, 
 
 Yet with trusting heart looks towards home, 
 
 Sighing : " Father, let thy will be done 1" 
 
 Amid mockery, and blows, and jeere, 
 Jesus full of gentleness appears I 
 When his glorious home on high he nears, 
 Lo I what bitter anguish rends his soul, 
 For he drains the dregs from Sorrow's bowl ; 
 Then awhile they lay him in the tomb, 
 For his Father's will is done.
 
 28 " FATHER, LET THY WILL BE DONE." 
 
 But the Saviour rises from the tomb, 
 Loving hearts prepare to give him room, 
 For a while with them he doth abide, 
 Not with lofty pomp, nor yet with pride ; 
 But ere long the heavens are opened wide, 
 God the Father calls him to his side 
 To his bosom he enfolds the Son, 
 Saying : " Lo ! Thy throne of glory's won 1 
 For, my Son, thy Father's will is done 1" 
 
 Then on swiftest wing, with gladdest song, 
 Comes a white-robed, a redeemed throng 1 
 Spirits full of life and bliss they come, 
 And with sweetest smiles of peace, the Son 
 Welcomes them around his glorious throne. 
 Joying that his Father's will was done. 
 
 Pious souls, with sorrow laden, 
 Look ye to that blissful haven ; 
 'Mid your sorrows and your cares, 
 Add ye ever to your prayers, 
 This sweet wish of God's own Son : 
 " Father, let % will be done."
 
 " FATHER, LET THY WILL BE DONE." 29 
 
 When dear friends in death are sleeping, 
 
 When the gales of grief are sweeping 
 
 O'er your heads, oh I never fear.! 
 
 God the Father's ever near ; 
 
 Jesus Christ beholds you weeping, 
 
 Holy angels watch are keeping, 
 
 Glorious victory ye are reaping 
 
 O'er yourselves and all your foes, 
 
 If ye trust in Him who knows 
 
 Every want and every care, 
 
 And who hears your every prayer. 
 
 Though ye know not why your lot, 
 
 Oft is with affliction fraught, 
 
 Ever steadfast gaze above, 
 
 Trust God's power and trust his love ; 
 
 For round the throne of God and of his Sou, 
 
 Ye'll praise him that your Father's will was done.
 
 80 THE POWER OF PRAYER. 
 
 Cl} f ote of f rajer. 
 
 PRAYER'S like a golden chain on Faith's bright wing, 
 
 Upborne to highest heaven, to be let down 
 
 By the strong hand of God Omnipotent, 
 
 Laden with rich blessings for the friends for whom 
 
 In warm affection oft we earnest plead ! 
 
 And oft upon ourselves are blessings poured, 
 
 By Him who gifts most bounteous bestows, 
 
 When His kind aid we earnestly implore. 
 
 Prayer makes the spirit light, and makes it strong ; 
 It turns our foes to friends. 
 
 This Jacob proved, 
 
 When all night long he wrestled with his God, 
 And kind embrace, and melting tenderness, 
 Took place of hate within his brother's heart. 
 
 'Tis safe to trust in God, and pray to him 
 Who shut the lions' mouths, that they no harm
 
 THE POWER OP PRAYER. 31 
 
 Could do, to him who dared on Him to call, 
 
 Even at the risk of life, while enemies 
 
 Kept watch, and eagerly sought to take his life. 
 
 Though all night long, within the sealed den, 
 With beasts so fierce and strong, the prophet lay ; 
 His voice to praise attuned, might not be hushed, 
 For God his angel sent, and kept him safe ; 
 And high arose the notes of prayer and praise 
 From Daniel's lips, for God was glorified, 
 His power and His protection were displayed 
 In thus preserving him. Then opened wide 
 The ravenous jaws of lions for their prey, 
 While they who sought his life, into the den 
 Were thrown, with awful groans, while limb from 
 
 limb 
 Was rudely torn, in scarce a moment's time. 
 
 Prayer makes us wise, when God his spirit gives. 
 This Solomon proved, when in a nightly dream 
 He wisdom sought, above all things beside ; 
 And God, with his petition pleased, gave him 
 Such wisdom as none ever had before.
 
 32 THE POWER OF PRAYER. 
 
 In answer to strong prayer, the Jewish queen 
 Might blameless disobey the Persian law ; 
 And King Ahasueras doth to her 
 Extend the golden sceptre, token of peace, 
 And granting soon her wish, he disannuls 
 The sealed petition of her envious foe ; 
 And, scorned amid the multitude that oft 
 With bended knee to him had honors paid, 
 The wretched Hainan dies, while he whom most 
 He sought to injure, finds exalted place. 
 
 Behold ! the strongest man that ever lived, 
 Shorn of his strength, with brazen fetters bound, 
 And grinding in the enemy's prison-house ! 
 But lo ! 'mid heathen revelings he comes forth 
 To make sport in the temple of their god ! 
 While they rejoice that he no more can harm them, 
 Behold 1 his sightless eyes upraised to Heaven I 
 His heart goes up to God in fervent prayer 
 His strength returns, and bowing with his might 
 Against the pillars of that well-filled house, 
 The revelings of his foes are quickly hushed, 
 And death-groans take the place of noisy shouts ;
 
 . 
 
 THE POWER OF PRAFER. 33 
 
 For Samson gladly offers up his life, 
 
 And with Philistia's lords he sleeps in death. 
 
 Prayer closed the windows of the eastern sky, 
 For more than forty months ; then opened they, 
 When on the wing of faith it rose again, 
 And pierced the clouds, and entrance found in 
 
 Heaven. 
 
 The little cloud, no larger than a hand, 
 Spread out, and threw its darkness o'er the sky, 
 And winds arose, and rain in torrents fell ; 
 The parched earth in beauty smiled once more, 
 And man and beast again looked up rejoicing. 
 
 Prayer raised the death-sealed lids of Lazarus' eyes, 
 And God his power displayed, when from the tomb 
 In glowing life and health the sleeper rose. 
 
 Prayer binds the hearts of friends with sacred ties, 
 And links them to the throne of God on high ; 
 It adds new lustre to our brightest joys, . 
 The fainting spirit it sustains in grief, 
 And brings even then a sweet and holy calm. 
 2*
 
 34 THE POWER OF PRAYER. 
 
 The granting of our wishes God postpones, 
 That he our faith may try, and strengthen it, 
 By answering when our grief becomes so great, 
 We scarce expect the aid for which we've plead. 
 
 Then let the voice of prayer unceasingly 
 
 Go up to God, All- wise, Omnipotent, 
 
 Since He our Wisdom is, and He our Strength ; 
 
 Our Guardian, and the Healer of our woes ; 
 
 Our Shield, our sure Defense when tempests rise ; 
 
 A Friend in whom 'tis ever safe to trust.
 
 A SKETCH. 35 
 
 II Z t t 
 
 AT the close of a bright autumn day, 
 
 When the clouds in the West were all gay, 
 
 When the sun from our sight had just gone, 
 
 On a far-away country to dawn ; 
 
 Ere the moon and the stars were called out 
 
 To pursue their glad nightly route, 
 
 A small cloud, than its brothers more light, 
 
 That shone out most effulgently bright, 
 
 Caught my eye but how soon it had^ed, 
 
 Like the rose from the cheek of the dead. 
 
 Then a purple tinged one that was near, 
 
 Flung its pall o'er the woods that were sere, 
 
 And two bands of light clouds stepped out, 
 
 And I fancied I heard a glad shout, 
 
 As they swept o'er the sky, at the close 
 
 Of the day, when sweet Cynthia rose ; 
 
 Then they sang o'er the woods a dirge-like lay, 
 
 As they spread their light wings, and passed away.
 
 36 A SKETCH. 
 
 With, bright blue the horizon was bounded, 
 And fresh glories the forest surrounded, 
 And I thought of the joys of this earth, 
 Which pass quickly away 'mid our mirth. 
 And I thought of the bliss of high heaven, 
 As I gazed on the clouds of that even ; 
 As I gazed till my heart did rejoice, 
 And I fancied I heard a glad voice ; 
 As one jewel, then others as bright, 
 Quick were placed on the brow of the night, 
 And that voice was so sweet unto me, 
 That it seemed like an angel's soft lay. 
 
 Then the winds of the wood were all hushed, 
 And a troop of sweet fancies quick rushed 
 Through my soul ; and so sweetly they came, 
 And so swiftly they fled, fain I'd name 
 My glad thoughts as they sped quickly on, 
 Or would tell out my joys in a song, 
 That the friends that I love might partake, 
 Of the bliss of that hour : I would wake 
 In my soul its glad memories too, 
 And some heart from its grief I would woo ;
 
 A SKETCH. 37 
 
 For sweet Nature beguiles the sad heart, 
 And its sorrows are soothed, while apart 
 From the world and its cares, the soul hears 
 Her soft song of sweet peace, and the tears 
 From the eye cease to flow, while we gaze 
 On her beauties, and list to her lays ; 
 And we bless our good God for the love 
 He bestows, when around and above, 
 The glad voice of the wind and the cloud, 
 Unto us chant His praises aloud.
 
 38 CLEVELAND CEMETERY, 
 
 Cteland Cemetery toitjf 
 
 " "Pis well to stand where others sleep 
 
 In death's last dreamless slumber, 
 
 And 'mid the silence lone and deep, 
 
 Our own brief moments number." 
 
 'TwAS early morn the moon was shining beau- 
 
 teously, 
 
 And stars were twinkling on in silent majesty, 
 When we arose, and to this place of burial 
 Our footsteps bent, ere the glad peal of morning bell 
 The busy city stirred. 
 
 It was an Autumn morn, 
 And thickly on the pavement fading leaves were 
 
 strewn ; 
 
 And as amid the quiet stillness of that hour 
 So calm and holy, when to thought is given such 
 
 power, 
 I listened to their mournful rustlings 'neath my feet,
 
 WITH REFLECTIONS. 39 
 
 (Whose fragrance rich did oft the while my senses 
 
 greet, 
 Like sweetest flowers by Fancy plucked in midnight 
 
 dream ;) 
 Peace, like the waters of that pure and crystal 
 
 stream 
 Which flows before the throne of Jesus, bathed my 
 
 soul, 
 
 And holy musings staid my heart with sweet control. 
 And as beside that pleasant cemetery's gate 
 I stood, awhile in silent thoughtfulness to wait, 
 And watched the play of morning winds amid the 
 
 trees 
 
 That shade that hallowed ground, a sudden, light 
 some breeze 
 Caught up the topmost willow branches toward 
 
 heaven, 
 And strained and held them high, till tongues seemed 
 
 to them given ! 
 
 My spirit like them seemed to rise above this earth, 
 Until terrestrial things all seemed of little worth, 
 While I stood near the portals of that holy land 
 Where is no night but on whose shores a peaceful 
 
 band
 
 40 CLEVELAND CEMETERY, 
 
 Of worshipers whose ashes 'neath the turf here sleep, 
 Strike joyously their lyres to music rich and deep. 
 
 The gate we passed, and read a youthful maiden's 
 
 name 
 Who died in Christ. Oh I better far than earthly 
 
 fame, 
 For death to those who die in Him is richest gain! 
 
 How sweetly rose the sun that bright September 
 
 morn, 
 And glanced through the rich, grateful shade that 
 
 doth adorn 
 That hallowed ground where Love doth its memorials 
 
 raise, 
 To mark the place where loved ones sleep, and tell 
 
 their praise 
 Perchance upon the sculptured stone, that those who 
 
 here 
 Shall come, may read the worth of those the heart 
 
 held dear. 
 
 Here infancy is sleeping, with a little hand 
 Engraven on the stone, and, pointing towards the land
 
 WITH REFLECTIONS. 41 
 
 Which no temptation knows, it bids sweet Faith look 
 
 up, 
 And view the sleeper there, from Joy's o'erflowing 
 
 cup ;.." 
 Quaffing such sweets as none may taste, save 'mid 
 
 heaven's band: 
 And here's a little sculptured lamb, with drooping 
 
 head, 
 Upon the altar 'neath which lies a "first-born" dead. 
 
 Here stands a monument for one who died afar 
 No thoughts of distant home his quiet rest can mar ; 
 There some are sleeping near the friends to them 
 
 most dear, 
 While others, far from home and friends, are sleeping 
 
 here! 
 Nor tears, nor love, nor earnest prayers their lives 
 
 could save ; 
 Some long in sickness pined, some died beneath the 
 
 wave. 
 
 A little monument most beautiful was there, 
 That was with rose-buds decked, and morning-glories 
 fair;
 
 42 CLEVELAND CEMETERY, 
 
 " God lent him to us fifteen months," was there en 
 graven : 
 
 What fitly-chosen words, and full of trust in Heaven ! 
 And so ye gave your cherished floweret back to God, 
 And saw your dearly-loved "Ipomea" droop its 
 
 head! 
 
 Yea, even when its sun of life had scarcely risen, 
 It drooped, and then was borne up 'mid the flowers 
 
 of heaven, 
 
 To blossom in the garden of Immanuel, 
 There to expand beneath the sunshine of his smile. 
 
 "While near I stood, and counted twenty little graves, 
 O'er twelve of which the springing grass ne'er gently 
 
 waves, 
 I thought, " How many fathers' hopes have blighted 
 
 been, 
 
 And tender mothers, too, have wept, and wept again 
 For loved ones from them gone " for ah ! not long 
 
 ago 
 
 I saw the seal of death placed on an infant's brow, 
 And saw the father seek in tears a sad relief 
 The youthful mother turn away o'erwhelmed with 
 
 grief,
 
 WITH REFLECTIONS. 48 
 
 From the last gaspings of her first-born, only child. 
 
 I heard no bitter wail of anguish loud and wild, 
 
 From those who loved that flower so beauteous and 
 so fair, 
 
 And yet I knew their hearts that grief was rank 
 ling there. 
 
 The Autumn winds had laid a sere leaf on a tomb 
 Meet emblem this, of blooming youth by death cut 
 
 down! 
 A withered rose, I marked, perchance by Love laid 
 
 there, 
 Upon another stone all faded now, yet fair. 
 
 Now to a plat of ground with fitting monument, 
 Where sleep a mother and her babe, my steps I 
 
 bent. 
 
 "When first the place I visited, a violet 
 Was o'er them blooming, and though dead, it stands 
 
 here yet ; - t 
 
 And when on an autumnal morn I wandered here, 
 A sweet " Dianthus' " withered stalks told me those 
 
 dear
 
 44 CLEVELAND CEMETERY, 
 
 Young sleepers were remembered yet; and Fancy 
 
 drew 
 Their pictures fair, though naught of them in life I 
 
 knew. 
 
 I onward passed soon to a simple stone I came, 
 On which were graven the words, " My brother," and 
 
 the name I ._ + 
 
 The petals of a pale, fair rose above that grave, 
 Swayed by autumnal winds, did gently o'er it wave. 
 "Perchance," thought I, "some sister's toil hath 
 
 raised this stone, 
 And she from home and friends afar doth hither 
 
 come, 
 
 When daily toil is o'er, to weep beside the tomb 
 Of one whom poverty had made but doubly dear, 
 And little cares she that the passing throng should 
 
 here 
 Read where he lived, or when he died or shed a 
 
 tear." 
 
 In thoughtful mood I paused beside a humble grave : 
 How thick grow willow branches here ! how sweetly 
 wave!
 
 WITH REFLECTIONS. 45 
 
 I parted them, and read a reverend pastor's name, 
 And then with care I placed them o'er that stone 
 
 again, 
 
 For sacrilege 'twould seem to leave them thus apart 
 Perchance, too, it might pain some gentle mourner's 
 
 heart. 
 
 Thus would / sleep not in some wilderness away, 
 Nor yet with splendid monument, and gilded gay, 
 Built up in place conspicuous to the stranger's sight ; 
 But let me sleep where others sleep, and roses white, 
 By sweet affection planted near my grave, entwine 
 Their branches round the simple stone which memo 
 ry's shrine 
 
 Shall prove, and those I love come here at sweet twi 
 light, 
 To nurse remembrances of by-gone hours most 
 
 bright, 
 
 And let a willow tree its branches bend so low, 
 My tombstone shading, that the stranger who would 
 
 know 
 
 Who there is sleeping must those branches part aside, 
 To read my name carved words which drooping 
 boughs will hide.
 
 16 , CLEVELAND CEMETERY, 
 
 Ah I say not that it is a useless act and lorn, 
 The lowly resting-place of loved ones to adorn ; 
 For here the spirit seems with joy to plume its wings, 
 And finds most holy and most high imaginings. 
 
 Yet bring not gaudy flowers for graves of friends so 
 
 dear, 
 But bring pale flowers, yet fair and sweet, and plant 
 
 them here ; 
 
 Yea, bring the lowly violet bring fragrant flowers, 
 To deck the graves of those ye love, from dearest 
 
 bowers : 
 Ay, bring the vernal wild- wood flower that earliest 
 
 blooms, 
 And bring fair summer flowers, to wither on the 
 
 tombs 
 Of loved ones gone bring Autumn flowers, and 
 
 leaflets sere, 
 And with Affection's fairest flowers entwine them 
 
 here. 
 
 <ome plant the willow tree whose leaves in Autumn 
 
 fall, 
 And let those leaves upon the graves lie like a pall ;
 
 WITH KEFLECTIONS. 47 
 
 And plant the unfading box, or larger evergreen 
 Yea, plant them here and there, the willow trees be 
 tween ; 
 
 For while these speak of joys we cherish transiently, 
 Those whisper of the sjJirit's immortality. 
 
 Oh! Death full oft the dearest ties of Friendship 
 
 breaks, 
 And Love-twined hearts it often from each other 
 
 takes. 
 But who can tell us WHAT is DEATH? 
 
 A fearful thing 
 
 it surely is, to those who love not God our King ! 
 But what is death to him who in his Saviour dies ? 
 Though 'tis the breaking of earth's strongest, dearest 
 
 ties, 
 
 'Tis but the glad unfolding of that pearly door 
 Which leads him to the land where sorrow is no more ; 
 'Tis only the unvailing of those glories bright, 
 Which, while earth is our home, are hidden from our 
 
 sight. 
 
 It is the flickering lamp of life extinguished here, 
 To burn with brighter flame above this earthly 
 
 sphere.
 
 48 ADONIS. 
 
 Then why with tears of woe bedew the Christian's 
 
 tomb? 
 
 Why thus enwrap his peaceful resting-place in gloom ? 
 Fond love must weep o'er blighted hopes, and ties 
 
 thus riven 
 Must weep, even when she feels her loved ones are 
 
 in Heaven. 
 
 INSCRIBED TO A BEREAVED FRIEND. 
 
 WHEN gleam the stars, and night's pale watcher 
 
 beams, 
 
 Thou comest, love, to visit me in dreams : 
 Enwrapped in glorious robes my own Adonis then I 
 
 see! 
 
 Above the parted clouds beneath a radiant canopy 
 Reclining on a golden pave, o'ershadowed by Life's 
 
 tree,
 
 ADONIS. 49 
 
 And listening to the blending strains of Heaven's 
 minstrelsy, 
 
 In thoughtfulness he lies, his spirit filled with melody, 
 
 And all the long, long night he watches watches 
 over me ; 
 
 And his white hand is kindly beckoning beckoning 
 unto me 
 
 His spirit-lips are gently, oh ! how gently I whisper 
 ing me, 
 
 That soon, yes soon again we shall together happy 
 be! 
 
 Alone am I, yet ah ! how can I, can I lonely be, 
 
 When thus through all the long, long night he 
 watches over me ! 
 
 Amid the holy angels, dearest, I have heard thee 
 
 sing; 
 And while thy snowy hand was trembling o'er the 
 
 sounding string, 
 Whose notes melodious flowed, Heaven's pearly gate 
 
 was left ajar 
 A new-fledged spirit from the earth soared far above 
 
 each star. 
 
 3 

 
 50 ADONIS. 
 
 My soul then caught the softly-trilling echo of thy 
 
 lyre, 
 While thou didst list, the footstep of the welcomed 
 
 one to hear : 
 For thou, my darling and my love, didst miss me 
 
 from thy side, 
 And from sweet melodies didst turn, to watch above 
 
 thy bride. 
 
 Oh ! wait for me, love, on that delightful shore ! 
 Oh ! meet me, love, at Heaven's radiant door ! 
 Thy spirit-arms shall joyous clasp thy bride, 
 And I shall be forever at thy side. 
 Oh ! what but joy, my darling, will death be to me, 
 If I may be forever, and for aye with thee !
 
 JESUS PREACHING BY THE SEASIDE. 51 
 
 i\t 
 
 IN quiet beauty slept Genessaret. 
 An eager and expectant multitude, 
 Who oft had listed to the words that fell 
 Like manna from his lips, round Jesus stood. 
 No gorgeous pulpit was upreared by Art, 
 Whose golden steps the Saviour might ascend ; 
 But near the margin of that placid lake, 
 Whose banks his toil-worn feet so oft had trod, 
 When nightly breezes stirred his flowing hair, 
 And all his garments damp with midnight dews, 
 In earnest prayer he bowed his weary soul, 
 While rippling waves that kissed the rocky shore, 
 And deeper ocean murmurs whispered out, 
 In low and solemn sighings, their Amens : 
 Yea, near that shore two ships were safely moored, 
 Whose masters all night long had slowly toiled, 
 And anxious dragged their nets, yet nothing caught ;
 
 52 JESUS PREACHING BY THE SEASIDE. 
 
 And now they dip those nets beneath the wave 
 To wash away their filth, while heavenly food 
 Doth Jesus to the multitude dispense, 
 Which on the shore expectant stands, to hear 
 His gracious words. 
 
 While in his wave-rocked desk 
 He sits, in Nature's grand cathedral stand 
 His hearers glad. 
 
 It is a solemn hour, 
 
 And gentle zephyrs lift the whispering leaves : 
 Then all is silence silence deep, profound ! 
 The sea itself seems listening to his words 
 Of holy teaching, while to the eager crowd 
 In parables he speaks. 
 
 The aged man 
 Whose form was bowed with weight of years whose 
 
 heart 
 
 Perchance had cold and unbelieving grown, 
 And youthful ones whose cheeks were flushed with 
 
 hope, 
 
 Before him stood attentive listeners ; 
 And then perchance, reviling ones their doubts 
 To others whispered, or their wonder told, 
 That He, the carpenter's Son, should wisely speak,
 
 JESUS PREACHING BY THE SEASIDE. 53 
 
 Convincing them even quite against their wills, 
 He is the promised Lord the Son of God. 
 
 And when that scroll shall be unrolled, on which 
 
 The deeds of men of every age are writ, 
 
 Who, who that stood amid that listening crowd, 
 
 Shall find the seed the Saviour sowed that day, 
 
 Spread out its roots within his heart, and grew 
 
 Unchecked by tares or thorns unplucked by fowls, 
 
 And yielded many-fold to Jesus' praise ? 
 
 Ah ! who shall find that " leaven " spread abroad 
 
 To purify his own and others' hearts ? 
 
 And who the cherished, blood-bought pearl shall 
 
 wear, 
 
 By which an entrance to the skies is gained ? 
 And who, neglecting all the proffered wealth 
 The Saviour would have gladly, freely given, 
 Shall stand condemned and poor indeed, before 
 The throne of judgment at the last great day, 
 When Memory's mournful echoes on their ears 
 Shall fall, like solemn dirge or passing bell, 
 Kecalling hours when Christ with outspread hand, 
 Sowed seeds of truth they cared not then to tend, 
 Nor sought their spirits' soil to cultivate !
 
 54 EPITAPHS. 
 
 How fondly clustering hopes round thee were twined ! 
 
 For as the beauties of the expanding rose 
 Cheer him who cultures it, thou, cherished one, 
 
 Didst cheer our hearts, and lighten all our woes. 
 
 THINE early grave 1 oh ! 'tis a holy place, 
 
 Where Hope and Love oft twine their faded 
 flowers, 
 
 While mournful Memory chants a dirge-like song, 
 And whispers of the joys of by-gone hours. 
 
 THOU wert to us a lovely flower 1 
 
 A valued gem to us by Heaven lent, 
 Our pathway here awhile to cheer : 
 
 But oh ! how early Death for thee was sent 1
 
 EVENING THOUGHTS. 55 
 
 (Smthtg 
 
 WHITE clouds go drifting by to-night 
 The moon shines gloriously bright, 
 The sparkling snow unspotted lies, 
 And not a zephyr round me sighs. 
 
 A calm as sweet as Nature's own 
 Around my spirit here is thrown, 
 As though some angel fanned my brow, 
 And gently whispered to me now. 
 
 Up, up, and higher up it flies, 
 Till near the portals of the skies, 
 My soul sits trembling with delight, 
 To gaze on scenes surpassing bright. 
 
 Heaven's pearly gates seem to unfold ! 
 Within those battlements of gold 
 Which guard the mansions of the blest, 
 I see bright forms in glory dressed.
 
 66 EVENING THOUGHTS. 
 
 And hark ! there's music on the air, 
 For golden harps glad angels bear, 
 While up on buoyant wings they rise, 
 And chant the songs of Paradise. 
 
 Was it some angel's footfall o'er 
 Heaven's radiant gold and crystal floor, 
 I heard? or note from a loved one's lyre, 
 Whose spirit caught " a seraph's fire" ? 
 
 The new Jerusalem is fair, 
 
 Its glories all inviting are, 
 
 But the soul's bright home is dearer far, 
 
 For the sweet love of dear ones there.
 
 TO ME. , ON HIS WIFE'S DEATH. 67 
 
 Cc tr. - 0u ts SKife'a 
 
 AN ANONYMOUS COMMUNICATION WRITTEN BY RE 
 QUEST OF A FRIEND OF THE AFFLICTED. 
 
 " THEY sin who say that love can die." 
 
 " No joy nor grief may bury thought 
 
 In dread oblivion's somber wave : 
 Thus friendship lives and changeth not: 
 
 It brightens ever o'er the grave. 
 The soul released looks from above, 
 
 To greet its partner left behind, 
 Who, prompted by undying love, 
 
 Would soar an absent mate to find. 
 Friends can not, will not parted be, 
 
 In time nor in eternity." 
 
 FULL well I know 'tis hard to part with those 
 The heart holds dear, but may a stranger dare 
 Attempt to pour a balm upon thy wound, 
 And write of joys beyond this fleeting life ? 
 3*
 
 58 TO ME. , ON HIS WIFE'S DEATH. 
 
 While thou didst bend in untold agony, 
 
 O'er that loved form from which the soul had fled, 
 
 Didst see the pearly gates of heaven unfold, 
 
 And ere the parted lips were closed in death, 
 
 Didst hear the angel minstrels softly chant 
 
 For her a sweet and gentle welcome home ? 
 
 Canst see her now arrayed in spotless robes, 
 
 Before the golden throne of Paradise, 
 
 Her spirit with celestial joys entranced, 
 
 While heaven's harmonious choir around her sings ? 
 
 Ah 1 nearest thou how now her voice and harp 
 
 With loftiest notes of seraphim do blend ? 
 
 And canst thou think that in that glorious world 
 Where all is love, thy wife doth love thee less ? 
 Ah ! no, sure as the angel's wing is strong 
 Sure as the immortal mind expands when in 
 Its radiant home it lives with God, and roams 
 With spirits taught of " Him whose name is Love ;" 
 So sure, methinks, do those we fondly love, 
 There love with purer, stronger, deeper love 
 The hearts whose tendrils here with theirs were 
 twined.
 
 TO MR. , ON HIS WIFE'S DEATH. 59 
 
 Since He who gave and He who took her hence, 
 When but his will permits, hath power the means 
 To bless, gave not the skill her to restore, 
 But kindly took her early up to heaven, 
 "Wouldst call thine angel watcher from her home, 
 And take the golden harp from out her hand, 
 And tear the wreath of glory from her brow, 
 And bind the enfranchised spirit to its clay, 
 That she amid earth's griefs with thee may walk ? 
 
 Think not of her as in the silent grave 1 
 But think of her as with the ransomed ones, 
 Who day and night around the Eternal's throne 
 Are flying, with heaven's songs of ceaseless joy, 
 Forever flowing from the lips which speak 
 Only of holy bliss, and love, and praise ; 
 Forever warbling from their golden lyres, 
 By our Immanuel himself attuned ; 
 And since she is by God so richly blest, 
 Canst not amid thy solitude and grief, 
 Now whisper, " Father, let thy will be done" ?
 
 60 CHEIST'S BURIAL AND RESURRECTION. 
 
 flrial atrtr 
 
 LIST I it is finished, the Eedeemer cries ! 
 
 
 
 Yea rulers, kings, and priests have power no more 
 
 To injure Him who died to save a world : 
 
 No more can cruel mockeries grieve his soul 
 
 His head is bowed he sleeps the sleep of death. 
 
 Yes ! it is finished Christ the Lord is slain, 
 
 And weeping friends, and wondering enemies, 
 
 Gaze yet with awe upon that thorn-crowned brow I 
 
 But Joseph comes to Pilate comes, to beg 
 
 A dear and loving Saviour's mangled corse, 
 
 And carefully 'tis borne by kindest friends, 
 
 From that dread place of agony away. 
 
 A train of weepers, who with grief sincere 
 
 Surround the Lord, the last kind offices 
 
 To pay, must haste, for night is drawing near : 
 
 The thorny crown they take from his torn brow ; 
 
 The Mary unto whom was much forgiven, 
 
 Who therefore loved him much, perchance from off
 
 CHRIST'S BURIAL AND RESURRECTION. 61 
 
 His swollen hands and feet the bloody drops 
 Doth wipe, and bathes them yet once more with tears ; 
 Then with a lingering clasp she holds his hands, 
 And gazes on his wounds all mournfully, 
 Scarce dreaming with new life he soon will rise 
 To glory rise. 
 
 Now on a grassy plat 
 
 They spread the linen purely white and new, 
 And choicest spices sprinkle o'er it there, 
 And tenderly around his stiffening form, 
 The snowy drapery they closely wrap ; 
 And she who laid him in his manger-bed 
 Who watched the first faint smile around his lips, 
 And caught the earliest lispings of his tongue, 
 Methinks with all a mother's tenderness 
 Now bends, while through her soul a sword is pierc 
 ing, 
 
 To print the last fond kiss upon his brow, 
 Ere on his rocky bed her child is laid ; 
 And he who 'mid his weary wanderings 
 Claimed not a place to lay his head, now sleeps 
 Securely in the garden of the great 
 Alone within a new-made sepulchre.
 
 62 CHRIST'S BURIAL AND RESURRECTION. 
 
 "Pis evening to a weary couch each friend * 
 
 Hath gone, to meditate his life and death I 
 
 A band of Koman soldiers guards the tomb, 
 
 Who dare not sleep, for penalty of death ! 
 
 Ah ! soldiers, guard ye well the sepulchre ! 
 
 Let no intruder come to steal away 
 
 The breathless form, and say that he has risen I 
 
 But ah ! what sudden change comes o'er them now ! < 
 
 What sudden fear appalls the keepers' hearts ? 
 
 Who dares to come tfie tomVs strong seal to break ! 
 
 Lo ! angels' hands have rolled the stone away, 
 
 And clothed in white, as messengers they sit 
 
 Within the sepulchre where Christ hath lain, 
 
 To tell beloved friends that he hath risen. 
 
 No need of costly spices brought that morn 
 So early, by the friends he dearly loved, 
 Who trembling, fearing, doubting, wondering, 
 Behold attendant angels guard the place 
 Where with deep sorrow late they laid him down, 
 With faith not yet sufficient to believe 
 His resurrection morn so soon would come.
 
 CHRIST'S BURIAL AND RESURRECTION. 63 
 
 The mystery is great, and yet with joy 
 
 Their hearts are filled, while angels bid them come 
 
 And see where Christ hath lain. 
 
 The Saviour lives, 
 
 And soon ascended to his native skies, 
 A Sovereign Ruler at his Father's side 
 Shall sit, to judge the world : for those he loves, 
 An ever-glorious home he will prepare 
 Within the mansions purchased by his blood, 
 And soon shall they who mourned his cruel death, 
 With Jesus dwell in his celestial home.
 
 64: " SLANDER.' 
 
 "Slanhr." 
 
 PEOV. 25 : 18. 
 
 WHAT is the slanderer's tongue ? An arrow strong, 
 And sharp, and fierce, empoisoning many a word, 
 Such as to devils only do belong, 
 When they, by Envy and by Malice stirred, 
 Do contemplate dark deeds, and souls do gird 
 For vilest crimes, and with their deadly bane, 
 The good man- rob of fame with lies absurd 
 Asunder rend kind Friendship's gold-linked chain, 
 And break the three-fold, silken cord of Love amain. 
 
 What is the slanderer's tongue ? An unsheathed 
 
 sword 
 
 With keenest edge, which without mercy cuts, 
 Over which Hatred has her poison poured ; 
 And he who doth that sword employ, oft shuts 
 From out his heart the beams of love, and gluts
 
 " SLANDER." 65 
 
 His wrath and vengeance on superior minds, 
 And little recks of dread account, but puts 
 Far off his evil day, until he finds 
 His awful sentence writ by God in fearful lines. 
 
 What weapon hath she more ? A heavy maul, 
 "Which Malice forged for her one day, 
 While Envy, Slander's mother, blew the coal. 
 She placed it in her hands, and bade her slay 
 The good wherever found. Swift to obey, 
 She beat with heavy blows a neighbor's name. 
 Long in the dust a blackened thing it lay, 
 Despised, neglected, spurned, and clothed with 
 
 shame 
 For none there were to free the innocent from blame. 
 
 For with so bold a face did Slander deal 
 Her cruel blows, that Innocence, abashed, 
 Dared not to lift her head ; nor could conceal 
 The slanderer's wounds. Her cup of joy was 
 
 dashed 
 
 From out her hand weeping she lay aghast 
 With fear and woe, till Truth did guess her case, 
 And kindly raise her head. Her dark eye flashed
 
 66 " SLANDER." 
 
 With zeal and rage, and Slander's wounds so base, 
 She quickly healed, and all her bruises did efface. 
 
 A youth of wit and worth, though humble name, 
 "With skill and perseverance did ascend, 
 Until the summit of the hill of Fame 
 He gained : but Envy fain would quickly rend 
 The laurels from his brow, and so did send 
 Slander with secret aim to hurl at him 
 Her spite and lies, but God did him defend, 
 And like a radiant light o'er distance dim, 
 His glory spread, and Slander's dart his lamp did 
 trim. 
 
 For though her pliant bow was newly strung, 
 And thick and fast her feathered arrows flew, 
 And through the misty air their echoes rung, 
 The light around his head more lustrous grew ; 
 For Innocence forth from her treasures drew 
 A golden shield, and clasped it o'er his heart, 
 While Truth held up a golden lamp and new ! 
 While through its lucent flame flew on the dart 
 From Slander's quiver, brighter light it did impart.
 
 " SLANDER." 67 
 
 It trembled on the shield of Innocence 
 
 The good man gazed, and by its blood-stained 
 
 shade 
 
 He knew full well who formed it, and from whence 
 It came he plucked it from the shield and bade 
 The innocent " tremble not, nor be afraid." 
 With ferce redoubled Slander drew her bow 
 And furious all her cruel haste betrayed, 
 But soon was heard a horrid shriek of woe, 
 As her rebounding dart did to her forehead go. 
 
 Hopest thou to escape by doing well ? False hope I 
 
 For Slander dips the arrow of her tongue 
 
 In hate still deeper, and inflicts a stroke, 
 
 If she but hear that thou art praised among 
 
 The good. The slanderer's heart with woe is 
 
 wrung, 
 
 If he may not on others evil bring, 
 And hearts that fondly to each other clung, 
 Oft sorrow feel in every trembling string, 
 When rudely from each other forced by Slander's 
 
 sting.
 
 68 " SLANDER." 
 
 Doth Slander aim at thee her deadly dart? 
 Chase not her lies I Trust God and wait awhile, 
 And thou shalt fling the viper from thy heart, 
 And feel no harm. Though now her falsehoods 
 
 vile, 
 
 May seem thy reputation to defile, 
 And friends whose love thou prizest, have grown 
 
 cold, 
 
 They yet shall greet thee with a warmer smile 
 Than ever blessed thee in the days of old 
 With warmer clasp shall to their bosoms thee enfold. 
 
 Yet should there still be unkind souls who grudge 
 Thee honors due, and still will censure thee, 
 A day is coming when before the Judge 
 Of all the earth, shall thine accusers see 
 Their falsehoods fade, as shades of darkness flee 
 Before the dawning sun, when by thy God, 
 If innocent, thou shalt acquitted be, 
 And 'mid the angel bands that long have trod 
 Heaven's streets shalt stand, while they shall writhe 
 beneath his rod.
 
 ARE THE SAINTED DEAD LOST? 69 
 
 i\t 
 
 ARE they who sleep in Jesus lost ? Ah ! no. 
 Unchanging is their love, and when they go 
 For aye with heavenly worshipers to dwell, 
 "We love to think that all with them is well 
 That God with joy supreme their souls will bless, 
 For much we love them still. Oh ! yes, oh ! yes. 
 
 Are they who sleep in Jesus lost ? Ah ! no. 
 Their smiles will cheer us here no more we know ; 
 But memory binds our hearts with holiest spell, 
 While oft in silvery tones her voice doth well 
 Eehearse unto the listening spirit's ear, 
 A tale which Love as oft delights to hear. 
 
 How fondly dwells she on the happy hours 
 When Joy and Hope enwreathed their golden flow 
 ers,
 
 70 ARE THE SAINTED DEAD LOST? 
 
 And Faith plucked healing leaves from heavenly 
 
 bowers 
 
 To bind around their brows ; and joy was ours, 
 Perchance e'en when the parting strife was o'er, 
 And the freed spirit, at heaven's pearly door 
 Was waiting, still to watch the beaming smile 
 That played around the lip and eye the while, 
 Revealing joys that on that spirit broke, 
 When slept the body, and the soul awoke 
 To bliss eternal in the courts of heaven : 
 But yet we wept that earthly ties were riven. 
 
 Is not our glorious home dear, dearer far, 
 When those we love are waiting for us there ? 
 Is not the Christian's spirit fired with zeal, 
 Doth not a holier peace around him steal, 
 When thinks he how the loved of heaven, in love 
 And bliss are growing in the world above ? 
 
 When friendly hands that fondly clasped our own, 
 All silently are folded in the tomb, 
 We hold the things of earth with looser hand, 
 And oftener look unto the spirit-land,
 
 ABE THE SAINTED DEAD LOST? 71 
 
 Where those we love, enrobed in spotless white, 
 Wing their glad way through skies of cloudless light. 
 
 Oh ! surely then the dead so doubly dear, 
 Whose memory often brings the unbidden tear ; 
 Of whom we love to think as safe in heaven, 
 Although we grieve that they from us are riven, 
 Can not forgotten be. A golden tie 
 Binds us to heaven, and less we dread to die, 
 When dearest friends have through Death's valley 
 
 passed, 
 To joys that will forever, ever last.
 
 72 TO MBS. L. H. SIGOURNEY. 
 
 ^ ('v % V (X/V CW (~\f + 
 
 Jto, Hi. jg. j&ottnttj. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF HER SON. 
 
 MOURNER, with thee we weep for thee we pray I 
 Thou who the precious balm of sympathy 
 So oft o'er sorrow-burdened hearts hast poured, 
 Wilt kindly listen to my humble strain, 
 While I, from far, attempt for thee to write ? 
 
 That harp, to which I oft with Fancy's ear 
 Have listed, while my griefs have lighter grown 
 I mourn that now its numbers are so sad ! 
 Yet though thou weepest for thine only son, 
 Jesus, thy Friend, methinks will comfort thee : 
 And ah ! doth not an angel watcher stoop, 
 To lay upon thy heart a healing leaf, 
 Plucked from some evergreen of Paradise? 
 
 Oh ! bare thy heart that healing leaf receive ! 
 And may its fragrance rich, and strengthening power,
 
 TO MKS. L. H. SIGOUBNEY. 73 
 
 Thy griefs assuage, while thou dost upward look, 
 Beyond the woes of earth, and view thy son, 
 A holy harper 'mid the shining ones, 
 Who in that land lit by the smile of God, 
 Unceasingly their notes of praise do sing, 
 While Jesus our Eedeemer sweetly smiles. 
 
 With Faith's bright eye, methinks thou'lt view him, 
 
 there ; 
 
 Yet a heart like thine so full of sympathy, 
 I know must deeply feel a loss so great : 
 And when the spirit of a loved one soars 
 Up to the world above, how longs the soul 
 To fly away to its eternal rest. 
 But, sister, for the dwellers on this earth, 
 It seeineth. to be needful that awhile 
 Thou from thy heavenly home shouldst longer stay. 
 Then wilt thou tune thy " gentle harp " again 
 To songs of praise ? 
 
 Ah ! yes, I know thou wilt ! 
 And though some notes of sadness with the strain 
 Are mingled, to that strain we'll gladly list ; 
 And when thy harp's last note on earth shall sound, 
 And thou, our friend so dear, from us shalt go, 
 4
 
 74 TO MRS. L. II. SIGOURNEY. 
 
 In heaven, methinks, its strings will stronger grow, 
 And sweetly vibrate at thy spirit's touch, 
 "While with thee angels strike their sacred lyres, 
 And shout their lofty songs of glorious praise. 
 And while those fields Elysian thou dost roam, 
 A garland of Affection's priceless flowers, 
 A poet band will wreathe to deck thy grave, 
 While sad they list to echoings of thy lyre, 
 "Which sometimes whilst thou hadst a home on earth, 
 Spake sweetly of the bliss of Paradise. 
 
 Now fare thee well, my gentle, sorrowing friend ! 
 
 May Jesus' everlasting arms of love 
 
 Thy soul sustain, till it shall soar away 
 
 To that fair land of bliss, where waits thy son, 
 
 To welcome home a friend to him so dear. 
 
 Then with the glorious company that sings 
 
 For evermore around the throne of God, 
 
 With him, the "early lost" and dearly loved, 
 
 The Omniscient thou shalt praise, and bless thy God, 
 
 That thy lost one so soon went home to heaven.
 
 THOUGHTS. 75 
 
 ON VIEWING THE PICTURE OF THE SPIRIT BRIDE IN 
 A LADY'S ALBUM. 
 
 How lonely all things seem on this vain earth, 
 Since thou from me art taken, darling one ! 
 Thou art gone ! but still thy spirit lingers near ! 
 I see the bright halo which round thee shines, 
 I gaze on the dark eye which rests on me, 
 I hear the whisper of my Ella now, 
 As I've oft heard it when she loved me here. 
 
 "Why do I seem to gaze on thee, my love, 
 "When " holy night" o'er earth her mantle throws, 
 And earthly sounds are hushed to quietness ? 
 Ah 1 then I seem to grasp thy hand once more, 
 For then my Ella comes from the spirit land. 
 I sleep, and dream awhile then sweetly wake, 
 For then it seems she's whispered in my ear, 
 Or gently kissed my lips to bid me wake.
 
 76 THOUGHTS. 
 
 Father I 'neath life's pressure bear me up, 
 Till what now evil'seems, shall grieve no more ; 
 Oh! then may Love's bright birth-place be 3 
 
 home! 
 
 Where Ella dwells may I then find repose, 
 And joyfully with her tune the sweet lyre, 
 To praise our blest Kedeemer, King of heaven.
 
 LINES. 77 
 
 "THE WORLD OF SPIRITS is THE POET'S HOME." 
 
 THERE is a deeper grief than words can speak : 
 But should such grief be mine, I still will on, 
 For 'neath the shadow of my Saviour's wing 
 I rest secure, and angel bands surround me. 
 Their holy influence is on my soul 
 I seem to feel the fanning of their wings, 
 And listen to their ever-blissful songs, 
 Inviting me from earthly joys away. 
 
 The whisperings of these angel visitants 
 Do oft my strength renew for duties here, 
 Brewhile they tell me of the glorious bliss 
 Within the holy mansions of the skies, 
 Where comes no night, nor sun is needed there, 
 But 'neath the ever-radiant smile of God, 
 Ten thousand tunes ten thousand worshipers,
 
 78 LINES. 
 
 With joys forever new, glad songs of praise 
 Through all eternity shall joyous raise. 
 
 While up, and higher up my spirit flies, 
 My swelling heart is beating quick with joy. 
 So sweet, so holy fall those angel notes 
 Upon my glad, enraptured, wondering ear, 
 It seems 'tis heaven's own music now I hear. 
 I long to rise with those sweet worshipers, 
 And on their waving wings, my soul seems borne 
 Almost up to the eternal gates of heaven. 
 
 Bright angels seem to come, with snowy wing 
 To fan my fevered brow at noon of night, 
 And every earthly grief dissolves in bliss so great ; 
 For I seem to feel the pressure of the lips 
 Of loved ones gone upon my burning cheek, 
 My Saviour's hand seems laid beneath my head, 
 His promises are whispered to my soul, 
 And oh ! a bliss almost too great for earth, 
 Amid my griefs is mine.
 
 
 " BRETHREN, PRAY FOR US." 79 
 
 4t 
 
 , frag, for 
 
 WHEN strong temptations in our path 
 The seeds of sin are sowing, 
 
 That we have grace the road to shun 
 Where its vile weeds are growing, 
 O brethren ! pray for us. 
 
 When sickness doth its sorrow bring, 
 And death our joys is knelling ; 
 
 When we're of kindest friends bereft, 
 And grief our hearts is swelling, 
 Kind brethren, pray for us. 
 
 And when prosperity most sweet 
 
 Twines garlands that we love to wear, 
 
 In mercy then, lest we heaven's joys 
 Forget, nor seek a portion there, 
 O brethren I pray for us.
 
 80 "BRETHREN, PRAY FOR us." 
 
 "When winds of popular applause 
 Our prosperous sails are filling, 
 
 Or when a false and fickle world 
 Their canvas broad is furling, 
 
 Kind brethren, pray for us. 
 
 When sorrow round our aching hearts 
 Her cypress wreath is twining, 
 
 Or when the sweetest joys of earth 
 Are on our pathway shining, 
 
 Dear brethren, pray for us. 
 
 When dearest friends in anxious love 
 Around our beds are sighing ; 
 
 When holy angels from the skies, 
 Wait for us when we're dying, 
 brethren ! pray for us.
 
 TO MRS. , ON HER CHILDREN'S DEATH. 81 
 
 D9ta. , mi \ix Cjplftra's 
 
 " THE path, of sorrow, and that path alone, 
 Leads to the land where sorrow is unknown." 
 
 A MOTHER'S heart is listening to a solemn knell, 
 While o'er her precious jewels sounds the passing 
 
 bell; 
 
 For twice amid the little circle of her home, 
 Relentless Death his never-failing dart hath thrown 
 Yea, twice from infant lips was heard the dying 
 
 moan, 
 And twice the angel bands have whispered : " Spirit, 
 
 come.' 
 
 n 
 
 The caskets which your jewels held are broken I 
 But where no moth doth eat, nor rust corrode, 
 Bright shining in your Saviour's diadem, 
 Behold them in God's ever-blest abode. 
 4*
 
 82 TO MRS. , ON HER CHILDREN'S DEATH. 
 
 Some heed it lightly when an infant dies, 
 Nor shed a tear when its spirit homeward flies, 
 Nor can they guess the little helpless one, 
 To the fond heart was bound with ties so strong. 
 
 But I a sister had, whose smiles so bright, 
 Oft filled my soul with ever-new delight ! 
 She died in the still grave they laid her down, 
 And wintry winds low sighed her requiem. 
 
 A bright chain binds me to the world above 
 My sweet, my gentle angel-sister's love ! 
 In nightly visions watching oft o'er me, 
 Crowned with the golden honors of the sky, 
 She seems to stoop, and fold her spirit's wing ; 
 I seem to hear her infant voice again, 
 And feel whene'er from such glad dreams I waken, 
 That " 'tis sweet to be loved by one in heaven." 
 
 At her loss I felt a sister's agony ! 
 
 Then forgive, I pray, a stranger's feeble lay, 
 
 "Who would fain to thee some healing cordial send 
 
 Who would point thee to thy Saviour as thy Friend.
 
 TO MRS. , ON HER CHILDREN'S DEATH. 83 
 
 When I heard that thy little ones were dead, 
 
 Entranced in thought, my Saviour I beheld, 
 
 Descending from his lofty throne of bliss, 
 
 And heard the wondering multitude inquire, 
 
 " Saviour divine, what means this stroke of thine?" 
 
 With eye lit with the radiance of love, 
 
 And voice like music of the skies, he answered : 
 
 " The careless throng doth heedless pass along, 
 
 And deeply drink at pleasure's sparkling cup ; 
 
 But know, their latter end is bitter woe : 
 
 But they who seek my name to glorify, 
 
 Oft at the chalice of affliction drink, 
 
 And oft in sorrow's crucible are tried, 
 
 Till from all dross of sin they're purified 
 
 Then to my home of bliss receive I them." 
 
 Then turning to the gathered multitude, 
 
 With hand and eye upraised toward heaven, he cried : 
 
 " Parents, behold your children angels now. 
 
 " Ye deemed it hard with those loved ones to part ; 
 But the sweet harp of heaven to Mary given, 
 Shall sound my praise in my celestial home, 
 And your little son shall sing with the bright throng 
 Of happy spirits which surrounds my throne.
 
 84 TO MRS. , ON HER CHILDREN'S DEATH. 
 
 " Those plants the frosts of death so early nipped, 
 Were upward borne to bloom in heavenly bowers ; 
 For your Kedeemer there had need of them. 
 Then grieve not for the dead who love you still ! 
 Will ye not trust them to your Father's care, 
 And your affections set on things above, 
 Faithfully labor here, and patient wait 
 Till I shall call you to the land of love? 
 
 " Then ye will learn the omniscience of your God 
 The music of your lyres with theirg shall blend, 
 While in sweet anthems of the skies ye join, 
 And bless the hand which wounded you in love." 
 
 He ceased to speak, and then I bowed my head, 
 And seemed to catch some of those notes of joy 
 Which ceaseless flow from sacred lutes of heaven. 
 Oh ! then, if such enrapturing joys are theirs, 
 Why mourn ye for the blest the " early dead "?
 
 GOOD NIGHT. 85 
 
 (4 
 
 (Sooir 
 
 GOOD NIGHT! what cheerful words, 
 When lisped by prattling infancy, 
 
 When tiny arms twine round 
 
 The necks of loved ones joyfully. 
 
 When kisses and sweet smiles, 
 By little ones and those they love, 
 
 Each evening are exchanged, 
 And prayer is breathed to " God above." 
 
 Good night ! what pleasant words, 
 
 By Love or by sweet Friendship spoken, 
 
 When hearts are warm and light, 
 
 And Hope's bright garlands are unbroken. 
 
 Good night ! 'tis sweetly borne 
 From lips of friends far, far away, 
 
 And caught by Fancy's ear 
 
 At the close of some mila summer day.
 
 86 GOOD NIGHT. 
 
 When a balmy breeze is blowing, 
 
 "When o'er us sweetest memories steal, 
 
 The heart from sadness wooing, 
 With gentle and with glad appeal. 
 
 Good night I 'tis sadly breathed 
 
 Within the captive's lonely cell, 
 For his lone bosom heaves 
 
 That this is Friendship's parting knell. 
 
 Oh ! 'tis a holy word, 
 
 When Love breathes forth its last " Good 
 
 night," 
 And fond hearts sadly watch 
 
 Until the spirit takes its flight. 
 
 When end my days on earth, 
 
 And I shall speak my last "Good night," 
 Oh ! may my spirit rise 
 
 To yonder realms of endless light : 
 
 To the land so wondrous fair, 
 Whose glories are so passing bright ; 
 
 Where all is life and joy, 
 
 And dearest friends ne'er say, "Good night."
 
 GOOD NIGHT. 87 
 
 No sleep for rest from care, 
 
 Nor sleep that makes the spirit light, 
 Nor sleep of death is there 
 
 Oh ! all is bliss, where there is no night.
 
 88 TO MRS. M. A. S. B. 
 
 C0 
 
 OF Summer's beauteous flowers 
 A wreath I've twined for thee, 
 
 And hope in heavenly bowers 
 Thou'lt spend eternity. 
 
 A wreath of Love's fair flowers 
 In that bright world be thine, 
 
 When thou the happy hours 
 Shalt spend in heaven's pure clime. 
 
 And may Affection's hand 
 
 A garland oft entwine, 
 Afresh to deck thy tomb, 
 
 While thine are joys sublime.
 
 THANKSGIVING DAY. 89 
 
 anus 
 
 PRAY what's the matter now, that such a stir 
 
 Is being made from Maine to Florida, 
 
 And from Atlantic to Pacific sea ? 
 
 Ah ! me, how many turkeys lose their heads ! 
 
 How many chicken-pies must soon be made ! 
 
 How many pounds of raisins and of rice, 
 
 Of sugar, spice and butter, merchants sell 1 
 
 How many invitations are sent forth, 
 
 To absent brothers and to sisters dear 
 
 To fathers, mothers, sons and daughters too 
 
 To Grandpa's pets, and Grandma's darling loves, 
 
 To gather round the social hearth and board, 
 
 To share the honors of a festal day 1 
 
 Pray would you know the reason? I will tell you. 
 'Tis said from twenty governors' hands, or more, 
 A proclamation to the people flies,
 
 90 THANKSGIVING DAY. 
 
 That on a certain day of this glad month, 
 
 They keep with joy and praise Thanksgiving day ! 
 
 And many hands grow strong and swift, 
 
 And hearts grow light, anticipating joy, 
 
 And children clap their hands, and merry shout, 
 
 And wonder which will be the very first 
 
 To print a loving kiss on Grandpa's cheek, 
 
 Or to behold with joy, dear Grandma's smile. 
 
 I like this ancient, honored custom much, 
 Which brings together friends of long ago ; 
 When old associations are brought up, 
 And kindly smiles exchanged so happily ; 
 When 'neath the " spreading elm " or apple tree, 
 Brothers and sisters with their parents meet, 
 And talk of how they here their play-house built, 
 And there " the golden fruits of Autumn" plucked, 
 While their own children sport beneath those trees, 
 From which the frost hath stripped the verdure 
 
 bright, 
 
 Or warm their little hands at Grandpa's fire, 
 While at the loaded tables oft they cast 
 Such anxious looks, as tempt a merry smile.
 
 THANKSGIVING DAY. 91 
 
 But stop ! amid my mirth, my fancy views 
 My native home, six hundred miles away ! 
 A white-haired man of more than eighty years, 
 Who striveth to be glad, for others' sakes, 
 Hath kindly gathered round his ample board, 
 His sons and daughters, with their little ones ; 
 And merry children's feet, with bounding joy, 
 Are sporting in my Grandsire's mansion there : 
 But yet a sadness sweepeth through his soul ! 
 For she the loved companion of his youth, 
 Who toiled with him his joys and sorrows 
 
 shared 
 
 And true to him, for more than sixty years 
 Eejoiced in his kind smile, and smiles returned, 
 Is sleeping, and will wake no more on earth ; 
 And though the death-sleep on her eyelids fell 
 Full two years since, Love brings her image up 
 On this Thanksgiving day. 
 
 Though round his hearth, 
 His children and his grandchildren have met, 
 I seem to hear lym sigh, and see the tear 
 Upon his furrowed cheek for well I know, 
 That naught on earth, the void within his heart, 
 Which by her absence hath been made, can fill.
 
 02 THANKSGIVING DAY. 
 
 Though children with their children strive to 
 
 please, 
 
 He feels he stands alone, and " waits for death, 
 As for a friend." May God sustain him now! 
 Ah ! me, my thoughts are tempting me to tears, 
 And I must cease to write ; yet ere I cease, 
 Oh I let me here entreat that many thanks 
 From many hearts, on this glad, festive day, 
 May rise to God, who hath such blessings given 
 Who kindly grants that round so many hearths, 
 No vacant seat is found Thanksgiving day. 
 
 Nov. 1851.
 
 THANKSGIVING HYMN. 93 
 
 1 WHAT shall we render to the Lord, 
 
 For all the mercies of the year ? 
 Oh ! let us in his temple laud 
 His holy name with grateful fear. 
 
 2 Oh ! let the nation bring to Gk>d 
 
 A noble sacrifice to-day ! 
 Oh ! let us sound his fame abroad, 
 And cheerful sing a grateful lay. 
 
 8 Yea, let the song of joy arise, 
 
 And let the pealing anthem ring ! 
 To Heaven we'll raise our hearts and eyes, 
 And joyfully we'll praise our King. 
 
 4 For so our good forefathers knelt 
 
 Around their altars free yet rude, 
 When their o'erflowing hearts did melt 
 In holy, humble gratitude
 
 94 THANKSGIVING HYMN. 
 
 5 To Him -who to their scanty store, 
 
 In time of hunger and of need, 
 Had brought from a far-distant shore, 
 For their high faith, a welcome meed. 
 
 6 In Heaven they put their trust, when roared 
 
 The tempest wild around their heads ; 
 Their prayers on Faith's strong wing then soared 
 High up, before the throne of God. 
 
 7 God heard and then glad thanks they poured ! 
 , And when our friends we kindly greet, 
 
 Or when around the festive board, 
 In joyous companies we meet ; 
 
 8 Of the example they have given 
 
 "We'll think, and pour a happy lay ; 
 Yea, like the angels of high heaven, 
 "We'll sing on this Thanksgiving day.
 
 
 95 
 
 C0. rote. 
 
 LOUISA, I have turned thine album o'er 
 
 To read what other hands for thee have written : 
 
 I've searched for thoughts what can I write thee 
 
 more? 
 What friendly wish that not to thee is given ? 
 
 They've called thee lovely, good, and fair ; 
 
 They've promised for thee friendship true ; 
 They've wished for thee freedom from care, 
 
 And a home where joy blooms ever new. 
 
 / wish that Friendship weave for thee 
 A wreath of amaranthine flowers 
 
 A wreath that shall unfading be, 
 
 When thou shalt dwell in heavenly bowers. 
 
 And yet another wish is mine : 
 
 That thou a glorious crown mayst wear ; 
 
 And may an angel's lyre be thine, 
 In a celestial land, and fair.
 
 MARY ELIZABETH KNOWLTON. 
 
 DAUGHTER OF WM. A. AND ELIZABETH KNOWLTON, 
 
 DIED AUG. 24TII, 1851, AGED 4 MONTHS AND 19 DAYS. 
 
 SWEET babe ! and hast thou gone from us for aye ? 
 And can thy beauteous eye, so darkly blue, 
 That gazed into. our own confidingly, 
 Gaze thus, our hearts to gladden nevermore ? 
 And may we see thy gentle smile no more, 
 Nor anxious watch beside thy little couch ? 
 
 I watched thy little brow so knit with pain, 
 Yet marked the patient smile around thy lip, 
 And could but fancy angels sang to thee, 
 And 'mid thy pain, thy spirit lulled to rest : 
 And then I almost bent my ear to list, 
 If I perchance their holy songs might hear. 
 
 I saw thy little face with suffering pale, 
 And feared that thou from us, soon, soon, must go ;
 
 
 MAKY ELIZABETH KNOWLTON. 97 
 
 v 
 
 And oil I I questioned much why one so young 
 And innocent, must suffer and must die ; 
 And then the spirit of a babe like thee, 
 Seemed flying from before the Eternal's throne, 
 To whisper to my listening spirit's ear, 
 Of highest bliss, shared by the sweetest band 
 Of all the glittering hosts of the redeemed 
 The little lambs of the Eedeemer's flock, 
 Which through the pastures of His love he leads, 
 And ever cares for them most tenderly. 
 
 I seemed to hearken to an infant choir, 
 Whose voices, soft and sweet were heard with joy, 
 By angel bands that long before God's throne 
 Had day and night His praise enraptured sung ! 
 
 I seemed to listen to their little harps 
 Of purest gold, so sweetly strung in heaven ; 
 And then I thought it must be sweet to die, 
 TZre the young spirit knows the blight of care, 
 Or Sorrow feels, or Disappointment's sting, 
 And ere the tongue earth's dialect can speak, 
 To be by angels taught to sing in heaven. 
 
 Dear babe, although we grieve to part with thee, 
 Thy spirit's flight hath formed a golden link, 
 To bind the hearts that held thee dear, to heaven.
 
 98 MARY ELIZABETH KNOWL1OX. 
 
 Ah ! when I closed thy little eyes so blue, 
 And robed thy tiny form, e'en for the tomb, 
 I felt I scarce could grieve that thou wert gone ; 
 Yet 'twill be hard to hear the cold earth fall 
 Upon thy coffin's lid, and feel that thou 
 With gentle smile wilt glad our hearts no more. 
 
 But thou, young mother, at thine infant's side, 
 And father, bending o'er that loved one's form, 
 Look up ! Can see your little darling one, 
 Lying with folded hands, and gazing up, 
 As she was wont to gaze at earthly trees, 
 Into the ever- verdant tree of life, 
 While its fair branches o'er her peaceful wave, 
 And cherub watchers o'er her bend, to teach 
 Her infant soul the joyous notes of Heaven ! 
 
 Ah ! say not that in vain that loved one lived, 
 Since she, with angel harp, and heaven-tuned voice, 
 In Paradise may sing eternally.
 
 FANCY'S WEEATH. 99 
 
 INSCRIBED TO SISTER MARY. 
 
 [SHOULD any friend or stranger inquire my reasons for placing these 
 flowers, and these only in my wreath, I would answer : " Were I to 
 twine a wreath of the flowers of my garden for the brow of a friend, 
 I would not consider myself bound to place in that wreath every 
 species of flower which grows there ; but would select the unfading 
 amaranth, the myrtle, the delicate but fragrant lily of the valley, and 
 other flowers of delicacy, fragrance, and beauty. Such flowers and 
 such alone, should compose my wreath : for the brilliant dahlia, the 
 pride of the garden, the gaudy tulip, and many other flowers which, 
 in the garden, or in a bouquet for a mantel, would shine with superior 
 grace, would make but an unsightly appearance in a chaplet woven 
 by friendship's hand, to twine around the temples of a beloved 
 friend.] 
 
 A FAIRY garland once I thought to weave, 
 More beauteous far than queenly diadem, 
 Of flowers of delicate hue and odors sweet, 
 With care culled from the garden of the mind,
 
 100 FANCY'S WREATH. 
 
 And twined with golden thread most delicate. 
 Memory was the first flower I laid thereon : 
 'Twas of vermilion hue, and tinged with white, 
 And as I gently pressed my thread around it, 
 It raised its beauteous head, and sweetly smiled, 
 Whispering : "I know thou long wilt cherish me." 
 Just then a troop of glad remembrances 
 Of days past long ago came sweeping by : 
 " O Memory !" I replied, " thine odors sweet 
 And colors bright, much prized shall ever be, 
 And oftentimes in hours of solitude, 
 Shall thy perfumes most rich my heart enliven." 
 
 Imagination then my golden thread 
 Encircled. It was from a slender plant, 
 With a most richly variegated flower, 
 Yet with a stem so very slight and fragile 
 That as around it my bright thread I pressed 
 I almost feared the floweret fair would break : 
 Then Faith, a flower of bright cerulean hue, 
 And lined with lighter shades of cup-like form, 
 So nicely wrought, it seemed a brilliant eye, 
 Up-gazing ever towards its native heaven :
 
 FANCY'S WREATH. 101 
 
 And Hope, whose healing leaves the heart's deep 
 
 griefs 
 
 Assuage, with flowers of petals bright as gold, 
 And fadeless too as joys of Paradise : 
 And Charity with flower of curious form, 
 From plant as spreading as the banian tree, 
 That droops its pendent branches to the ground, 
 And, striking root, forms a vast wilderness, 
 And from the rude storm shelters many heads 
 "Were gently plucked my garland to adorn. 
 Friendship, a cluster bright, whose fragrance rich, 
 Seemed borne from dewy hills of Lebanon, 
 And Love, a jewel-drop of drooping head, 
 And color of a beauteous blushing rose, 
 Came next. My wreath was twined my thread all 
 
 worked, 
 
 And naught remained my garland to complete, 
 Except with care so nice its ends to join, 
 No keenly-searching gazer e'er might guess < 
 
 Which flower was first, or which was last entwined. 
 A stem of Memory and one of Love 
 Together then I twined : my wreath was done, 
 And queens might wish to lay their pearls aside, 
 And place my priceless garland on their heads.
 
 102 FANCY'S WREATH. 
 
 Autumnal frosts have come, my sister dear, 
 And I no flowers from Flora's bright domain, 
 May now into a garland wreathe for thee ; 
 So I a sort of Fancy's garland send, 
 And hope when earthly cares with us are o'er 
 The sweet unwithering blossoms of the sky, 
 In heavenly bowers we may together twine. 
 
 O Sister ! 'neath the glowing skies of heaven, 
 Will it not be sweet to dwell for evermore ? 
 This vesture of mortality laid by, 
 And clad in robes such as immortals wear, 
 Where never wearied, though for aye employed, 
 'Neath heaven's bright banner of eternal love, 
 Angels with spirits of the just commune, 
 And pluck the amaranthine flowers of bliss, 
 Which bloom beside the crystal stream of heaven ?
 
 ON THE GIFT OF A MOSS ROSE. 103 
 
 Ca 
 
 ON THE GIFT OF A MOSS ROSE IN DECEMBER. 
 
 THE little rose from thee, my stranger-friend, 
 Which came so late, when other flowers had flown, 
 And Autumn's winds had sung their requiem, 
 Tells me of those that bloom in that bright land, 
 Where no tempestuous winds may ever blow, 
 Its fair, and never- withering flowers to chill. 
 It speaks of Friendship's ever-fragrant flowers, 
 Which on the margin of heaven's crystal sea 
 Bloom fadelesly throughout eternity : 
 No petal from affection's beauteous rose 
 E'er falls or withers on that holy shore, 
 But blooms it there most sweet, and wondrous fair, 
 For all who dwell within the bowers above. 
 
 With flowers may life's pathway be strewed for thee, 
 And when thy spirit from its clay is riven,
 
 104 SECRET GRIEF. 
 
 On joyous wing may it rise up to heaven, 
 And on the glorious banks of that pure sea, 
 Pluck fairest flowers of bliss eternally. 
 
 Jan. 18, 1850. 
 
 Secret (Srief. 
 
 " WE thank thee for the pulse of joy 
 
 For hearts of hope for flying fears ; 
 We'll not forget, in every prayer, 
 To bless thee for tlie gift of tears I" 
 
 " I know not why, I could not weep. 
 The blessed drops refused to roll ; 
 But oh 1 that grief is wild and deep, 
 That settles tearless on the soul." 
 
 No grief's so deep as that which must be locked 
 Within the bosom of the grieving, lest 
 Like a cold weight, back, back upon the heart 
 It should be thrown, by those who can not feel, 
 Because they have not suffered thus, or worse
 
 SECRET GRIEF. 105 
 
 Because they have no heart to sympathize ; 
 
 But like the would-be comforters of Job, 
 
 Will turn to curse the afflicted for his grief. 
 
 "When grief the heart's o'erflowing depths doth stir, 
 
 How sinks unkindness like a leaden weight, 
 
 And deeper, deeper fills the troubled pool 1 
 
 Perchance in silence it doth overflow, 
 
 Its staine'd waters only visible 
 
 To His omniscient eye that doth behold 
 
 The sparrow's fall, and numbers all our woes ; 
 
 But yet that load is sinking, sinking down, 
 
 Nor can the doubly burdened heart gam strength 
 
 To cast it off; but as a ponderous stone, 
 
 By dint of all our strength rolled up a hill, 
 
 Eolls down again soon as the arms relax, 
 
 While each repeated effort doth decrease 
 
 The power to lift it higher than before, 
 
 Until the wearied muscles all give way, 
 
 And with accelerated force it sweeps 
 
 Along, and crushes, crushes out the life ; 
 
 So mortals sometimes try full oft in vain 
 
 To roll their griefs aside still on the heart 
 
 The heavy burden lies, and crushes it, 
 
 Unless the Almighty's hand the load remove. ' 
 5*
 
 106 SECRET GRIEF. 
 
 I had a friend, nor need I tell you who, 
 Whose fading eye and wasting form I marked ; 
 I knew her heart with sorest grief oppressed, 
 Oft to the Heavenly Healer rose for aid ; 
 Her soul with all its strength looked up to God ; 
 She strove to cast her griefs aside : but yet 
 Full well I understood her spirit's wing 
 "Would soon unfurl in an immortal clime. 
 
 A few brief weeks and sad she lingered on, 
 
 Then near the sunset hour they closed her eyes 
 
 Peace o'er her countenance its halo shed. 
 
 While weeping friends stood round that form so cold, 
 
 I almost heard her song of victory, 
 
 And heard the flitting of a spirit's wing 
 
 As it arose, by angel bands attended, 
 
 To drink draughts of illimitable bliss, 
 
 Which flow from the deep fount of Jesus' love 
 
 Beneath the ever-glorious skies of heaven. 
 
 The heart that mourns the ties of Friendship broken, 
 The heart that is with deepest anguish riven, 
 Should turn to seek the changeless love of Heaven ! 
 But there is grief so deep, the strongest faith
 
 SECRET GRIEF. 107 
 
 Can not quite overcome yet while the soul 
 Looks up, and tastes of manna from the skies, 
 Faith, like a heavenly anodyne, doth soothe, 
 And though a poisoned arrow doth transfix 
 The heart, faith makes it more gently sink to rest, 
 To wake upon a tender Saviour's breast 
 To wake amid that holy shining throng 
 Whose harps forever sound the notes of joy, 
 Whose bliss like a deep stream forever Hows, 
 Unsullied by corroding cares and woes.
 
 108 EPITAPH. 
 
 SWEETLY rose the voice of praise from dying lips, 
 
 Peacefully passed the spirit o'er Death's tide ; 
 Now from heaven's translucent stream with joy she 
 
 sips 
 
 The living waters which so sweetly glide 
 On from before the golden throne of God, 
 While on those peaceful banks by angels trod, 
 The beauteous tree of life doth sweetly wave, 
 O'er all who sing : " Our Jesus died to save."
 
 LINES. 109 
 
 " BROTHEB, though from yonder sky ? 
 Cometh neither voice nor cry, 
 Yet we know for thee to-day 
 Every pain hath passed away." 
 
 BROTHER, now this life is drear, 
 Yet I would not wish thee here ; 
 Far from joys of heaven's bright day, 
 Where thy pains have passed away. 
 
 Brother, now I see thy smile, 
 
 And I hear thy voice the while, 
 
 And rejoice that thou art there, 
 
 Where thy soul heaven's bliss may share. 
 
 Brother, oft thy love shall cheer 
 My sad spirit while I'm here ; 
 Brother, soon again we'll meet. 
 To rejoice at Jesus' feet.
 
 110 LINES. 
 
 Brother, till I meet thee there, 
 Oft I'll think of thee 'mid care ; 
 Brother, wilt thou tell me then, 
 Dost thou think of me in heaven ? 
 
 Brother, yes, I feel thou dost, 
 E'en while 'mid the heavenly host, 
 Thy enraptured song doth swell, 
 Where the loved ne'er say, " Farewell."
 
 A FAKEWELL TO 1849, 1850, AND 1851. Ill 
 
 to 1U9, W5U, unit 1851. 
 
 WHILE on my couch of suffering I recline, 
 Bring me a light my thoughts are striving now, 
 A farewell for a dying year to write ; 
 So hither bring a light, and let me write. 
 
 Farewell now, EIGHTEEN HUNDRED FORTY-NINE ! 
 Farewell with all thy joys and all thy woes ! 
 To the tomb of the past thou'rt sinking fast, 
 And soon young Eighteen Hundred Fifty will 
 With buoyant step be dancing round thy bier, 
 And lightly heed that numbered are her days, 
 And that, like thee, she soon will dying be. 
 
 But we will not forget thee, aged year I 
 
 No when with all thy joys and griefs thou'rt gone, 
 
 And by the side of older years thou'rt laid 
 
 In the great churchyard of the " mighty past," 
 
 We'll think of thee, and of the valued links
 
 112 A FAREWELL TO 1849. 
 
 Which have been wrought in Friendship's golden 
 
 chain, 
 
 Since thou, thine ever-changeful reign commenced. 
 Affection's "rosebuds" which are opening now, 
 More fully shall expand when thou art gone ; 
 But how those buds we watched when thou wert 
 
 here, 
 We'll not forget. 
 
 We would not, if we could, 
 .E'er sprinkle Lethean waters o'er thy grave I 
 In after years, if Heaven our lives shall spare, 
 Choice flowers from Memory's gleanings we will 
 
 cull 
 
 Sweet flowers which in thy life-tune we did tend. 
 For all the joys thou hast brought, our God we 
 
 bless, 
 
 And though Affliction's cup our lips have pressed, 
 Of sorrows we would not forgetful be, 
 Lest we too lightly heed their lessons wise ; 
 Nor e'en our sins would we quite overlook, 
 But when on them we mournful meditate, 
 In the Ark of Safety we would hide our heads.
 
 A FAREWELL TO 1850. 113 
 
 A FAREWELL TO 1850. 
 
 'TwAS thus I wrote, almost one year ago 
 Now Eighteen Hundred Fifty soon must die ! 
 Ah hark ! a dying groan I seem to hear I 
 Yes, aged year, thou soon art going now, 
 And soon another year, with nimble feet, 
 As thine were in thy days of joyous youth, 
 Will come to take thy place, while thou art laid 
 In thy lone grave, close by thy brother's side, 
 In dread eternity's vast burial-place ! 
 But in our memories thou wilt be embalmed ; 
 Yes, dying year, we'll love to think of thee ; 
 And though the youthful year some joys shall 
 
 bring, 
 
 Full oft we'll trace the lines which Memory wrote 
 Of thee, upon the tablets of our heart. 
 And when the coming year lies on its bier, 
 Shall I be here to write its requiem ?
 
 114 A FAREWELL TO 1851. 
 
 All ! none can tell ! but in my Father's hand 
 I know that I am safe ! and ask not life, 
 Nor fear I death but from my heart I say : 
 " My Heavenly Father, let thy will be done." 
 
 A FAREWELL TO 1851. 
 
 THE year is waning, and my harp I take, 
 And joyfully I strike its trembling strings 
 My happy spirit's banner high I raise : 
 While through its sweeping folds the sportive winds 
 Of thought are sighing, I fain would wake a song 
 Of holy joy and humble gratitude : 
 And sure 'tis meet that I, to whom this year, 
 Numberless blessings have been given, should sing. 
 Yet can I tell of joys which thou to me 
 Hast brought ? those joys more highly prized than 
 gold. 
 
 * The author's health was partially restored in 1851.
 
 A FAREWELL TO 1851. 115 
 
 Mercy and goodness both as with a crown 
 Of costly diamonds and of brilliant pearls, 
 Adorn thy hoary head, thou dying year I 
 And when the tomb-stone of eternity 
 For evermore shall seal thy sepulchre, 
 The memory of thy joys, like a fair wreath, 
 That decks the tomb of one the heart holds dear, 
 Shall like a garland seem, of fairest hues, 
 Entwined around thy gilded monument.
 
 116 WHEN I WOULD DIE. 
 
 to 
 
 6 
 
 WHEN sets the sun all gloriously, 
 Oh ! let me gaze with silent awe, 
 Then let my spirit upward fly 
 Yea, let me gaze, and let me die. 
 
 And think ye when with earth I've done, 
 That like the slowly setting sun 
 I shall rise, but on a fairer morn 
 Than earth's bright sun did e'er adorn. 
 
 But if to me this boon's denied, 
 
 To close my eyes at eventide 
 
 In Death's last sleep to close them then, 
 
 May my spirit be departing when 
 
 The rising sun sends forth his beams, 
 And each bird its matin singing seems 
 To sweetly praise our God above, 
 And softly chant, " Our God is love."
 
 WHEN I WOULD DIE. 117 
 
 Yet why care I, though in dark night 
 My spirit take its upward flight, 
 If Jesus shall his beams display, 
 To light my soul to endless day ? 
 
 And when my spirit shall have fled, 
 And I be numbered with the dead, 
 Oh ! think ye that I sweetly rest 
 In the bright mansions of the blest. 
 
 joyous rest ! from sin set free, 
 And clad in robes of purity 
 Dread pain I there shall never fear, 
 Nor ever shed a sorrowing tear. 
 
 So joyous rest that I may share, 
 I'll raise my morn and evening prayer ; 
 And should such rest to me be given, 
 I'll raise my grateful song in heaven.
 
 118 SICKNESS, AND RETURNING HEALTH. 
 
 ickness, aui Bunting 
 
 Now on the moss-grown trunk of fallen tree 
 I sit in the delightful forest shade, 
 To which I oft in vain have sighed to roam, 
 And write of joys of my returning health. 
 
 From yonder thicket's shade, at my approach 
 
 Just now the " whirring partridge" frighted soared ; 
 
 Small birds are round me singing notes of love, 
 
 And in the distance too, a song I hear, 
 
 Which from a happy warbler's throat is poured ; 
 
 The music of autumnal winds I list, 
 
 Amid the rustling, frost-seared, dying leaves ; 
 
 And now and then a leaf comes quivering down, 
 
 Sighing : "Ah ! short lived are the joys of earth 
 
 Then seek for bliss in heaven." 
 
 This solitude 
 Is sweet a place for poet's musings meet,
 
 SICKNESS, AND RETURNING IIEALTH. 119 
 
 And like the happy birds I'd joyous sing 
 My gracious Saviour's praise. 
 
 They nothing fear, 
 
 Of future ill, though tempests round them rage, 
 But sing of present good, and seem to trust 
 The hand which hath for them provided still ; 
 And thus to man they teach Faith's lessons sweet : 
 And why should not man trust in the Supreme ? 
 And ah ! why should not 7j who oft have felt 
 In trials and in joys, His presence near ? 
 
 Ah ! who may guess the trials of the sick, 
 But they who on the sufferer's couch have lain ? 
 And who may know the fullness of Q-od's love, 
 Who ne'er have proved it in adversity ? 
 
 Oh ! I have lain when bitter agony 
 
 Has wrung such drops of coldness from my frame, 
 
 That friends around have thought I soon must die. 
 
 Yes, there I've lain, but just outside heaven's gate, 
 
 While holy angels from a seraph band 
 
 With sweetest notes have swept their golden lyres, 
 
 And joyous notes have fallen on my ear, 
 
 Till I have seemed to live a double life ;
 
 120 SICKNESS, AND RETURNING HEALTH. 
 
 For while my pain wrung from my heart deep groans, 
 I drank large draughts of bliss so truly sweet, 
 It seemed my spirit's wing was almost free : 
 And while I seemed to catch glad notes from lips 
 Of those who fly around the Eternal's throne, 
 My spirit hath grown strong for ills of life. 
 
 "When " He who doeth all things well," 
 
 The bands of strong disease saw fit to loose. 
 
 Away from home, I first, with bounding heart, 
 
 Tasted the sweets of strength returning ; 
 
 But soon a sister's bridal called me home ; 
 
 When on a sweet, delightful morn of June, 
 
 Just as the eastern sun the sky was purpling, 
 
 I rose and to the forest shade I roved ; 
 
 And as I paused, as oft in childhood's hour 
 
 T paused, to listen to sweet Nature's song, 
 
 Or from their hiding-place, plucked wild- wood flowers, 
 
 My grateful heart, God ! was filled with praise I 
 
 A few wild flowers I then together tied, 
 
 As sweet remembrancers of joys long lost, 
 
 And joys restored. 
 
 O fair yet faded flowers I 
 Ye oft remind me of that happy morn,
 
 SICKNESS, AND RETURNING HEALTH. 121 
 
 When Hope's fair, glittering pearls were twined for 
 
 me, 
 And Joy encircled them around my brow. 
 
 My old arm-chair, 'gainst which my aching head 
 In many an hour of bitter pain hath leaned, 
 Is laid aside, and yet I still retain it, 
 As I would keep a gift by some dead friend be 
 queathed. 
 
 It oft calls up associations sad, 
 
 And gladsome thoughts sometimes it doth recall, 
 
 For oft it speaks of gentle sympathies 
 
 Of those I loved, who clasped my hands in theirs 
 
 With words and looks of love my griefs assuaged, 
 
 And sometimes wished that they might bear my 
 
 pain; 
 
 And while they bent to kiss my fevered brow, 
 My pains seemed less severe for their kind love. 
 
 But joys with less of grief I now may share, 
 And those who wept with me, may now rejoice ; 
 For now, at break of day, I wander forth, 
 To listen to the matin song of birds, 
 That early pour their glad, wild notes of praise, 
 6
 
 122 SICKNESS, AND EETUENING HEALTH. 
 
 While in "green aisles" of these "cathedrals grand," 
 Built by the hand of God Omnipotent, 
 I roam to nurture high and holy thought. 
 
 How sweet to watch the trembling of the leaves, 
 And swaying of the boughs of lofty forest trees, 
 That covered o'er with dew-drops glisten bright, 
 Beneath the rays of dawning Phoebus there ! 
 
 Again, at sunset hour, in thoughtful mood 
 
 I wander forth to seek the wild-wood shade, 
 
 And oft, amid the sylvan solitude 
 
 I pause to raise my heart in grateful prayer, 
 
 While on a bright green carpet, Nature's own, 
 
 I stand, where sweet wild flowers are blooming round 
 
 me, 
 
 And winds are whispering soft, then singing loud, 
 With heaven-like song repeating, " God is good." 
 
 The rippling river, at the close of day, 
 
 Flows on, reflecting on its mirror bright, 
 
 The beauteous, floating clouds so purely white, 
 
 Reminding me of "skies that wear no night" 
 
 Nor clouds, methinks, save some most silvery bright, 
 
 Which shed fresh beauty o'er the light of heaven :
 
 SICKNESS, AND KETUKNING HEALTH. 123* 
 
 And then I meditate upon that stream, 
 Which from before the Eternal's throne flows on, 
 "While on its margin ever bloom Life's trees, 
 Whose healing fruits the wondering nations heal ; 
 I seem to hear the breath of heavenly gales, 
 Amid the waving leaves of Paradise, 
 And feel the waters of heaven's holy stream, 
 Falling in gentle drops upon my heart. 
 
 O sweet refreshing drops ! which healing bring, 
 Washing away the griefs and cares of earth, 
 Even while this fleeting "life entombs the soul," 
 Bidding the spirit rise, to taste of joys 
 Like those which angels drink in bowers above. 
 
 Oh ! sweet it is, at twilight's holy hour, 
 To listen to the breath of summer winds, 
 All gently through the lonely aspens sighing ! 
 
 While there I sit in meditative mood, 
 
 Those waving leaves the music for my thoughts, 
 
 How sweetly o'er my gladdened memory steal 
 
 Those holy promises so dear to me, 
 
 Which oft like heavenly manna fed my heart, 
 
 In darker hours, when pain did torture me.
 
 ' 124 SICKNESS, AND RETURNING HEALTH. 
 
 While on Jehovah's powerful arm relying, 
 Hope and new life enkindle all my soul 
 What shall I render to my God for all 
 The benefits which He to me hath shown? 
 The incense of glad praise shall daily rise, 
 From off the altar of my grateful heart 
 His holy name I'll seek to glorify 
 While life shall last and then in Paradise 
 I hope to sing his praise eternally. 
 
 1852.
 
 YONDER AND " UP YONDER." 125 
 
 JJcnfter. 
 
 WHEN clouds are dark, and wild the storm is raging 
 When lightnings flash, and thunders course the 
 
 sky, 
 
 And distant far the beacon's light is gleaming, 
 Ah ! where is fixed the quailing mariner's eye ? 
 
 Yonder. 
 
 Perchance the heaving ship is breakers nearing, 
 And wildly swells the sea, and winds are hoarse, 
 
 Yet like a radiant star, with hope inspiring, 
 
 Beams forth the watch-tower's light to guide its 
 
 course, 
 
 Yonder. 
 
 The giant billows heave the bark is trembling, 
 As down the liquid hills it quickly glides ! 
 
 Ah ! now 'tis seen no more, and hope is dying 
 Again upon a mountain wave it rides, 
 
 Yonder.
 
 126 YONDER AND " UP YONDER." 
 
 The night is long the storm is wildly beating 
 
 Oh ! would that peaceful calm might be restored ! 
 The morning comes the sun through clouds is 
 
 breaking 
 
 The ship with its weary crew is safely moored 
 
 Yonder. 
 
 When clouds around the Christian's soul are gather 
 ing, 
 
 And o'er his head rude winds of sorrow blow, 
 What radiant beacon-light his soul is guiding 
 To the land where troubled waters never flow, 
 
 Up yonder ? 
 
 The Bible is the pharos' lamp that's gleaming 
 Upon his pathway, be it dark or bright, 
 
 And from the Cross a glorious light is beaming, 
 Like a star to guide him to the world of light, 
 
 Up yonder. 
 
 So when the clouds are dark, he sings God's praises ; 
 
 His bark by Disappointment's gales is blown, 
 But through the parting clouds he steadfast gazes, 
 
 And sees a radiant rainbow o'er the throne, 
 
 Up yonder.
 
 YONDER AND " UP YONDER." 127 
 
 And all ! when hoarse the angry storm is howling, 
 His fears are quelled, for Jesus whispers, "Peace" 
 
 The echoings of His voice his soul are thrilling, 
 While looks he toward the shore where sorrows 
 
 cease, 
 
 Up yonder. 
 
 And so, when wearily the hours are passing, 
 All fraught with woe, he looks above for light 
 
 A glimpse of Paradise his fear is chasing, 
 For well he knows that all will yet be right, 
 
 Up yonder. 
 
 He feels his bark Heaven's happy shore is nearing, 
 And there with eye of faith beholds his crown, 
 
 And ever o'er his pathway joys are gleaming, 
 Till through the pearly gate he passes on, 
 
 Up yonder. 
 
 All fearlessly he walks through Death's dark river, 
 His hand in Jesus his Kedeemer's laid 
 
 Then joins in holy songs of praise forever, 
 
 And wears a victor's crown, which ne'er will fade, 
 
 Up yonder. 
 Autumn, 1357.
 
 128 THE INDIAN'S RECOMPENSE. 
 
 e 
 
 'TwAS twiliglit, and a weary man whose form was 
 
 still erect, 
 Although the " frosts of age" were sprinkled o'er 
 
 his jetty hair, 
 Sought shelter at the traveler's transient home. His 
 
 head was decked 
 
 With plumes, and beaded moccasins he wore, and 
 ornaments rare. 
 
 Perchance he is a chief and warrior at his distant 
 
 home; 
 But here, a wayworn traveler, who from the land 
 
 lord's board 
 "Would beg the broken meat and bread, then " 'neath 
 
 an azure dome" 
 
 Would lay his wearied head, while "the Great 
 Spirit " he adored.
 
 THE INDIAN'S KECOMPENSE. 129 
 
 But "Idler, go!" the landlord cried, " and elsewhere 
 
 seek thy bread !" 
 A shade of sadness o'er the lonely Indian's features 
 
 stole ; 
 But kindlier eyes in pity gazed. " Feed him," the 
 
 stranger said, 
 
 "And I will pay his score, and thus perchance his 
 heart condole." 
 
 Then was the meal in haste prepared, and the way 
 farer ate. 
 What meant the silent, earnest glance of his dark, 
 
 flashing eye ? 
 Would he with cabalistic art foretell his new friend's 
 
 fate, 
 
 Or read the secrets of his soul, or teach him how 
 to die ? 
 
 Years pass the Indian's whoop reechoes over hill 
 
 and glen 
 
 A prisoner is taken, and where'er his captor flies, 
 He follows though with trembling step. O'er moun 
 tain, plain, and fen, 
 Far, far away unto the Indian's home, the white 
 
 man hies. 
 
 6*
 
 180 THE INDIAN'S KECOMPENSE. 
 
 In birch canoe he dashes o'er the waters now he 
 
 learns 
 To speed the arrow, and the swift, light-footed deer 
 
 pursue; 
 Yet in his lonely musings of his home, his spirit 
 
 yearns 
 
 For dear familiar faces, and New-England's skies 
 so blue. 
 
 The wigwam fires burn bright, but Indian rovers 
 
 must not stay 
 A brother band joins those for whom the " pale 
 
 face" bends the bow 
 Their chieftain eyes him earnestly ; yet why, he may 
 
 not say, 
 
 For quick they clasp their belts, and toward the 
 distant mountain go. 
 
 'Tis nightfall, and his Indian guide hath bidden him 
 
 away: 
 
 Perchance to ring of dreaded tomahawk, or scalp- 
 ing-knife,
 
 THE INDIAN'S KECOMPENSE. 131 
 
 He now amid the darkness seems to list. At break 
 
 of day 
 
 The Indian speaks, but not to call his prisoner to 
 deadly strife. 
 
 " Where art thou now ? Does e'er thy memory paint 
 
 a half-starved man, 
 
 Who at yon inn was fed ? The Indian ne'er for 
 gets a friend. 
 Thy kindness /have recompensed thy home is thine 
 
 again,* 
 
 And evermore may the Great Spirit thee and thine 
 defend." 
 
 The captive's heart beat quick, and from his dream 
 
 so wild he woke ! 
 
 Upon the springing latch I seem to see his trem 
 bling hand. 
 
 The lost was found his guide had broken the en 
 slaver's yoke, 
 
 And with a ringing shout of joy he met his house 
 hold band. 
 
 * The home of the captured \^hite man was in Litchfield, Conn, 
 near the close of the eighteenth century.
 
 182 AN IMPROMPTU. 
 
 He cast his bread upon the waters ; and 'twas found 
 
 again 
 He fed the hungry, and a blessing was laid up in 
 
 store, 
 Which He who notes each tiny bird that falls, forgot 
 
 not when 
 
 Afar he sadly roamed, and thought to see his home 
 no more. 
 
 I'LL think of thee 
 When Morning's twilight gray 
 Proclaims the day is nigh. 
 
 I'll think of thee 
 When wearily the day 
 Her robes of light lays by. 
 
 I'U think of thee 
 When on his golden car, 
 The Day-king rides afar
 
 AN IMPEOMPTU. 133 
 
 I'U think of thee 
 "When silvery moonbeems are 
 Outshining every star. 
 
 I'll think of thee 
 
 When Summer's brightest flowers 
 In beauty robe the earth 
 
 I'll think of thee 
 When Winter's flying hours 
 Bring gladness to our hearth. 
 
 I'U think of thee 
 When up before Grod's throne 
 My warm petitions rise 
 
 I'll think of thee, 
 And then my vows I'll own, 
 With love that never dies. 
 
 I'll think of thee 
 When all the golden morn 
 Shall Love of past joys sing 
 
 I'll think of thee 
 When from eve's dewy horn 
 Shall Memory's echoes ring.
 
 184 AN IMPROMPTU. 
 
 I'll think of thee, 
 And hand in hand with thee 
 I'll roam in Fancy's dream 
 
 I'll think of thee 
 With joy, when cheerily 
 My bark floats o'er Life's stream. 
 
 I'll think of thee 
 When Sorrow's flowing tide 
 My trembling feet is near 
 
 I'll think of thee 
 Should enemies deride, 
 And friends my spirit cheer. 
 
 I'll think of thee 
 When angels whispering roll 
 The darkened clouds away 
 
 I'll think of thee 
 When o'er my inmost soul 
 Breaks the sweet light of day. 
 
 I'll think of thee, 
 And for thy weal I'll pray, 
 At morn, at noon, at even
 
 AN IMPROMPTU. 185 
 
 I'll think of thee, 
 And hope the livelong day, 
 To meet thee in yon heaven. 
 
 Wilt think of me 
 When matin worshipers 
 Their choral songs outpour 
 
 Wilt think of me 
 When the soft night-breeze stirs 
 The wavelet on the shore ? 
 
 Wilt think of me 
 And bear my name to heaven 
 "On wings of Faith and Prayer"? 
 
 Wilt think of me 
 When earthly ties are riven, 
 And I shall worship there ? 
 
 Wilt think of me 
 And feel a stronger cord 
 Doth bind thee to the skies 
 
 Wilt think of me 
 
 And pray our gracious Lord % 
 
 For a home in Paradise ?
 
 136 THE RAINBOW, WITH REFLECTIONS. 
 
 Wilt think of me 
 When thou hast run earth's race, 
 And death shall thee embrace ? 
 
 Wilt think of me 
 And think I wait thee where 
 The soul ne'er knows despair ? 
 
 WE welcome thee, bright rainbow in the clouds 1 
 Blest emblem of Jehovah's truthfulness 
 Glorious type of God's own watchful care 
 Fair signet-ring which His sure promise sealed, 
 That never more should this earth deluged be 
 My spirit rises when I gaze on thee ! 
 A sweet, a holy calm steals o'er my heart, 
 Wherte'er thy beauteous colors on the sky 
 I view, all painted by a hand divine ;
 
 THE RAINBOW, WITH REFLECTIONS. 137 
 
 And high above the clouds my thoughts do soar, 
 Oft as on thee with joyful heart I gaze. 
 
 Foreshadower bright of beauties round Heaven's 
 
 throne, 
 
 Thou comest as a crystal water-drop 
 From out the cooling fount of Paradise, 
 To wash away the feverish cares of earth, 
 And make the fainting spirit's eyes grow clear. 
 
 Beauteous bow, I love thy teachings mild ! 
 And on this consecrated Sabbath eve, 
 'Twas sweet to see thee bright, and brighter grow, 
 Till thy most splendid arch its shadows cast, 
 Above where thou in glory high didst sit ; 
 And fain would I have longer gazed on thee I 
 But ah ! like all the brightest things of earth, 
 Thou soon ay, very soon didst fleet away, 
 And the light, gentle pattering of the rain, 
 A soft song of departure seemed to sing, 
 While the bright sun from 'neath a cloud looked out, 
 And sweetly smiled a beautiful "Good night." 
 
 That bow so bright had passed away and then 
 I watched the bending of the graceful corn, 
 As from its long and slender waving leaves, 
 It shook the tear-drops of the dying storm,
 
 J38 THE BAIXBOW, WITH REFLECTIONS. 
 
 And heard the whisper of the gentle breeze, 
 As softly through the swaying trees it stole, 
 While on the western sky rose gorgeous clouds, 
 Which borrowed glory from the setting sun, 
 And the gay caroling of happy birds, 
 That all around' were warbling, "God is good," 
 To holy praise the soul seemed to invite. 
 
 With joy I listened, and with joy I gazed, 
 And then exclaimed: "This earth is beautiful; 
 But fairer trees are waving their green boughs, 
 Where radiant fields with sweetest flowers bloom, 
 And cloudless skies with brightest rays are beaming, 
 Where holiest songs sound forth from seraph lips ; 
 For fadeless joys each spirit ever shares, 
 Where our Immanuel in glory sits, 
 And his redeemed shall praise him evermore." 
 
 Then who would wish to linger on time's shores, 
 Where joys which brightest seem do quickly fade 
 As transient as the rainbow's brilliant hues, 
 And fleeting as the fading summer-flower ?
 
 ON THE DEATH OF AN ACQUAINTANCE. 139 
 
 of mi 
 
 OH ! weep ; for a kind friend from us hath gone, 
 And love doth prompt the tribute of a tear, 
 For him whose memory will be ever dear. 
 
 But heard ye those sweet strains from " viewless 
 
 harps" 
 
 Around his dying-bed ? And did ye list 
 To those love-notes that soothed his soul to rest ? 
 Heard ye the rustling of their snow-white wings, 
 As from the sinless shores of Paradise 
 They came, a bright and blissful company, 
 His spirit through those pearly gates to lead, 
 Which ever guard the New Jerusalem ? 
 Saw ye the glittering robes of righteousness 
 By Jesus given, which his freed soul put on, 
 When entered he those holy gates with joy ? 
 Heard ye the song of welcome from the band 
 Of happy harpers round the Eternal's throne
 
 140 ON THE DEATH OF AN ACQUAINTANCE. 
 
 When first he walked the golden streets of heaven ? 
 Saw ye the blissful smile that played around 
 His lips, when near Immanuel's throne he bowed, 
 And cast his starry crown before his feet, 
 While softly his redemption song began ? 
 But sweeter, louder the glad strain arose, 
 As with heaven's bliss entranced, his song flowed on ! 
 For Love's the theme which holy angels sing 
 Unceasingly : but those sweet strains grow soft 
 Methinks, when, freed from earth, a ransomed soul 
 Goes home to God, lest heaven's fruition full 
 Burst on the new-arrived and raptured soul 
 "With bliss too great for one so late from earth 
 To bear ; but gathering strength from bliss enhanced, 
 Louder and clearer swells the holy song 
 New beauties on the wondering gaze arise, 
 Till the enraptured spirit's wing grows strong, 
 And rising from those pavements of bright gold, 
 By angel bands conducted swift it flies, 
 To view the glories of its home above. 
 
 Such joys, methinks, are his for whom ye mourn ! 
 Then dry your tears, and weep for him no more ! 
 For lo, from his love-lighted home on high, 
 He smiles upon the friends that here he loved,
 
 ON THE DEATH OF AN ACQUAINTANCE. 141 
 
 And loves them still with ever-growing love 
 And from his glorious mansion in the sky, 
 Perchance he'll stoop to whisper in your ear, 
 And heaven's own radiant glories so describe 
 Earth will seem less enchanting heaven more dear. 
 
 And when your lamp of life is burning low, 
 Perchance he'll come, a heavenly visitant, 
 To sing celestial songs around your heads : 
 And when your eyes in death are growing dim, 
 And earth's familiar sounds ye hear no more, 
 Perchance his song, unheard by other ears, 
 Your passage over Death's dark tide will cheer, 
 And to the gates of heaven he will lead you. 
 Then dry your tears, and weep no more 
 But girding on the panoply of prayer, 
 And strong in holy faith and grace divine, 
 " Onward and upward" toward his happy home. 
 
 E'en now I seem his dying voice to hear, 
 So gently bidding friends, " "Weep not for me"- 
 And now the notes of an angelic lyre 
 Seem gently falling on my listening ear, 
 On this first Sabbath eve he spends in heaven. 
 
 Methinks his bliss each moment doth increase ! 
 And even now it hath become so great,
 
 142 PRAYER. 
 
 No scale terrestrial such joy could weigh 
 And oh ! 'tis surely sweet to think that through 
 Eternity so vast and glorious too, 
 His joys will ever bright and brighter grow. 
 
 fjrajtr. 
 
 WHEN adverse winds sweep hopes of joy away, 
 
 And Sorrow's waves are dashing round our souls, 
 
 "We joy, and peace, and safety find in prayer ! 
 
 Our solitude is sweet, when 'tis like his 
 
 Who loved Judea's mountain solitude, 
 
 And early sought the forest's shade for prayer. 
 
 When from the eyes of absent friends most dear, 
 In kindest love we may not wipe the tear 
 Which sorrow brings, nor e'en their joys may share, 
 We love to lift the heart for them in prayer.
 
 PRAYEK. 
 
 And when we fear that those we love forget, 
 We bless our God that we for them may pray 
 Sweet Charity throws o'er their faults a vail, 
 And purer grows our love, when oft we plead 
 With him to bless them with his guardian care. 
 
 When cold neglect from those whose love we prize 
 E'en makes us weep, we find relief in prayer 
 And kiss His hand who holds our aching heads, 
 While, leaning on our gracious Saviour's arm, 
 We bathe our souls in his undying love, 
 Who knows what bitter pangs his children feel, 
 When their grieved hearts may not their sorrows 
 
 speak, 
 
 Nor seek the sympathy of those they love ? 
 For well remembers he those hours of grief, 
 When those most dear to him of earthly friends 
 Forsook, and left him to his cruel foes. 
 
 Oh ! sweet it is in hours of bitter grief, 
 To share the Saviour's tender sympathy, 
 And trust in him who never will forsake 
 The hearts that seek for bliss in his deep love.
 
 144 PRAYER. 
 
 Ah ! who amid my joys and 'mid my griefs 
 Will pray for me ? 
 
 My spirit groweth strong, 
 
 At thought that there are those upon whose lips 
 My name is sometimes borne in fervent prayer 1 
 
 O friends ! I crave no richer boon of you 
 Than this that ye icitt often pray for me 1 
 For be your distance from me e'er so great, 
 Ye thus may kindly help me on my way, 
 And surely absence ne'er can quench the love 
 Of those who often for each other pray.
 
 FAITH. 145 
 
 FAITH, like an eagle swift and strong, 
 Lifts up the soul on buoyant wing, 
 
 And bids it hearken to the song 
 
 Which in high heaven bright seraphs sing. 
 
 It lightens all the cares of life, 
 
 And darkest clouds of doubt dispels : 
 
 When its bright stars in glory rise, 
 'Mid grief the heart enraptured swells. 
 
 It bids us gaze with piercing eye, 
 Beyond this "vale of tears" and pain, 
 
 And view a bright an undimmed sky, 
 Whose radiant glories never wane. 
 
 It bids us view the golden Throne, 
 Eound which glad angel-harpers fly 
 
 With joy, where never sigh nor moan 
 May come, nor sorrow dim the eye. 
 
 Y
 
 146 
 
 FAITH. 
 
 When Joy's bright petals one by one, 
 
 All fade beneath ungenial skies, 
 Faith tells us of a glorious sun 
 
 Whose rays divine upon us rise. 
 
 It makes the Christian's heart rejoice 
 
 When dark the tempest round him lowers : 
 
 For amid the storm he hears a voice 
 
 Which echoes through heaven's fadeless bowers 

 
 LINES TO MY DEAR AUNT, L. T. H. 147 
 
 INSCRIBED TO MY DEAR AUNT, L. T. H. 
 
 " THE hues of bliss more brightly glow, 
 . . Chastised by sabler tints of woe." 
 
 " DARK, e'en at noon-tide, is our mortal sphere ; 
 
 But let us hope ; to doubt is to rebel ; 
 Let us exult in hope that aU shall yet be well." 
 
 CLOUDS darkened morning's sky, and rain-drops fell- 
 
 At eve a bright rainbow appeared to deck 
 
 The darkened cloud, and gild the smiling earth ; 
 
 And while I gazed upon the works of God 
 
 So beautiful, Hope whispered to my soul, 
 
 And Faith a sweet and holy lesson taught. 
 
 Oh ! could we learn the heavenly alchemy, 
 To draw from life's most bitter cup of woe,
 
 148 LINES TO MY DEAR AUNT, L. T. H. 
 
 The honeyed sweets which Resignation brings 
 Oh ! could we learn to look beyond this earth- 
 To weigh Eternity's bright joys with Time's, 
 And bless the storm which sweeps our hopes away, 
 Erewhile the hope of brighter, purer bliss 
 Beyond this earth, the fainting spirit cheers 
 Oh ! could we learn to see our FATHER'S hand, 
 In all which here we call the ills of life, 
 We sure should find life hath few bitter hours 
 In which some sweets may not commingled be. 
 
 When on and on through heaven's bright gates of 
 
 pearl, 
 
 Our ransomed souls on Mercy's wing shall fly, 
 Where grief-clouds never more the spirit fright, 
 Perchance our gladdest song of praise shall rise 
 For that which here on earth hath grieved us most 
 Perchance we then may joy o'er blighted hopes 
 Most fondly cherished, o'er which here we've 
 
 mourned. 
 
 Blest with such hopes as these, why should we grieve 
 At aught our gracious Heavenly Father wills ?
 
 LINES TO MY DEAR AUNT, L. T. H. 149 
 
 All no ! since he our lot doth well o'errule, 
 Let Hope with rainbow colors paint our sky, 
 And Faith, with light serene, dispel each cloud 
 Of doubt which would arise, our joys to dim ; 
 While ever upward looks the spirit's eye, 
 And views a God of love upon that throne, 
 O'er which His beauteous bow of promise shines 
 Yea, in each joy and grief of life, let us trust 
 In " Him who ever doeth all things well."
 
 150 TO MRS. , WITH A 
 
 Co sirs. 
 
 WITH A CHRISTMAS MESSAGE FROM " MARY IN 
 HEAVEN." 
 
 " IP false, 'tis beautiful, the thought 
 
 That spirits round are flying : 
 That whispers, in each dream are brought, 
 
 Like Summer zephyrs sighing ! 
 Nor would I break so sweet a charm, 
 
 For if no good, it leaves no harm." 
 
 'TwAS mine with. Fancy's ear to seem to hear 
 The voice of a beloved but absent friend. 
 She spake with words sincere in accents sweet, 
 And so I wrote of her whose soul hath fled. 
 
 I wrote the wotds I seemed to hear her speak, 
 Though not to me those gentle words she spoke ; 
 Her words a Christmas message seemed to be 
 I listened, and I seemed to hear her say :
 
 CHRISTMAS MESSAGE. 151 
 
 " mother I list, and Mary will describe 
 The joys and beauties of the world on high* ! 
 For the resplendent skies of Paradise, 
 The sable robes of night may ne'er put on ; 
 The Sun of Eighteousness with radiant beams, 
 Ever illumines that bright world of love. 
 The ever- verdant tree of life how fair ! 
 Its healing fruits so wondrous sweet I've tasted 
 The golden streets, and golden throne of heaven, 
 Too bright for mortal eyes to gaze upon, 
 I've seen. Those golden streets I've walked with 
 
 friends 
 
 Whose sweet companionship on earth I loved 
 Before that golden throne with seraphs bowed, 
 While the bright walls of heaven our praise re 
 sounded. 
 
 " I had glad moments full of joy on earth, 
 Yet soon o'er them a saddening shade was thrown ; 
 But here no shade of doubt our joys can darken ; 
 For o'er the boundless horizon of heaven, 
 Bright glory and immortal beauty beam, 
 And fairest flowers of bliss bliss unalloyed, 
 Are ever springing in my pathway here :
 
 152 TO MKS. , WITH A 
 
 I would that I might pluck a flower so pure, 
 And while it brightly glows with dews of love 
 Distilled in heavenly bowers, to you present it. 
 
 " In holy angels' sweet companionship, 
 Mother, one happy, happy year I've spent, 
 And thinkest thou thy daughter's love hath waned? 
 Ah no ! but with an angel's love so pure, 
 I love the friends which were to me so dear. 
 
 " I know my mother's love will never wane ! 
 At twilight's hour that holy musing hour, 
 When daily toil is o'er, wilt think of me ? 
 Oh! then think: 'She is sharing heaven's high 
 
 bliss.' 
 
 And while thou grievest that one link of the chain 
 Which bound thee to the earth is severed now, 
 Oh ! think a new link in the golden chain 
 Which bound thee to the heavenly land is formed. 
 
 " When last our parting words had just been spoken, 
 And I had crossed the threshold of your home 
 With my heart's chosen one, dear friends I left, 
 Nor thought that I should never more return 
 Should never more my mother's welcome hear ;
 
 CHRISTMAS MESSAGE. 153 
 
 But when afar from thee, Death dimmed my eye, 
 And heavenly harpers round me sweetly sung, 
 Oh ! then, dear mother, my thoughts were with 
 
 thee, 
 
 For ah ! I knew that thou wouldst lonely be, 
 When thou thy Mary's face no more couldst see. 
 
 " When death my eye and lip forever sealed, 
 A shining seraph oped the gates of heaven, 
 And waiting angels led me kindly in. 
 The change from earth to heaven how passing 
 
 great! 
 
 The joys of earth at first were quite forgot : 
 When from my Saviour's hand a harp I took, 
 With joy intense all tremblingly I swept it ; 
 And when the sun this morn arose on earth, 
 Each holy lyre of heaven anew was tuned 
 The redemption song then loudly, clearly swelled 
 Along the beauteous plains of highest heaven ; 
 From the sweet lyre of Israel's sweet psalmist, 
 And from the holy harps of all the redeemed, 
 That song so thrilling, freely flowed along. 
 My harp I tuned oh ! then my spirit sung, 
 And had you listened to that angel strain, 
 7*
 
 154 TO MRS. . 
 
 You could not wish your Mary back again 1 
 
 Oil ! could you see the wreath I wear in heaven, 
 
 You'd surely say : ' No wreath on earth's so fair.' 
 
 " With voice of friend, I loved my voice to blend, 
 Oft in the quiet of the evening hour ; 
 But, mother, sweeter music now is mine I 
 Oh ! could I the pure bliss of heaven describe, 
 In words that mortal ear might understand, 
 And might I whisper those sweet words to you, 
 Sure they would cheer you in your loneliness : 
 But at dawn of morn, or at the ' dewy eve,' 
 Will you not seem to listen to my voice, 
 With a spirit's softest whisper telling you 
 Of bliss such as in Paradise I share ? 
 On earth a little while will you wait, mother, 
 Then to heaven's bliss will Mary welcome you."
 
 THE CHILDLESS WIDOW. 155 
 
 C|e Cjjilte S&itoto 
 
 AT THE GRAVES OP HER DEPARTED. 
 
 As weeks by weeks, and months by months pass on, 
 I oft to these lone graves must sadly come 
 And painful memories evermore will rise, 
 And sorrows deep will overflow my eyes. 
 
 Hark ! Memory speaks ! by her voice, as in life, 
 My dearest husband's lips are whispering " Wife I" 
 And my sweet children gathering round my knee, 
 Are gently calling " Mother !" unto me : 
 And while I list to hear what they would say, 
 Again my pulses quicken joyfully ; 
 And then I start, and faster fall my tears, 
 While I recall the changing hopes and fears 
 That thrilled our hearts, when by our Anna's side, 
 A mourning family we watched and sighed 
 And wept, here at her grave when she was dead.
 
 156 THE CHILDLESS WIDOW. 
 
 But oil ! how quickly round another bed, 
 
 We who were left, were weeping yet again 
 
 And soon again another funeral train, 
 
 With deep and deepening grief came slowly here, 
 
 To take my husband from a thrice-filled bier I 
 
 And at my fireside sickness lingered still 
 
 My darling infant yet was very ill, 
 
 Yet much I hoped he would be spared to me, 
 
 Nor hoped awhile in vain. He seemed to be 
 
 From danger free, and pleased with childish glee : 
 
 A change came o'er the sufferer suddenly 
 
 We gazed into his glazed and death-struck eye, 
 
 And watched and prayed in untold agony : 
 
 How anxiously we held his little head 
 
 My youngest child my baby-boy was dead I 
 
 Then what an overflowing flood of grief, 
 Came sweeping through my soul and no relief 
 I found, from earthly friend, or old or new, 
 Till while I near the Hand which smote me drew, 
 And earnest gazed _ toward heaven, methought 
 
 knew, 
 
 Dear Saviour, lying on thy gentle arm, 
 My little darling one, safe from all harm,
 
 THE CHILDLESS WIDOW. 157 
 
 While round his lip there played a smile so sweet, 
 I felt that Grod my child would happy keep, 
 And lighter grew my griefs as then I thought, 
 His spirit was with happiness so fraught : 
 But when the springing grass was waving free, 
 On just four graves new-made, all mournfully, 
 My silent tears in solitude I wept, 
 And memory of my choicest treasures kept ; 
 When Summer's flowers unfolded, here I came 
 When Autumn stored her fruits, I came again 
 And now, when wintry blasts are blowing wild, 
 Or when the sun is shining clear and mild, 
 I often hither come, with willing feet, 
 For oh ! no place on earth is now so sweet 
 As where my dearly-loved ones are asleep. 
 
 " Father compassionate," behold thy child, 
 As here I weep in agony so wild ! 
 In pity view me from thy home above, 
 And with the healing cordial of thy love, 
 Oh ! bind my riven heart-strings up again, 
 And teach me, Lord, to glorify thy name I
 
 158 THE CHILDLESS WIDOW. 
 
 Gird me, Omnipotent, with strength divine 
 To live this life so desolate of mine, 
 And when my pilgrimage of life is o'er, 
 Dear Lord, receive me to that blissful shore, 
 Where sorrow ne'er can heave my bosom more I 
 There may my grief-worn spirit rest with thee, 
 And share the joys of heaven eternally.
 
 TO MARY H. P. 159 
 
 Co Uaii f. f , 
 
 ON THE EXCHANGE OF AN EMBROIDERED HARP FOR 
 AN EMBROIDERED CORNUCOPIA. 
 
 THOU hast wrought beauteous flowers for me, Mary, 
 Thy plenteous horn is filled with roses fair, 
 
 And I have strung my harp for thee, Mary, 
 And round it I have twined a wreath with care. 
 
 With roses may thy path be strewed, Mary, 
 
 Fair, fragrant roses of affection true ! 
 A sweet a heavenly harp be thine, Mary, 
 
 Where friends most dearly loved ne'er say adieu. 
 
 May we together pluck sweet flowers, Mary, 
 
 Along the banks of heaven's pure crystal stream, 
 
 And tune our lyres together there, Mary, 
 
 While golden joys shall on our pathway gleam.
 
 160 FORESTS AND FOREST TEACHINGS. 
 
 atrir forest 
 
 THE wind-swept wintry woods are dear to me, 
 "When icy pearls are hung on every tree 
 "When sparkling snow-wreaths crown the forest-kings, 
 And crystal gems are decking lowlier things. 
 
 And oh ! I love the woods in sweet Spring-time, 
 
 When trees are decked in living robes again ; 
 
 Ten thousand plants burst from their wintry tombs, 
 
 And bright-eyed squirrels wander from their homes, 
 
 And icy fetters of the rivers break, 
 
 And merry songsters cheerful echoes wake, 
 
 And every tree, and plant, and living thing, 
 
 Is sweetly singing of the merry spring. 
 
 I love the green and glorious Summer wood, 
 "When fairest flowerets gem the mossy sod, 
 When Peace is whispered in each wakening breeze, 
 And Nature warbles forth her melodies.
 
 FORESTS AND FOEEST TEACHINGS. 161 
 
 But most I love the sighing Autumn woods 
 
 For then in my glad spirit's happiest moods, 
 
 I gaze up through the richly-tinted trees, 
 
 Whose boughs are wildly tossed by some strong 
 
 breeze, 
 
 And watch the luminous and snowy clouds, 
 That floating on so high the heavens enshroud 
 And seem like robes of white- winged spirits of the 
 
 sky, 
 
 That above me " wing the air" so peacefully, 
 My every nerve is thrilled with such deep joy, 
 I almost hold my breath while they glide by, 
 To hear some spirit whisper from above, 
 Words breathed by angels in their home of love ; 
 And while I list the music of the leaves 
 That round me fall, each waving leaflet breathes 
 In tones of gentlest, holiest tenderness, 
 Its dying echoes, which the heart address. 
 
 Ah ! there is something sweetly sad and holy, 
 A something near akin to melancholy, 
 In the light whisper of a falling leaf, 
 AVhose life hath been so glad, and yet so brief,
 
 162 FORESTS AND FOREST TEACHINGS. 
 
 As rudely riven from its "parent tree, 1 ' 
 
 It joins its fallen brothers tremblingly, 
 
 And yet a something like a spirit's voice, 
 
 Which though half mournful, makes the heart rejoice. 
 
 The voices of these temples of our God, 
 (Whose architecture is ever varied and new 
 Whose paintings are of ever changeful hue ) 
 Glad voices sweet and solemn- soft and loud, 
 Invite us their communion oft to seek, 
 And while we list, their sacred teachings speak. 
 
 For forest trees seem priests by God anointed, 
 With numerous tongues for this great work appointed, 
 Aloud to tell the nations of the earth, 
 Th' omnipotence of Him who gave them birth, 
 And then with gentler voices through the wood, 
 And softest breathings whisper : " God is good."
 
 EVENING MEDITATIONS. 163 
 
 (fcterihtg 
 
 Oh ! come ! on Night's calm features gaze with me I 
 Light fleecy clouds all o'er the heavens now float, 
 And hide, full oft, yon silver crescent bright, 
 While stars from 'neath their snowy folds look out, 
 And seem like angel eyes, from the bright land 
 Of pure, celestial spirits looking down, 
 Over the souls of sorrowing saints to watch. 
 
 And oh ! what untold joy it gives to think 
 Of that pure clime, far, far above the stars, 
 "Where joys eternal ever brighter grow 
 Where disencumbered of its house of clay, 
 The unwearied spirit needs nor sleep nor rest, 
 But soars along through heaven's all-glorious skies, 
 Or pauses in its flight 'neath some bright dome 
 Of the celestial city of the blest, 
 With kindred spirits to converse awhile, 
 While ever-brightening joys it drinketh there.
 
 EVENING MEDITATIONS. 
 
 Oh ! when on those dear joys I meditate, 
 My exulting spirit's wing doth seem to beat 
 Against the side of its frail prison-house, 
 And straggle hard to be forever free ; 
 But a voice seems to whisper, " Wait awhile," 
 And then I strive on earth to be content, 
 Till He whose hand almighty holds my life, 
 Shall call me where, far, far above the stars, 
 Himself in highest glory ever reigns. 
 
 Sept 13, 1851.
 
 EPITAPH. 165 
 
 OH ! the joy of our liome hath departed, 
 For the voice of the young and gay-hearted 
 In the slumber of death is now hushed, 
 And fond hopes for the future are crushed, 
 And our hearts in their loneliness bleed ; 
 Yet our tears the kind Saviour doth heed, 
 And the friend who in pity unsealed 
 The closed eyes of the dead, oft hath healed 
 The deep griefs of the heart, and we trust 
 In our God, and each murmur is hushed.
 
 166 LINES. 
 
 SUGGESTED BY THE BREAKING OF MY HARP. 
 
 THE harp that late I tuned to sing so sweetly and so 
 
 well, 
 
 Now broken lies the rude wind swept it from its 
 resting-place, 
 
 And loosened all its strings ; no more JEolus' breath 
 
 may swell 
 
 Its notes along, nor softest cadences their pathway 
 trace 
 
 Across the bosom of my gentle lyre, until with care 
 
 The broken thing cemented be, and I its strings re 
 pair. 
 
 Ah ! now no trace of break is left my harp is tuned 
 
 once more ; 
 
 Yes ! carefully I've turned its keys, and sounded 
 every string,
 
 LINES. 167 
 
 The zephyr's breath sweeps o'er it gently, sweetly as 
 
 before, 
 
 Its swelling notes the far-off music of the grove 
 now bring 
 
 To mind its cadences so soft are sweetly whisper 
 ing, "Peace!" 
 
 Then changeful as emotions of the soul the sounds I 
 trace. 
 
 How oft, when Sorrow's winds blow o'er the heart, it 
 
 tuneless lies ! 
 Nor can its riven strings to sweetest melody awake, 
 
 Until some skillful mind the balm of sympathy ap 
 plies, 
 
 And the Almighty's fingers tune the keys : then soft 
 notes take 
 
 The place of deep desponding tones, and gentlest har 
 monies fill 
 
 The trembling spirit's strings, and holiest notes the 
 bosom thrill. 
 
 Then pour upon the burthened heart the holy, healing 
 
 balm 
 
 Of sympathy, and in each sorrow lean upon the 
 arm
 
 168 LINES. 
 
 Of Him whose gentle voice can make the troubled 
 
 spirit calm, 
 And who amid the rudest storm can shield the soul 
 
 from harm ! 
 Illuminmg thy pathway with a radiant heaven-born 
 
 hope, 
 He will sustain thee till heaven's pearly gate for thee 
 
 shall ope.
 
 DEATH OF MOSES. 169 
 
 of 0aes. 
 
 [TiiE following poem was written several years before " Scenes ia 
 tho Life of Moses," which will be found in another place. 
 
 At the suggestion of a friend who heard the "Death of Moses " read, 
 the other was subsequently written.] 
 
 ONE hundred twenty years did Moses live I 
 Yet with unwasted strength and eye undimmed, 
 On Pisgah's top he laid him down to die. 
 
 Methinks with tearful eye the host of Israel 
 Beheld their leader's form from sight receding, 
 As silently up Nebo's rugged hights . 
 At the Almighty's call alone he clomb, 
 On Canaan's goodly promised land to gaze 
 That land on which his feet must never tread, 
 Because his God he had offended once. 
 Alas ! what ski so great was in him found, 
 8
 
 170 DEATH OF MOSErf. 
 
 That made Jehovah's awful anger rise, 
 
 And caused His threatening mandate to go forth, 
 
 " Into the promised land thou ne'er shalt go ?" 
 
 'Twas this he sanctified not God the Lord 
 In the sight of His own chosen Israel, 
 But in his anger twice he smote the rock, 
 And as from thence the water swiftly flowed, 
 The glory which to God belonged he took, 
 And to the goodly promised Canaan then 
 The Omnipotent forbade him to go in. 
 
 Sad memories methinks his bosom stirred, 
 When thought he then of Israel's myriad throng, 
 Which through their weary pilgrimage he led, 
 And knew that he could lead them nevermore ; 
 Nor e'en from one of that vast .multitude 
 Kind words in his departing hour receive. 
 
 Yet he who once in Sinai's cloud encircled, 
 With God talked face to face as to a friend, 
 In death's dark, trying hour was not alone 
 But in his " everlasting arms " of love, 
 The Lord of hosts his dying head sustained.
 
 DEATH OF MOSES. 171 
 
 Methinks 'twas passing sweet thus there to die, 
 Where could be heard no moan of mourning friend 
 To make the soul still wish to linger here. 
 
 Perchance with sweetest sound of angels, songs 
 
 lie there was hushed to sleep, when his freed soul 
 
 Put on its robe of immortality 
 
 Flew up before the golden throne of heaven, 
 
 And from his Saviour's hand a harp received, 
 
 While still the notes of the angelic song 
 
 Eesounded louder, louder, and more loud, 
 
 Till heaven's vast realm was with glad music filled, 
 
 And to heaven's praise his harp and voice were tuned. 
 
 Thousands of years in his unnoted grave, 
 And unknown, did Israel's leader's ashes lie 
 No monumental pile the traveler saw, 
 To bid him speechless pause and reverent, 
 While faith flew back to years to him but by 
 The holy Bible's truthful story known 
 To years when through the wilderness so vast, 
 lie led the erring hosts of Israel on 
 That wondrous holy, patient, mighty man : 
 Yet He who on that sacred mountain-top
 
 172 DEATH OF MOSES. 
 
 Witnessed his death, and silent buried him, 
 Marked where his " house of clay" was shattered 
 
 thus, 
 And through the years of tune guards well the place. 
 
 'Twos there he died to us the record is given : 
 
 Then naught of him we hear, till Tabor's hight, 
 
 Illumined by the glory of the Lord, 
 
 Receives the anointed, only Son of God ; 
 
 And, robed in glittering vestments of the skies, 
 
 Elijah, faithful, holy seer of Israel, 
 
 And Moses, meekest man of all the earth, 
 
 Come on swift wing from shining plains of heaven, 
 
 With their Redeemer sweetly to commune. 
 
 O holy errand ! happy messengers ! 
 
 Sent from the holy courts of heaven, 
 
 To God's dear suffering Son to minister 
 
 Messages from the Father's lips to bear 
 
 With heavenly language Jesus' soul to cheer. 
 
 Wondering Peter well might awe-struck fall, 
 Exclaiming, " Lord it is good to be here !" 
 Well might he fancy it was heaven on earth,
 
 DEATH OF MOSES. 173 
 
 And wish that mount his dwelling-place might be, 
 Forgetful quite in that sweet hour of joy, 
 That in a higher world is brighter bliss. 
 
 But hark ! the rustling of their angel wings 
 I seem to hear, as to the courts of heaven, 
 From Christ's companionship they swiftly fly, 
 While holy seraphs ope those pearly gates, 
 And round those messengers quick listeners crowd, 
 News of the incarnate Saviour God to hear. 
 
 And oh ! methinks in loftiest songs of praise 
 That ever shook the battlements of heaven, 
 Sweet notes of joy from Moses' harp rang clear, 
 When the ascended Saviour's work was done, 
 And angels shouted his glad welcome home.
 
 174 WELCOME HOME. 
 
 SoUrmne gome. 
 
 (WRITTEN EXPRESSLY FOR "THE BAKER VOCALISTS.") 
 
 NEAR to the borders of that glorious land 
 Where myriads of bright shining seraphs stand, 
 My fancy caught me up, while entered there 
 A grief- worn traveler from this world of care. 
 
 Then sweetly sounding forth from harps of gold, 
 This welcome home I heard in accents bold : 
 "Blest spirit, welcome home thy griefs are o'er 
 Oh ! welcome home ! here thou shalt weep no more. 
 
 " We welcome thee from earthly cares away 
 We welcome thee to heaven's unclouded day 
 We welcome thee to Jesus' smile of love 
 We welcome thee to all the joys above." 
 
 The echoes of that song so glad and free, 
 Were sweetly ringing o'er heaven's crystal sea
 
 WELCOME HOME. 175 
 
 Resounding througli the brightest bowers of bliss, 
 Were notes ne'er heard in such a world as this. 
 
 Oh ! welcome home, the glorious angel band 
 Were singing, with their golden harps in hand 
 Welcome home, welcome home, the Spirit cried 
 Yes, welcome, welcome home, spake forth the 
 Bride. 
 
 A radiant crown thou shalt receive from me 
 To joys I've purchased, now I welcome thee, 
 The Saviour said ; then gave a heavenly lyre, 
 While soft notes trembled from its golden wire. 
 
 Then came beloved friends with sweetest lays, 
 And taught that spirit's lips the notes of praise I 
 Oh ! softly, clearly swelled their songs that night, 
 And radiant was that brow with pure delight. 

 
 176 LINES. 
 
 ADDEESSED TO MESSRS J. V. K. AND T. S. S., AND THEIR 
 FAMILIES. 
 
 " THERE are storms for summer weather, 
 
 Lest the noontide shine too bright ; 
 There are branches in their greenness 
 Broken off to give us light." 
 
 DEATH'S angel came at night with stealthy tread, 
 
 To stamp his signet on an infant's brow ; 
 Awhile he hovered o'er the cradle bed, 
 
 As he were loth to strike the fatal blow, 
 And snatch for aye the rose from smiling lips, 
 
 And dim for aye those gentle eyes so blue ; 
 Then as the early frost the flower nips, 
 
 His task he did, and from that dwelling flew. 
 
 While aching hearts mourned o'er that little one, 
 Death stepped into another dwelling nigh,
 
 LINES. 177 
 
 And on the brow of infancy again 
 He placed his seal ah ! what a tender tie 
 
 Was rudely severed by his ruthless hand ! 
 And parents, brothers, sisters, now weep o'er 
 
 The darling, lifeless boy, who from their band 
 Was snatched whose smile may cheer them 
 never more. 
 
 Ah ! never more may joy its halo shed 
 
 Over the death-sealed lip, and cheek, and eye ; 
 Nor may those tiny feet with cautious tread, 
 
 Their slow-increasing strength again e'er try ; 
 Nor gentle voices shout with childish glee, 
 
 O'er some new plaything found so lay away 
 Their little toys with care, and let them be 
 
 Treasured remembrancers for many a day. 
 
 The gentle clasp of tiny arms ye'll miss 
 
 The empty crib will tempt the rising sigh 
 The little cheek that for a good-night kiss 
 
 Was raised ah 1 can ye pass such memories by? 
 But hark 1 those angel strains oh ! how they rise 
 
 From lips of spirits Christ hath welcomed home, 
 While seraphs teach them language of the skies, 
 
 As through heaven's glorious fields they roam. 
 8*
 
 178 THOUGHTS AT A SUNSET HOUB. 
 
 No pain may now disturb their sweet repose I 
 
 So gently, gently lay them side by side, 
 Those little ones, where oft the wild bird goes 
 
 Her song to sing; and mourn not that they died, 
 Since angel harps their infant hands employ, 
 
 And hand in hand, perchance they blissful roam, 
 Their infant voices tuned to notes of joy, 
 
 Within the radiant mansions of their home. 
 
 at a Sunset lour. 
 
 'TWAS near the sunset hour, when I, to read 
 Sweet Nature's page, and meditate on heaven, 
 Went forth unto the beauteous woodland's shade. 
 The trees had late their emerald robes put on 
 The western sky a burnished sea of gold 
 Appeared, on which in characters most bold, 
 Those lofty forest trees were all embossed ; 
 And while the merry winds their branches tossed,
 
 THOUGHTS AT A SUNSET HOUR. 179 
 
 Their waving clusters shone like glittering gems, 
 
 Placed with rare skill in regal diadems ; 
 
 And while I gazed, the sun sank down to rest, 
 
 Behind the curtain of the glowing west. 
 
 So radiant was the gate through which he passed 
 
 So rich the stream of glory which he cast 
 
 Up o'er the clouds, and through the tranquil skies, 
 
 It seemed a pearly door of Paradise 
 
 Was on its hinges turned, that mortal eyes 
 
 Might gaze with new delight, and buoyant hope ; 
 
 And Nature seemed a mighty telescope, 
 
 Through which I upward looked to God and heaven. 
 
 Until so near they seemed, my feet almost 
 
 On Jacob's ladder stood, with a bright host, 
 
 Whose snowy wings seemed folded o'er me then, 
 
 While spirit lips were whispering o'er the glen, 
 
 And holy angels' hands were clasped above me, 
 
 And sweetly swelled the songs of those who love me, 
 
 Who in the glorious mansions of the skies, 
 
 Have done with earthly sorrows and with sighs 
 
 Whose lofty anthems there forever rise. 
 
 Ah ! who would murmur when earth's ties are riven, 
 If they be changed for love of souls in heaven ?
 
 180 THOUGHTS AT A SUNSET HOUR. 
 
 Why wish to keep our loved ones from their home, 
 That they amid earth's griefs with us may roam, 
 Since their departure forms a golden tie, 
 To bind the spirit to the world on high, 
 And they enduring bliss in heaven may share, 
 And love us none the less when they are there ? 
 But yet Affection's tender tear will start, 
 When called with those we fondly love to part, 
 Even when we hope with them in that bright land, 
 To chant the anthems of the angelic band.
 
 ON A ROSE. 181 
 
 PLUCKED IN A TENNESSEE GARDEN NOV. 16Tn, AND RECEIVED IN 
 A LETTER FROM GEORGIA, IN DECEMBER. 
 
 DEDICATED TO L. E. L.. THE DOXOR. 
 
 SWEET flower, thou comest a harbinger of good, 
 To whisper me of friendship tried and true 
 To tell me that a friend, though far away, 
 Doth kindly still remember me. 
 
 Dear flower, 
 
 Though small, a valued gift thou art to me. 
 Imagination paints thee nestling 'mid 
 The trembling leaves so green, as thou wert when 
 A tiny bud that scarcely could be seen : 
 Yet kindly cultured by some stranger's hand, 
 When here, in this, our colder northern clime, 
 The chill November winds were blowing wild, 
 Enlarging still, thy petals did unfold ;
 
 182 ON A ROSE. 
 
 The dews of Tennessee then bathed thy brow, 
 And breezes soft and warm thy fragrance bore, 
 To cheer perchance a stranger's solitude, 
 Till Friendship plucked thee from thy parent stem, 
 To send to we a grateful offering. 
 
 In the last month of all the year thou earnest, 
 When trees of summer leaves were all disrobed : 
 My roses and my later flowers were gone ; 
 And when I gazed upon the beauteous rose 
 So fragrant still, enfolded in the sheet 
 Enwritten over by a friendly hand, 
 And on the bud behind its petals hid, 
 Which, half unfolded seemed to have a voice, 
 Shall I attempt to tell thee, my friend ! 
 How came my muse on viewless wing to me 
 And breathing 'mid the petals of the flower, 
 And of the bud with velvet cheek so soft, 
 She seemed to tell me thou wert true, and should 
 The friends of my prosperity depart, 
 And sorrow come, thou wilt remember me ! 
 And when I sleep the dreamless sleep of death, 
 Perchance to thee some simple braid of hair, 
 Or small memento from thine absent friend,
 
 ON A ROSE. 183 
 
 Will memories of the happy past recall, 
 When thou and I together twined the links 
 Of holy friendship's chain, and burnished them 
 With happy hopes and pleasant sympathies. 
 
 Though now we're many " weary leagues" apart, 
 And may be severed long, ere we shall meet 
 To twine the sweet and fadeless flowers of heaven, 
 May I not hope thou wilt -forget me not I
 
 184 LINES. 
 
 WRITTEN THURSDAY EVENING, NOV. 25TH, 1852. 
 
 THANKSGIVING day hath surely come again, 
 
 But not around the fireside of our home, 
 
 Do loved ones meet to-day with cheering smile, 
 
 As there they met but one short year ago, 
 
 When many happy faces were around 
 
 My father's board, and merry smiles exchanged. 
 
 In cheerful song the evening hours were spent : 
 Then parted we with many a glad " Good night ;" 
 And yet, half sad we were, as questioned we, 
 " Shall we all here with joy e'er meet again ?" 
 
 But why not round that hearth meet we to-day ? 
 And why do absent ones thus stay away ? 
 Why come they not to greet with joyous smile, 
 Dearly-loved friends around our fireside now ?
 
 LINES. 185 
 
 
 
 The sadness of their hearts tempts them to stay 
 
 Nor much wish we who are at home to-day 
 
 That they would come ; for oh I how sad 'twould 
 
 be 
 
 To miss the voice which loudest swelled in song 
 To feel that from our band the gayest one 
 Hath gone, and ne'er may meet with us again ! 
 For ah ! 'twas less than two short weeks ago, 
 We watched her shortening breath and pallid face? 
 And saw her dark blue eyes grow dim in death ; 
 And near the close of a lone autumn day, 
 They laid her down in her deep grave to rest, 
 And heaped the cold, cold earth upon her breast ; 
 And painful recollections thrill our hearts, 
 And deep, yea, deeper would they throb with grief, 
 Were we whom she hath left together now 
 And therefore, thus we are apart to-day. 
 
 Alone I sit, where but a little more 
 Than one brief year ago, with friends around, 
 My sister stood, a gay and happy bride, 
 With heart brimful of sweet and joyous hopes, 
 While bright anticipations lured her on,
 
 186 LINES. 
 
 
 
 And made her step more light, her smile more 
 
 gay. 
 
 And while my blinding tears, and trembling hand. 
 Almost forbid that I should longer write, 
 A gladdening echo from the spirit land, 
 Seems whispering to me 'mid my loneliness, 
 Of bright joys, and sweeter far than earthly songs 
 Of sweet realities, exceeding far 
 The highest hopes of earth 'and oh ! the thought, 
 " My sister's with that angel throng," doth make 
 The pang of separation less severe. 
 
 Wearied with earth, and all its pains and griefs, 
 She longed for refuge in the silent grave, 
 Till sweetly o'er the darkened clouds, arose 
 The Star of Bethlehem, to cheer her life, 
 And to illume her "pathway to the tomb ;" 
 And then, amid her pains, she chose to live ; 
 Yet, leaning on her gracious Saviour's arm, 
 She dreaded not Death's fearful, swelling wave, 
 Nor needed it the " eloquence of words," 
 To tell the spirit's joy, when calmly gazed 
 Her dying eyes in mine.
 
 LINES. 187 
 
 I could but fancy 
 
 That when her ears were deaf to earthly sounds, 
 Far sweeter sounds upon her spirit's ear 
 Were breaking, from the harps of heaven's bright 
 
 throng 
 
 That then her half-closed eyes, already gazed 
 Upon the beauties of that glorious land ; 
 And when the spirit took its flight, it left 
 A joyful impress on the countenance, 
 So peaceful, beautifully calm in death. 
 And when, in wakeful watches of that night, 
 I seemed to hearken to her swelling song, 
 While she, with gentle angels, winged her way, 
 O'er fields so beautiful through skies so fair, 
 I almost wished that I might leave this earth, 
 To worship with those glorious angels there.
 
 188 THE MARTYR BIRD. 
 
 Startjir $! trtr. 
 
 As thoughtfully I sat, at twilight hour, 
 Beneath the news-fraught telegraphic wire, 
 My heart was stirred with memories of the past 
 With memories of sweet joys too bright to last : 
 Then quickly twanged the wires for joyful news 
 Was on them borne but still I sadly mused, 
 Until a little bird of plumage fair, 
 From off the wire, went whizzing through the air. 
 I quickly went, and raised the pretty thing 
 Its little heart had ceased to throb and sing, 
 And yet so quick its life had passed away, 
 I almost thought I still might hear its lay, 
 For yet a life-like warmth was in its frame I 
 But ah ! it never more might sing again, 
 For blood was slowly streaming from its beak, 
 And this did sure my sympathy bespeak.
 
 THE MARTYR BIRD. 189 
 
 Then came the Saviour's gracious words to me, 
 Of sparrows one might for a farthing buy, 
 And yet not one unto the ground might fall, 
 Without His gracious care who knoweth all. 
 
 I heard the Saviour's kindly words of cheer 
 He whispered to my spirit, " Never fear I" 
 Then Hope, sweet bird of heaven, on golden wing 
 Flew o'er me, (oh ! how sweetly she did sing !) 
 While Faith, a heavenly bird of snowy plume, 
 The darkness of my present did illume I 
 And oh ! such gentleness was in her eye, 
 As it had borrowed beauty from the sky, 
 While up so high on buoyant wing she flew, 
 And plucked a leaf of living green, which grew 
 Upon an olive tree of Paradise, 
 Then quickly came to me, and whispering," Peace," 
 She laid that healing leaf upon my heart, 
 And soon it healed the canker of Grief's dart, 
 And round my future shone a light from heaven, 
 And joyful musings on that Summer even, 
 Expelled each thought of past and present woe, 
 Save that I grieved the bird for me must go
 
 190 THE MAKTYR BIRD. 
 
 From loving mates, and joyous life away, 
 At the sweet close of that bright summer day. 
 
 Sweet Martyr Bird, thy gently beaming eye, 
 Which death not yet had dimmed, spake out to 
 
 me, 
 
 A mild reproach for unbelief of the past, 
 And bade me fear no future adverse blast ; 
 But leaning on " that arm which never fails," 
 Look up, whene'er adversity assails 
 Sweetly resigned, lift up a tearless eye, 
 And kiss the rod, nor ask my Father, " Why."
 
 TO THE "BAKER VOCALISTS." 191 
 
 t|e "IJaktr JTotalists." 
 
 PRESENTED WITH A BOUQUET OF NATURAL FLOWERS. 
 
 w 
 
 OF lovely Autumn's fair and fragrant flowers, 
 A friendly hand for you a wreath hath twined, 
 Hoping ye'll sing sweet songs in Heaven's bright 
 
 bowers, 
 And that ye'll there a home eternal find. 
 
 Now with the rain-drops on their blushing cheeks, 
 These " sages ephemeral " to you I send, 
 And fancy ye will list their voices sweet 
 And they will whisper of some absent friend. 
 
 For what like this angelic alphabet 
 With which our country's "hills and plains" are writ,* 
 Doth speak of childhood's home, and friends away, 
 E'en when far from our home and friends we stray ? 
 
 * " Mrs. Child beautifully says that she has often thought that 
 flowers were the alphabet of angels, wherewith they write on hilla 
 and plains mysterious truths. "
 
 192 SYMPATHY. 
 
 TO MY DEAR UNCLE AND AUNT, MR. AND MRS. I. B., 
 THESE LINES ARE AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED. 
 
 THESE lines to you, dear friends, I dedicate, 
 And may we meet within Heaven's pearly gate, 
 And sweetest sympathy of spirits share, 
 Who have a glorious home forever there! 
 
 SWEET sympathy I what purer offering 
 Can holy friendship to the spirit bring ? 
 Thy heart is bounding with some secret joy, 
 Or with some secret grief thy bosom heaves 1 
 Methinks a wish upon that sigh is breathed 
 A wish for a kind friend to care for thee I 
 Hearest not an angel whisper, " Trust in God, 
 For he, thy Heavenly Friend, can aid supply ?" 
 Oh ! trust in Christ his sympathy how strong ! 
 For well remembers he the griefs of earth
 
 SYMPATHY. 193 
 
 Griefs of Grethsemane and Calvary ! 
 
 Then in the balance lay thy griefs with his, 
 
 And let thine aching heart lean on that Friend. 
 
 In hours of grief and joy, oh I trust in Heaven 1 
 
 In joy will not thy Saviour sympathize 
 
 That Friend who left a throne of purest bliss, 
 
 To purchase ever-during bliss for thee ? 
 
 But yet I blame thee not if thou dost seek 
 
 Kind sympathy from earthly friends. Ah 1 no. 
 
 E'en Jesus, who, had he the favor asked, 
 
 A legion of bright angels might have won, 
 
 In moments of dread agony to him 
 
 To minister, craved human sympathy, 
 
 And from his earnest pleadings with the Father, 
 
 He turned in bitter grief to those he loved, 
 
 And when he found them sleeping, mournful 
 
 asked : 
 
 " Could ye not watch with me one hour ?" 
 
 But soon 
 
 A holy angel stooped from Paradise, 
 To wipe the bloody drops from His pure brow, 
 And bathe it with the healing balm of love. 
 What was that angel's name, I may not tell 
 But I a fancy have, it might have been 
 9
 
 194 SYMPATHY. 
 
 One of those celestial ones that came to him ; 
 Appareled in the glorious robes of Heaven, 
 When an exceeding and unearthly brightness, 
 A heavenly lustre his own raiment wore. 
 Perchance it might have been good Samuel, 
 Perchance some other holy faithful seer, 
 That in the troublous days of Israel lived. 
 
 Methinks it must have been one who on earth 
 Had lived, and suffered sore temptation here, 
 And through the Saviour's interceding grace 
 Had won the garb of immortality, 
 And dwelt in happy fields of Paradise, 
 That then and there came down to comfort him ; 
 For how could one who from the first glad hour 
 Of his existence bright, had had a share 
 In the uninterrupted bliss of Heaven, 
 In moments so dark, sympathy afford 
 Equal to his need, who his soul poured forth, 
 When burdened with the anguish of our sins, 
 He seemed 'reft of the love of earth and Heaven ? 
 And yet we know not but there might have been 
 A stronger, holier, celestial one,
 
 SYMPATHY. 195 
 
 Than any who on earth had ever lived, 
 And one more fit this errand to perform. 
 
 Whether it was one whose bright birthplace was 
 
 Heaven, 
 
 Or one who there to dwell from earth had soared, 
 'Twas doubtless one who best could comfort him : 
 And when our friends of watching all are weary, 
 With eyes bedimmed all soundly are asleep, 
 And Pain or Sorrow holds us waking still, 
 Christ, more than angel, stoops to comfort us, 
 And with the cordial of his promises, 
 Our aching hearts he oft revivifies, 
 For he has felt the need of sympathy. 
 
 For when in Pilate's judgment-hall he sat, 
 Surrounded by a cruel, murderous throng 
 By every earthly friend forsaken there ; 
 And when thief-like suspended on the cross, 
 With sinews of his hands and feet crushed through, 
 With a rude throng e'en then reviling Him ; 
 E'en then in that most bitter hour of grief, 
 When with his eyes upraised imploringly, 
 Toward the Heaven he had in pity left,
 
 196 SYMPATHY. 
 
 That pure, yet deeply-anguished heart shrieked out: 
 " My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me ?" 
 Oh ! felt he not the need of sympathy ? 
 
 Oh ! holy joy, the oil of sympathy, 
 To pour o'er hearts with sorrow over-burdened ! 
 'Tis joy like His who left the throne of Heaven, 
 The sick to heal, the widow's tear to dry ; 
 Yea, more, our souls to save from deepest woe, 
 And ransom them with his own precious life. 
 
 It needed not a platted crown of thorns, 
 That brow to pierce, already jeweled o'er 
 With " rubies of his own most precious blood ;" 
 But Jewish malice yet insatiate, 
 Upon a brow so pure that crown doth place { 
 Yet midst His griefs, behold what love we see ! 
 Oft is his hand outsretched in kindest healing, 
 And oft his eyes o'erflow with tender feeling. 
 
 Then let each humble follower of his, 
 
 In words and acts of sympathy abound ; 
 
 For even tears of sympathy dim not 
 
 The beauteous gem of Love, but brightly still 
 
 It glows, beneath their holy influence.
 
 TO WILLIAM AND ELIZABETH. 197 
 
 C0 Sttilltam 
 
 (PRESENTED AT THEIR BRIDAL.) 
 
 AFFECTION'S silken band your hearts hath bound. 
 
 Strong tie ! and with the morn of youth unclouded, 
 
 In life's rough, changeful pathway ye do hope 
 
 Together joyfully to travel on. 
 
 Heaven grant that hope may not uprooted be, 
 
 Nor by chill blast of sorrow withered soon. 
 
 Let each to each be next to God beloved, 
 
 Yet see ye love not to idolatry ! 
 
 Forget not that the spirit's casket frail, 
 
 Sooner or later must be laid aside 
 
 Forget not thornless blessings bloom alone 
 
 In a fairer chine yea, bloom in Paradise. 
 
 Long time may ye together walk along ! 
 Your pathway with bright flowers of joy be 
 strewed ;
 
 198 TO WILLIAM AND ELIZABETH. 
 
 And when each tie which binds to earth is loosed, 
 May your redeemed souls be upward borne, 
 To pastures of the heavenly Shepherd's land I 
 
 If ye by death shall separated be, 
 
 Aad one be left, the other's loss to mourn, 
 
 Heaven grant the one who first from earth shall 
 
 go, 
 May die with hope of a reunion blest 
 
 To an eternal mansion be upborne, 
 To wait in bliss until the other come. 
 
 And may the gentle Shepherd of the skies 
 Sustain the one who shall be left alone, 
 Life's ever-changeful pathway here to tread ; 
 And when life's sorrows with that one be o'er, 
 May the freed spirit soar to Paradise, 
 Throughout eternity its joys to share.
 
 FAREWELL TO THE BLUES. 199 
 
 Jfateteli to tfa 
 
 ^ (5 
 
 FOR three successive days and nights, 
 
 A gloomy troop of ancient wights 
 
 Known by the name of BLUES, 
 
 And clad in sable hues, 
 
 (Who with their dismal train 
 
 Bring many a fancied pain,) 
 
 "Were reveling round my brain, 
 
 While I half welcome made them, 
 
 And by my listening paid them. 
 
 Sometimes I thought to scare or scold them, 
 
 And then again I'd almost hold them. 
 
 So on the tedious moments flew, 
 
 And my poor heart more cheerless grew, 
 
 Until at length my folly seeing, 
 
 The Blues and I were disagreeing, 
 
 And I formed a firm resolve and free, 
 
 That they no more my guests should be ; 
 
 For before so pitiless a race, 
 
 Bright joys were flying off apace.
 
 200 FAKEWELL TO THE BLUES. 
 
 So I bade them " Good night," 
 When the stars -were all bright, 
 And my heart grew so light 
 That I laughed outright, 
 As the elfins took fright ; 
 For I shook my head, 
 And with scampering tread 
 In a trice they all fled : 
 But remaining, I found 
 A bold elf looking round 
 With an impudent air, 
 As if wondering I'd dare 
 Thus to drive out a hoary 
 Elfin chief from his glory. 
 
 He was loth to take leave, 
 
 And " I laughed in my sleeve," 
 
 As so silent and sullen, 
 
 He stood straight as a mullen, 
 
 As though my command he ill brooked, 
 
 While over his shoulder he looked, 
 
 Yet dared he not face him about, 
 
 Lest quickly I'd put him to rout
 
 FAEEWELL TO THE BLUES. 201 
 
 Not much should I wonder to hear 
 
 That the goblin has vanished in air ; 
 
 For I hope none so foolish will be 
 
 As to listen at all to his plea, 
 
 Or to give an admittance or fee, 
 
 To so ugly a creature as he : 
 
 And I'm sure if they don't, he will die, 
 
 For his pride it will mortify, 
 
 All cheerless and friendless to roam, 
 
 With neither companion nor home. 
 
 Should the Blues on you call, don't endure 
 
 Their sad tortures an hour, for I'm sure 
 
 That they all will right quick "take French 
 
 leave," 
 
 If our hearts grateful notes warmly breathe ; 
 And glad praise is a debt that we owe 
 For the good that we share here below, 
 And a debt that we surely don't pay, 
 "When the genii called Blues we obey. 
 9*
 
 202 VISIONAKIES. 
 
 " I -will not say scorn is my fete, 
 Lest I be proud, suffering the same 
 With those who live in deathless fame." 
 
 " He who ascends to mountain-tops shall find 
 
 The loftiest peaks most wrapped in clouds and snow. 
 He who surpasses or subdues mankind, 
 
 Must look down on the hate of those below. 
 Though high above the sun of glory glow, 
 
 And far beneath the earth and ocean spread, 
 Round him are icy rocks, and loudly blow 
 
 Contending tempests on his naked head, 
 And thus reward the toils which to their summits led." 
 
 COLUMBUS dreamed of a land beyond the main, 
 And longed that wondrous western land to see ; 
 
 He thought assistance of a Queen to gain, 
 
 And hoped her views would with his own agree : 
 
 But she had other thoughts, and schemes, and fears 
 "With zeal then plunged he into battle-strife,
 
 VISIONARIES. 203 
 
 And saw the sighing Moor* his crown resign, 
 
 And hoped he might at length with words condign 
 
 Convince his dreams were not with folly rife. 
 
 It took the Spanish council full three years 
 
 To prove he was a visionary fool : 
 
 This proved, they thought he might as well " keep 
 
 cool." 
 
 His mule he mounted, and with proud disdain, 
 He turned his back upon the court of Spain ; 
 But friends for him their eloquence employ 
 And back to court he conies to learn with joy, 
 His long-postponed petition is not vain ; 
 But Isabella, Castile's lauded Queen, 
 Quite independent of King Ferdinand, 
 "Will presently send forth her sure command, 
 That ships and crew be found for him amain. 
 The " bounding billows" heave adieu to Spain I 
 A buoyant soul sends up a joyous strain 
 Cheerily, bravely on awhile they go 
 Now threatening and desponding is the crew : 
 At length they see, they see the promised land 
 On terra firma now once more they stand ; 
 
 * Boabdil, the King of Granada. The rock on which he stood to 
 bewail his fate, is called, " The sigh of the Moor."
 
 204 VISIONARIES. 
 
 Again they ride the heaving, billowy main 
 Once more they stand upon the shores of Spain, 
 And Ferdinand and his delighted Queen, 
 Exulting bless Columbus for his dream. 
 
 And Fulton dreamed a steam-horse trod the waves : 
 He dreamed and toiled while wise men gazed with 
 
 scorn. 
 
 At length proud Hudson's tide a steamboat laves, 
 But strange to say, the steam-horse will not plow I 
 A failure ! ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! h-a ! 
 Eesounds along the shore ; but yet again 
 Assembles on that shore a numerous throng, 
 "While proudly sweeps the gallant boat along, 
 As though by some strange, unseen hand propelled ! 
 With honest pride the toiler's bosom swelled ; 
 And pray when would have come "this age of steam," 
 Had it not been for Robert Fulton's dream ? 
 
 And Clinton, too, poor visionary soul, 
 Who strangely thought to serve his age and state I 
 Why would he not be wise, and hold his tongue, 
 When Jefferson, who had been a President, 
 Assured him he was quite beyond his tune ?
 
 VISIONAKIES. 205 
 
 But willful Clinton (!) the "big ditch" must see, 
 And Jefferson, quite penitent, confessed 
 Himself was fifty years behind his time ; 
 And they who deemed him visionary then, 
 Praise persevering Clinton for his dream. 
 
 And Bunyan, too, forever dreaming, dreaming, 
 "Why would he let his brain be ever teeming 
 With such strange visions in his prison-cell ? 
 Far better otherwise employ his time, 
 Than be thus ever dreaming, dreaming, dreaming ! 
 So doubtless thought King Charles, who would not 
 
 "hear 
 
 The tinker prate," and so perchance thought Hale, 
 And kindlier souls, who deemed his dreamy book 
 Unfit to publish, and to circulate. 
 
 But ah ! who, who can tell 
 How many through the golden city's gate 
 Shall pass, whom angels ne'er would have convoyed 
 Up, up before the rainbow-shaded throne, 
 Had it not been for pious Bunyan's dreams ? 
 
 And Milton ? Friends neglected, foes despised him ; 
 They gave him not a place among the stars !
 
 206 VISIONARIES. 
 
 WHY SHOULD THEY ? He was blind, and old, and poor I 
 
 But "England's noblest bard," in penury 
 
 Earned him a fame as lasting as the hills, 
 
 And though the would-be wise then scorned his toil, 
 
 The younger sons of Adam Milton bless ; 
 
 With praise befitting speak his honored name, 
 
 And twine their laurel wreaths around his tomb. 
 
 Ay, men of every age and every clime, 
 
 Whose dreams the wise have deemed almost a crime, 
 
 Have lived a blessing to all future time. 
 
 Then fear not ! if your dream be good and true, 
 
 Work on, though now you find believers few ! 
 
 WORK ON 1 work on t It may be thus with you. 
 
 May, 185T.
 
 BE KIND. 207 
 
 BE kind to the aged, for when he was young, 
 His heart was as joyous as thine ; 
 
 But now he is feeble, with grief 'twill be wrung, 
 Shouldst thou to unkindness incline. 
 
 Be kind to the suffering, for when thou art ill, 
 How tender the heart now so strong ; 
 
 A word of unkindness the spirit may chill 
 Its pains and its griefs may prolong. 
 
 Be kind to the stranger, for oft unawares, 
 
 An angel to thee in disguise 
 A stranger may come when thy bounty he shares, 
 
 Rich blessings descend from the skies. 
 
 Be kind to the orphan, for wert thou bereft 
 Of parents so dear, and alone,
 
 208 BE KIND. 
 
 Thy heart, now so light, would be sad, wert thou 
 
 left 
 O'er earth ever friendless to roam. 
 
 Then let the lone orphan, the aged, and ill, 
 
 In thee find a friend ever kind 
 For surely a God-given right have they still, 
 
 To hope in thee mercy to find. 
 
 Be kind, ye strangers, ye orphans, and old ! 
 
 For thus ye repay the kind care, 
 Of those who their love far more precious than 
 gold 
 
 Bestow while your burdens they share. 
 
 Be kind, O ye suffering, ye sorrowing, and sick I 
 Be patient, and trust in your God ; 
 
 For though the dark clouds round your path gather 
 
 thick, 
 'Tis the path your Kedeemer hath trod.
 
 HOPE. 209 
 
 Ojtt. 
 
 HOPE ! hope ! it is thy privilege here 
 
 Though hopes be often crushed, hope on I 
 "Pis better far to hope than fear : 
 
 Let not Despair with visage wan, 
 E'er find an entrance to thy heart ; 
 
 But guard thou well that citadel, 
 And let sweet Hope, with guileless art, 
 
 Keep and defend its gateway well. 
 
 For Hope hath eyes of loveliest hue, 
 
 Which joyously gaze on the morrow 
 She tinges darkest clouds with blue, 
 
 And gladness sees amid our sorrow : 
 On buoyant wing through clouds she soars, 
 
 While burdened souls by her upborne, 
 Can smile when loud the tempest roars, 
 
 And cherished joys from them are torn.
 
 210 THE SITTER FOR A MINIATURE, 
 
 itter for a 
 
 WHEN first I sat, there was gladness in my heart, 
 
 Joy in my -eye a smile upon my lip 
 
 For then my thoughts were with a friend most dear, 
 
 And my soul's joy was pictured in my face. 
 
 But now that he has gone, why sit I here, 
 
 For art with wondrous skill to stamp my face, 
 
 For those to gaze upon who'll lightly prize it ? 
 
 Although his lips ne'er spoke to me of love, 
 I read it in his eye so mild and blue, 
 And gave a heart brimful of love to him, 
 Though to each other we ne'er spake of love, 
 Save by such looks as each believed were true. 
 
 Just at the moment when I prized him most, 
 Yet feared to give the glance which told my lovo, 
 Lest I to others should my thoughts reveal, 
 I turned aside, and gazed another way,
 
 THE SITTEK FOR A MINIATURE. 211 
 
 And feigned a careless air, as though he were 
 But like the crowd which then surrounded me. 
 
 On me awhile he gazed then turned away, 
 And as I watched his quick, receding step, 
 Ah ! little deemed I that I ne'er should meet 
 Him in whose kindly smile my heart rejoiced, 
 Till on the shores of New Jerusalem, 
 We meet with angels round the throne of God I 
 But ah ! he thought me cold, deceitful, too, 
 And so he fled, and ne'er we met again, 
 And I may love but with a sister's love, 
 For ah ! another on his bosom leans, 
 And I am left alone, sad tears to weep ; 
 Yea, bitter tears in deepest solitude. 
 
 Oh ! bitter grief the waters pure to drain 
 
 From out Love's fount, while yet the loved one lives, 
 
 Or feel that he forgets or worse he scorns 
 
 The heart which once I hoped that he would prize. 
 
 Might I but hear him whisper, " I forgive," 
 'Twould pluck a thorn from out my pillow now. 
 But no ! he never spake to me his love,
 
 212 THE SITTER FOR A MINIATURE. 
 
 Save by his loving smile, and kindly glance, 
 And by the gentle pressure of my hand, 
 And I may never ask the boon I crave. 
 
 I blame him not, for he was ever kind 
 But sure he thought me cold deceitful, too I 
 But had he known my depth of love, I'm sure 
 He never would have thus forsaken me I 
 But oh ! his image on my heart is stamped, 
 And day by day his name is on my lips, 
 And I remember him at morn and eve, 
 And nightly I will pray for him and his : 
 And when the Sabbath's twilight hour so sweet, 
 Doth close the happy day that speaks of heaven, 
 I'll wish and hope that there we meet again, 
 And that I there may know that I'm forgiven. 
 
 My heart is pained, and I can say no more, 
 But note ye down what here I now have said, 
 And when the clay-cold earth lies on my breast, 
 If then ye will, go give it to the world. 
 
 Oh ! might I hope that then he would oft come, 
 And on my "burial mould" would weep such tears
 
 THE SITTER FOR A MINIATURE. 213 
 
 As gentle brothers weep on sisters' graves, 
 How would this aching heart grow light with joy I 
 But now I scarce can hope, for much I fear 
 So false he deemed me, that he'll scorn to weep 
 The tears of memory, where my ashes sleep. 
 
 'Twould glad my heart amid my loneliness, 
 If I might know that thus he'd kindly come 
 And think of me but with a brother's love 
 But oh ! I may not know, and I will strive 
 To bow me to my Heavenly Father's will : 
 Then hush, my aching heart I Be still be still I
 
 214 THE YOUNG MOTHER TO HER INFANT. 
 
 to \w f itfattt 
 
 MY precious babe, what blessing sh.aU I crave 
 
 For thee, who e'en thine own wants knowest not ? 
 
 Shall I ask costly pearls from ocean's bed, 
 
 To glisten brightly in thy shining hair ? 
 
 Shall I ask for thee a royal diadem, 
 
 A golden throne as rich as Solomon's, 
 
 And humble suppliants round that throne to bow ? 
 
 Large coffers ever full of richest gold, 
 
 A beauteous earthly palace for thy home, 
 
 With cooling streams and fountains near ; 
 
 Much praise from human lips, thine ear to flatter, 
 
 That thy name on history's yet unread page, 
 
 May be enrolled among the proud of earth ? 
 
 Shall I ask blessings such as these for thee ? 
 
 Will they bring peace on earth, or joy in heaven ? 
 
 Ah no 1 far richer gifts than these, sweet babe, 
 1 crave from Israel's covenant-keeping God !
 
 THE YOUNG MOTHEK TO HER INFANT. 215 
 
 A Saviour's love a pearl of priceless worth, 
 In life and death to wear upon thy heart 
 A strong desire to do thy Maker's will ; 
 Long as to thee He life on earth shall give, 
 The smile of God thy days with joy to crown, 
 A mansion bright in heaven's beauteous land, 
 To be thine everlasting, happy home 
 A glorious crown a gift from heaven's King 
 A place to bow before his golden throne, 
 And join the alleluias of the blest 
 Inside the pearly gates of Paradise. 
 
 Such blessings, purchased by Immanuel, 
 
 I ask of heaven's King for my darling one : 
 
 And Father, unto me thy blessing grant, 
 
 To whom this dear immortal hath been given, 
 
 That I in wisdom's paths may live to thee, 
 
 And guide this young expanding mind to heaven 1 
 
 Aug. 1848.
 
 216 "GOD IS LOVE." 
 
 is f ok." 
 
 O'ER lakes the valley girds, 
 The morning song of birds, 
 Though not in high-toned words, 
 Is echoing, " God is love." 
 
 The sea's wild dash and roar, 
 That sweeps the bounded shore, 
 Speaks of the Almighty's power, 
 Eepeating, " God is love." 
 
 When comes the " merry spring," 
 The field and woodlands ring, 
 And rills low murmuring, 
 Each whisper, " God is love." 
 
 When Summer flowers unfold, 
 And fields are dressed in gold, 
 And emerald robes as of old, 
 Each breeze sighs, " God is love."
 
 "GOD is LOVE." 217 
 
 When "Autumn's lengthening days" 
 The " God of harvest" praise, 
 Let joyful hearts upraise 
 The song that God is love. 
 
 Now from the forests tall, 
 The fading leaves do fall, 
 And gently say to all, 
 " Seek ye a home above" 
 
 Cold Winter comes at last, 
 And the loud whirlwind's blast, 
 Tells us the year is past, 
 But doubt not " God is love." 
 
 The varied seasons each, 
 Their own sweet lessons teach, 
 Which hardened hearts oft reach, 
 Convincing, God is love. 
 
 When tempest-tossed on Sorrow's tide, 
 'Tis sweet to hope the storm to outride, 
 For Christ will grief's rough billows chide, 
 And teach us that our God is love. 
 
 10
 
 218 THE DYING WIFE. 
 
 ife. 
 
 MUST I of my beloved be bereft? 
 
 The heavenly angels wait thy coming, love ; 
 They'll upward bear thee on their snow-white wings, 
 
 And welcome thee to blissful fields above. 
 
 Yet it is hard Love's strongest ties to break 
 Hard with the dearly-loved of earth to part ; 
 
 E'en though we for a happier meeting hope, 
 
 Where words of parting ne'er can grieve the heart. 
 
 The Saviour calls me, love, and I must go, 
 
 Must leave thee, dearest, best beloved of earth 
 
 Must leave my gentle babe : oh ! teach her, love, 
 That she may early learn Eeligion's worth. 
 
 My dearest, hither bring our darling babe, 
 And let me print a dying mother's kiss ; 
 
 And on my cheek let me feel thy breath once more, 
 For I am sure I'm near the land of bliss.
 
 LET ME GO HOME. 219 
 
 She spake no more, yet love beamed from her eye, 
 Till sweetly slept the mother and the wife ; 
 
 Then o'er her features played a lovely smile, 
 As though she sweetly dreamed a dream of life. 
 
 ja ame* 
 
 " I DID not dream, but yet fantastic thought 
 Wrought such wild changes on the spirit's harp 
 It seemed that slumber ruled." 
 
 A PALACE bright before my vision rose, 
 'Twas beautiful as aught on earth could be : 
 Affection's holy light was shining there, 
 Bright flowers were gayly blooming all around, 
 And every earthly wish was gratified 
 In that sweet, lovely home so wondrous fair. 
 It seemed that heaven a radiance had lent, 
 The place with its own grace to beautify ;
 
 220 LET ME GO HOME. 
 
 Though it seemed born of heaven, not long could 
 
 last, 
 
 And from these beauties soon I turned away ; 
 And still my spirit sighed : " Let me go home 
 To those bright joys for which my heart is pining, 
 In the blest land to which my soul doth haste." 
 
 Again I gazed, and saw a cottage fair, 
 In shady grove embowered, where sweetest birds 
 Their glad melodious songs all cheerily sung, 
 From morn till night Heaven's praises caroling. 
 A happiness that seemed won from the skies, 
 Its impress here on every face had written ; 
 Yea, like the paradise of earth it seemed, 
 Ere sin or sorrow there had entrance found : 
 Yet these were joys of eajth, and therefore brief, 
 And far more high and perfect bliss I sought ; 
 And there I whispered : " Oh ! let me go home." 
 
 Sweet thoughts of my celestial home oft come, 
 My weary pilgrimage and lone to cheer ; 
 For those bright, blooming, ever-radiant fields 
 My heart is pining oh I let me go home. 
 
 I know not why it is, but oft there comes 
 
 A voice low whispering, " Thou art almost home/'
 
 LET ME GO HOME. 221 
 
 And then my heart grows light, and upward leaps, 
 While on that blissful land I seem to gaze, 
 And seem its holy atmosphere to breathe, 
 Till I can wish to be on earth no more, 
 But wish the fetters of my soul would loose, 
 And I to that dear beauteous land might soar, 
 Where sweeter songs than sweetest birds e'er war 
 ble, 
 
 Are ever ringing on the tuneful air. 
 And then again in hours of agony, 
 So great as almost set my spirit free, 
 That voice doth say " God hath yet work for 
 
 thee 
 
 On earth to do ;" and then my heart grows strong, 
 And I can even choose yet to remain 
 Where pain and sorrow o'er the spirit oft 
 Their shadows cast, if I may useful be : 
 Bright angels from the land of ceaseless joy, 
 Pour o'er my wearied heart the balm of hope, 
 And whisper of the bliss of Paradise. 
 Oh ! if such foretastes of that land are sweet 
 What must its glorious fruition be, 
 Where never fearing pain nor weariness, 
 On wings of thought unceasingly do soar
 
 222 LET ME GO HOME. 
 
 All the redeemed ones of Immanuel, 
 
 And drink at the pure fount of heaven-born blias. 
 
 With patience, Father, may I bide thy time, 
 And when the soul's frail casket's laid aside, 
 May the bright gates of heaven be oped for me, 
 And may my spirit free fly up to thee ! 
 Then, kind friends, gently lay this house of clay, 
 Where o'er my head some shady tree may wave, 
 And a stone from my much-loved Green Mountain 
 
 home, 
 
 May tell the passer-by where I repose. 
 Eejoice ye then that my soul's aspirations 
 All at my home above are satisfied. 
 And when your sun of life shall setting be, 
 May hopes as bright as mine your hearts sustain ; 
 And in the glorious mansions of the skies, 
 May those for whom my prayers have oft ascended, 
 With the redeemed of every tongue, and clime, 
 And nation, to a banquet rich sit down : 
 A banquet spread by the Eedeemer's hand 
 For those, and those alone who here on earth 
 His name have loved, and sought to glorify. 
 Oh ! soul-reviving feast, and sweeter far 
 Than ever was in kingly palace tasted,
 
 LET ME GO HOME. 223 
 
 Or e'er in Pleasure's ever-luring halls, 
 
 With costliest sweets and viands was prepared. 
 
 Friends, will ye cherish hopes that bud on earth, 
 
 To blossom in the sky ? 
 
 Delusive dreams 
 
 Are all the fleeting pleasures of this earth : 
 And when ye view them from eternity's shore, 
 Know ye not they'll like empty bubbles seem, 
 Which swift before the chasing wind are driven ? 
 Oh ! then, while brightly burns your lamp of life, 
 Will ye not search for gold which ever shines 
 In the blest land of wealth which never fails ? 
 Then when from earth by Death ye are called 
 
 away, 
 To the land of bliss eternal ye'll go home. 
 
 I860,
 
 224 "REST IN HEAVEN." 
 
 n 
 
 WHEN gales of Disappointment rudely blow, 
 And one by one the buds of Hope lie low 
 When clouds of grief are gathering thick and fast, 
 And earthly joys we know not long can last 
 When Pain her orgies holds within our clay, 
 'Tis sweet to upward look to endless day 
 When dearest friends from us by Death are riven, 
 'Tis doubly sweet to think there's rest in Heaven. 
 
 When Affluence her richest bounties brings 
 When in Health's sunshine bright the glad heart 
 
 sings 
 
 When sweetest flowers of Hope all gayly bloom 
 For us, at eventide, and morn, and noon 
 When life flows onward like a peaceful rill, 
 Bright thoughts of heaven make life but sweeter still ! 
 And even when wreaths of joy for us are woven, 
 We love to think there's rest sweet rest in Heaven. 
 For ah ! earth's brightest wreaths with Sorrow's tears 
 Are oft bedewed, or stained with saddening fears !
 
 
 "REST IN HEAVEN." 225 
 
 ff 
 
 * -m 
 
 And though loud notes from out the trump of Fame, 
 Should sound abroad to all the world my name 
 Though for my brow she weave a chaplet fair, 
 And Friendship and Affection place it there, 
 I still must feel that naught that they have given, 
 Can be so sweet as is the rest of Heaven. 
 
 A gentle sound from out a glittering fold 
 
 Of love's bright banner, (brighter far than gold,) 
 
 Seems wafted now on midnight's whispering breeze, 
 
 And while I list, my aching head finds ease ; 
 
 For oh ! 'mid all the changing scenes of life, 
 
 No other thought with bliss is half so rife, 
 
 As is the thought that when with earth I've done, 
 
 That banner bright will o'er me wave at home, 
 
 When I'm on Mercy's snowy wing upborne, 
 
 To share the sweet, the glorious rest of Heaven. 
 
 When in the fields of sweet eternity, 
 
 The happy soul finds rest, and joyfully 
 
 Its pinion plumes for high and higher flight, 
 
 Oh ! then and there will each free, grateful heart, 
 
 Its offerings bring, and chant its sweetest strain, 
 
 To Him who hath prepared the rest of Heaven. 
 10*
 
 226 TO AN INEBRIATE. 
 
 Ca an JWriatt 
 
 POET, thou dwellest 'neath a more than cypress 
 
 shade 
 
 A gloom which thou thyself hast on thy spirit laid ! 
 (O deadly Alcohol ! hast thou the power to bind 
 By thy strong spell the gateway of the immortal 
 
 mind?) 
 
 "When weaker minds bow 'neath the dire enchanter's 
 
 rage, 
 
 And stoop in Bachannalian revelries to engage, 
 Their own iigh dignity forgetting o'er their cups, 
 Ah ! very much we pity who the poison sups. 
 
 But when a mind like thine doth from its pathway 
 
 turn, 
 
 And bid the glorious lamp of reason dimly burn, 
 Checks Fancy's eagle flight, and like an idiot roves 
 Where thoughts sublime, and towering up like lofty 
 
 groves
 
 TO AN INEBRIATE. 227 
 
 Of stately cedars and of pines, so high their heads 
 Upreared, while lighter thoughts, like beauteous 
 
 flower-beds 
 
 Their fragrance shed, ah me ! how very much we fear 
 Dread retribution from Jehovah's hand is near. 
 
 I marked those, noble tree-like thoughts, and flowers 
 
 so fine, 
 Yet midst those trees and flowers I saw a poisonous 
 
 vine 
 Such Upas-blast forth-sending, as blights buds of 
 
 hope 
 Chills Thought's fair flowers, and makes the mind in 
 
 darkness grope. 
 
 Yet knew I not, till late, how shattered was that lyre 
 Whose numbers flowed, the heart with rapture to in 
 spire, 
 
 Nor knew I that the bird of Memory had flown 
 From out thy heart, and left thee desolate and lone.
 
 228 PLEASURES OF POETRY. 
 
 f teum; of 
 
 "Yet less he sought his own renown, than wished 
 To have the eternal images of truth 
 And beauty pictured, in his verse admired. 
 'Twas these, taking immortal shape and form 
 Beneath his eye, that charmed his midnight watch, 
 And oft his soul with awful transports shook, 
 Of happiness unheard by other men. 
 This was that spell, that sorcery, which bound 
 The poet to his lyre, and would not let 
 Him go ; that hidden mystery of joy, 
 Which mado him sing in spite of fortune's worst, 
 And was, at once, both motive and reward." 
 
 THE poet's happiness who can describe ? 
 "Pis bliss divinely sweet 'tis heaven below I 
 For him, the master of the sacred lyre, 
 Even while he lives, the pearly gates of heaven, 
 Back on their golden hinges seem to fly, 
 While he, rejoicing in the smile of God, 
 Walks on in paths of happiness so high,
 
 PLEASURES OF POETRY. 229 
 
 He can forget but lie -with angels walks, 
 And seems to heaven's "entrancing melodies" 
 To list, oft at the morn or midnight hour : 
 And when the " twilight sweet" begins to draw 
 The " sable curtains" of the night o'er earth, 
 With reverential awe he bends his ear, 
 And hears the voice of the Omnipotent, 
 Speaking in tones of love so mild and sweet, 
 He quite forgets the griefs and cares of earth, 
 While on the wings of boundless thought he roves 
 Far o'er the earth's domain, and o'er the sea, 
 And e'en through the green fields of Paradise ! 
 
 He quaffs Heaven's waters pure his heart grows 
 
 light 
 
 And leaning on that " arm which never fails," 
 And girded up with wondrous strength of soul, 
 He joyous walks through labyrinths of life, 
 Onward, as if an angel led him on, 
 And drowns his sorrows in his mighty joys ; 
 And while he stands poised earth and heaven be 
 tween, 
 Trembling with his intensity of joy,
 
 230 PLEASUKES OF POETRY 
 
 He drinks from deepest wells of happiness, 
 And then invites the world to share his bliss I 
 
 His harp sounds o'er the troubled waters of the soul, 
 His words of cheer oft sink the grief-swollen tide, 
 "While upward points he to the land of bliss, 
 And the sad soul forgets a world like this, 
 While meditating on the fragrant flowers, 
 And verdant bowers, about the Tree of Life, 
 And on the stream which flows so clearly on, 
 Proceeding from the glorious throne of God, 
 Refreshing the fair fields of Paradise. 
 
 He gathers choicest blessings of the sky, 
 Which can to mortals here on earth be given 
 And Sorrow makes his muse more eloquent ; 
 For while Grief on his heart-strings plays, they vi 
 brate 
 Unto a. high key-note of victory. 
 
 Then howsoever poor, why should he change 
 His lot for all the gifts which wealth can bring ? 
 His is a three-fold joy -joy while he sings 
 A rich, transporting joy and happiness
 
 PLEASURES OF POETRY. 231 
 
 Most sweet in after-life, in calling back 
 The glad associations of his song. 
 And oh ! a joy as unalloyed as earth 
 Can yield is his, to think that while he walks 
 Through fields of highest bliss in Paradise, 
 " The transcript of his mind," by Heaven blest, 
 The mourning still may comfort, and the souls 
 Of wanderers lead to seek a home on high, 
 Through merits of Immanuel. 
 
 Such hopes 
 
 Like thornless roses will their fragrance shed, 
 While on his dying-pillow lies his head, 
 And when his spirit joyfully departs, 
 The hearts that love him, will in kindness come, 
 To pay their tribute to his memory. 
 
 But I must cease, lest those who never taste 
 Such joys as I describe, should think me wild, 
 Or that I am enthusiastic quite ; 
 But come, my friends, who thus so rashly judge, 
 And drink from the sweet well of poesy, 
 Then say with me that nevermore ye hope 
 For joy on earth as high, and deep, and rich, 
 As she to those who love her oft affords.
 
 [To those of my miscellaneous poems which I have selected for 
 this work, I will, for the sake of the friends of my childhood, append 
 a few of my earliest poetical productions. As they are inserted 
 merely for friends, and I do not profess for them proficiency in artistic 
 execution, nor pretend that they are of any great value, I trust that 
 those who would read " with a critic's eye" will pass them by un 
 noticed. 
 
 I place them here because I think they may possibly be of some 
 interest to early friends, simply on account of their being some of my 
 first attempts at writing poetry.] 
 
 WHO made the little stars so bright, 
 Those beauteous twinkling orbs of night, 
 That seem like little worlds of light ? 
 
 Canst thou tell me, mother ? 
 
 Yes, my dear child, God placed them there, 
 To light by night this lower sphere ;
 
 236 WHAT IS MAN? 
 
 "Pis he who watches you with care, 
 And guards you while you sweetly sleep ; 
 And they who his commandments keep, 
 Shall in his kingdom have a share. 
 
 Who made the flowers I dearly love ? 
 Who made the pretty little dove 
 That sings so sweetly in the grove ? 
 
 Was it that God, mamma? 
 
 Yes, child, the God who made the stars, 
 Made the sweet dove, and made the flowers, 
 And all the beauties which you see : 
 High in the heaven of heavens he reigns, 
 But the child's prayer to hear he deigns 1 
 Then pray my child : He'll answer ihee. 
 
 STRANGE question and mysterious ! What is man? 
 A spark of spirit, and a clod of earth, 
 Undying, and yet ever dying, too ; 
 Awhile united here, we know not how ; 
 Then soars the spirit far above the stars,
 
 WHAT IS MAN? 237 
 
 Or sinks to dwell for aye with awful fiends, 
 Far banished from its holy Sovereign's love, 
 But never from that pure Omniscient eye, 
 Before whose presence fallen spirits tremble, 
 While holiest angels stand in sacred awe 
 Around his high, majestic, golden throne, 
 To wait the righteous orders of their King. 
 
 Unchained to earth disrobed of feeble clay 
 With angels soaring, a bright angel, too, 
 The blest spirit bows before the great I AM, 
 And casts its crown before its Saviour King. 
 
 The foes of God (an awful gulf between) 
 Look on, and view the glories of a heaven : 
 Believe and tremble," too, yet ne'er adore, 
 But weeping gnash their teeth, and curses pour. 
 
 O guilty sinner ! mark the difference well, 
 Between adoring heaven and awful hell, 
 And ere the bowl which holds thy life be broken, 
 Look up, and love thy God, and trust in Heaven.
 
 238 THE CHRISTIAN'S WANTS. 
 
 mg 
 
 MY Bible, well might gold envelop thee, 
 
 For far more precious then earth's gold art thou ! 
 
 Ah ! who can tell what thou hast been to me, 
 When but for thee Death had enwreathed my brow ? 
 
 In vain earth's proudest ones may search to earth's 
 bound, 
 
 For beauteous gems of priceless worth, 
 For on Golconda's coast can ne'er be found 
 
 Diamond or gold of half thy worth. 
 
 And yet thou needest not external decking, 
 For rich are thy sweet stores of wealth that glow, 
 
 For those who love thy glorious, holy teachings, 
 And prize the precious gems thou dost bestow. 
 
 Iftw Christian's $tots. 
 
 I WANT a heart that's fired with holy zeal. 
 To do my Heavenly Father's righteous will ; 
 Wisdom I want which cometh from above, 
 And all my heart to glow with holy love.
 
 THE CHRISTIAN'S WANTS. 239 
 
 I want, whatever be my earthly lot, 
 
 That sweet content should reign in every thought, 
 
 And faith I want, to bear my spirit up 
 
 Till I drink the last drop of Affliction's cup. 
 
 I want the presence and the smile of God 
 His counsel sweet to guide me on the road 
 "Which leads up to that brighter world on high, 
 Where all is love, and joy, and purity. 
 
 I want when on the earth my days are o'er, 
 As on swift- winged angel's wings to soar, 
 To view the glories of that world above 
 To see the Saviour whom I dearly love. 
 
 I want a never-fading crown to wear, 
 
 In that bright world so beauteously fair I 
 
 A crown bought with my dearest Saviour's blood, 
 
 Such as is given to those who love their God. 
 
 But ah ! shall mortal dare such griefs to craye ? 
 Yes ! for the blest Kedeemer died to save, 
 And God his promises has surely given 
 To cheer me on the road that leads to heaven.
 
 240 OX VIEWING A FRAGILE VINE. 
 
 n ilwittg a 
 
 FROM THE WINDOW OF MY SICK-ROOM. 
 
 EACH little floweret there 
 
 Has Q-od's peculiar care, 
 
 And every leaflet frail 
 
 Seems made his praise to tell ; 
 
 While in the sighing breeze 
 
 The tiny flowerets wreathe, 
 
 Then gently lift their heads, 
 
 Or bow them to their lowly bed 5 !, 
 
 As if awaiting God's behest, 
 
 To bid them seek Death's quiet rest. 
 
 Then they seem without a sigh, 
 Gently to resign their breath, 
 
 Like an infant called to die, 
 
 Ere it thinks or knows of death.
 
 THE PILGRIM'S DREAM. 241 
 
 f itgrim's 
 
 jf >v 
 
 MIGHT I a poet's pencil borrow now, 
 I'd paint a dream I had not long ago, 
 When in ray vision searching for a home, 
 O'er the wide world I as a pilgrim roamed. 
 
 . 
 I searched full many a beauteous city o'er 
 
 I walked on mountain's top and ocean's shore, 
 
 "Watching I spied a landscape far away, 
 
 To which I thought I much would love to stray. 
 
 Then bright Hope waved her fairy wand 
 Ah ! then I loosed me from the strand, 
 And swiftly plied my light boat o'er 
 Unto the beauteous wild- wood shore. 
 
 ( 
 Bright flowers all gayly bloomed and fair, 
 
 Exhaling sweetest odors there. 
 I thoughtful roved awhile in solitude, 
 Then sat I down beneath a willow's shade ; 
 A purling stream was gliding at my feet, 
 
 And zephyrs round me played with music sweet. 
 11
 
 242 THE PILGRIM'S DREAM. 
 
 I love o'er the wild woods to roam, 
 Yet here I could not choose my home! 
 I turned my steps another way, 
 And in a far-off clime did stray. 
 
 I sought, and sought in vain a home to find, 
 Until by faith I viewed a better land. 
 Sweet Hope unfurled her golden pinion then 
 I fled from earth, and found a home in heaven. 
 
 A swift- winged seraph flew at Q-od's command, 
 And placed upon my head a diadem ; 
 A golden harp employed my trembling hand, 
 And with heaven's holy minstrelsy I sung. 
 
 Low at my Saviour's feet I humbly bowed ; 
 Lord, and is this a sinner's home, I cried : 
 He gently raised me in his loving arms, 
 And bade me welcome to the heavenly charms. 
 
 Then never more on earth I sought to roam, 
 For I in Paradise had found a home : 
 A home where thornless roses ne'er decay, 
 And where bright seraphs swell their holiest lays.
 
 ELIJAH AT THE CAVE OF MOUNT HOEEB. 243 
 
 at ito djlaw af Utotmt 
 
 GOD'S mourning prophet came to his holy mount ! 
 Perchance he came to rest from anxious care, 
 In dreamy solitude a saddened heart 
 Perchance to meet his God the prophet came 
 To the mount where God's own holy law was 
 
 given, 
 
 "When thunder, lightning, and the trumpet's sound, 
 Made fearful Israel's hosts far off remove, 
 When even the humblest man amid their ranks, 
 A fearful trembling felt. 
 
 Elijah came, 
 
 And in the dark cold cave lodged the lone seer, 
 The eye of his God kindly o'er him watched ; 
 He heard Jehovah speak, and answering said : 
 " For thee I've very jealous been, Lord ! 
 For Israel hath thy covenant forsaken, 
 Thine altars hath thrown down, and prophets 
 
 slain ; 
 
 Alone I'm left, and e'en my life they seek I" 
 God's voice replied : " Go, stand, before the Lord."
 
 24:4 LINES. 
 
 He stood and heard the rending mountains shake, 
 And rocks in pieces break before his God ! 
 He sees naught in the hurrying blast to fear 
 His heart's unawed, nor hears the voice of God. 
 The wind is hushed then comes an earthquake's 
 
 roar, 
 
 Then burns the glowing flame in fury wild : 
 No quaking fear the prophet's heart doth move, 
 Though' in the fire he sees a God revealed. 
 But hark ! the Spirit gently whispers now 1 
 His head is bent in adoration low 
 His voice is hushed his wondering heart is awed ; 
 He listens to the breathings of the Lord, 
 And pours his griefs into the Almighty's ear, 
 Then hearkens to the mandate of his God, 
 And with a new, a stronger faith inspired, 
 On errands for the great Eternal goes. 
 
 HARK ! for the direful sounds of hell 
 Across my visioned fancy steal I 
 I hear the sounds of pain and anguish 
 Of souls who at God's frown do languish !
 
 LINES. 245 
 
 The wail so dread I trembling hear it, 
 And turn away I can not bear it. 
 
 O Fancy ! spread thy pinion wide ! 
 Let me view heaven's vail drawn aside 
 Heaven's songs of praise, oh ! let me hear 1 
 Ah I now sweet sounds burst on my ear ; 
 My heart is ravished, while it upward rises, 
 Still listens to the song, and still rejoices. 
 
 Oh ! how unlike is the glad employ 
 Of heaven's sweet minstrelsy of joy, 
 To those so dreadful wails of sorrow, 
 "Which fill the listener's heart with horror. 
 
 And what doth constitute this difference wide? 
 In heaven are friends, in hell the foes of God, 
 And far as love from bitter hatred is, 
 So far is happy heaven from hell divided.
 
 246 MUSINGS. 
 
 Is there on earth a place where cruel Envy dwelleth 
 
 not? 
 Oh ! tell me where, and let me fly to such a love-lit 
 
 spot, 
 For though I've searched in tomes of history and 
 
 fable, 
 To find such place described not oft have I been able. 
 
 Is there a place on earth where Love has power un 
 bounded? 
 
 Where she her golden scepter ever holds, and none 
 oppose ? 
 
 Where heart of brother is to brother's heart united ? 
 
 Where holy peace forever reigns, and none e'er find- 
 eth foes ? 
 
 Doth earth afford one place where thornless roses 
 
 bloom ? 
 
 And joys from sin and sorrow free unsullied come ? 
 A voice seems crying : " Seek ye these beyond the 
 
 tomb, 
 For oh ! they're surely found in thine eternal home."
 
 SAMSON'S ESCAPE FROM GAZA. 247 
 
 j&mson's (tap* ([ruin 
 
 BEHOLD triumphant Gaza rise at early morn ! 
 But where are now its brazen gates and bolts so 
 
 strong ? 
 
 Ah ! what dread foe of giant power, 
 Came in the stilly midnight hour, 
 When sweetly wrapped in Sleep's soft arms 
 The quiet city feared no harm ? 
 
 An Israelite came yesternight, 
 And him they compassed in their might, 
 And thought at morn their hated foe to slay, 
 But see him rise, and bear their gates away ! 
 And posts and bars he on his shoulders bears, 
 Though enmity of thousands thus he dares. 
 
 Ah ! yes, they thought (and oh ! how vainly, too) 
 That valiant enemy's life to destroy, 
 "Whom God had raised themselves to slay 1 
 But trust no more in your puny strength, 
 Ye erring sons of fair Philistia, 
 Since Israel's God has come at length, 
 To a chosen son of his such power to give, 
 Yourselves to avenge, and bid his children live.
 
 248 HENRY MARTYN. 
 
 JJlartp. 
 
 MARTYN, though no loved earthly friend, 
 Shall e'er with fond affection bend 
 Above thy lonely burial place, 
 Amidst a far-off heathen race, 
 Thy God shall watch thy sleeping dust, 
 Till thou with all his ransomed just, 
 Shalt in his glorious image rise, 
 To meet him hailing from the skies. 
 
 Affection shed no halo round thy dying-bed ! 
 Ah 1 none ? Not so ! around thee shone the smile 
 
 of God, 
 
 Thy loving Saviour listened to his son's last prayer, 
 And thy last sigh was breathed into Immanuel's 
 
 ear. 
 
 And now thy soul enjoys a noble rest ! 
 Then Tocat, hold with joy thy sacred trust ; 
 The mouldering ashes of God's faithful son, 
 Who his glorious crown of victory won, 
 Doth ever sing in bright celestial bowers, 
 A song that well accords with seraph lyres.
 
 HENRY MARTYN. 249 
 
 Even when on earth " heaven's" holy " dawn" was 
 
 sweet 
 
 To him who loved to learn at Jesus' feet ! 
 Now sweet to him heaven's full fruition is, 
 Where ever he beholds Immanuel's face, 
 Eejoicing in his Saviour's kind embrace. 
 
 Perchance his spirit to some heathen land, 
 Is an angel sent by Jesus' high command, 
 Or watches o'er some friend of early days, 
 To lure from earthly joys, to wisdom's ways. 
 
 Whate'er in heaven is his employ, 
 His Grod to serve, to him is joy; 
 And lo ! to heaven's golden floor, 
 He bows his head, and worships there 1 
 Yea, and throughout eternity, 
 Praise on his spirit's lips shall be. 
 
 11*
 
 250 LINES. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF A MEMBER OP THE "JUVENILE 
 CHOIR," IN W , WHO DIED DEC. 20, 1842. 
 
 THE time approaches when teacher and scholars must 
 
 part: 
 Mirth has fled sadness steals o'er many a youthful 
 
 heart 1 
 
 For hark ! I hear the bell slow strike at early morn ! 
 It is to tell me from that number one has gone. 
 
 Gone ? yes, gone from that youthful band forever, 
 For Death has loosed the cord that to them bound 
 
 her, 
 
 And sympathy for friends around her " early bier," 
 And Love and Memory tempt the falling tear. 
 
 It seems but yesterday she sung," Weep not for me ;" 
 Now hushed is that sweet voice we may not hear it 
 
 now; 
 
 For the grave has received her ashes to its trust, 
 Now sleeps that fair and loved one in the silent dust.
 
 LINES. 251 
 
 Tread lightly now o'er the grave of the sleeping 
 
 dead I 
 
 Tread lightly, children, over your friend's lowly bed, 
 Nor e'er forget that you soon 'neath the sod must lie I 
 I seem to hear a spirit say : " PREPARE TO DIE." 
 
 I almost listen to the sacred choir of heaven ! 
 
 Is Mary there? Oh! then weep not that she has 
 
 gone, 
 
 But prepare your sweet alleluias there to swell, 
 Where never tears of parting may the spirit chill. 
 
 Sfoea. 
 
 'Tis not for us to know while earth's our home, 
 Why are the griefs of this sad life and lone, 
 But oh ! when all life's bitter tears are shed, 
 When we've no more of grief or woe to dread, 
 Then shall we rise to sing as angels do ; 
 Oh ! then shall lofty praise our tongues employ, 
 For then we shall see that God was just and good, 
 And ever wise when he sent Affliction's rod. 
 Such thoughts the Christian pilgrim's heart can 
 
 cheer, 
 Oft in life's darkest and its saddest hours.
 
 252 FANCY'S DREAM. 
 
 I HEAR a voice sweet murmuring and low ! 
 Say, breezes, what is this strange mystery ! 
 "Pis Nature's voice as she speaks by winds and 
 
 flowers, 
 
 And Fancy sings of the days when I loved to roam 
 O'er the fair hills and fields of my native home. 
 Once more I list the music of the winds, 
 As of old when rustling through the lofty trees, 
 They seemed like angels' voices praising God. 
 For ah ! I've listened to those forest winds, 
 Till my soul has seemed by heavenly zephyrs 
 
 fanned 
 
 Has been so awed by sweet and holy fear, 
 I've almost thought some angel voice to hear. 
 Now Fancy lists I pluck fair forest gems 
 Again I see the bright Claytonia, 
 Which gently kisses feet that on it tread, 
 And seems to own it was made for us ; 
 And here is the Campanula fair, 
 That as it bendeth o'er the rocks,
 
 FANCY'S DREAM. 253 
 
 Doth gently ring its vesper bell, 
 
 And sweetly call : " To prayer to prayer." 
 
 And other forest flowers I see, 
 
 That looking up from 'neath a rock, 
 
 Or shelter of some taller flower, 
 
 Seem whispering : "Be humble, all." 
 
 Sweet teachings those voiceless monitors have 
 
 given, 
 
 Whose wondrous varied tints and numerous forms, 
 Show they were penciled by the omniscient God, 
 And now whene'er by Fancy's eye I view them, 
 The same sweet lessons they are whispering. 
 
 Now home, o'er thy fair waters swift I glide, 
 Or sit in thoughtfulness at eventide, 
 And watch the " king of day" behind thy moun 
 tains hide, 
 
 Then view the " queen of night" serenely glide 
 Up through the smiling heaven's cerulean way, 
 Shedding on all around her sweet mild ray ; 
 And now on some huge precipice I stand, 
 A deeply yawning gulf at my right hand,
 
 254 FANCY'S DREAM. 
 
 While at my left, high rocks above me peer, 
 And bid defiance to the rolling year : 
 Gentle then warring winds around me sigh, 
 Oft telling of a potent Arm on high, 
 While far away the rolling river's roar 
 Doth loudly cry : " Soon time with thee will be 
 o'er." 
 
 Come, atheist, listen and gaze with me ! 
 
 Canst thou stand here unawed, and all unmoved ? 
 
 Canst thou now dare to say, " There is no God I" 
 
 Thou mightest as wisely call thyself a god 
 
 Assuming this, bid oceans cease to roll, 
 
 Or strive to bind some mighty cataract. 
 
 Canst thou call scenes like this all useless, then ? 
 Ah ! no, for were earth void of rocks and hills, 
 Beauteous streams, and gently murmuring rills, 
 My native land would less of grandeur show, 
 And speak much less of God, methinks than now.
 
 SCENES IN THE LIFE OF MOSES. 255 
 
 itea iit ife jrf 
 
 WHAT means that wailing cry from Israel ? 
 
 Lo ! Egypt's king decrees that infant sons 
 
 Of Jacob's hated race must all be slain, 
 
 And trembling, fears, and mourning fill the land. 
 
 A goodly child of Levi's tribe is born, 
 
 Who by his mother's anxious, tender care, 
 
 " Three months" from cruel death is safely kept ; 
 
 Then fearing lest her little one be slain 
 
 By ruthless hands before her weeping eyes, 
 
 A tiny ark of rushes buildeth she, 
 
 And then with many a kiss, and many a prayer, 
 
 His little floating cradle lays she down 
 
 Amid the flags, upon the river's brink, 
 
 While anxiously his loving sister waits, 
 
 To see what will become of him. 
 
 Ah! look! 
 With queenly step the daughter of a king,
 
 256 SCENES IN THE LIFE OF MOSES. 
 
 "Walks by the river's side. The babe perchance 
 
 Is sleeping, all unconscious of its fate ; 
 
 But strangely curious to know what can 
 
 Be there concealed, the princess sends her maid 
 
 To bring the bark so frail, a mother's hand 
 
 Had there amid the swaying rushes laid, 
 
 And which a heavenly "Watcher safe had kept. 
 
 She opened it and lo ! the upturned eyes 
 Of weeping innocence, met her wondering gaze I 
 The silent language of an infant's tear, 
 More eloquent than all the pompous words 
 Of boasted pride, with pity touched her heart, 
 And she resolved, despite a father's frown, 
 The beauteous little stranger child should live. 
 
 Just at this favored moment Miriam came, 
 And from, the princess' lips received command, 
 To bring a Hebrew nurse to care for him. 
 
 "With hastening steps his mother grateful comes, 
 And with a heart with joy o'erflowing, folds 
 In her embrace her precious darling babe. 
 Ah ! what an idle word did " wages" seem,
 
 SCENES IN THE LIFE OF MOSES. 257 
 
 To her who in Affection's wealth rejoiced 
 That she with kind maternal care might watch 
 The smiles and slumbers of her baby boy, 
 And feel that in her arms he would be safe 
 From murderous hands, and in a kingly court 
 Appear, as one who had a birthright there. 
 
 As the adopted son of Pharaoh's child, 
 
 He grew to manhood's years ; but in an hour 
 
 When Moses was by strong temptation tried, 
 
 And by Egyptian cruelty provoked, 
 
 He raised his hand, and the oppressor slew ; 
 
 And, fearing the avenger's rod, he flew 
 
 To Midian, and won him there a bride 
 
 From priestly family, and there sojourned 
 
 Full forty years, till they who sought his life, 
 
 All in their graves were slumbering ; and then 
 
 While to the desert, he his father's flocks 
 
 Was leading, near the holy mount of God, 
 
 The great I AM in glory there appeared, 
 
 And as he turned aside to gaze upon 
 
 The bush that burned with unconsuming fire, 
 
 Jehovah called, and bade him draw not near,
 
 258 SCENES IN THE LIFE OF MOSES. 
 
 But put his shoes from off his feet, while on 
 The ground by God's own presence holy made. 
 
 The God of Abram, Isaac, Jacob too, 
 Told him that He His people's cry had heard, 
 And that to them He would deliverance bring, 
 And that he should their leader be, when He, 
 Jehovah God, with power would bring them forth 
 From the oppressor's rod. 
 
 With many signs, 
 
 And wondrous plagues, he would the Egyptian king 
 Constrain to let them go, with well-filled hands. 
 The rod to a serpent turned, again a rod 
 The hand made leperous, and the hand made whole, 
 Should soon to Israel prove him sent of God, 
 Else he might even water turn to blood 
 Before their eyes to prove his message true. 
 
 But hear him plead his lack of eloquence, 
 
 And beg the Lord to by another send, 
 
 For he was "slow of speech, and of slow tongue." 
 
 Ah ! needs it courtly eloquence the heart 
 
 To win, if God be with the speaker's soul,
 
 SCENES IN THE LIFE OF MOSES. 259 
 
 And He the listener's heart prepare to hear, 
 And His sure blessing add ? 
 
 God's anger rose 
 
 Against His servant then. He Aaron chose, 
 To speak for him while he in place of God, 
 His lips to teach, should to his brother be. 
 
 Returning to his home, his errand made 
 He known, and Jethro bade him " go in peace." 
 But will his daughter leave her early friends, 
 And father's house, to a stranger land to go ? 
 
 She of a woman's trusting heart possessed, 
 Leaving her early home, and childhood's friends, 
 On stronger arm and sterner heart relying, 
 Dared to a distant land to go with him 
 Nor gold, nor splendid retinue she asked ; 
 Her husband's honor was the valued gem 
 Which decked her brow her sons were at her side, 
 And they were wealth most highly prized by her : 
 So they their humble pilgrimage pursued ; 
 Jehovah with them went, to be their guide ; 
 The wonder-working rod was in Moses' hand, 
 And Aaron gladly met them by the way :
 
 260 SCENES IN THE LIFE OF MOSES. 
 
 The elders of the people they assembled, 
 
 And wrought strange signs before their wondering 
 
 eyes, 
 And told them of the message of the Lord. 
 
 Israel heard with faith, and worshiped too, 
 But Pharaoh dared defy the Omnipotent, 
 And harder made the task of the oppressed : 
 Perchance God suffered it their faith to try. 
 
 The oft-repeated signs and wonders of the Lord, 
 But harder made the heart of Egypt's king, 
 Till mournful wails from every house in all 
 The realm went up ; for at the midnight hour, 
 Death's angel walked abroad through all the land, 
 And slew the first born of each household there, 
 Save they who the mark of God's sure promise bore. 
 
 With softened heart the king then bade them go ; 
 Yea, earnestly besought them to be gone 
 In haste, for then the Omnipotent he feared. 
 
 "Jewels of gold and raiment" borrowed they, 
 
 For in the sight of the Egyptian host, 
 
 God gave them favor, and that host they spoiled :
 
 SCENES IN THE LIFE OF MOSES. 261 
 
 From Egypt then with a high, hand they went. 
 The haughty monarch's heart was hardened still ; 
 " Six hundred chosen chariots" he took, 
 With "captains over every one of them," 
 And hastily pursued the flying host. 
 The Israelitish bands their eyes upraised, 
 And lo ! the strength of Egypt followed them ; 
 Then in their fear they cried unto the Lord 
 And of their leader spake complainingly ; 
 But Moses bade the trembling host : " Fear not, 
 But stand ye still and God's salvation see, 
 Which he this day to you shall show. The Lord 
 For you shall fight, and ye shall hold your peace." 
 God's angel from before the camp removed 
 The cloudy, fiery pillar too removed, 
 And stood between them and their cruel foes ; 
 To them it was a cloud and darkness too ; 
 To Israel it gave cheering light by night. 
 
 Before them lay the deep and broad Eed Sea, 
 And yet Jehovah bade them onward go, 
 And o'er it Moses at the Lord's command, 
 Stretched out his hand and rod the sea divided 
 By a strong wind its depths went back, and formed
 
 262 SCENES IN THE LIFE OF MOSES. 
 
 A crystal wall of waters high heaped up, 
 And held by the Almighty's powerful hand, 
 While on the deep sea's bed in solemn march, 
 The myriad throng of old and young passed on, 
 Till safely they the eastern shore ascended. 
 
 Their avaricious and presumptuous foes 
 
 Dared follow them, nor feared the Lord of hosts 
 
 His kind protection would from them withhold ! 
 
 Israel's hour of deliverance had come I 
 Moses, their leader, stands upon the shore, 
 And o'er the sea he stretches out his hand ! 
 Now with a mighty crash that wall falls down 1 
 Beneath its weight their foes all buried lie . 
 Like lead in mighty waters sank they down, 
 For the Lord Jehovah " triumphed gloriously," 
 His hand in pieces dashed the enemy, 
 Horseman and horse o'erthrew he in the sea. 
 
 Israel then with wondering eyes beheld 
 The wondrous power of the Omnipotent 1 
 Then what a glorious song of praise arose I 
 A pealing anthen>fironi a grateful throng,
 
 SCENES IN THE LIFE OF MOSES. 263 
 
 In lofty chorus echoed o'er the sea, 
 Where lay their foes entombed beneath the wave, 
 Then rose like sweet perfume of incense pure, 
 Before the throne of their Deliverer. 
 
 That triumph-song in one exultant shout 
 "Went up, resounding, and reechoing long, 
 O'er lofty hill, and wilderness, and vale, 
 And Israel's daughters with their timbrels sang 
 A sweet response of freedom and of joy ; 
 For then the wondering grateful multitude, 
 Feared and believed the Lord their righteous God, 
 And they believed his servant Moses too. 
 
 But soon new troubles rose their faith to try : 
 
 At Marah's bitter waters murmered they, 
 
 But Moses cried unto the Lord his God, 
 
 And soon the fallen tree such change had wrought, 
 
 As made for them the bitter waters sweet. 
 
 So oft the bitter waters of our lives, 
 
 Are sweetened by the power of faith and prayer. 
 
 Again they murmured for the lack of bread, 
 God heard their cry, and gave them daily bread 
 From heaven, for forty years.
 
 264 SCENES IN THE LIFE OF MOSES. 
 
 At Sinai made they covenant with the Lord, 
 And God in glory and in might descended, 
 And when the trumpet sounded loud and long, 
 And Moses spake, God answered by a voice, 
 And thus his servant honored in the sight 
 Of the believing, trembling host, that stood 
 Around the quaking mount where God appeared 
 'Mid thunders and 'mid lightnings, in a cloud, 
 When smoke therefrom as from a furnace rose, 
 And he to Moses for his people gave 
 Commandments mingled with sweet promises, 
 And solemn oaths of faithfulness they spake. 
 
 Again was Moses called unto the mount, 
 While a bright cloud betokening that God 
 In glory there appeared, o'ershadowed it, 
 While six times ran the sun his daily round. 
 The seventh came, and God his servant called 
 Into the midst of that bright, radiant cloud, 
 Whose glory like devouring fire appeared 1 
 He went to talk face unto face with God ; 
 The stone tables written over with 
 The finger of the Lord, there to receive ;
 
 JOSEPHINE. 289 
 
 And o'er the sea to that dear cherished spot 
 Where oft her heart had been, she joyous flies 
 To meet the .dearest treasures of her soul. 
 
 With mingled joy and sorrow met they there ; 
 Forgiveness beamed in her mild, gentle eye, 
 And lip to lip was fondly pressed again, 
 And gloom exchanged for holy, heart-felt joy. 
 
 Days, months, and years flew swiftly, happily on, 
 Until a nation's struggles, fierce and strong, 
 Exchanged their joyous hope for cruel grief; 
 Immuring him in gloomy prison- walls, 
 From his loved wife and children separate. 
 
 The Jacobins who triumphed in their power, 
 Oft sought less furious Girondists to slay ; 
 Though kindly of impending danger warned, 
 Ah ! how Beauharnais' soul then scorned to flee 
 From oppression's rage, secure in innocence 
 Of deeds as dark as his accusers were. 
 
 While he was borne by a maddened throng away 
 To a lone captive's cell, what grief her soul 
 Oppressed ; but ah ! how lofty was his bearing, 
 And he exulted in a martyr's fate. 
 13
 
 290 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 Though from his household band they rudely tore 
 
 him, 
 
 His heart from them could not divided be ; 
 But oft the kindly words of cheer and love 
 And sympathy they to each other send, 
 And each in sorrow for the other's woe, 
 Most kindly strives to soothe, and yet each soul 
 Is deeply pained with thought of present grief, 
 For even from lips of childish innocence, 
 The tyrants fain would accusation bring.* 
 From the caresses of her little ones, 
 "Who, ere they slept, for her had raised a prayer, 
 At gloomy hour of night, they bore sad Josephine : 
 Y"et prisoned thus, her gentle spirit breathed 
 In tones of deep and holy sympathy 
 For other hearts that in affliction pined ; 
 And sweet thoughts of each other's love, 'mid grief, 
 And 'mid imprisonment, the gentle hearts 
 Of Josephine and of Beauharnais cheered. 
 
 * A member of the committee, under pretext of interest in Beau 
 harnais, entered the abode of Josephine, and closely questioned her 
 children in regard to the opinions, meetings, etc., of their parents, 
 hoping that the unsuspecting ones might disclose some secret
 
 JOSEPHINE. 291 
 
 At length, the tyrant's fearful sentence passed, 
 What touching words of truthful tenderness 
 To one so dear, whom he may meet on earth 
 Ah ! never more, flow from Beauharnais' pen ! 
 Sadly he stooped to gather up the locks, 
 Which hands oft dipped in blood, had rudely shorn 
 From round the lofty forehead blanched with care, 
 And purchased them as a last legacy 
 As the sure " pledges" of his dying love 
 For her, who once in jealousy he wronged, 
 And then inclosed with words of sad regret, 
 And sorrowful confession of the wrong 
 Which more than thoughts of death then pained his 
 heart. 
 
 The blood-stained axe hath fallen, and he sleeps 
 A dreamless sleep. 
 
 Where is his gentle wife ? 
 Watched like a guilty criminal, she stands 
 To hear her sentence ; but how calm she lists I 
 Lo 1 not a sigh escapes her parted lips ; 
 And not a tear, save those a mother's tenderness 
 Calls forth, now stains the lovely mourner's cheek.
 
 292 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 Her doom is sealed she feels that she must die ; 
 
 And yet while weeping friends deplore her fate, 
 
 A gleam of hope lights up her inmost soul ; 
 
 For sometimes in the future dim, she views 
 
 A throne, and queenly robes, and coronet, 
 
 And hears the echoings of the wild applause 
 
 Of multitudes, who shout, " Long live the Queen I" 
 
 For in the gipsy's prophecy she sees 
 
 That this perchance may be her fate ;* 
 
 But ah ! how can it be ? 'tis likelier far 
 
 That at to-morrow's dawn, the guillotine 
 
 Will stamp on that fair brow the hue of death. 
 
 The assembly sits, 
 And like a lion eager for new prey, 
 Sits Robespierre, watchful, half afraid ; 
 St. Just is speaking, but with flushed brow, 
 In anxious, eager haste, another comes If 
 His restless eye is fired with energy, 
 And haughtily and fearlessly he speaks ! 
 
 * Josephine is said to have acknowledged in after-years that the 
 prophecy of " Euphemia," in spite of her better judgment, buoyed up 
 her spirit while in prison. 
 f Tallien.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 293 
 
 Now with impetuous zeal the maddened throng 
 
 Is shouting through those halls, " Down with the 
 
 tyrant I" 
 
 So like a cringing slave he seeks to hide ; 
 But vengeance falls upon the assassin's head, 
 And Robespierre slays. 
 
 The tyrant's fall 
 
 Soon oped the prison-doors for Josephine, 
 And lo ! with bounding step her children come 
 To share a gentle mother's kind embrace. 
 
 The gloomy echoes of the guillotine 
 
 Are hushed, but civil war not yet hath ceased. 
 
 A youthful soldier grasps the sword for France, 
 
 And where Menou is tremulous, he is brave. 
 
 He plants his cannon in the " insurgents' " path, 
 
 And quells rebellion with his " hail of death ;" 
 
 The nation owns him its deliverer 
 
 New offices and honors are conferred ; 
 
 Yet in his solitary pride, he boasts 
 
 That they who give him place, shall leg of him 
 
 The honors which they crave. 
 
 The chief disarms 
 The conquered, and obtains Beauharnais' sword.
 
 294 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 His son petitions for a father's blade 
 The tender father whom he loved so well. 
 His wish is granted, and with queenly grace 
 Comes Josephine to speak her gratitude. 
 The gentle mother and the noble boy 
 Please well the Corsican, and soon he claims 
 The widowed Josephine for his sweet bride. 
 
 Ah ! was it true that he so stern of heart, 
 
 Did mark the guileless beauty of thy soul, 
 
 And from ambition's lofty eyrie stoop 
 
 To win thy changeless love, sweet Josephine I 
 
 That thou with woman's deep, confiding love, 
 
 Didst trust thine all of earthly happiness 
 
 "With him whose haughty soul shrank not at thought 
 
 Of human woe, but on o'er broken hearts, 
 
 And hopes, to gain himself a name, he led 
 
 His band of warriors true, to victory 1 
 
 Allied to him, she feared, admired, and loved ; 
 How changeful were the scenes through which she 
 
 passed ! 
 
 Ere she had been full thirteen days a bride, 
 The war-trump sounded on Napoleon's ear ;
 
 JOSEPHINE. 295 
 
 At his command the warrior's heart revived, 
 And courage fired his soul, and where he led, 
 His brave, true-hearted soldiers followed him, 
 And distant nations trembled at his word, 
 And kings, kingdoms, and thrones to him resigned. 
 
 Eetiring, wearied with the battle's din, 
 
 He sought his home. The care-worn warrior found 
 
 A home of peace, and love, and happiness ; 
 
 But soon new schemes Napoleon's thoughts engage ; 
 
 And foiled in his design, to with England war, 
 
 He joins his splendid army, and his fleet, 
 
 And hastes to the fair land of Pyramids. 
 
 One bright Spring morning ere the sun arose, 
 
 Beheld his hosts full forty thousand strong, 
 
 With haste uplift their banners, and away. 
 
 The gorgeous pageantry whose gleaming swords . 
 
 Eeflect Aurora's dazzing beams, moves on, 
 
 While whitened sails, and " streamers gay," soon lost 
 
 Far in the distance of the heaving sea, 
 
 All cheerily float upon the morning breeze. 
 
 What hopes and fears were mingled in the breast 
 
 Of her who watched with eager gaze the sail
 
 296 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 Which was unfurled to bear to distant climes 
 A husband and a child ! 
 
 Now like a wreath of gleaming stars, afar 
 
 The crescent armament shines, and then no more 
 
 Is seen by her who anxious gazes still ; 
 
 Yet hope unfurls a snowy sail, and points 
 
 To a glad meeting 'neath an eastern sky ; 
 
 For soon the wife and mother o'er the sea 
 
 With " wealth of love," though less of pomp, would 
 
 speed, 
 
 To meet perchance beneath the Pyramids' shade, 
 Or on Mount Tabor's side, her absent ones.* 
 
 The armament, by prosperous gales advanced, 
 At length is landed on a foreign shore ; 
 And lo ! from where the infant Saviour found 
 A home, brave Kleber's thousands march to the 
 plain; 
 
 * Josephine had obtained Bonaparte's permission to follow him to 
 Egypt, but while at the springs of Plombieres, whither she had re 
 paired for her health, she was so severely injured by the fall of a bal 
 cony, as to be detained until after the Pomona, in which she was to 
 have sailed, had departed. Thus, by an apparently unfortunate acci 
 dent, was she prevented from becoming a prisoner to the English, 
 who captured the frigate.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 297 
 
 But down from Tabor's consecrated hights, 
 
 Where Peter, John, and James with Jesus stood, 
 
 When Moses and Blias came, enrobed 
 
 In glorious garments such as angels wear, 
 
 And with the Saviour talked, while a bright cloud 
 
 The sacred mountain-top did overshade ; 
 
 With gleaming "scimitars uplifted" high, 
 
 Twelve thousand furious riders eager leap 
 
 Upon the foe, with hosts of infantry. 
 
 The cannon's steady fire swift thins their ranks, 
 
 Till fallen riders with their steeds are piled 
 
 A rampart high around the valiant French. 
 
 The " cannon's thunder," and the trumpet's sound, 
 " Six dreadful hours" are mingled, while the smoke 
 Of battle curls and rises o'er the field. 
 
 Silent on Tabor's hight Napoleon sat, 
 And gazed upon the dreadful scene below, 
 Then from the mountain's top " one charge" pro 
 claimed 
 
 Him near his hosts, well-disciplined, advance, 
 And pour their fury on the trembling foe, 
 And victor's shouts are heard, while swiftly back 
 
 To Jordan's brink the wearied Turks retire. 
 13*
 
 298 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 In Egypt, far-famed land of pyramids, 
 Those grand and silent monuments of power, 
 Which had withstood the war of elements, 
 Age after age, with their " resistless charge" 
 Resound, erewhile the Mamelukes so brave, 
 Behold their native land all desolate, 
 And round their leaders rally, trained for fight. 
 
 The victory they gain, and rumors fly 
 Across the sea, of Bonaparte's defeat. 
 They who with welcome shout had greeted him 
 In prosperous days, forget his daring deeds, 
 Nor think he yet will come triumphant home. 
 A people who well-nigh proclaimed him God, 
 Now weave for him a coronet of thorns ; 
 His wife forsake, or coldly on her look, 
 Or, envious of his power, would spoil his peace, 
 And rob him of the happiness of home. 
 But dare they speed their arrows to the heart 
 Of innocence, and rend domestic ties ? 
 Ay, envious and malicious souls there be, 
 Who, gazing on her loveliness and grace, 
 Dare kindle in her absent husband's heart 
 The raging fire of cruel jealousy.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 299 
 
 But while his foes rejoice in his defeat, 
 Napoleon to the shores of France doth come ; 
 One " telegraphic line" proclaims him there !* 
 The gay saloon had charms for Josephine 
 No more with haste she " whispered her adieus," 
 And swift as couriers fly with tidings glad, 
 She flew to meet Napoleon on his way. 
 Preceding her to those deserted halls, 
 The fire of jealousy she sought to quench, 
 Into a flame was fanned, for foes were leagued 
 To chafe his wearied spirit with their lies I 
 No word of welcome, and no kind embrace, 
 He gave the long sad hours of absence were 
 Eepaid with cruel frowns and solitude. 
 
 Two weary days in untold agony 
 
 Passed on, while friends her injured innocence plead. 
 
 Before her swimming eyes she spread the words 
 
 Of love his pen in distant lands had traced, 
 
 And with " convulsive sobs" reviewed the change ; 
 
 Her gushing heart was full. In calmer mood 
 
 * The news of Bonaparte's arrival was proclaimed by Gohier, Pre 
 sident of the Directory, at a splendid entertainment given by him, at 
 which Josephine was a guest.
 
 300 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 Napoleon comes, and softly speaks her name 
 One earnest glance of love her tears are dried, 
 And, gently folded to his heart once more, 
 She breathes affection's language in his ear, 
 And calms the fears malicious foes have raised. 
 
 "While millions shout aloud the conqueror's praise, 
 Those highest in the halls of state, proclaim 
 Their hate, and wildly shout, " Down with the 
 
 tyrant !" 
 
 Till he who quailed not in the battle strife, 
 Is filled with sudden fear ; but strong arms 
 Rally, to bear him from the perilous scene : 
 With words of fire he bids his soldiers " On 1 ' 
 To quell the raging storm. His will is done 
 Around the ruler's head the bayonets gleam 
 The legislative halls are drenched with blood, 
 And anarchy and civil war have ceased, 
 And Bonaparte is Consul of the French. 
 
 Aspiring still to higher place, he seeks 
 
 A home where fallen kings before him dwelt. 
 
 The halls all silent made when Louis fell,* 
 
 * Tuileries.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 301 
 
 Must be his home, and yet cockade and sword 
 Must take the place of scepter and of crown-. 
 " EEPUBLIC" graven in gilded characters 
 Upon those walls, completes the strange deceit 
 Gay banners float, and martial strains inspire 
 The throng. Eepublicans and royalists 
 Alike are with the glittering pageant pleased : 
 Yeterans, ambassadors, and nobles throng 
 The halls so long deserted, and beauty smiles 
 Forgetful of the horrors of the past. 
 
 Where is the sharer of Napoleon's fate ? 
 Arrayed in robes of simple white she comes : 
 Her dark brown tresses mingle with the pearls 
 Around her snowy neck a beaming smile 
 Of welcome, love, and gentle sympathy, 
 Plays round her clear blue eyes, and rosy lip ; 
 No pride or haughtiness is in her mien, 
 But gracefully she moves amid the throng, 
 Honored, admired, caressed, and loved by all, 
 But gentle now as when the prison-home 
 Of noble hearts was gladdened by her smile. 
 
 The grandeur of that gala-day is past, 
 
 And in Malmaison's halls she " seeks repose,''
 
 302 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 And wandering on the borders of that lake 
 Whose glories Tasso sung in charming strains, 
 Or gazing on the " dazzling" Appenines, 
 Whose dizzy summits in the " sunlight" gleam, 
 While in the vale, the citron and the vine, 
 The myrtle, and the fragrant orange bloom, 
 Finds sweeter pleasure than in palace halls, 
 Amid the flatteries of admiring throngs : 
 He too whose wild ambition grasped a throne, 
 Loved well the quiet of those rural haunts ; 
 Yet when the battle's din is raging round him, 
 What boots it that a troubled heart is left 
 At home ? 
 
 But, when the battle's din is o'er 
 Can he forget the sanctuary where 
 His holiest thoughts are kindled ? Ah ! no, no 1 
 Thoughts of his loving wife, and cherished home, 
 Throw round the warrior's heart a holy spell. 
 But hark ! the battle-trump sounds forth once more, 
 And swift as lightnings course along the heavens, 
 He hastens on amid the restless hosts, 
 Nor needs it many words to tell his will. 
 
 Now over hill and plain the conqueror leads
 
 JOSEPHINE. 303 
 
 His legions on, to zeal and courage fired, 
 By his life-giving glance. 
 
 The veteran gazes in his flashing eye, 
 And feels the ardor of his youth return ; 
 The youthful soldier climbs the dizzy hights, 
 O'er which his brave commander fearless leads. 
 On, on, o'er Alpine hights enwreathed with snow, 
 To Austrian vales below, the victor goes ; 
 The mountain echoes waken at his tread, 
 The lofty peaks resound the artillery's roar, 
 And martial strains inspire the struggling host ; 
 The soaring " eagle" in her solitude 
 So proud, with wonder gazes on that host, 
 Who all obedient round their chieftain stand, 
 Then sends her piercing cry adown the hills. 
 Now down the glittering glaciers swift he glides ! 
 Twelve days have passed, and on Marengo's plain 
 He waits the foe. Their glorying legions Ml, 
 And Italy and Austria own his power. 
 
 Once more victorious, to France he flies ! 
 New laurels now a grateful nation wreathes, 
 To bind around his weary, toil-worn brow ;
 
 304 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 Fair hands pluck flowers, to scatter in his path, 
 Fair faces on him smile, with cheers and shouts 
 Of welcome the gay capital resounds. 
 
 He who escaped the poison, and the thrust 
 Of secret foes, the warrior's death escaped 
 Escaped the strange machinery of death, 
 Which in his path and Josephine's was placed.* 
 
 Cold January crowns him President, 
 
 And smiling May brings him a Consul's name. 
 
 Is he content with these ? No ! twice three crowns 
 
 His strange ambition scarce could satisfy ; 
 
 Yet Josephine still begs he will not be 
 
 A king, and well she may ; for first a crown, 
 
 Then blighted hopes and gloom, in dark array, 
 
 Before the vision of her soul arise. 
 
 No I rather let a Bourbon take the throne 
 
 And spare to her a husband dearer far 
 
 Than all the pomp and wealth of regal courts. 
 
 But soon her buoyancy of soul returns, 
 
 * A machine, termed " the infernal machine," which was supposed 
 to have been built by the Jacobin party, for the destruction of 
 the Emperor, and which exploded between his own and Josephine's 
 carriages, killing twenty persons, and wounding sixty more.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 305 
 
 For Bonaparte doth claim a brother's child * 
 As heir to all the glory he hath won. 
 
 The ratification of peace with England by the treaty of Amiens, 
 signed April 25th, 1802, whereby the government of France, as 
 a Republic was " virtually conceded to him, " had greatly strength 
 ened Bonaparte in his growing power, but the treaty was broken, 
 and hostilities commenced in the spring of 1803, previous to his cor 
 onation as Emperor, which took place Dec. 2d, 1804. 
 
 Before the spirit eyes of Bonaparte, 
 Appeared full oft a gilded throne and crown 
 Long coveted, which he was fain to grasp, 
 And fearing lest a Bourbon might usurp 
 The power which with unhappy Louis fled, 
 Unwisely counseled by pretended friends, 
 He stained his honor with a Bourbon's blood : 
 But would the gentle nature of his wife 
 E'er countenance an act so baselj dark ? 
 Her noble soul recoiled at such a deed, 
 Nor would she step into a gilded throne 
 O'er bleeding bodies of the innocent, 
 Nor wear the glittering robes of royalty, 
 
 * The Prince Royal of Holland, eldest son of Louis Bonaparte 
 and Hortense.
 
 306 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 Nor hear the flattering shout, " Long live the Queen !" 
 If over bleeding hearts her pathway lay. 
 
 'Twas night, when from a quiet sleep they roused 
 The unsuspecting Duke, whose innocence 
 When he hi death was sleeping, well was proved. 
 His bravery had won him ample praise, 
 Whom jealousy and envy leagued to slay. 
 With haste the soldiers bore him to the fort, 
 And turned the ponderous key the grating lock 
 Within, as though he were a traitor vile : 
 Three weary days and nights they kept a watch, 
 As they were guarding well a criminal, 
 And waited orders from the capital. 
 
 On through the opening gateway of a clond 
 The sun had passed, and stars were peering from 
 The heavens so blue, when sentence of his death 
 Was sealed. The ' ' tuneful birds" their morning son g 
 Had scarce begun, ere on his pallid brow 
 The soldiers' gun the seal of death had placed ; 
 But when his fatal hour was drawing near, 
 A little tress, perchance by his own hand 
 Was severed from his fair, exuberant locks,
 
 JOSEPHINE. 307 
 
 And with a message to the Empress borne, 
 To be conveyed to one to him so dear, 
 For her he fain would such a death escape. 
 
 I seem to read the lines he trembling traced ; 
 
 " Oh ! bear, thou gentle one, these parting gifts, 
 
 My picture, and this tiny lock of hair, 
 
 To one most dear, who long for me will weep ; 
 
 For by thine own experience so sad, 
 
 And by thy woman's heart, thou canst divine 
 
 The depth of her unutterable woe : 
 
 And when by my unhonored grave she weeps, 
 
 Oh ! tell her, what full well she may believe, 
 
 That thou and I are truly innocent." 
 
 The cruel deed was done ! 
 
 Gloom spread " like darkness visible" o'er France, 
 And he who feared a Bourbon's name and fame, 
 With keen remorse was stung, yet fearing still 
 The Bourbon's power, decreed that those who might 
 Perchance in his own pathway stand, should die.* 
 
 * History informs us that the Duke d'Enghien, a prince of the 
 Bourbon family, was arrested on the night of March 15th, 1804, 
 under pretense that he designed to profit by the movements of the 
 so-called conspirators; and conveyed to the citadel of Strasburg,
 
 308 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 Soon regal titles, rank, and pageantry- 
 Effaced the name EEPUBLIC, which so late 
 "Was deemed the nation's glory, and the shout, 
 " Long live the Emperor !" the oath succeeded 
 Of firm allegiance " soldiers, citizens, 
 And legionaries' 5 gave, while priestly hands 
 "Were raised Jehovah's blessing to invoke : 
 Yet " dimmer grew the gleams of happiness" 
 "Which on the Empress' pathway shone, 
 And saddening fears were crowding through her 
 heart. 
 
 At length the coronation day arrived : 
 The acme of his grandest hopes was reached. 
 
 where he remained until the 18th. Orders were given to conduct 
 him to Vincennes, where a pretended trial took place on the night 
 of the 20th, and he was shot by a file of soldiers at six o'clock on the 
 morning of the 21st. On hearing the news of hia death, Josephine 
 hastened to Bonaparte's apartments in great distress, and informed 
 him that the Duke was dead, when he exclaimed : " The wretches I 
 they have been too hasty." He seems, however, to have feared that 
 others might stand in the way of his advancement, as he " sanctioned 
 the decree of the special tribunal, which condemned to death twenty" 
 of the friends of the Bourbon family, although it was proved that 
 they had merely met to ascertain the state of public feeling.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 309 
 
 " The venerable Pius," Pope of Rome, 
 Must come to share the pomp, and see the crown 
 He may not place upon the Emperor's head. 
 Those walls that echoed forth the marriage chant, 
 When Mary Queen of Scots in youthful bloom 
 At the altar stood, young Francis' happy bride, 
 Again with anthem and with chant resound. 
 A silken robe of white, inwoven with gold 
 And precious stones, with crimson mantle o'er, 
 "With gold-embroidered silk, and ermine lined, 
 Composed the rich attire of Josephine 
 A belt of purest gold, with diamonds set, 
 Was clasped around her waist, and on her brow 
 A diadem of pearls and diamonds gleamed. 
 
 Napoleon too, 
 
 A " gorgeous dress," and heavy mantle wore, 
 And buskins white, embroidered o'er with gold. 
 In mirror-paneled carriage moved they on, 
 By twice four horses drawn in regal state, 
 To take a throne from which a Bourbon fell. 
 
 The impetuous multitude forgot how late 
 They swore that monarchy should be no more, 
 As loudly swelled their shouts of wild applause,
 
 310 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 When the gay, proud, and glittering pageant passed 
 To the cathedral decked so gorgeously 
 Forgot they had disowned the God of heaven, 
 While through the galleries of Notre Dame, 
 The song of jubilee for hours was poured, 
 While martial music echoed round the throne 
 So richly gilded, draped, and canopied, 
 On which the imperial family stood in state, 
 While on his head the golden kingly crown 
 Napoleon placed, then took the pearly crown 
 Of Josephine, and touched it to his own, 
 And placed it on her brow while there she knelt ; 
 Then on the word of (rod he laid his hand, 
 And.swore his office oaths. 
 
 A shout arose, 
 
 Prolonged and loud, through the cathedral throng ; 
 The multitude without repeated it ; 
 The artillery's roar to neighboring realms proclaimed 
 Napoleon's glory, and the joy of France. 
 
 While Bonaparte is feasting on his fame, 
 His wife alone with her " own heart communes, 
 Perchance with Heaven." Her prison-dream so 
 strange
 
 JOSEPHINE. 311 
 
 Is realized, and she is " Queen of France 1" 
 Yes, yes ! the jubilant and echoing shout, 
 " God bless the Empress!" rings upon her ear, 
 And she is queen, yet o'er a troubled heart 
 Eesplendent jewels flash and glow. 
 
 She from 
 
 The dazzling eminence Napoleon's power 
 Had won, looked backward to less splendid scenes, 
 Then through the vista of the future looked 
 With hope, and then with strange appalling fear ; 
 But yet scarce could she dream her jeweled crown 
 So soon would be so thickly set with thorns. 
 
 The coronation took place December 2d, 1804. The treaty be 
 tween England and Sweden was concluded December 3d, and war 
 declared between England and Spain, which was commenced by the 
 English taking undue liberties with Spanish ships. 
 
 Bonaparte and Josephine set out for Milan in April. They were 
 the guests of Cardinal Fesch at Lyons, from whence they proceeded 
 to Allessandria, near the plain of Marengo. Here Napoleon ordered 
 the cap and uniform which he wore on that battle-field, and in im 
 agination reenjoyed his victory. "Two elegant sedans" were or 
 dered from Turin, to assist the imperial travelers on their journey over 
 the Alps, but Josephine with her buoyant spirit, and love of nature, 
 preferred, whenever practicable, to climb the hights by the side of 
 him who amid stirring scenes had twice before ascended them.
 
 312 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 Another coronation-day has come ! 
 The " iron circlet" from a priestly hand, 
 
 Napoleon takes, to place it on his brow, 
 Declaring, " God has given, and woe to him 
 Who dares gainsay."* 
 
 Another gala-day 
 
 Is past, and yet another quickly comes ; 
 The crown a second father's hand bestows, 
 Eugene receives the crown of Italy, 
 And banqueting and mirth the city fill. 
 
 With a mother's pride did Josephine behold 
 
 Such honors on her only son conferred ; 
 
 Yet wearied with such ceaseless rounds of pomp, 
 
 A rural banquet on Oronto's shore, 
 
 Spread out beneath a forest canopy, 
 
 Exempt from all the forms of royalty, 
 
 Where " ocean murmurs" fell upon the ear, 
 
 And Nature ruled, pleased well her simple tastes : 
 
 Napoleon too, apart from busier scenes, 
 
 Found ample space for contemplation here, 
 
 * "During the ceremony" of coronation, Bonaparte "repeated in 
 Italian these words ' God has given it woe to the gainsayer j' " he 
 also raised the crown to Josephine's head.
 
 SCENES IN 3GE LIFE OF MOSES. 265 
 
 And there for forty days and nights to dwell, 
 While day by day Jehovah's voice he heard. 
 
 But hark ! what mean those noisy shouts which greet 
 His ear, as he descends, while in his hands 
 lie holds those tables graven by his Grod ? 
 
 Hush ! can it be so soon their faith is gone ? 
 
 That God's elect around a molten calf 
 
 Are dancing with a vile idolatry ? 
 
 Had they forgotten quite the love and power 
 
 Of Him who with a mighty hand so late . 
 
 Had brought them forth from slavery, 
 
 And who with outstretched arm their foes destroyed? 
 
 Can they so soon reject him and forget, 
 
 Choosing a molten calf of ear-rings made ? 
 
 Dare they before its altar meanly bow, 
 
 To give it praise due to Jehovah's name ? 
 
 A righteous anger burned in Moses' soul, 
 And to the ground he dashed beneath the mount 
 Those stony tables by the Lord engraven : 
 The molten image which they catted their God, 
 He burned to powder then before their eyes, 
 12
 
 r *> 
 
 266 SCENES IN THE LIFE OF MOSES. 
 
 And bade them drink the idol's ashes there. 
 With bitter grief and with repentant words, 
 He sought for them forgiveness of the Lord. 
 Ay, hear him plead ! So burdened was his soul, 
 That fain would he have his own name blotted out 
 From God's own book, if they be not forgiven. 
 
 God answering, promised him an angel guide, 
 The judgments of the Lord repentance wrought 
 Within the sinners' hearts, and made them mourn 
 The absence of their God. 
 
 Again Jehovah spake as friend to friend, 
 When Moses in the tabernacle stood, 
 Erewhile the cloudy pillar at its door, 
 Proclaimed the presence of Almighty God, 
 And awed the waiting host of Israel. 
 
 Two stony tables like the first, whereon 
 
 Were God's commandments writ, he bade him hew, 
 
 And on Mount Sinai's top present himself 
 
 Alone before the Lord. 
 
 At early dawn 
 
 The stony tables in his hand he took,
 
 SCENES IN THE LIFE OF MOSES. 267 
 
 And to the holy mountain's hight ascended, 
 And God descended in a cloud, and with. 
 Him stood : His attributes to him proclaimed, 
 While Moses bowed his head and worshiped there, 
 With penitent confession and with prayer, 
 And God commands and promises there gave 
 Again upon the tables wrote the law 
 Which he the Lord of Israel ordained. 
 
 For forty days and forty nights he ate 
 
 No bread, nor water drank. His work complete, 
 
 He to the camp returned, nor knew his face 
 
 Had borrowed radiance from the glorious cloud 
 
 In which he had encircled been so long, 
 
 Till awe and fear the congregation in 
 
 His presence felt, proclaimed they knew that God 
 
 Had been with Moses on the mountain's top. 
 
 At length the tabernacle was complete, 
 And willing hands the Ark of God upreared, 
 And o'er it spread the vail the table brought, 
 And golden incense, altar, candlestick, 
 And altar of burnt offering set in place : 
 The pillars raised, and bars and sockets set,
 
 268 SCENES IN THE LIFE OF MOSES. 
 
 And o'er them Moses " spread abroad the tent," 
 
 And covered it as God the Lord commanded. 
 
 The show-bread was in order placed, and lamps 
 
 Were lighted, and the smoke of incense rose. 
 
 Then came the glory of the Lord a cloud 
 
 Descending rested on the finished tent : 
 
 So bright it shone, none dared to enter there. 
 
 That radiant cloud henceforth their guide to be, 
 
 Which like a fiery pillar gleamed by night, 
 
 And on the tabernacle rested oft, 
 
 Or was upraised, to bid them onward go. 
 
 Again the Israelites craved other food 
 Than that which God to them had given, 
 And a consuming fire proclaimed that he 
 With them indignant was ; but Moses prayed, 
 And the fire was quenched. O'erburdened with his 
 
 cares, 
 
 And sore displeased with the complaining host, 
 He plead with God, and God deliverance gave, 
 When in a cloud again he did descend, 
 With Moses spake, and of his spirit took, 
 And to the " seventy elders" gave, that they 
 Might his assistants be : then in the camp,
 
 SCENES IN THE LIFE OF MOSES. 269 
 
 And in the tabernacle, prophesied 
 
 They whom the Lord ordained to his helpers be j 
 
 But jealous for the honor of his friend, 
 
 Good Joshua begged that he would bid them cease. 
 
 But Moses quite above such envious souls, 
 
 As would the progress of all good retard, 
 
 If all the praise be not on them bestowed, 
 
 Keplied as well became a noble soul, 
 
 "Who, conscious of his merit, needed not, 
 
 NOT coveted the praise to others due.* 
 
 A brother and a sister coveted 
 
 Honors on him bestowed, whose babyhood 
 
 With deep solicitude and love they watched I 
 
 Again in a bright cloud the Lord appeared, 
 
 And greater honors on his friend conferred ; 
 
 His praises spoke to those who should his friends 
 
 Have been, but who for envy acted foes. 
 
 The glorious cloud which oft had been their guide, 
 
 And had proclaimed that God was present there, 
 
 Was gone, and Miriam before them stood, 
 
 *Num. 11:29.
 
 270 SCENES IN THE LIFE OF MOSES. 
 
 A leper, " white as snow." Then Aaron knew, 
 
 And Miriam, that God the judgment sent. 
 
 He willingly his sin and hers confessed 
 
 No vengeful words from Moses' tongue were heard, 
 
 But to the Heavenly Healer rose his prayer, 
 
 For her whose envy brought the dire disease, 
 
 And healing Q-od in answering mercy sent. 
 
 Twelve chosen rulers of the tribes were sent, 
 
 The promised land to spy, and bring report. 
 
 The rich ripe cluster on their shoulders borne, 
 
 And figs and pomegranates, told how rich 
 
 In choicest fruits the land of Canaan was ; 
 
 Yet they who weak in faith beheld the sons 
 
 Of Anak, giants tall, brought evil news 
 
 The unbelieving tempted to complain, 
 
 Until their murmurings and their wails the Lord 
 
 Provoked, and in his wrath Jehovah swore 
 
 Their faithless prophecies should true be proved, 
 
 And they all in the wilderness should fall, 
 
 "Who from the land for which they pined had come, 
 
 When with his hand so strong he brake their bonds, 
 
 And bade the wronged and the enslaved go free.
 
 SCENES IN THE LIFE OF MOSES. 271 
 
 Yea, all who then a score of years had seen, 
 Save they who strong in faith declared the Lord 
 Was their defense, nor need they fear those men 
 Of stature tall, if God in them delight. 
 
 The cloud so glorious and magnificent, 
 Before the murmuring, unbelieving host 
 Appeared, and God to Moses promise gave 
 Of future glory, but God's glory first 
 He sought, and strong petitions from his lips 
 Jehovah's dreadful wrath in part averted, 
 When he swore to disinherit and to smite 
 The guilty who had oft his glory seen, 
 But doubting reprobates and rebels proved. 
 
 Weary yet patient still, he sought their good, 
 And meekly with their wrongs and weakness bore ; 
 But envious souls, of power uncoveted 
 Grown jealous, dared to slander and rebel, 
 And sought to themselves his glory to transfer : 
 He bade twelve score and ten ambitious men 
 Their smoking censers bring before the Lord. 
 They in the holy tabernacle's door
 
 272 SCEXES IN THE LIFE OF MOSES. 
 
 Dared stand with Aaron, chosen priest of Q-od : 
 
 Again " the glory of the Lord appeared," 
 
 And he to Moses and to Aaron spake, 
 
 And claimed them his appointed, chosen ones ; 
 
 Again they for " the congregation" prayed ; 
 
 Then they who were all guiltless of the wrong, 
 
 From the tabernacle of those erring ones 
 
 Eemoved, and an avenging fire from God 
 
 Those self-appointed, God-defying priests consumed. 
 
 The yawning earth oped wide her mouth, and in 
 
 A moment, "Korah and his company," 
 
 "Alive into the pit" the Lord prepared, 
 
 Went down, and o'er them closed the groaning earth, 
 
 While shrieks of wild despair were echoed round, 
 
 Until for fear fled all who heard their cries. 
 
 The brazen censers Eliazar took, 
 
 And " made broad plates" which, o'er the altar spread, 
 
 Were a memorial to the Israelites, 
 
 That none save those whom God appointed, should 
 
 The holy incense burn before the Lord. 
 
 Again the cloud is lifted, and the ark 
 Is solemnly and slowly borne along,
 
 SCENES IN THE LIFE OF MOSES. 273 
 
 And Israel like one vast funeral throng, 
 
 Doth pause upon the mount where Moses sat, 
 
 With hands uplifted till the setting sun, 
 
 When Israel 'gainst Amalek prevailed. 
 
 With breathless awe " the sons of Kohath" pause, 
 
 And from their shoulders take the sacred ark : 
 
 No more within the vail must Aaron go, 
 
 Nor e'er again the holy incense burn ; 
 
 His priestly robes must now be laid aside ; 
 
 His mantle on the shoulders of his son 
 
 Must fall, while he, their God-anointed priest, 
 
 In Heaven's appointed place and hour must die : 
 
 And he who shared his sin at Meribah, 
 
 Must take his sacerdotal robes away ; 
 
 And mark the hue of death steal o'er his brow, 
 
 For God hatfi spoken it. 
 
 Now all is still, 
 
 " Nature herself is dumb." No tolling bell 
 Of his departure speaks. No gathered throng 
 Moves tearfully and slow around his bier. 
 " The house of Israel" mourns, but not around 
 His sepulcher. His brother and his son, 
 Speechless and sad, unto the camp return, 
 
 While holy angel watchers from the sky, 
 12*
 
 274 SCENES IN THE LIFE OF MOSES. 
 
 Convey the blood- washed soul of him whose hands 
 So oft the morning sacrifice had slain, 
 Up, up before the throne of Him whose blood 
 Alone can wash the guilt-stained soul from sin. 
 
 Again the seeds of discontent are sown, 
 
 And murmuring Israel cries: "Why brought'st 
 
 thou us 
 
 From Egypt in this wilderness to die ? 
 There is no bread, nor is there water here ; 
 Our souls this manna loathe 'tis bread so light." 
 Then fiery serpents with their poisoned sting, 
 God sends to chide them for their murmuring : 
 In torture, and in pangs of death severe, 
 They writhe, and beg that Moses pray for them. 
 He prays. His prayer is heard, and Gk>d commands 
 That he a fiery, brazen serpent raise, 
 That they whose eyes so fast are growing dim 
 In death, may upward look and live. 
 
 Now Moses soon his office must resign, 
 
 For Death will claim what God has given him ;
 
 SCENES IN THE LIFE OF MOSES. 275 
 
 Yet still solicitous for Israel, 
 
 He pleads with (rod a leader to appoint, 
 
 To take his place when he in death shall sleep ; 
 
 Then God commanded that his hands he lay 
 
 On Joshua's head his honor to his friend 
 
 Impart, and give him charge in Israel's sight. 
 
 At length the hour approached when he must leave 
 The congregation which so long he'd led : 
 Meekly before them he^ his sin confessed, 
 "When he with hand uplifted smote the rock, 
 And took the glory when the waters flowed 
 A song of praise to Gk>d before them spoke, 
 His admonitions and his blessings gave : 
 Perchance with loving words then bade them all 
 
 A fond farewell. 
 
 Now silent and alone, 
 
 From Moab's plains to Nebo's hights he climbs, 
 And from Mount Pisgah's top he gazes o'er 
 Unto the land the Lord to Israel gave, 
 And then content to die, his limbs he folds, 
 And lays him down to sleep the sleep of death. 
 No priestly rites around his grave proclaim
 
 276 SCENES IN THE LIFE OF MOSES. 
 
 He was an honored one 'mid Israel's ranks, 
 But God, the Lord Jehovah buried him. 
 
 Then sleep on ! on the holy mountain's hight, 
 Thou in thy dreamless grave-sleep long hast slept ! 
 No gilded tomb e'er marked thy final resting-place, 
 Nor those who loved thee wept around thy grave ; 
 No sculptured monument may e'er relate 
 Thy deeds of glory but thy name's enrolled 
 Among the spirits pure around God's throne ; 
 Thy angel harp is sweetly sounding there, 
 Leading, perchance, some holy spirit band, 
 Which erst thy voice did lead by Marah's stream, 
 Or Elim's wells, and holy mountains' sides ; 
 Leading close by the streams of Paradise, 
 In chorus higher, freer, holier, 
 Than ever sounded forth from earthly harp, 
 The spirits of the just made pure in heaven. 
 That Eye omniscient which doth never sleep, 
 Shall guard the place where thou for ages long 
 Hast slept so silently and peacefully, 
 Till the archangel's lofty trump shall sound : 
 Then clad in robes of immortality, 
 Thy sleeping dust, united once again
 
 SCENES IN THE LIFE OF MOSES. 277 
 
 To the pure spirit which hath, dwelt long, long 
 With God, and seraph bands around his throne, 
 With loud exultant shout shall joyous rise, 
 To dwell for evermore in Paradise. 

 
 
 Irrface, 
 
 IN presenting to my readers a poetical biography of the " first wife 
 of Napoleon," I do not profess, as far as historical facts are concerned, 
 to relate any thing new. These facts have been gleaned from various 
 sources, and are doubtless familiar to many of my readers. 
 
 There are several reasons why I have taken pleasure in weaving 
 them into verse, one of which is, that the task has afforded me an 
 opportunity carefully to observe the various phases of a life so event 
 ful, and also more minutely to study the character of one who was in 
 so many respects a "model woman ;" and who in all the situations 
 in which she was placed, from the grateful receiver of a much-needed 
 article of apparel for her daughter, from a kind-hearted sailor, to the 
 wearer of a queenly diadem, and the almoner of far richer gifts to 
 the needy, manifested the same gentleness of spirit, the same affec 
 tionate heart, and the same nicely discriminating judgment. NOT 
 were these, and kindred traits of character less noticeable^ when, in 
 her exile from the throne and heart of an ambitious Emperor, she 
 found a humbler home within the walls of Malmaison. 
 
 Indeed, there is no point of her history more truly interesting than 
 that in which, though a weight of sorrow which no human hand 
 could uplift, oppressed her spirit, she seemed forgetful of her own 
 woes, while administering to the wants, and enhancing the pleasures 
 of others sharing alike the joys and sorrows of those with whom she 
 came in contact in her comparatively humble sphere.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 Those who have attempted thus to weave together a history, know 
 full well how difficult, nay, at times, even impossible, it is to intro 
 duce a mere narration of events into a poem, in any other than prosaic 
 style. 
 
 In some instances, as it will be seen, I have preferred to lay aside 
 rhythm, and connect events of history by simple prose. 
 
 Hoping that those who are already familiar with the history of the 
 first Empress of the French, may find some pleasure in reviewing it 
 in a condensed form, and that those who are not, may at least find 
 the history of the poem of some^interest, I submit it to the perusal 
 of those into whose hands it may chance to falL S. S. B.
 
 n 
 
 AT Martinico, sunny, sea-girt isle, 
 Fair Josephine's glad childhood passed away ; 
 That isle's sweet birds and flowers companions dear, 
 Her heart as joyous, light, and free as they. 
 
 Oft on those rock-bound shores with buoyant step, 
 Thou lovedst to roam and watch the billowy tide, 
 That "fitfully" tossed up the "feathery spray," 
 While sea-birds whirled far, far above the wave, 
 Then stooped to bathe their wings, and higher soared, 
 While their wild notes with the hoarse tide kept 
 
 tune; 
 
 Then didst thou wreathe the fairest wild-field flowers, 
 And homeward hie, sure of a father's smile,* 
 And bounding to his side with fond caress, 
 Thy treasures twine amid his locks of gray. 
 
 * Josephine is said to have been a special favorite with her father, 
 who was usually somewhat stern in his manners.
 
 284 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 So bright was thy life's happy morning ray, 
 And fleetly passed thy joyous youth away, 
 Until " the holiest passion of the soul" 
 Thy spirit moved, and to its sweet control 
 Thy gentle heart was bowed, for Love did bind 
 Young, ardent hearts whose strings were glad en 
 twined. 
 
 As sudden darkness palls the sun at noon, 
 
 So her young heart was wrapped in darkening gloom, 
 
 For her youthful love was from her presence barred I 
 
 No interchange of holy thoughts might tell, 
 
 Though absent, she was yet, as ever, dear ; 
 
 But heart to heart may be united still, 
 
 Even when between the loving and the loved 
 
 Strong barriers interpose, and billows roll : 
 
 And as a priceless jewel from the sea, 
 
 Encased in finest gold, though hid from sight, 
 
 Is brilliant still, and still is highly prized ; 
 
 So purest love with many tears enshrined 
 
 From mortal gaze, is still a priceless gem, 
 
 Nor for its close concealment valued less.* 
 
 * Win. Do K.'s letters to Josephine were intercepted by her 
 parents, but although she received no intelligence from him, she was 
 firm in the belief that he yet loved her.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 285 
 
 Though in her heart's sealed casket love was locked, 
 
 Its fire was burning with a glowing flame, 
 
 Which Death alone had power to quench ! 
 
 For ah ! can ever love within the heart, 
 
 Born of a holy, sweet, confiding trust, 
 
 And nurtured with the fairest flowers of Hope, 
 
 And oft bedewed with cherished promises, 
 
 Be lulled to slumber deep, save when the heart 
 
 In Death's domain shall find a resting-place ? 
 
 Yet mutual love so deep is not in vain, 
 
 Even when the hopes so high are not fulfilled : 
 
 It hath a hallowing influence on the soul, 
 
 And sweetly from itself draws out the heart, 
 
 To seek its own high bliss in another's joy. 
 
 Her island home for her had fewer charms, 
 And pensive grew her soul, when far away 
 Was he who won her love ; and distant France, 
 Her friends agree, shall henceforth be her home. 
 
 Now Martinico's shores fade from her sight ! 
 The starry light around the mast-head playing,* 
 
 * A light resembling a crown, which is said to have appeared on 
 the mast about the time of leaving port, and which was regarded by 
 the seamen as foretelling a coronation.
 
 286 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 She heedeth not, though others wondering gaze 
 At the bright mimic crown above her head ; 
 Nor heeds the booming sea. The wave's wild roar ? 
 She hears it not, her thoughts are far away. 
 
 High beat the waves the bark was driven on 
 By winds which merrier hearts propitious deemed. 
 A wealth of purest bliss has memory stored I 
 Alone she feasts on memory's cherished sweets, 
 Yet sighs that they for gall must be exchanged. 
 Doth past to future lend a brighter hue, 
 When to a stranger land, friends welcome her ? 
 Perchance it might, could she but surely know 
 An earlier love the past had quite forgot I 
 She then might proudly to another turn, 
 Perchance but oh ! what untold misery 
 She feels, to tread the self-same streets he treads, 
 And feel the love-light brightly burns within 
 His soul, and yet she may not meet a glance 
 To tell of tried affection, yet most true.* 
 
 * Wm. De K. visited Paris after Josephine's arrival, and she 
 learned that his feelings towards her remained unchanged, and that 
 he made frequent attempts to see her ; but as a large estate was to bo 
 his father's " on condition that he married a niece of the testator,' 1 
 his parents were unwilling to have him marry Josephine.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 287 
 
 Within the cloister's dimly lighted cell, 
 
 She " sought repose," and schooled an aching heart, 
 
 Half-striving to forget, yet loving still, 
 
 Whom it was joy yet misery to love, 
 
 Since he her heart and hand may never claim ; 
 
 Yet, though her earliest love was not forgot, - 
 
 Again love lit her eye, and warmed her heart ; 
 
 Obedient to the wish of friends, she stood 
 
 The veiled bride of a buried sister's love, 
 
 And in the " brilliant circles" of a queen, 
 
 Much praise and admiration won. 
 
 By nature's beauties, and rich works of art, 
 Surrounded, and though loved by many friends, 
 A cruel dart from envy's quiver flew 
 To pierce her heart, and he to her most dear, 
 Did strangely doubt her deep and truthful love, 
 And rival charms engrossed Beauharnais' thoughts.* 
 
 The happy circle where her brightest hopes 
 Were centered, then was rudely broken up, 
 
 * Through the " maliciousness of Madame de V.," who is said to 
 have "possessed the affections" of Beauharnais, he became jealous of 
 Wm. de K.
 
 288 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 And she to earliest friends, and childhood's home, 
 
 Now lone and tempest-tossed on sorrow's sea, 
 
 Returns in sad yea, saddest widowhood. 
 
 One only of the jewels of her home 
 
 Was spared to her her daughter dear and true, 
 
 Far o'er the deep might bear her company. 
 
 Though 'mid the sympathy of early friends 
 She found "repose," and all around was calm, 
 A restless wave of grief within her heart 
 Was beating a tide which naught save love 
 To her dear husband's heart restored, could quell. 
 
 Years fled* at length the joyful tidings came, 
 That he from far would gladly welcome her ; 
 Sweet as the zephyr's breath when soft it steals 
 O'er fragrant flowers, into the captive's cell 
 Bright as the morning beam on the mountain-top 
 Appears unto the care-worn mariner's eye, 
 Who long through stormy nights hath anxious 
 
 watched, 
 
 So bright so beautiful that message was 
 To her, who long in loneliness had pined, 
 
 * Two years.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 And as they wandered on that isle, the poor 
 Oft shared the bounty of " the royal pair." 
 Tidings ! twice-conquered Austria rebels, 
 And Eussia, too, is filled with discontent ; 
 They may not tarry 'neath Italian skies, 
 But haste away 
 
 To "the imperial travelers," 
 Genoa gladly grants a transient home ; 
 But Bonaparte a gathering tempest sees, 
 And may not 'mid the orange gardens stay.* 
 With lightning speed his carriage flies along ! 
 A pause ; " the foaming steeds" must be released ; 
 " The smoking axle" drench, and then away ! 
 " On ! on ! we do not move!" the Emperor cries, 
 Although with hurrying lash the steeds are driven. 
 
 Along the verdant bank of the beauteous Rhine, 
 Vast multitudes of soldiers wait his word,f 
 Then rush impetuous on to deadly strife. 
 
 The Empress as the regent of the realm, 
 
 * The Genoese prepared " floating islands of orange trees and 
 flowers," to enhance the pleasure of Josephine's stay with them. 
 
 f " Twenty thousand carriages conveyed " the army from Boulogne 
 to the Rhine. 
 
 14
 
 , * 
 
 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 A noble mind and gentle heart displayed ; 
 
 " Undazzled and unstained" by all the pomp, 
 
 And pride, and flattery of court forgiving, 
 
 Industrious, and peaceable, and mild, 
 
 With heart to pity, and relieve the woes 
 
 Of all, " sweet voices"* well might speak her praise ; 
 
 For lavish of her gifts was she to those 
 
 Who drank of poverty's most bitter cup 
 
 A heart to lighten grief wherever found, 
 
 A tear for those who wept, and skill, and will, 
 
 The aching heart to soothe, had Josephine ; 
 
 Yea, even the hunted stag read pity in 
 
 Her eye, and, hotly chased, protection sought 
 
 Her carriage wheels between nor sought in vain ; 
 
 A silvery band around his neck was clasped ; 
 
 * During one of their journeys, the Emperor was to pass to May- 
 ence on " a new road which he had caused to be constructed on tho 
 banks of the Rhine," and Josephine was to "ascend the river by 
 water." She was delayed by a storm, and by sickness " four hours," 
 and arrived just at the tune when Bonaparte came from another di 
 rection. The inhabitants of the place paid their honors to her, while 
 the Emperor entered the city unattended, at which he was greatly 
 exasperated, and accused Josephine of " a systematic design of capti 
 vating the suffrages of the public."
 
 JOSEPHINE. 315 
 
 1, 
 
 Nor might the huntsman henceforth harm him while 
 The lovely Queen had power him to protect. 
 
 Napoleon with his army hastened on ! 
 
 O'er many a battle-field where conquered hosts 
 
 Lay groaning, bleeding, dying, they upraised 
 
 The triumph shout of " victory, victory I" 
 
 But still amid the circle once so gay, 
 
 The lonely, weary hours all slowly moved 
 
 /Suspense made mirthful sounds but mockery ! 
 
 But hark ! the sound of bells ! a courier comes I 
 
 The gallant rider reins his noble steed, 
 
 And shouts of " Victory ! Austerlitz I" pass on 
 
 " From lip to lip." With overwhelming joy, 
 
 By light of flambeaux on his message gleaming, 
 
 The Empress reads that Bonaparte is safe 
 
 The war is o'er she must to Munich haste, 
 
 To celebrate the nuptials of Eugene.* 
 
 The hero of the battles is again 
 
 The nation's pride and praise, and gayety reigns. 
 
 Proud of the heir apparent to his throne 
 
 * Eugene was married to Augusta, Princess of Bavaria, Jan. 1806.
 
 316 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 His little namesake* fondly loving him, 
 He felt he still might clasp his loving wife 
 Unto a heart that with all its lofty pride, 
 And great ambition, loved her dearly still, 
 And days of sweet content full swiftly passed. 
 But again along the shores of the fair Ehine, ' 
 Brave men assemble for the battle's strife, 
 And ne'er perchance before, did Bonaparte 
 With lighter heart bid Josephine farewell. 
 
 But ah ! what means that sudden grief and fear 
 Around the youthful heir to a proud throne ? 
 Haste ! haste ! physicians call ! They come to fiiid 
 The silvery bowl is broken, and he sleeps I 
 Where, is his parents' pride ? an Empress' joy ? 
 The golden chalice of her hopes is crushed 
 She knows Napoleon's will, and fears, yet hopes 
 With tenderest love and care she may avert 
 A stroke which seems too terrible to bear ; 
 For next himself, with all his love of fame 
 And glory, she is loved. 
 
 * The prince royal of Holland, and son of Louis Bonaparte and 
 Hortcnse, who died during the war with the Prussians.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 317 
 
 " Flushed" with success victorious every where, 
 He comes to meet her with a cordial smile ; 
 Her trusting heart sees not the coming storm, 
 Whose raging fury soon will sweep her joys, 
 As with a scorching simoon-blast away. 
 Napoleon still doth seem to love her much, 
 And o'er her heart Hope flutters smilingly ; 
 With woman's faithful, hoping, trusting heart, 
 'Mid dangers at which sterner souls might quail, 
 She seeks to turn the wrathful surge aside, 
 And by her deep devotion conquer him 
 Whose will so oft was proved invincible ; 
 But with his growing power, stronger grew 
 His wish, his glory to a rightful heir, 
 A last, a proud inheritance to leave ; 
 And Hope now came to her a trembling guest, 
 For Eumor told a sad, un welcome tale ; 
 But yet she seemed as gay as heretofore, 
 And cloaked the deep despair she dared not speak ; 
 While of his schemes Napoleon silent kept 
 When she was near, although full well she knew 
 A darker grief to her might quickly come. 
 
 At length she feels her trial hour has come,
 
 318 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 For he whose step was firm in danger's hour, 
 Although so much of joy he owed to her, 
 Kesists her pleading look, and pleading words, 
 And sternly tolls the death-knell of her bliss ; 
 "With faltering step approaches takes her hand 
 And lays it on his heart says : " Josephine, 
 Good Josephine, you know how I have loved. 
 To you, to you alone, I owe the moments few 
 Of happiness, which in my life I've known ; 
 My destiny is stronger than my will, 
 And love must yield to France' best interests." 
 
 " Oh ! say no more," the unhappy Empress sobs, 
 Yet pleads : " You surely will not take my life." 
 Strange darkness o'er her spirit threw its pall, 
 Nor might the watchers round her couch of woe, 
 Soon break the death-like spell thrown o'er her soul ; 
 They almost feared she ne'er on earth would ope 
 Her eyes to life and consciousness again. 
 
 The Emperor from that scene of grief withdrew, 
 His brow encircled with a wreath of fire ! 
 He loved the hour of strife which led him on, 
 And on, and on again to victory ;
 
 JOSEPHINE. 319 
 
 
 
 But now a mightier struggle in his soul 
 Calls forth a tear, and shakes his firm resolve. 
 His sky is darkened, but he looks again ! 
 Through riven clouds the sun looks down and smiles 
 Upon a baby monarch in his arms ! 
 Enough ! the heart that loved him best may break, 
 If through the dim aisles of futurity, 
 " The echoes of his fame" be sent along. 
 
 Three hours, and lo ! the drooping eyelids rise I 
 
 But what a change ! the lustre of that eye 
 
 Whose gentle light could " calm his darkest moods" 
 
 Is gone, and such unutterable grief 
 
 Is painted on that brow, her dearest friends 
 
 Could almost wish the trance had ne'er been broken. 
 
 No boisterous pretense of loneliness, 
 Like foam of ocean's surging wave thrown up 
 With dash and roar upon the sandy beach, 
 Like bursting bubbles soon to disappear, 
 Or sound of mountain torrent foaming on, 
 Soon, soon to be no more, broke from her lips ; 
 But ah ! the Searcher of all hearts beheld 
 A deeper wave sweep o'er, affection's pearls : 

 
 .,*. 
 320 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 Yet little plead she more, for well she knew 
 'Twould be of no avail with him whose will 
 Was stronger that his conscience or his love. 
 Bat oh I could he have known she told him true, 
 When at the evening hour she prophesied 
 His star would wane, when separate from hers 
 Have seen his son an uncrowned exile die, 
 And on his throne the offspring of his Queen,* 
 Would he such spirit torture have endured, 
 And keen remorse which stung his haughty soul 
 In after-years ? 
 
 But ah ! the billows beat, 
 Wild, wildly beat round her unsheltered head I 
 The ocean's stormy roar the tread of war, 
 Were music to her ears, compared to this 
 Thus banished from his heart, his hearth, his home I 
 Must earnest love like hers be thus repaid ? 
 And can ambition quell the Emperor's love ? 
 And can he bid his lovely Josephine 
 Untwine the tendrils of her gentle heart 
 From round the bosom which hath been its prop ? 
 
 * The present Emperor is son of Louis Bonaparte and Hortenso, 
 and grandson of Josephine.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 321 
 
 Can he refuse support unto that heart, 
 So full of love and tenderness for him ? 
 And dares he sternly bid her stand alone 
 In life, while yet affection's object lives ? 
 
 Oh ! all the world, with all its smiles, to her 
 
 How blank, compared with his love-beaming glance! 
 
 Ah ! cruel, bitterer far than death her grief ! 
 
 For when a loved one dies, in memory's urn 
 
 He sleeps embalmed, with choicest flowers of love 
 
 His image ever more within the heart ; 
 
 But oh ! to be estranged from one so loved, 
 
 And feel the portals of his heart will close, 
 
 And coldly shut her out for evermore, 
 
 Alas ! what grief of earth could equal it I 
 
 But yet there may be love so deep and true, 
 
 The heart will almost willing be to break, 
 
 If but affection's object happy be. 
 
 " ' Fade, memories, fade fade, memories, fade' be 
 
 still" 
 
 Is often whispered to the aching heart ; 
 For its gushing tenderness must be restrained, 
 And ere they bloom, its cherished hopes must die ; 
 14*
 
 322 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 For he who oft with promise fair of love, 
 Had taught the tendrils of her heart to twine 
 Around his own, now tears that heart away 
 With ruthless hand, to give another place. 
 
 'Twere well if she might weep her life away ; 
 But no : a darker hour than death's awaits her. 
 In costume grand, Napoleon's family, 
 With the imperial council silent sat, 
 While he who feared the name " irresolute," 
 Arose, declared her virtue and his love. 
 " In sweet but faltering tones," his wife replied, 
 And swore to be Napoleon's wife no more. 
 
 That day with all its shades of woe not yet 
 Had passed. Again they meet whom he appoints : 
 Pale, with her trembling children at her side, 
 She comes to seal the dread decree. She paused 
 One wild convulsive start, as though new eyes 
 Were given to read the darkness of her doom ! 
 One moment more she listened to those words 
 Which did the holy marriage tie dissolve. 
 
 With folded arms the proud Napoleon stood ; 
 His " sweeping plumes" hid not the deep emotion
 
 JOSEPHINE. 323 
 
 Of his stern heart in such a trying hour. 
 That countenance so oft expressionless 
 'Mid scenes of peril and of sleepless care, 
 Betrayed a mighty struggle in his soul ; 
 But yet ambition urged him rashly on, 
 And bade him spurn from him his lovely Queen ; 
 And to his will her faithful heart was bowed, 
 Whose highest earthly happiness was found 
 In seeking oft with tenderest care his joy. 
 
 "What boots it now she wears an Empress' crown, 
 While in her gentle heart sinks deep the thorn 
 Whose poison human skill may ne'er withdraw ? 
 
 Eisng, she spake the oath his will demanded, 
 Then sank, o'ercome with weight of hopeless woe, 
 While gushing tears were from her eyelids forced. 
 A pen within her trembling hand was placed, 
 With which to write the word which sealed her 
 
 doom: 
 
 No longer need she stay no "glance of love" 
 From him who motionless before her stood, 
 Might for her wondrous sacrifice repay. 
 Upon her loving children now she leans, 
 And mutely passes from the gazing throng.
 
 324 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 Alone, what throngs of memories stir her heart, 
 And shake her wear y, worn, and quivering frame ; 
 And tears idle yet bitter tears will flow ! 
 No husband's lips may kiss those drops away, 
 Nor to her anguished spirit whisper, " Peace ;" 
 Yet can she must she leave the halls by love 
 And joy made dear, nor whisper an adieu, 
 To him who shared her joy, and caused her grief? 
 
 Thick darkness spread o'er earth, and o'er her soul 
 With noiseless tread she passed through the lone 
 
 halls, 
 And in his doorway stood. 
 
 She silent paused 
 
 No more his wife, ah ! might she enter there ? 
 Napoleon rose, and clasped her to his heart, 
 And he so proud and stern, to tears was moved, 
 While sobbing, folded in his arms she stood, 
 With keeest anguish overcome. 
 
 One hour, 
 
 And desolate and sad she passed away, 
 That threshold never more to overstep. 
 
 Now Morning from his wings the frost-gems shakes, 
 And o'er her floor a gleam of light is cast,
 
 JOSEPHINE. 325 
 
 Yet o'er her soul a cloud is hovering, 
 Which thicker, darker grows while she prepares 
 To leave the halls of splendor she has graced. 
 The carriage waits, yet pauses she, while tears 
 Come thick and fast ; but yet not long she stays ; 
 Her kind attendants round her weeping stand, 
 She dares not pause to say to them farewell I 
 Alas ! her heart was quite too full for words I 
 So silently she to the carriage passed, 
 But ere upon its step her foot was placed, 
 She paused as mourners at a funeral pause, 
 Of objects dear a last fond look to take. 
 Oh ! what a throng of buried hopes she left, 
 That palace home her heart's lone sepulcher ! 
 
 Farewell ! farewell, ye love-enchanted halls I 
 
 Ah ! never more the closing palace-gates 
 
 Will open spring the Empress to receive ; 
 
 No more the welcoming voice, with gladsome shout, 
 
 The music of the heart from her sweet lips, 
 
 Shall ring upon the toil-worn warrior's ear 
 
 No more the beaming eye, and loved caress, 
 
 May speak her spirit's joy at his return. 
 
 But can the pride of place, or love of fame,
 
 326 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 E'er purchase joys one half so bright as those 
 Which from affection's garnered hopes may spring ? 
 Ah ! restless roams his heart in halls of pride : 
 No jewel in his crown was e'er so bright, 
 As was the priceless love of Josephine. 
 
 They bore her to the consecrated place 
 Which oft from care a sweet retreat had been; 
 But oh ! how changed ! for now Malmaison's walls 
 No more with Bonaparte's glad shout resound. 
 A sacred spot was the room he called his own, 
 Whose floor no feet save hers might ever tread. 
 His pen, and a historic volume with 
 Its folded leaves, to tell where last he read 
 The map o'er which his restless eye oft glanced, 
 While meditated he some conquest new 
 The bed on which in camp he slept his arms, 
 The garments which he wore, there laid aside, 
 Eemained unchanged, remembrancers of him 
 Whose memory to her was ever dear : 
 And like the graves of dear departed ones, 
 The place was consecrate to secret grief: 
 Yet other rooms there were where oft assembled 
 Choice friends who loved her for herself alone,
 
 JOSEPHINE. 327 
 
 With those who knew their presence there, pleased 
 
 well 
 
 The haughty Bonaparte, still proud of her. 
 \ 
 
 At length Navarre, a " kingly palace" once, 
 
 " With winding crystal streams," and beauteous 
 
 " lawns," 
 
 Affords the lonely mourning one a home. 
 The busy peasant cheerful labored there, 
 Until the ancient beauty of the park 
 And palace was restored, and flowers bloomed 
 Where late " neglect" on all the scene was writ, 
 Until the Empress could herself declare, 
 That save Napoleon there was naught to wish. 
 
 The council o'er, his messengers were sent 
 Maria's hand to claim.* 
 
 The Austrian 
 
 WTiose haughty bearing awed Napoleon when 
 He first his vows confessed, accepted then 
 
 * " The Emperor held councils at Paris to determine tho most ad 
 vantageous matrimonial alliance for his realm."
 
 328 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 A hand and throne she scorned to take until 
 Her family was safe, and peace restored. * 
 
 The sweet vales bursting into life, spake of 
 Approaching summer, when the cannon's roar 
 Proclaimed a prince was born. 
 
 The absent ones 
 
 Returning, with the joyful news upon 
 Their lips,f beheld the beaming countenance 
 Of her who, quite forgetful of herself, 
 Spoke thus of Napoleon's joy, and that of France, 
 Rejoicing that " the painful sacrifice" 
 She made might bring much bliss to other hearts : 
 " My jewels which so long have useless lain, 
 I now will wear let members of my court 
 
 * Napoleon first met Maria Louisa at Schonbrunn, a chateau near 
 Vienna, while engaged in the war of 1809 with Austria. She was 
 the only one of the imperial family then at the capital ; the other 
 members having fled for safety. Bonaparte expressed his admiration 
 for her soon after their first meeting, but she refused to hearken to 
 him at that time. 
 
 f All save one of the members of Josephine's household were at 
 an entertainment given by the prefect, but as his services were de 
 manded at Paris, they returned home.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 329 
 
 Their costumes grand prepare to celebrate 
 The prince's birth, let all the city come 
 Unto the fete which I rejoice to give." 
 
 Ah ! love which, none but a noble soul may know, 
 That while the heart lies bleeding in the dust, 
 Can celebrate with festive scenes the joy 
 Of him who laid it there, and smile 'mid grief 
 So deep, yet still and calm, that all around 
 May think the heart is light, and full of joy ; 
 But at the midnight hour, when every sound 
 Is hushed, oh ! how the surging waves of grief, 
 As with a whirlwind, shake the mourner's soul ; 
 And yet nerved up to an endurance strange, 
 She walks along with seeming joyousness, 
 And none but (rod's omniscient eye may view 
 The life-blood ebbing slowly from the heart, 
 "Which ne'er more pulsates with a griefless joy ; 
 And yet exalted joy with grief commingles, 
 For she suffers for the sake of him she loves I 
 
 Though like a bruised reed she stands alone, 
 Affection's rich ripe fruits she bringeth oft 
 To lay upon a now-neglected shrine, 
 For naught can force the love from out her heart.
 
 330 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 
 
 Ah ! noble, gentle, lovely Josephine, 
 
 "What gilded crown from kingly hands could add 
 
 New beauty to thy brow of gentleness, 
 
 Or make us love thee more ? 
 
 The heart that thus 
 Can sacrifice its dearest joys and self, 
 Full well doth understand Affection's power ; 
 The love that thus could smile o'er broken hopes, 
 In others' hopes to joy, forgetting self, 
 Was surely love indeed. 
 
 "Affection's dove," 
 
 Driven from its little paradise, sought not 
 Again on earth a long abiding place, 
 But flitted on, a pensive harbinger 
 Of good to all around, oft plucking thorns 
 From out the heart, and placing Hope's sweet leaves, 
 Those dew-fraught leaves of healing, in their place ; 
 And thus from Sorrow's deep but fertile soil, 
 Sprang up the seeds of joy for other hearts ; 
 " The blessing of the poor" was on her head, 
 And with Love's flowers they grateful wreathed her 
 tomb.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 331 
 
 Josephine desired to cultivate an acquaintance with Maria Louisa, 
 but as Maria was unwilling to meet her, Napoleon frequently per 
 mitted her to see his son, without the knowledge of his wife ; but at 
 length fearing that such interviews might be made known to Maria, 
 and be a source of domestic troubles, Josephine relinquished the plea 
 sure of seeing the " King of Rome." 
 
 In a letter to Napoleon she says : " The moment I saw you enter, 
 leading the young Napoleon in your hand, was unquestionably one of 
 the happiest of my life. It effaced for a tune the recollection of all 
 that had preceded ; for never have I received from you a more touch 
 ing mark of affection. It is more ; it is one of esteem of sincere at 
 tachment. Still, I am perfectly sensible, sire, that those meetings 
 which afford me so much pleasure, can not be frequently renewed ; 
 and I must not so far intrude on your compliance, as to put it often 
 under contribution. Let this sacrifice to your domestic tranquillity 
 be one proof more of my desire to see you happy." 
 
 Bonaparte visited Josephine in 1812, before he set out for Russia, 
 and she at that time attempted to dissuade him from so hazardous an 
 undertaking ; but urged on by his love of glory, he was dauntless 
 when the spirits of all save himself quailed. During his absence, 
 and soon after the burning of Moscow, it was reported that he was 
 dead, and conspiracy was attempted by Mallet, which proved unsuc 
 cessful. Bonaparte left his army to the command of his generals, 
 and hastened to Paris. Josephine who ever listened with deep in 
 terest to all tidings concerning the Emperor's fate, felt assured that a 
 stronger feeling of opposition to him was felt than manifested, and 
 foresaw more clearly than he did, .his approaching downfall, at which 
 she was deeply grieved.
 
 332 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 He at length saw his danger, and before leaving Paris made his 
 last sad visit to her abode. For some time after his departure a cor 
 respondence was kept up between them. 
 
 On hearing that the royal family were flying for safety, Josephine 
 returned to Navarre. 
 
 Bonaparte abdicated his throne April llth, 1814. On the 16th 
 he wrote to Josephine : " My head and spirit are free from an enor 
 mous weight. Be resigned as I am, and ever remember him who 
 never forgot, and never will forget you." 
 
 The star so long ascendant, wanes at length, 
 And murky clouds its dazzling light obscure ; 
 For he who gave the restless sea its bounds, 
 Thus far, no farther shalt thou go, decreed. 
 What though in glory for a while it shone ; 
 When lurid flames from Moscow's palaces 
 Arose, and Nature smiled upon the scene I 
 Conspiracy at home defeat abroad, 
 Had damped his courage, and his spirit's fire. 
 When trials thickly came, where might he flee ? 
 Ah ! whither go for love and sympathy ? 
 
 It was a glorious day in sweet spring-time, 
 And twilight o'er the lovely hills and plains 
 Of France, a soft yet radiant light had thrown, 
 And o'er the sweet retreat of Josephine,
 
 JOSEPHINE. 333 
 
 When with a mournful air Napoleon sought 
 One who so oft the shadow from his soul 
 Had raised, in days of high prosperity. 
 The proud man wept with one who loved him still 
 With one whose love he had most fully proved, 
 And whom adversity made doubly dear ; 
 Viewing his future in a darkening cloud, 
 While o'er his fate she sadly wept, he spake : 
 " Ah ! ne'er was man more fortunate than I, 
 But now a storm is gathering o'er my head, 
 And I have not, save thee, O Josephine ! 
 One trusty friend on whom I may repose." 
 
 Thick and yet thicker clouds are round him wrapped. 
 
 No courtly train of warriors waiteth now, 
 
 Eager and swift to do his bidding proud, 
 
 But, as a giant foe, enchained with chains 
 
 Such as himself oft forged for weaker hands, 
 
 They bore him to a distant, lonely isle, 
 
 Against whose rock-bound coast wild billows rolled, 
 
 And mocked the madness of his haughty soul. 
 
 Where now was she who ne'er the exiled one 
 Forgot ? Ah ! sadly musing on his fate,
 
 334 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 To distant Elba's lonely, sea-girt isle, 
 She fain would fly with kindest sympathy, 
 When sterner hearts the warrior-king forsook, 
 To pluck the thorn from out his bleeding heart, 
 And with that eye which in his darkest mood 
 Could quell his ire, to kindly gaze in his, 
 Till he might for a while forget the clouds 
 Which o'er his present and his future hung ; 
 And with that voice by sorrow sweeter made, 
 Pour o'er his saddened spirit Love's sweet balm,* 
 As did she in his days of proudest state, 
 When legions of brave men his word obeyed ; 
 But grief on grief her strength had sorely tried, 
 And ere the wished-for summons came from him, 
 Unto a higher Presence was she called. 
 Increasing pain she could not longer hide, 
 Yet cheerful from her welcome guests withdrew, 
 
 * The "allied sovereigns assured Josephine of their friendship arid 
 protection," and suffered her to retain her home at Malmaison. She 
 would gladly have gone to Elba, to cheer the exiled monarch, and 
 in a letter to him deplored her fate in being to him only afrimd, 
 when he was hi need of more than mere friends, but knowing that 
 Maria Louisa's claims were superior to her own, she waited Bona 
 parte's consent to visit him, should not Maria choose to do so.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 835 
 
 Assuring them that soon relief would come.* 
 
 Ten days, and round her mourning ones were 
 
 gathered, 
 
 Who knew full well that soon she must depart I 
 She might not longer check Napoleon's grief, 
 Nor might he weep beside her dying couch : 
 That he might seem into her fading eye 
 To gaze, while on his face she looked once more, 
 She beckoned for his portrait to be brought, 
 And sweetly smiling on the weeping group 
 Which round her stood, she spake her parting words, 
 Then slept a long unbroken sleep, from which 
 Her spirit woke beyond the griefe of time. 
 
 While sovereigns and her children round her wept, 
 
 Her sweetest eulogy was written with tears 
 
 From eyes of those her kindness oft had cheered 
 
 Of those who, though unhonored by a court, 
 
 Eemembered how, as Mercy's messenger, 
 
 With joy such as the heavenly angels feel, 
 
 She oft unto their wants administered. 
 
 * A few days before Josephine's death, she gave a dinner-party, on 
 which occasion she became so ill as to be under the necessity of re 
 tiring from her guests.
 
 
 
 
 336 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 The fairest flower that decks her wreath of fame- 
 Brighter than jewels of her queenly crown, 
 Is Pity's offering to the sad so oft 
 A pure elixir to the sorrowing soul. 
 
 A simple monument of marble white, 
 On which in royal robes a statue kneels, 
 As though for France the lovely Empress prayed, 
 Marks now the place where sleeps sweet Josephine. 
 A brief inscription* tells her children's love ; 
 No other words need on her tomb be graven, 
 For Memory and History proclaim 
 The noble virtues of her lofty soul. 
 
 Ah ! what a changeful life, thou Empress fair, 
 Was thine how very full of sorrowing care ; 
 Yet Hope, like some fair bird of plumage bright, 
 Amid thy woes oft o'er thee waved her wing, 
 And while thy heart with wildest grief was stirred, 
 O'er woe- worn souls thy smile of kindness poured 
 The balm of unobtrusive charity. 
 
 * EUGENE AND HORTENSE TO JOSEPHIKB.
 
 
 * JJ
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 Perm L9-10Cm-9,'52(A3105)444
 
 mini mi mini 
 
 A 001 372 680 7 
 
 PS 
 
 1235 
 
 B985A1?
 
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