THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES . ORIGINAL POEMS, Descriptive, Social, >Ioi al, and Sacred. BY MATTHEW McINTOSH, AUTHOR OF THE " CONFLAGRATION," &c. ; WITH A BRIEF AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF HIS LIFE. I labor on to find some thought of worth, That wlmo I 'm dead may Sourish long on arth. PITTSBURGH : SOLD AT T*B BOOK STORES OF LUKE L.OOM1S, WOOD STREET, AND J. COOK, FOURTH ST. 1846. according to Act of Congress, in the year 1846, by MATTUKW MclsTOSH, In the oftce of the Clerk of the District Court of the Western Dis trict of Pennsylvania. A. A. Anderson, Printer. ?s CONTENTS. Apostrophe 10 a Fountain, . . . 13 The Absent Lover, . . ., . . .16 The Happy Incident, 18 Catherine, . . ... .20 The Umbrella 22 The Lady's Request, 25 The Answer, ....... 26 Song Eliza, of Saw Mill Run, . . . .28 The Mother's Cradle Song, .... 30 The Emigrant's Song, . . . . .31 A Song, . . 32 Lovers Seeking Cherries, . . . . .34 The Maid of Birmingham, . . . .36 The Husband's Lament, 38 The Husband to his Wife, .... 40 The Wife's Reply, . 42 Home Labor Song, ...... 43 To : Belle of Pittsburgh, . . . .45 Ode, CONTENTS. " Across the Lake," . . 49 The Singing. .... 51 Lines, addressed to some young Ladies who paid the author a visit on Coal Hill, . . .53 First visit to a Friend after his Marriage, . . 55 Sonar. 57 (ion. Paaz's Song; of Revenge . . . .59 Orpah 61 Nancy. . 62 The Noble Purpose, 63 Juvenile Temperance Song, fir the Fourth of July, 65 To a Newly Married Couple, . . . .67 Lines, written on the death of a very amiable young girl 68 Hymn. . 71 Sacred Dirge, . . . . . . .73 Reflections on the 9th and 10th chapters of Jeremi ah, during a short illness, . 75 Sabbath, considered as an emblem of everlasting fruition to the Christian, . . . .78 Sacred Ode 80 Giftof an Early Rose, . . . . ' . .81 Mayor of yonder Ville, . . 82 Supposed Controvesy in the Literary Society, on the reception of the preceding Poem, . . 85 Lines, written on reading the Pittsburgh Quarterly CONTENTS, r Review, by Samuel Fleming, ... 88 Lines, to an employer during a short illness, . . 89 Lines, written in a Lady's Album, ... 91 A Mother's Soliloquy over her dead Infant, . . 92 To " Nlpfcil-on reading his Farewell to his Harp, 94 Spring, . 96 Reply to the inquiry of the Birmingham Literary Society : "Are the Hills of Saw Mill Run fa vorable to Poetic Genius?" . . . 100 Reflections on the New Year, . . . 109 Lines, composed after witnessing De Meyer's exe- ution upon the Piano Forte, upon the occa sion of his recent Concerts given in the city of Pittsburgh, 115 To : A Divine, . . . . 117 Epistle to a Friend, 119 1* PREFACE. THE writer of the following pages was born in Cole- chester Barracks, in the county Essex, near London, about the close of the eighteenth century, when Eng land was at war with France. His father was a High lander and spoke the language of his clan, who early in- life enlisted in the service of his country, and rose to be a sergeant. His mother was a native of England, and a descendant of the Herberts. When the writer was ve ry young, hie father was sent down to Sunderland, in the county of Durham, to recruit, and soon removed to the city of Durham for the same purpose. The writer's grandfather worked in a coal pit at Pain- shaw, not far from Durham ; and here his mother resol ved no longer to follow her Highland Laddie, who was soon sent to the Peninsula to fight the battles of his King and country, and who never returned to aid or protect his wife and four children. Thus orphanised by war, and being the eldest child, (the youngest never saw his father, and was killed, at the age of 14, in a pit at the West Moor Colliery,) he was put down the pit 110 fathoms, or 660 feet, at Painshaw, to earn 25 cents per day for the support of the family, when only 6 years of age ; and so little that several men, surprised at the descent of so small a boy into the pit, came into his grandfather's room and measured him with their candles, six of which were his height. These candles were so small, on account of the fire damp, that they were 65 to 70 in a pound. Here he was doomed to sit and keep a door for 17 or 18 hours pei day, and receive a flogging from the drivers, who performed the operation gratuitously, for the love of the thing. The Caller, whose business it was to awaken the men and boys to go to work at 1 o'clock in the morning, when his mother would lift her little boy from his warm bed, kiss, dress and send him away into hell's kitchen, VIII PREFACE. until 7 at night; so that in winter he never saw the sun from Sunday night until Saturday night each week, and surrounded by every circumstance and association calculated to perpetuate ignorance. For when he was sent into the pit, he would not so much as look in a book, although his grandfather whipped him until both mo ther and grandmother wept for his unconquerable obsti nacy. It was very providential for him that Sabbath Schools came into operation about this time, for he was sent to one at Shiney Row every Sabbath, where he re ceived instruction for a short period. A circumstance worthy of mention occurred as he came home from school one Sabbath: he beheld a num ber of boys cruelly destroying a number of young birds, which excited his sympathy to such a degree that he wept bitterly the whole of the next day in the pit, so that every one who heard him were in great distress, and used every art to console him in vain. In a short time he was separated from his mother, by going with his grandfather to Hebron Colliery, on the river Tyne, at which place circumstances were more fa vorable and interesting; here he was for the first time in his memory taken to a place of worship, by a young man, who boarded with his grandfather. This youth was a Methodist, and soon took a liking to his associate, who he discovered had an excellent voice for singing; and when Sabbath came round he proposed to take him along to meeting, which proposition was rejected ; aevertheless the youth caught him in his arms and car ried him across a large public square, to the great asto nishment of the beholders. But music soon spread her charms over his soul, and subdued his malignity by an irresistable, though secret, incantation, and he never need ed again to be forced to hear the sound of sweet harmo ny at the house of God. This fact demonstrates that a right perception of music was a component part of his nature, which all his life lias corroborated. Singing ne cessarily induced the desire to learn to read, and a new hymn book, for that purpose, was soon obtained for him. PREFACE. IX It was in reading this book that a love of learning, and a desire to excel in knowledge, was first engendered in his bosom. A principle was now stirred, which seems to have gained support from the superincumbent obstacles which forbid the developement of his genius. He then removed to Killingworth Colliery. At this place he went to night school and learned Arithmetic, and was sometimes assisted in this pursuit by an Over man, at the intervals of labor, in the pit. At the age of 17 he became decidedly serious, when his Bible became his daily companion when at work, whch enlivened his excessive toil. In this manner he acquired a vast amount of Biblical wealth. The whole secret of his suc cess is to be attributed to this practice of saving time, thus establishing a habit of thinking when at work, sweeten ing labor with contemplation. Then "labor est volup- tas." Nor did he stop at learning the Scriptures in the bowels of the earth, but his Latin, Greek or English Grammar was taken daily in his bosom to work. Thus learning lay near his heart. The circumstance which induced him to attempt the dead languages was as follows : -One day while in a neighbor's house, he saw a child tearing a book, which he took from it, and was surprised to see in it the superscription, written by Pi late, in Hebrew, Greek and Latin, placed over the Sa vour's head on the cross. He purchased it, although it had neither beginning nor end, and had it nicely bound, with the resolution, if possible to be able to read it in the original, which he accomplished. The first piece of poetry he ever wrote with a pen for he had frequently written with chalk and pencil was when he was lamed by striking a pick through a part of his foot. While thus disabled, he sent a poem to Mr. James Waddle, the Plessy poet, who afterwards became his father-in-law. The poet returned it with some cor rections, and another poem, wishing his foot better, on the reception of which, he very foolishly wrote another poem, full of acrimonious words, but not of feeling, two lines of which only live as a specimen of this folly, which * PREFACE. No poet I hoped my lines would revise, Whose mind pride had blinded, as age has his eyes. This is only mentioned to show the consequen ces that immediately followed. The poet was much of fended, and showed it to the Class Leader, and threatened to bring the subject before the Superintendent ; but as he promptly wrote a penitential ditty to the old gentleman, the subject was soon lulled to sleep. Soon after a cir cumstance occurred which brought from the hot bed of thorns another effusion, which he had the precaution to let his Class Leader peruse, who put it into the fire, saying " t'iat the devil inspires thee." Thus ended his poetas- tering for 10 years. The next event worthy of notice is the Pitman's strike for this is the hinge on which turned his present destiny. The Colliers were struggling with numerous disadvantages, when a Union commenced throughout the counties of Durham and Northumberland. He did not at first join the association on account of his church relationship. But the men at the Colliery were determi ned to leave the church, if he resisted longer; and from religious considerations alone was he induced to assist his compeers to effect an amelioration of their condition, and he published two pamphlets in defence of their rights, which called down the vengeance of the owners of the Collieries. He invented and introduced a system of commercial co-operation, which, if it had been carried on to this day, would have been very ad vantageous to them. But it failed, and the storm of odium lell heavier on him, and which resulted in his em barkation for America, where he landed at New York, on the 27th,June 1829 bookless, moneyless and friend less but not senseless nor useless. The ordeal was severe the storm was great, but it was left far behind, except the cold echo of heartless malevolence which ig norance has sometimes reverberated in his ear. The calm which ensued was* great, and his prospects began to clear. But there was a vacuity in his mind not to be satisfied. His family, and all he held dearest, PREFACE. XI were in another hemisphere. To rob the heart of eve ry endearment at once, is a loss which calls forth the greatest magnanimity of soul, and the sacrifice ought not to be rendered, if possible. One incident more ought to be stated, as it led him to writing lyrics, and made him read his heart in connection with nature. Whilst working at Pottsville, he went every Sabbath to hear preaching ; but not having a Bible, he solicited one of the preacher, who replied he had none. He said he thought that the British and Foreign Bible Society might have left some with him for distribution. The preacher said he sometimes had them, but had none at present. He asked if he had part of an old school Test ament. The preacher replied no : but never inquired into the cause of the solicitation. As he went through the woods home and reflected on the change of his situation, said he, " I once had Bibles and Testaments in various languages have been many years an active member of the Foreign Bible Society, and I am now reduced to crave in vain a school book from a benevolent minister. No Bible no sympathy no pro mise no expectation sad change ! " He called at a house on the road, and told his sad sto ry. The person loaned him a copy of Robert Burns' Poems. Some of the songs he greatly admired, and composed music to them for his amusement through the winter. In the spring of 1830 he came to Pittsburgh, which location was favorable to his occupation. Here a new and enlarged scene of city, stream and hill opened to his view, at once abrupt, magnificient and sublime, at tracting his observation, and inviting his admiration. The society with which he mingled was also industri ous, kind and intellectual. A new class of feelings and impulses were thus called into existence, while over the gorgeous landscape a sombrous melancholy was spread, like the first tinges of autumn's decay, caused by the XII PREFACE. absence of his family. In this condition his Muse be gan to court him with wily art. And to cheer his gloom, oft she led him forth, With gentle stepsj to cull sweet nature's flowers, Who smiling turned to see him gather bliss, And own her long lost son. Here he formed the resolution, if possible, to make hills, rivers, creeks, and towns classic in song, by blending moral feeling with location, individuality and scenery a partial attempt at which is to be found in the following pages. He has been greatly encouraged to proceed in this undertaking by his numerous friends, as well as by the Literary Societies, to which he is attached, not so much, perhaps, for the laudableness of the object, as to be an incentive to others who are placed in similar situations in life. For if one, who has been the child of Misfor tune, and hid by her in the deepest night, and only brought to light by the flaming brand of a city in her de structive hand, can surmount such difficulties, what youth need despair of success. The storm that wrecks a fleet, may perchance cast a gem ashore, but certainly not as an equivolent. So that calamity, which destroy ed a vast portion of a large city, has brought a Collier from the bosom of obscurity. The gentlemen of the Press have with great unanimi ty encouraged his pursuits, which entitles them to his sincere thanks and lasting esteem. ORIGINAL POEMS. AN APOSTROPHE TO A FOUNTAIN. Sweetly ever flowing fountain, Gently stealing down the vale: Bosom treasure of the mountain, Lofty veteran of the gale! Lo, thy mirror face is smiling, Placid as in days of yore ; Cooling cordial, toil beguiling, Full of goodness running o'er. Ruby lips have often praised thee, When thy comforts they have felt, Bending o'er thy shrine of beauty, Where- their transient image knelt. 14 M<=INTOSH'S POEMS. They have gone like summer roses, Faded while the zephyr plays ; But their virtue still discloses Merit, far above these lays. Time, that touches all things mortal, Has not changed thy crystal bliss ; Pure as when the first fair vestal Deigned her hand and fount to kiss : Ere the green wood hid thy lustre From the sun's prolific beam ; Or the Indian learned to butcher Life, and crimson all thy green ; Or the white man's axe was sharpened T' bow the forest vast and wild, After ages Sol resplendent On thy long veiled aspect smiled. Winter's bands by thee are broken. Warm like friendship is thy breast; Hence a word in kindness spoken Melts the spirit's icy crest. Flow sweet rill, until thy current, Filled with tributaries, flows, Like a child, or sprightly gallant, When he to a giant grows. M C INTOSH'S POEMS. 15 When thy bosom rises swelling, Passionated by the rain, Thou art muddy log expelling, Rushing on with speed amain, Nought can stop thy strength in motion, Barriers seem as vile as vain, Puny as the Royal notion Was to curb the raging main. Can disdain, with freezing fingers, Bind the current of the mind? No ! it flows and never lingers, The ocean of deep thought to find. Tyrant skill has ne'er been able T' bind with chains the human will ; And no power can e'er be stable, While injured minds can revel still. Source of pleasure, I thy margin Homeward tend, and gather flowers, Where the matron, when a virgin Passed so many gleesome hours. THE ABSENT LOVER. Maria is the fairest maid, That treads her native hill, And o'er each scene where we have strayed, My fancy leads me still. Her eye first gained my heart's respect, Enkindling bright esteem, And joy soon languished, if neglect Obscured its fervent beam. Upon her brow in artless fold Her yellow tresses lay, Like a rich mass of purest gold, Which glads the eye of day. Her bosom's like the dogwood's bloom, Which early decks the spring, And cheerful as the merry tune Of birds which on them sing : For in her smile such pleasures dwell, Above all earthly sweets ; M C INTOSH'S POEMS. 17 While on her lips some mystic spell, My soul delightful keeps. A word from her is richer far, Than aught beneath the sun, And shines in memory like a star, Which never can go down. The chain to bind our youthful love, Time holds in his own hand; And if he but propitious prove, We'll surely wear the band ; Then should stern Fate tyrannic throw Me on some distant shore, I'll view her through the cloud of wo, And drink of bliss still more. 2* THE HAPPY INCIDENT. When the summer was young, And the feathered tribes sung, And the blossoms spread wide on the mellon, Then I sat in the shade That the tent-like vine made, Till my musing was broken by Ellen. A fair damsel was near, With a youth in her rear, And she a wild posy was smelling ; " This large boquet," he cried, As fast forward he hied, " I have gathered for you, sister Ellen." W T hen I first heard the sound, I arose from the ground, And I lingered as waiting their coming ; The young stripling I knew, When he near to me drew, Introducing me there to young Ellen. M C INTOSH'S POEMS. 19 il Oh, most beauteous maid," In a rapture I said, 'Shall I aid you safe home to your dwelling? For the distance is far, And you have not a car ; Do allow me your arm, fairest Ellen.' 1 Not a word did she speak, But the blush on her cheek, All her willingness coyly was telling; Then I tripped down the dell, Quite allured by the spell, That lived in the smile of sweet Ellen. Now her converse and mien Spread a charm o'er the scene, And her eye a pure angel did dwell in, From its lustrous light The dark future shone bright, As my feelings entwined them round Ellen. On the blithe Ohio, Where the proud steamers go, As it were by some magic propelling, O'er the rough sea of life, And the billows of strife, I will sail on, delighting in Ellen. CATHERINE. At love's command my muse obeys, And wonder listens to my lays ; Since in this darksome vale of tears, Beset with toil and doubt and fears, A gift from heaven can rarely shine, To equal lovely Catherine. It's not the rosy cheek she wears, Untouched by age, or torn by cares ; Nor yet her mind with knowledge filled Nor hands in good employment skilled ; Nor name sprung from some noble line, That lights my Hame for Catherine. It is her eyes which kindly burn, That whensoe'er on me they turn, The strangest raptures seize my heart, 'Till from her side I'm loath to part ; For my best feelings all combine, To link my soul to Catherine. M C INTOSH'S POEMS. 21 My joy so great, pen cannot tell, So rich, so vast, the mystic spell, If wide the gates of heaven were thrown, And I the angel ranks were shown, They'd not appear more like divine To my wrapt thoughts, than Catherine. One night I took her by the hand ; When lo ! her look, so archly bland, Diffused such transport through my veins. And drove dull caution from my brains, Then extacy soon named the time I wished to wed young Catherine. No word she spake, nor no, nor yes, And what I said seemed not amiss, And thus the longest winter's night, Was spent in visions of delight, 'Till day reluctant dared to shine, And parted me and Catherine. THE UMBRELLA. The morning rose bright as the wish E'er traveller felt arise, When distance lifts his home to kiss The azure bending skies. When Autumn, to th' admiring glance, Stands decked in green and yellow, As Sol spreads out the wide expanse, Like earth's rich umbrella. At eve's approach, the clouds in white Foretold the parent storm, They fled through scenes of golden light, On wings of ether borne. A melancholy gloom o'erspread, Where thunders soon did bellow ; " Dear sir," I thought they loudly said, " Mind take your umbrella." Then soon I heard the school house bell Inviting to debate, M C INTOSH' POEMS. 23 My bosom glowed, as if the knell Sung forth my blissful fate. While rows of girls the scene did grace. Whose smiles were ripe and mellow : The fairest sat beside the place Where stood my umbrella. Now music's pleasing strain was played. And gladsomeness went round, While knowledge, like a giant, laid Proud pretence on the ground. While she whose charms had won my heart: Whose eye, like mind's bright Stella, Made me resolve e'er we should part, She'd share my umbrella. Close by her side I strove to keep, Along the crowded aisle, As still my longing eye would seek Her kind approving smile. And when she reached the outer door, A tall and smart young fellow Now wished her arm, I slipt before, And spread my umbrella. T spoke a word and gave a look, Which she did understand, And bent my elbow, like a hook, To gain her heart and hand. 24 M C INTOSH'S POEMS. She smiled acceptance, and she placed Her arm in mine : sweet Bella Thus linked me to an angel chaste. Beneath my umbrella. The youthful ardor of my love That hour began to glow, And frequent converse goes to prove She's antidote to wo. That stormy night was truly kind, With gladsome soul I tell her ; It gave me countless worth to rind Beneath an umbrella. THE LADY'S REQUEST. Oh! do not go so soon, Wait till the storm is past; And when the sullen gloom Her latest tear has cast Into the lap of youthful day, Then cheerily pursue thy way. Brave not the wind and rain, Tempt not the woody steep, The falling trees will blame Your rashness, as they break In vengeance round your sliding steps, As danger shrieks in sudden threats. The pitchy darkness hides The earth, and e'en the sky ; The blustering north wind chides The woods, till they reply No star illumes the dark profound, Nor path is seen upon the ground. 26 M C INTOSH'S POEMS. And hark ! the angry roar, Of yonder raging run ; It 's dangerous to pass o'er When high, by light of sun : But worse by far when night's dark veil Has hid in murk the deepening vale. Oh! do not go so soon, Wait till the storm is passed ; And when the sullen gloom Her latest tear has cast Into the lap of youthful day, Then cheerily pursue thy way. THE ANSWER. Sebina's pleasing voice, Whose words like gifts appear. 'Mid smiles, bids love rejoice, Like fairy strains brought near : Or like the soft ^Eolian harp, Breathes soft enchantment through my heart. For honor thus conferred, And tenderness expressed, M C INTOSH'S POEMS. 27 Thou gainest the best reward That ever virtue blest; Thy mind and virtues all combine, And make thee like a seraph shine. My fancy on thy cheeks, Beneath thy radiant eye, Oft drinks the honey sweets That in their roses lie. For sweeter than the flowers of spring, Are the red tints thy blushes bring. One hour with thee, alone, Is worth the longest day That e'er on beauty shone, And still was asked to stay; When on her lips the heart's behest, Was sealed to her most kind request. And glad is Temperanceville To own so rare a prize ; Young men forget reach ill, When they behold thine eyes : For thy bright looks of matchless grace Can sorrow from their bosoms chase. SONG: ELIZA of Saiv Mill Pan, Loved Saw Mill Run gives me a theme, That wakens my rapturous lay ; Where beauty goes forth in her sheen, As knowledge lights up her bright way. Eliza, fair maid of this vale, Where happiness swells to delight, As waters roar loud, or faint wail, And Virtue grows fearless of blight. Thy youth and sweet loveliness blend Their charms with the smiles of thy face, And health and tranquility tend To mellow and heighten each grace. My bosom with transport is filled, Whenever thy presence I see ; And absent, like Sol, thou dost gild My prospects in future with thee. M C INTOSH'S POEMS. 29 I hail thee, as thou dost the spring, With joy and with gladness of soul ; Since light and felicity fling Stern winter and gloom from the pole. I hail thee as lovers who glow In prospect of wishes so near; Uncertainty smiles this to know ; Hope steps from his radiant tower. Now, Melody, try thy best strain, And, Harmony, swell thy full chord, To praise my Eliza's loved name, Whose virtues I gladly record. THE MOTHER'S CRADLE SONG. Sweetest child of woman born, Heavenly smiles thy looks adorn ; Joys unspeakable are mine, Gathered from these smiles of thine. In thy pretty little face, Purest innocence and grace, Goodness, too, I clearly see, Fairest traits of piety. Heaven nor earth did ever view A richer gem of love than thou ; Crown of pure connubial bliss, Object of my early wish. When thy wordless voice I hear, I run to thee and comfort bear : My best affections round thee twine; Oh ! what bliss to call thee mine ! Through thy cloudless, azure eye, Shines a soul that cannot die ; But shall live, and love, and fly, Glorious thiough eternity. THE EMIGRANT'S SONG. I'll sing for I stand upon Denny's proud mountain ; I'll sing for I stand on its coal clouded brow, Where pleasures flow freely from friendship's pure Wlmse joys oft repeated seem always as new. [^fountain. How kindness assists my mind in reflecting. It restores my past pleasures and heightens them too, While I am indulging the zest of good eating, The supper delicious, my comrades, with you. But I have a fair one amidst all her sorrow, Is dearer to rne than the bright summer sky, Who once was the source, yea, the soul of my pleasure; Of pleasures, though faded, they never can die. Far, far as she lives o'er the green ridged ocean, And there she has said she 's resolved to stay, Yet still on the mirror of fancy's reflection, She shines with a lurid and heart rending ray. And what though the tempest should hide me in horror, While danger shall rock me upon the big wave, I'll brave all that 's dismal in ocean to-morrow, To bless her I love, or to find me a grave. A SONG. Like the first flower that decks the spring, Fair Mary blooming grows ; Far from the city's business din, Where winding Chartier flows. Upon a gentle sloping hill Her natal cottage stands, Beside the music dripping rill, And views the fruitful lands. Her ruby lips of laughing love, Rich ivory display, While eyes, like diamonds, as they move, Diffuse soft pleasure's ray : The tints upon her modest cheek, Proud wealth would gladly wear ; Her every feature seems to speak, Content reposes there. My roving feet at once were staid. When I beheld her charms M C INTOSH'S POEMS. 38 I wished to clasp the blushing maid And stretched my eager arms : But prudence said the foolish want Would soon the bliss destroy, Till Hymen should her safe transplant, And nurse the wedded joy. She's like the flower so early born, To herald hasting bliss, Which drinks its beauty from the morn, And bows when tempest's hiss. I'll take her to my cheerful home, Where comforts shall distil Their freshness on her head alone, Unconscious of an ill. THE LOVERS SEEKING CHERRIES. How shall I gain these cherry's height? So tempting to the longing sight ; The tree is lofty, and they gleam On wide spread branches, weak extreme. They seem to drink the solar ray, And zephyrs gently with them play ; Could I, like fancy, easy perch Among them, I would feast in mirth. My Delia's wish my soul inspires To obtain the pleasure she desires ; And did they far o'erhang the brink, Where danger frowns and mortals shrink, Where expectation durst not stretch To blessings scarce within her reach, I'll draw them with a lover's arms, Since thou dost cheer me with thy charms. Forbid it heaven ! than risk thy life I'd eat the bitter fruits of strife: M C INTOSH S POEMS. To see thou'rt safe and smiling near. Does banish every cloud of fear, Gladly with thee I would endure The storms of life when worst they pour: But lo ! I tremble e'en to think For me thou might'st in ruin sink ! Then thou dost love me lovely fair, Since all my life 's thy praise and care. Gem of the universe thou art; Soon may I wear thee next my heart : Thy blushes like these cherries rise. Waked up by love and fond surprise ; And since thy bliss depends on me. I'll give my life, my all to thee. Then closer to his love he drew, One arm around her waist he threw. Her lilly hand the other took, While pleasure glistened in each look. They stood like monuments of love, Perfected by the hand of Jove. I heard a sound like meeting lips. Where love a thousand pleasures sips. THE MAID OF BIRMINGHAM. In strains as sweet as ladies win, I'll sing the best I can, The fairest maid that e'er was in The town of Birmingham. Beside Monongahela's stream I saw her, where the dam Roars like a sea, and breaks the dream Of maids in Birmingham. 'Twas the blest season of the year, When summer freely flang Unnumbered blessings round to cheer The maid of Birmingham. Her mother, leaning on her, smiled, With age both weak and wan : As beauty blossomed on her child. The maid of Birmingham. M C INTOSH'S POEMS. 37 Her rosy cheeks, her eyes of blue, My fancy loves to scan, And admiration turns to view The maid of Birmingham. Her goodness wakens fond desire; Her smiles my wishes fan, And bids my confidence aspire To the maid of Birmingham. I soon revealed my scheme of bliss, And she approved my plan, To change her from a blooming miss To wife of Birmingham. Should war approach, like some foul fiend, And terror lead the van ; May every youth with joy defend A maid of Birmingham. And may this town forever prove It never had a man Who did not praise, and kindly love A maid of Birmingham. THE HUSBAND'S LAMENT. Oh no, I'll not wander my love from the sorrow, The heart stricken grief I still cherish for thee ; From rose bud anil lilly the dew drops I'll borrow, To swell the affection no mortal can see. The voice of the turtle dove's tonic so plaintive, Steals over my spirit, bereavement to please, As I sit by the streamlet, which murmurs relentive, Where the water fall constantly weeps on the breeze. Its sweetness to drink, from the fountain of pleasure. When memory leads to the source of the past, And endearment lingers, and quaffs without measure, And smiles on the ima^ reflection has -cast. The flowers she planted so early in season, And watered so often, and sheltered with care, Most sweetly they opened, and blushed, for the reason That my lovely angel, their favorite, was there. But now all their beauty with sorrow is drooping, As full as frail nature is able to bear. M C I\TOSH' POEMS. 39 Till noontide approaches, when lo ! they are looking The mutes of sad wretchedness seeking despair: For she, like a rose tree whose beauty has vanished, Except a lone blossom, the last of the year, Has left me a son, though death has her vanquished, In whose lovely image she smiles always near. Now mine is the wish to pursue such examples, To feel and to languish, but not to repine For her who now blooms, where disease never tramples, And rests on the bosom of promise divine. THE HUSBAND TO HIS WIFE. I love thee for thy worth, Thou fair and lovely one, And for the smile of mirth Which early on me shone. 1 love thee for the words Which did our wishes seal, And more, because thou lovest To keep them sacred still. T love thee for the fruit Which blossomed on thy cheek, Whence trees immortal shoot, And still thy praise bespeak. I love thee for the help Thou hast me freely given, And soothed the pains I felt, And healed my heart when riven. Amid my darkest gloom Thy pleasure giving eve. JTINTOSH'S POEMS. 41 Would cause my hopes to bloom, And soon my sorrows dry. And thus I love to tread The zigzag path of life, With thee who hast me fed With comforts rare and rife. With joy we've toiled along, When rough or smooth the road, Oft cheered with pleasure's song, As Malice o'er us crowed. Sometimes has gay deceit Her glittering crest displayed, And our unconscious feet From goodness half betrayed : And fair temptation bloomed Like flowerets o'er a pit, Which deepest danger crowned, All sparkling bright with wit. But God in goodness smiled, And drew my thoughts away, And led me, like a child, Where danger never lay. THE WIFE'S REPLY. I love thee for the truth Thy life hath long displayed: Thy promises of youth, Which all my feelings swayed. My young affections threw Their arms around thee then, Aud gained support and grew Strong from the best of men. The fruit which thou hast praised, Is owing to thy aid, I, like the vine when raised, Am strong and fruitful made. When storms rose to excess, I closer to thee clung, As distant bliss grew less, The more from me they flung. And till my latest hour My spirit still shall please ; My heart is thine the dower, Whose wealth can ne'er decrease. HOME LABOR SONG. The young Farmer to his lovely Bride. Blithe as the morn when beauty smiles On every opening flower, Thou art Lucinda, and thy wiles Make pleasant labor's hou . Thy clothes were taken from the flock. Which thou with skill did'st spin, And thou did'st weave and make the frock Thou art so lovely in. Thy charming beauty found a shade In what thy fingers wrought, And thou art handsomely arrayed In what no merchant bought. While Flora decked in foreign silk, Goes foppishly attired, 'I hou art the very cream of milk ; For virtue long admired. One morn I saw her strutting by, In French boots measuring space, 44 M C INTOSH'S POEMS. And the bright smile that glads man's eye Was hid in Brussel's lace. Her Leg Horn set with pretty bows, Was fashionably trimmed; She held it on with far-fetched gloves, From the mischievous wind. Her dress did say I am allied To wealth and many a farm, As on she went with gleeful pride, Leaning on Broadcloth's arm. Then love is certainly not brought With dress from foreign lands; Nor is contentment ever wrought In cloth by pauper's hands. Oh ! no, it is not costly dress That lights love's fervent beam; Nor is our heart-felt pleasures less, When hid in homespun clean. TO ' : BELLE OF PITTSBURGH. Soft rosy health, while beauteous young, Has oft danced jocund on thy tongue, And spread gay mirth around ; While on thy roseate, dappling cheek, Bright rays of bliss commingling meet, Where crimson tints abound. Heneath thy blue, vivacious eyes, Rich pleasure lives, but sorrow dies ; Entombed in golden light; They coruscative radiance spread. And grace dull melancholy's head With smiles which give delight. Light footed joy, glad, trips along With thee, fair favorite of song, Nor ever leaves thy side, Thy mellowed melody 's replete With sacred charms, more rapturous sweet Than svren ever tried. 46 M C INTOSH'S POEMS. Thy voice, in strains which cherubs sing, Like heaven's enchantment on the wins, Delights us with surprise : On music's wing thou hast upborne, And made me taste empyrean morn,- As we did soaring rise. Thy sparkling wit from thought's pure flame, Ne'er caused a wound nor aught of pain, But varied joys inspired. Desire's strong eye could quickly see Attractive virtues dwelt in thee, Which all his bosom fired. Pittsburgh is proud of one so fair, Whose lofty brow and flowing hair, And goodness elegant, Which draw respect from all who see; And praise on learning's lips for thee Friendship delights too chant. Ix the latter end of November, or the beginning of Dec., 1833, I went to meet my wife and children, according to her written request, at the town of Erie, on her way from England, where she had remained three years and six months after my departure from my native land, to participate in the matchless priviliges of American freedom. When I arrived at Lake Erie the tempest raged fearfully. The steamers and other vessels dared not to cross the angry waves for several days- The celebrated steamer \Vash- ington was driven on the Canada shore and lost. Thus disap pointed in my object, with feelings highly excited, and fancy ro ving amid gloomy conjecture as to the result, of my journey, pitting on the mound of the time destroyed fort, with eyes facing the hea ving billows, watching for the first vessel that should appear on the dim horizon, and surrounded by the graves of departed patriots, I wrote the following Ode: Ye tyrant winds, oh! cease your blowing, Why keep my love away from me ? ^fow hush to peace your dismal howling, You seem to chide her love to me. Oh ! why afflict so fair a stranger, Who has triumphant crossed the sea, And braved with pride a world of danger To evidence her love to me. 48 MdNTOSIl's POEMS Then hear our prayers and soon deliver, Unloose your unseen chains, and free That lovely form so rich with pleasure. She longs to smile in love on me. On Erie's strand she views the billow. Long maddened by the tempest, flee, And while she longs to be my pillow. She weeps in ardent love for me. I see love's pledges close surround her. And ask when they my face shall see : Sweet darling babes ye live forever, Rich tokens of her love to me. Oh ! dry her cheeks with balmy kindness. Those cheeks I've often longed to see; Where first I stole the virgin blushes. That whispers all her love to me. She is my home of earthly blessing. And she did ever wish to be Most good and kind, but never less than A prodigal in love to me. Ye graves of heroes long since sleeping ; Ye winds that mountain Lake Erie ; Ye clouds that live, but die by weeping, Can tell I love as well as she. "ACROSS THE LAKE." " Across the lake, Through brush and brake, Resounds the winding horn, O'er hill and dale The echoes aail, And through the waving corn:" But the young mind Flies unconfined On fancy's rapid wings, From milky way, Where spirits play, It sacred pleasure brings. If learning guide, Creation wide Is filled with heavenly light; Near or remote It charms the thought, Displaying wisdom's might; 50 M C INTOSH'S POEMS. Each golden star, Which shines afar, And moon and sun more kind. Are points in space, By which we trace The illimitahle mind. Then we'll rejoice With gladsome voice, Since God hath made us so ; With sight and sense, And prospects hence, And hearts His love to know. THE SINGING. Winter, fell tyrant of the year, Held in his hand a frost-tipt spear, The hills their winding sheet had on, And death lay prostrate at his throne, When we went out to singing. The sleigh bells rang a merry peal, When motion flung aside her wheel, As on we flew o'er hill and flood, Where nature's glassy bridges stood To bear us on to singing. It was an evening in December ; Its joys I ever shall remember, The brawling winds found early rest, As if by music's charm caressed, While we were at the singing. The moon, fair night's resplendant queen, Held on her beneficial reign, And through the glassy windows peeped, M C INTOSH S POEMS. To view the pleasures youngsters reaped While they were at the singing. Winter's best roses decked the hearth, Their fragrance mingled with our mirih- Kinclred to those on Flora's cheek, Where smiles unnumbered softly creep, When she is at the singing. The ladies were most tasteful dressed, Around the head, the feet, the waist, Their mellowed graces mingling shone With pleasure's beams on every one That then were blithely singing. There was a lad with yellow hair, Ornamental nose and features fair ; The manly smile dwells on his face, Besides he often leads, with grace, Young ladies from the singing. THE following lines were written to some young ladies who came on a visit to the writer on Coal hill: Come tread these hills with me, Ye youthful virgin train ; These hills of liberty, Where heroes brave were slain, Who freely shed their precious blood To purchase us this nation's good. The Indian war-whoop's din Is hushed- and music sweet Is cheerful raised to Him In whom our wishes meet. Religion here inviting stands, And calm devotion spreads her hands. How rich an hour is this, For friendship sweet displays, Her fairest scenes of bliss, And every feeling says, 54 M C INTOSH'S POEMS. There is a pleasure in your charms, Which pain and toil and care disarms. In Phoebe's roseate cheek, In Mary's smiling beam, In Ann, sedate and meek, And Flora, playful queen, I see a worth I can't express, But thought shall fondly it caress. THE FIRST VISIT TO A. FRIEND AFTER HIS MARRIAGE. Is this the place where love designs to dwell, Where Virtue triumphs o'er temptation's spell, And young Fidelity begins to bloom ? Whom sober looking Age shall deck in fair renown ; Where blushing Modesty half lifts the veil, To yield the joys she did of late conceal, When passions, drawn by some sweet secret lure, Delighting in the bliss, the bliss that glads this hour. Is this the place where hope began to prove The choicest fruits of pure conjugal love, Which Promise held in clusters in her hand, Inviting strong desire with voice and aspect bland. Is this the place where Graces always spread Unnumbered comforts round Contentment's head, And Satisfaction wears her own bright smile, Which does the rugged road of mortal life beguile. 5(> M C IXTOSHS POEMS. Oli yes! tfie tasteful neatness of this room, And useful books the dustless tables crown While actions, words and books declare That love, and hope, and joy, delightfully dwell here. May heaven bless Joseph and his youthful spouse : May they Religion and fair virtue choose. Long may he flourish high, like the green pine, To shelter his beloved, his faithful Adeline. SONG. Near to Nubbin hill both bleak and steep, Where crops invite no more to reap, But dwarfish weeds are thinly strewn Upon its bald and rocky crown. The spring called forth my willing toil To cultivate the stubborn soil, Beside the wimpling well beneath, Where weary thirst felt cooling ease. Mild was the noon, the azure sky Looked sweet as love in Margaret's eye : And as I gazed, soft tints arose Like crimson that her cheeks disclose. Each bird sang kindly to his mate ; Chanticleer triumphed on the gate : But loudest sang the inviting horn, To supper, as we planted corn. r >8 M C INTOSH'S POEMS. The nymph who breathed that mellow tone Is young, and fair, a lovely one : And the soft lips that it expressed, Has oft my thoughtful spirit blessed. Oh sacred love! how sweet thou art; A secret cordial to my heart ; And if the earnest be so great, How rapturous, then, the nuptial treat. GEN. PAAZ'S SONG OF REVENGE Against the Royalist Spaniards who put to death the patriotic Halvaterrella, who solicited his aid in behalf Of her country, and who was shot with her lover for her patriotis"n, I will avenge her death, The hero sternly cried, As long as I have breath, Or Tyranny shall ride Triumphant o'er our dearest rights, And Liberty's rich blossoms blights. She was a noble maid, As beautiful as young, And when my help she prayed, 'Twas with an angel's tongue. " Help Santa Fe with flying speed, Or else our bravest hearts will bleed." " The Spaniards loudly threat To spread destruction round, And make their poinards wet, Tn blood of rebels found. ttU M C INTOSH'S POEMS. They wreak their vengeance now in blame, We must be free or will be slain." She was j. patriot, And would her country save, Though death should be her lot Amongst the free and brave : ' For death," she said, " in virtue's cause Will light the memory with applause." Now by her lock of hair, And by her last adieu, And by her courage rare, As near to death she drew, This sword shall ilil the vengeful cup, While eager malice drinks it up. He rushed into the throng, Where flew the warrior's steel : But deatli and he seemed one, And hungry sought a meal, He carved their ranks to feast his spleen, Till courage sickened at the scene. When Victory by his side Stood smiling with his spear, And Transport far and wide Bade Freedom sound his cheer, The only words which gained his breath Were " I have now avenged her death." ORP AH. Young Orpah is the neatest lass That any youth can show, Or ever gained the hand of wealth, Or cheered a sprightly beau. I plucked choice roses as I went, And gave them to ray fair To ornament her snow white brow, And scent her raven hair. She thanked me kindly for the boon, And said she ne'er before Felt half the pleasure in a gift, Nor e'er expected more. Then turned her modest orbs away, And by each brilliant grew A blushing rose, which spread its bliss Fresh from affection's dew. I thought the paradise of love Unshaded, smiled before, While on her face I gazed, and felt 6 Like angels who adore. NANCY. This morning as I hastened forth To show respect to valor's worth, And stretch the line of them who mourn The hero* that could Britain turn. When, as I elbowed round Penn street, I found the rarest mental treat, Which filled my bosom with delight, So rich and charming was the sight. A chain of linked beauties stood, Each rosy cheek showed love in bud ; Their sudden beauties all expressed The tender feelings of the breast. But one of them I longed to love I thought her eye said, I approve; Her bashfulness around me threw A mystic charm unknown till now. The ground she treads I now adore. And Hope runs blithely on before, This world is all enchanting ground. Since I have lovely Nancy found. Jackson. THE NOBLE PURPOSE. I will not taste the cup, Though Friendship's ready hand With wine shall fill it up, And long inviting stand, By all the kind endearments past, And all the joys we hope to last. CHORUS : For I have signed the temperance pledge, Which does my resolution wedge. I will not taste the cup, Should she I love the most, In fervent accents put The language of the toast; That I should drink her health and pe&ce In yon vast future world and this. For I have signed, &c. I will not taste the cup, Though tears should lend their aid, 64 M C INTOSH'S POEMS. And urge a single sup; Which would ray life degrade, And lay my noble purpose low, And swell the tide of guilty wo. For I have signed, &c. I will not taste the cup, ('T would break the sacred pledge,) Which thousands daily glut, And stagger o'er the edge Of danger down the awful gulf, Where guilt preys on them like a wolf. l''or I have signed,