4526 D36t *> THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES ! toy v.,/,/,.-/ MANCHESTER. LOVE AND O T H E II POEMS; i:v JOSEPH DEEVY. MANCHESTER: JOSEPH GILLETT, late SIMPSON AND GILLETT. 1843. TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE LORD FRANCIS EGERTON, M.P., &f)ts Folume IS MOST HUMBLY INSCRIBED. S3T ?•• 11* PREFACE Shakespeare has cited in one distich the miseries of Players, he might have written another on the misfortunes of Authors. Doomed to bear the fardels of contumely if they write ill, and the malicious sneers of envy should they happen to write well, their brief day is perpetually clouded ; and if the sun of pros- perity bursts forth, it is only to shine on their tomb. The following Poems are offered to the public with extreme diffidence, as emanating from one but a minor in years, unblest with the honours of an academical education, and engaged from his infancy in the most active business of life. Such circum- stances must be owned to blight merit wherever it may appear, though, like the star breaking through a cloud when it has stood the dearth of its influence, it may afterwards shine forth with greater lustre. The chief poem illustrates the principle of love in VI P KEF ACE. its widest sense, ;is displayed in the affection which man ought to entertain for the Creator, in that ad- miration which buoys up the soul in communing with the sublime, the beautiful, and the grand, as manifested in the external appearance of nature: and lastly, in that pure and unsullied affection which rises from the heart alone towards the partner of his choice and the sharer of his consolations. The antipodes of these divisions he has viewed in the most severe light, as being a hindrance to God's moral law, and consequently to the diffusion of happiness on earth. How far the justice and propriety of these ideas may extend is the reader's province to determine. Should they be so unfortunate as neither to amuse nor in- struct, the author consoles himself with the purity of the intention which gave them to the world — they came like truth — it is not his fault if they disappear like dreams. He has chosen the Spenserian stanzas on account of the flexibility which it permits in running the lines into one another. Without allusion to Beattie's PREFACE. Vll or Thomson's encomiums, it possesses all the at- tracting graces of rhyme with the freedom and ram- pant firmness of blank verse. In truth it may be called the key stone of the arch, which unites both into one indissoluble structure, and on which their respective upholders may meet and regale themselves without feeling in the least displeased by the recog- nition. The fugitive pieces, being juvenile compositions, claim the indulgence of the critic ; yet he pleads not exemption from the common fate ot authors in this kind, provided his defects be told with the candour and decency of a friend, — not with the malice and overbearing insult of an enemy. However, some critics, not content with exposing the faults of their author, hold them up to public ridicule. Such con- tend not for truth so much as victory ; and, like the tyrants of old, think it little to conquer unless their victims are made a public spectacle and dragged in triumph at their chariot wheels. There are others who admire a book as an antiquary does a medal, V1I1 PREFACE. solely from the impression of its name. From the moment they undertake the cause of an author, all his defects ripen into beauties, and he stands aloof from his kind — a man without a blemish. Other critics fall into the contrary error of condemning nearly every work that they review. The brilliant effervescence of genius dazzles them, so they strive to darken and obscure its brightness in order that it may not confound their sight. These malignant writers resemble the fabled giant who killed every distinguished person whom he met. The glory of the giant consisted in the number of men's limbs he had destroyed, that of the critic in viewing " Disjecti membra poetee.'' — Hor. Many plume themselves on their critical acumen in prosody, who are in reality mere weeders between vowels and consonants. After referring you to some chapter in Longinus, and reaching down Hugh Blair's massive volume, they bring their artillery to bear upon some slight deviation in the metre, or the rhyming of two syllables of the same letters, though bearing different significations. What a mighty PREFACE. IX attainment ! Yet with what pomp it is ushered into the world. Such critics resemble Caligula, who, having raised an army and alarmed the whole world, afterwards led it to gather cockle-shells. The author has too much reason to enlarge on the candour of criticism, through the consciousness of his own deficiency ; but it is time to finish : he has in reality been pleading his own cause, under the specious appearance of that of others, in hopes if he does not find favour with his judges, he may at least be condemned to suffer without inhumanity. In conclusion then, let the critic remember that the productions of youth never bear the impress of con- tinued beauty, but, like the appearances of spring, though some flowers may have risen to maturity, there are many others which have not put forth a single blossom, and so let him fear, lest by one blast of his malignant breath he destroy that in the bud which might have ripened into loveliness and splen- dour. Manchester, 29th January, 1843 CONTENTS. Page Love ....... )) Miscellaneous Poems. Flowers ......... 43 Spain ........ 47 Can Mammon conquer Love . . . 49 Ode to Solitude •-,•» Life ....... 5,5 Inscribed to E. . . -- The Winter Traveller GO There's Beauty in that Eye 62 Lines <;.j Ode to Spring ....... 66 A Song for Spain ...... 69 The Irk .71 Sonnets. November ...... 81 To the Moon ... g2 Evening 83 To Disappointment .... 84 Departure from Town ... 85 Return ..... 86 Notes. LOVE. ANA I. V S IS. Creation, Hymn of Jo;/ sang by the universe. The Earth, con- sidered as a planet. Its movement and volition. The evanescent nature of its empires. A warning to England to behold her fate in the skeleton of the past, and to prepare to leave on her shores the marks of a great nation — Commerce made the dispenser of curses instead of blessings, through the all-absorbing love of money which pervades her votaries. Knowledge, the prime lever in raising man from his present de- pression, through generating love and peace amongst nations. The definition of love in the highest degree. Apostrophe to the cross. Mutiny of nature at the death of Christ. Address to preachers. Love of Country, or patriotism defined. The free and spiritual influence which the aspect of nature inspires — Daybreak. — Sunset. — Moonlight. The magnificent embroidery of the earth produces no effect on ignorant minds. " Why, nature, waste thy wonder* on such men. " Man without knowledge subject to the unlimited control of his passions, which blend vice with virtue —love that purifies with lust that burns. Love compared. Apostrophe to true love. Lust, its awful national consequences ; its dangerous effect on individuals. Episodes : — Commerce avenged, a dream. Ellen — youthful remi- niscences, the ruined tower. The orphan boy — vicious example evils of our present school system — Mysterious end. LO VE . God's spirit moved upon the waters drear, And scooped vast hollows from receding lands, The wild waves rushed to fill the spaces near And saw themselves girt round with rocky strands : — Vast continents and shores of dripping sands Freed from their dark imprisonment arose, — Dark chains of hills, wide stretched their sable hands Whose hoary heads rocked by the frequent flows Of ocean's tides had lain curtained in soft repose. 10 LOVE. II. Then the Eternal bade the light spring forth (1) And through the purple clouds the bright sun shone, Pouring his splendour on the moistened earth, And chasing darkness from each dusky zone. Old ocean's dark green waves — her crested foam — Glanced back his myriad beams, with sparkling glee, Whilst in her depths the clouds that bound his throne, Seem'd islands floating o'er a silver sea — Strewed by the morn's ethereal breath thro' wide immensity. in. In emanations then sprang forth the mind, From the wrapt seraph down to wondrous man, — Nor were its gifts alone to these confined, Through birds and beasts the self-same spirit ran. — O what a wondrous scene was this to scan ! Things of all shapes with instinct wise endued ; Some girt on wings soared out their little span, Whilst others roamed the land, or sought the flood Peopling vast nature's wild and dreary solitude. LOVE. 11 IV. That bounteous love supreme which call'd them forth, Was now commingled with their native slime ; Hence each exprest in thanks his Maker's worth, And bade his praise resound through every clime : Man in whose praise His varied aspects shine, In pious hymns his thrilling raptures told ; — Whilst angels from their starry height sublime, In dulcet numbers struck their harps of gold — The hills cast out the sound — the booming ocean roll'd. v. Love ! — sang the Stars, as to their post they leaped, To keep their first watch o'er an infant sphere : — Love ! — sang the baleful Comets, as they swept, With bright aired wing, the skiey regions drear : — Love ! — sang the Suns, and bade their planets hear — The planets bade their satellites combine : — Love ! — sang the Systems, — may his seal appear Engraven on the Heavens — a lasting sign- That tho' his name be lost on earth, above his power hm shine. 12 LOVE. VI. On ! on ! the Earth proceeds with eddying whirl Around the axle of the burning Sun ; — Cleaving the serried mists that wide unfurl Across her path, their shrouds opaque, and dun ; — Amid the flaming spheres she hurries on, Dashing the sunlight from her watery prow ! — Now mists, and shrouds, and flashing orbs are gone, And nought appears around — above — below — But one vast adamantine scene of blue ethereal glow. VII. The lightning's flash — the sweep of desert wind — The winged shaft, urged with a giant's might — The volent thought which sweeps the realms of mind— The river boiling o'er the cataract's height : — Are slow compared with her impetuous flight ; — The sceptic baffled, scarce believes it real : — But who can span the Eternal's works aright? Who but himself their glorious laws reveal ? Who peopled space with worlds, — and worlds with men- and men with hearts to feel ! LOVE. 13 VIII. For six thousand long years the earth has moved Upon her ceaseless journey, round and round — Yet not companionless ; the moon has soothed Her dreary hours throughout the dark profound : Shedding her sweet light o'er the dusky hound, That pale night draws around her shadowy sphere, She gently glides athwart the gem-paved ground ; Nor ever loiters on her swift career ; But when Eve calls her stars, she always smileth near ! IX. For six thousand long years, the earth has ploughed The waveless deep of Time's infinitude : And men have trod her shores with spirit proud, And deemed themselves with deathless powers endued : But mark where once their brazen cities stood : There Time has put his scythe and mowed them down ! Leaving old ruined towers, where nought dare brood, Save snakes, and reptiles, foul, which hiss and frown, And twine their mazy folds, where kings once wore a crown ! 14 LOVE. Hear'st thou that shout? — it is the voice of crowds Which time sweeps onwards ; as the tempest's wings Drive on the ocean's waves or lowering clouds. The sound has ceased : — and now another rings, Which moves off like the thunder's mutterings ; That shout has drifted to a distant shore, While where it was, decay her mantle flings, And shrouds in ruin's caves a nation's store Then seeks the crowd in other lands, and triumphs as before. XI. One half of earth's cold breast is but a shroud Which wraps the cold remains of empires riven, — Whose glory passed away like some fleet cloud By warring winds from heaven's circlet driven : — Yet have their Navies with the tempests striven And poured their hordes to subjugate new lands ; — Yet have their ships rode triumph in the haven — Conveying wealthy commerce wide commands, And scattering joy and peace through populated strands. LOVE. 15 XII. What have we more — our power is not as strong ; We boast not braver armies in the field, — Our statesmen fade before the dazzling throng, Their senate courts in awful state revealed, — Oh ! that the sepulchres, their dead could yield And start with ghastly glare, before our eyes, — That those proud battlements, a country's shield, Could with their cities scale the spacious skies, Then we should learn that flesh is grass, and empires dust that flies ! — XIII. Time pointing to his parchment scroll appears To preach a warning to the nations round ! — Briton, take heed — for soon his circling years May change thy crowded marts to desert ground, Then rouse thyself, and be the foremost found In virtue's sacred cause, to guide the brave ; Let temples rise, that from thy watery bound Science may flash her light o'er distant wave ; Illumining vast isles enclosed in superstition's grave. — 1(J LOVE. XIV. Then happily when some adventurer steers His fearless bark across thy foaming seas ; He may espy thy cliffs and — think he hears The wail of men upon the moaning breeze : — How will he start when he thy grandeur sees ! — Thy Sun gilt domes e'en smiling in decay ! Thy temples shaded o'er with forest trees ! How will he shadow forth thy glorious day When such proud piles, announce the wreck of what has passed away ! — xv. Albion a beardless youth now wakes the strain Nursed on thy shores, and cradled on thy waves — He could not see thee fall — and yet remain Awed by a race of craven crouching slaves ; No ! — while his heart-pulse beats, and virtue craves Her fallen rights ; — will he lay bare his arm, — Up — Hampden, — Pym, — rise from your sluggish graves ; Fate points her shaft, — but ye have power to charm Her winged dart — before the blow can harm ! LOVE. 17 XVI. Commerce, I fain would sing thy glories now, And snatch a laurel from thy drooping shade ; But men have masked thee, 'neath a demon's brow, And all thy blessings into curses made. Bear witness, earth, how are thy sons decayed To those stout hearts which trod thy breast of yore ; Behold it heaven, what glorious minds are laid Prostrate on earth, which were designed to soar ; Through that cursed juggling fiend (2) whose harpies crowd this shore. XVII. Methought I saw thee in the realms of sleep This nation, commerce shook beneath thy tread, Dark son on sire, did withering curses heap, And mothers wished their pining offspring dead ; Thou took'st thy stand upon old Kersal's head, And shook the thunders from thy red right hand ! Whole cities quaked — and forth their inmates sped Down dropt the coal-black sky! while like a brand In angel's grasp, the lightning swept the land ! 18 LOVE. XVIII. O ! when will slaves, with Godlike minds, be men, And tread low-thoughted vice beneath their feet ! Idly I stray through city, mount, and glen; To list unto these words a response meet : Men grow legarthic, and their slumbers reap Curses, which their ancestors shall deplore ; Awake! — awake! — tyrants have murder'd sleep, Ring the alarum-bell from shore to shore ! Despots have murder'd sleep, arise then, sleep no more ! XIX. Then only will the clouds, be rolled away That shadow worse than heathen bondage, (3) when The sun of knowledge with its piercing ray, Shall burst upon the minds of sober men ; — Mist shall not melt so soon as slavery then ! — Nor lawless power prove victor in the fight ; But love shall break his standard, and again Bid nations for the common weal unite ! O glorious Godlike aim, who would not lend his might !- LOVE. 19 XX. Love, — what is love ? — 'tis that pure feeling warm That steals upon the soul, at e'en tide prayer ; — Awaking every sense to joys unborn Save in the breast of him who kneeleth there ; It is a gift the good may only share : — A sweet foretaste of life's immortal spring : — Weaning the soul from all distracting care, It bids it soar above, on deathless wing, To skies — bright — cloudless — pure — beyond the world's imagining ! XXI. The clouds of darkness that o'er hung the world, And wrapt man's destiny in awful gloom ; Beneath the horizon their shrouds have furl'd, And light has flashed upon the cheerless tomb ! Man cannot die ! — 'tis flesh that years consume ; — His spirit prunes her wings, and scorns the sod, — Shakes off base dust, and puts on heavenly bloom ; Then hails the cross, 'neath which a Saviour trod, And bounds up pure and free, before the throne of God ! 20 LOVE. XXII. Rear thou aloft thy standard — Spirit rear The cross which first o'er Calvary's summits towered! — Which saw the unbeliever's arm laid bare, And Egypt of her fairest host deflowered ; — That cross which saw hell's locust tribes o'erpowered, — When rushed the Turks, (4) a cataract of steel ! — Which flashed destruction on the Moslem coward, And made his ranks like Alpine glaciers reel, When on them glares the lightning's flash and wakes the thunder peal ! XXIII. Rear thou aloft thy standard — Spirit rear The glorious cross by ages throned and crowned ! — Whispered on earth in many a prophet's prayer, Foretold in heaven — long sought by nations round ; — Then high upraised on Calvary's holy mound, Amid the shouts of wild barbarian slaves, — At length it has gone forth, a mighty sound, Purging base earth from superstition's graves, And carrying joy and peace o'er the wild waste of waves ! LOVE, 21 XXIV The sun from that wan-day withdrew his face, One coal-black pall euwrapt the glaring sky, The waves in terror ran — with flight apace The eagle left his vaulted nest on high, — Fast sped the lightning like a courser by ! Darting through every clime dismay and terror ! And to the thunder crash which followed nigh, Earth shook, as if its mountains fain would sever ! And hills were rent apart, and rocks were dashed in twain for ever ! xxv. Leaders of God's elect, why sleep ye now ? Are Satan's bulwarks, levelled with the plain? Dare crime no more uplift his iron brow, Or bind fresh victims in his galling chain ? Oh, ye have eyes and see not ! — guilt and pain Outstretch their flaunting pinions to the sky ! Advance your standards then despite of gain ; Be Christ your helmet, and our God the cry ! "While o'er your heads the banner' d cross proclaims the victory nigh ! 22 LOVE. XXVI. Love, — what is love ? — 'tis that pure feeling warm Which binds man to his fellow, and reveals Whatever good his counsels best may form For his prosperity. The patriot feels Its fire whene'er he rends the darksome veils Of old corruption — trembling at its knell — The soldier — when with his own fate he seals That of the invader's, and dies nobly, — well, O Bruce, this wreath is thine — as also thine brave Tell ! XXVII. Love, — what is love 1 — 'tis that pure feeling warm Which clings to objects, beautiful and grand, Which finds a spirit in the mountain storm, A pleasure ! — on the lonely desert strand, A rapture ! — where low murky clouds expand And thunder speaks in its majestic roar ; It starts a thousand spears mid freedom's band ; (5) Vouch it brave Scotia, thou whose hosts of yore Trod down base Edward's slaves like reeds on the sea shore ! LOVE. 23 XXVIII. 'Tis day-break on the mountains — roseate morn Now plants her standard on the eastern height, — Unfurls by slow degrees its pageant form, And frowns with stern endurance on the night, Wbo now begins to take her wavering flight, Scared at the aspect of her threatening foe ; Far to the west she shuns her hated light : Whilst morn triumphing in resplendant show, Calls on the sun, who bounds aloft on wings of fiery glow ! XXIX. All nature greets the naming king of day, With carol, incense, and undying bloom ; The sportive birds warble their artless lay, — The sparkling flowers exhale their sweet perfume, — The forests rise from night's receding gloom, And bathe their tresses in his wanton beams, — The babbling brooks, pour forth a wilder tune, — The giant hills shake off their misty dreams, And quaff his glorious light, and gild their mountain streams ! '24 LOVE. XXX. *Tis sunset on the ocean — all is hushed Save the soft ripple of the dark blue waves ; — The vessels scarce along their course are pushed, But idly bask in his broad streaming rays, — The calm sea quivers 'neath the redd'ning blaze, A thousand hues dance on its voiceless breast ; Now growing fainter as the light decays, — Till Phoebus sinking to his watery rest, Withdraws his gorgeous beams, and darkness shrouds the west ! XXXI. 'Tis moonlight on the water — the still lake- Reflects the fleecy shadows of the sky ; And some lone bird, from out the neighb'ring brake, Starts into song and warbles merrily ; — The big rejoicing moon, is riding high, Shedding soft lustre over leaf and wave, — The stars beam forth in radiant majesty, Making the lake's blue breast, one spangled maze ; Where dazzling sapphires bright, their golden circlets wave ! LOVE. 25 XXXII, But what are nature's wonders to base minds Who reck not half of man's inheritance ? — What boots the vision if the organ blinds ? — And what, — strange sights to him bereft of sense ? Mere brutes in Godlike mould! I hold ye hence The most despicable of nature's swarm, — Who court religion for the vain pretence Of aweing minds by mere conventual form, — Minds which if once let free would 'whelm you in the storm ! XXXIII. Bereft of knowledge, man must grope his way Through murky realms — without a sun to guide ; (7) Cast upon ocean's breast, a helpless spray, To rise and fall with passion's fickle tide : — He cannot curb the steed he's doomed to ride ; But through what realms it speeds he must endure, ' In vain his voice may call — his heart may chide — The power ne'er rests, unless to shake the boor Down some vast mountain rent, — where he may sleep secure. J> 'AC> LOVE. XXXIV. Where mind lies buried, sense alone prevails — The guide alike of brute, and brutish man, — Strewn into rents by passion's boisterous gales. Pale reason flies, — and he must reign who can — A crowned usurper, o'er a wolfish clan, Who reason's sceptre grasps, and reigns by turns ! — Then good or evil, sense no more may scan ; — But chaos shrouds the mind's impassive urns, Where love that purifies lies blent, with lust that burns ? XXXV. As some bright stream that threads its silv'ry course, Through intertwining meads, and sylvan groves, Scarce moves a pebble from its watery course, — But calm, and softly on its journey roves ; — Now raising flowers upon the banks it loves, And basking in the open mid-day sun ; — Now seeking lone retreats in dark alcoves, Its crystal waters, light and shadow shun, — Thence issuing forth again its laughing course to run. LOVE. XXXVI. Even such is love — so gentle yet so deep — So mild and calm — yet so persuasive strong — Seraphs around its portals watching keep, As dancing naiads to the stream belong ; Affections flowers around it constant throng ; And mark its course throughout each changing year ;- Festive it sports with music, light, and song, Or coy retires, where sylvan scenes appear, With woodland shades embrowned, and streamlets mur- muring near. — XXXVII. "What binds the Swiss to his bleak stormy hills? — What knits the Arab to his burning strand? — 'Tis bright entrancing love, which ever fills His waking sight with visions sweet and bland : — He has a hut pitched on the sultry sand, Where prattling babes beguile their mothers hours, — He has a steed the winds could not withstand, — And would he these exchange for cooling bowers ? No ! — not for all the sweets Italia' s landscape pours ! — 28 LOVE. XXXVIII. Hail ! happy love the steadfast and the true — Thou bright Oasis on life's stormy wild ! — Recalling scenes back to the enraptured view, Which oft have many a lingering hour beguiled, When even care hath veiled his frown and smiled, So lovely was thy fascinating power ; Ah ! who but can recal such moments mild, When forth they roamed at twilight's pensive hour, To breathe their first young vow, in some green summer bower ! — XXXIX. Ellen upon thy breast I love to lie, When care her shadows dim around me flings, For there's a pleasure in thy wild blue eye, That soothes the grief of all my murmurings ; — I look upon thee and forget the stings, Which rankle in my bosom, — for thy gaze Would call up smiles and bright imaginings, E'en where the bittern shrieks his hollow lays, O'er lonely desert coasts, and clamb'rous rocky ways ! — LOVE. 29 XL. I love to hear thee sing some melting strain Of shipwreck' d mariner on raging sea, For doubly sweet when pity's tones complain, Is the soft music of thy melody ; — Thou chant' st thy laughing notes so wild and free, That though bereft of art they please me more, Than all the grace of studied minstrelsy, — Which only reach the ear and then is o'er, Leaving the heart as much a prey to sadness as before ! XLI. I well remember when our eyes first spake, That thrilling language which could find no tongue ; ' Twas autumn, when the birds began to take Their slow departure — and the bleak wind wrung Through the thick trees, where they so late had sung : The Sun was skirting the autumnal west, And o'er the woods a golden radiance flung ; The smile of old age pining to be blest, Transient that glow appeared — but what is life at best ?- 30 LOVE. XLII. I woo'd thee, — Oh ! what thoughts are in that word, What scenes start up with pleasing memory fraught, The hawthorn shade — the streamlet faintly heard, Which mixed its murmurings with our tender thought :- The carol of the birds which hovering sought, Their leafy nest within the thick trees shade ; — The sweet perfumes the sighing zephyrs brought — All these conspired our mutual joys to aid, Gave fleeting wings to time, and heal'd the wounds he made. XLIII. Our favorite seat was 'neath a moss-grown tower, That bathed its turrets in a glassy stream, — Wild blossoms deck'd its walls with ivy flower, And swallows in its nooks their nests did screen ;- The cattle there retired from sultry beam, Woidd he in drowsy mood beneath its shade ; — And shepherd on its portal bar would lean, Piping to simple sheep that round him grazed, Some by the stream reclined, as others idly strayed. LOVE. 31 XLIV. How sweet when moonlight slept upon its walls, To sit beneath its ivy'd porch, and hear The waters in soft flowing madrigals, Fall in the tangled glen distinct and clear ; When fancy, like a spirit hovering near, — Burst the grave's cerements, and boldly flew To days long past, when buckler, helm, and spear, Rang out a war song, with the bold halloo Of horsemen gathering near, that loud their shrill horns blew ! — XLV. Blest scenes ! farewell — my spirit now must herd With common men, of vile and worthless clay ; — Dropt down at last to earth, like wing dipt bird ; That thought in clouds to soar its life away : — Yet I do feel within a deathless ray ! — To startle and reform this earthly dust, To which my being lies a morbid prey : — Awake lone Spirit, sleep not o'er thy trust, The world demands thy lash — awake thou shalt and must! 32 LOVE. XLVI. The sky is murky, round bald Etna's brow ; And eddying smoke rides on the sulphurous air ; — On whose dark shrouds, red sparks are seen to glow Like meteor's stars ! smiling on ruin's lair : — Up starts the vivid flash, whose lightning glare Bathes all the mountains in red lurid flame ! — The rocks uphurled ! bid ghastly crowds prepare, For lo ! the blazing sky showers fiery rain, — And one wide burning sea, engulphs the fast receding plain ! XLVIl. Cynics ye laugh — as I compare this burst Of hell on earth, to lust — that heart strewn pile ; But know ye that of banes the most accurs'd This is the fellest — which has torn the smile From nations — and cast o'er this once blest isle Ruin and horror, drench' d in blood and crime! — Know ye not Henry's torch, (8) and Charles's guile, Shame to thee Albion that such brutes were thine, To own for kings ! — shame to thy sons who let such das- tards shine ! — LOVE. 33 XLVIII. Corruption is lust's element — the shrine In which the mind's wrecked faculties are laid, — Pale, lingering yet, bereft of power to shine — The oily tongue that eloquence displayed — The piercing eye that never seemed dismayed — The judgment strong — the penetration keen — The soaring thought that saw earth's visions fade, — All sink before this monster's frightful mien, Leaving their victims only power to languish on this scene ! XLIX. I'd sooner be the slave of tyrants' slaves, Bound down at night, and loosen' d in the morn, To toil and sweat, till drenching blood should lave My quivering limbs, with iron fetters worn ; And when I lagg'd, to have my wasted form Beaten with blows and stripes, until I fell Senseless, upon the land where I was born, — Awakening to experience in my cell Racks — tortures — murkier glooms than those of deepest hell ! E 34 LOVE. L. All this would I endure — yea, and more, Than rankle in the chains my heart had bound ; To see myself rot piecemeal — sore by sore ; Voice weak — arm palsied — frame and mind unsound ; A walking sepulchre, whose burial ground Is in its owner's heart, and borne at will — Entombed, yet breathing — buried, although found "Walking on earth ; a spectre fraught with ill, Half known long since as dead — half known as living still ! LI. Think not to revel in youth's rosy bloom, And spend in dark debauch its priceless time ; Then quick with manhood's riper age assume A port majestic, with a look sublime ; — As if ye scorned this low untoward clime, And fixed your hopes upon a brighter sphere : Ah ! think not thus from vice's depths to climb To virtue's heights with Time, — stern charioteer; Will may be changed, but habits formed stay not their bold career. LOVE. LII. 35 I do remember one lone orphan boy, (9) Whose parents fond had left a grateful boon, To lisp their names in tears of artless joy, And snatch their memory from the cold damp tomb : His days were happy, and the redd'ning bloom Of youth, began to shoot across his laughing cheek : Yet he had hours of sadness, — when the gloom Of orphan loneliness to him would speak, A thousand mournful things, which made his young heart break ! LIII. His guardians sent him to a public school, That he might thrive in learning's useful ways, Where, soon subdued by academic rule, In conning Greek he spent his heartless days, And promised fair to snatch the laureled bays, Which caused to learned wight such sleepless hours : — His head was stored with all the classic lays That e'er had throve in academic bowers, From Homer':, sublime schemes, to Ovid's sparkling flowers! 36 LOVE. LIV. He had a mind big with resplendent thought ; An active will, combined with strength of soul ; — Like flint to steel, the minds of sages caught With his a fire, that, left without control, Might yet have lighted man unto the goal Of earthly happiness, in freedom's name : But fellow-minds pregnant with fancies foul, Lured his young steps to vice's dark domain, Whence he looked up to virtue's height with cold rebuked disdain ! LV. Each language had its teacher, who revealed Their deep intricacies to youthful ken ; Science unlocked her stores — a shining field — And decked her votaries grave with peerless gem : But where was virtue's heavenly diadem 1 Was youth bereft of its immortal rays ? — Let echo answer from yon distant glen ; Where she replies, and from its inmost caves The deepening where resounds, and mockery swells the lays! LOVE. 37 LVI. God ! and must the bright ethereal mind — The only semblance man beholds of thee — Be thus with passion's lightning stricken blind ! And men look coldly on the wreck they see, Nor stir one arm to set the slavish free ? Must life be scath'd, e'en in its vig'rous prime, Faith sunk — hope blasted by man's own decree And not one voice be raised to check the crime 1 Not so with me, while tongue can speak, or words have power to shine ! LVI I. He grew in years a wild and cheerless youth. Whose only comfort was in solitude — When fancy, breaking through the realms of truth, Would lead his steps to some far distant wood, Where mirth's unholy shouts did ne'er intrude ; There wrapt in pleasing dreams he oft would lie Beneath the broken furze, and watch the brood Of clamorous rooks, sail 'thwart the evening sky, Fluttering their ravenous wings with one convulsive cry! 38 LOVE. LVIII. And when mild eve would braid her dusky hair, And set her coronet upon her brow ; Oft would he to the forest dells repair, To taste the calm of twilight's purple glow, And watch the misty moon dim rising slow, Behind the foliage of the distant trees ; Till all the scene around, — above — below — Steeped in her yellow light, appeared to breathe Spell-bound enchantments wild, which made his bosom heave ! LIX. But in these lone communings which he held With nature's lofty spirit, there would steal Across his breast like voice of wrinkled eld, A sense of wrong which he would fain conceal ; But conscience smote him like a thunder peal ! And flashed athwart his brain, crime's fearful goal All nature seemed her terrors to reveal ; — The proud sun, like his maker's eye would roll, And with his fiery beams, glare on his stricken soul ! LOVE. 39 LX. He flew from nature's converse to unbend His harassed mind amid the hated throng, And to the city's crowded haunts would wend, To hearken fleeting pleasure's syren tongue ; But night would come when music, dance, and song, With those who waked them must be hushed to rest ; Then conscience' gloomy terrors waxing strong, Would rouse him fearful from his pale unrest, And start the clammy dews that hung adown his throb- bing breast ! LXI. The grey-eyed morn upon his casement broke, And silence brooded o'er the sleeping air : Noon came and passed — but yet he had not woke — No foot disturbed the placid stillness there ; — Fear brought its crowds — and on the chamber stair They leaped, and back the grating doorway sprung ; But he had vanished in his mad despair, And myriad echoes were on every tongue — But mystery laughed as she o'er all her death-like mantle flung ! MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. !•• FLOWERS. Flowers ! beautiful flowers ! Starry gems of the moonlit bowers, Unfolding your leaves to the opening light, And sipping the silvery dew-drops bright ; You give your sweets to the golden bee, As he kisses your nect'rine circlets free ; You give your breath to the balmy air, And load the zephyr with perfumes rare ; Light and song in the heart you infuse, And gladden the eye with your rainbow hues ; You point memory back to past days of delight, When the heart had no fear save the shadows of nigbt. 44 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Flowers ! beautiful flowers ! Emblems of man in bis innocent hours ! When he stray' d through the fields a blooming child, To pluck the sweet blossoms that grew on the wild ; You still form the sport of his gay pastime, As he moistens your buds in the warm sunshine, And twines your bright wreaths round his cottage walls, Where the slant woodbine on the wild bee calls, To kiss her soft tears in fragrance away, And chant her a song in the bright noon day ! He encircles- his home with your garlands bright, And nurtures your buds with a kingly delight, — For ye nourish the mildest affections that bloom, And brighten man's hopes in the midst of his gloom ; Ye smile on his path, and he cannot but choose To echo the gladness your blossoms diffuse ! Flowers ! beautiful flowers ! Fed by the dews and refreshed by the showers ! You are scattered abroad o'er the face of the earth ; In deserts and forests ye have your birth, Where the stormy winds with the avalanche play, And the torrent grows stiff on its cheerless way — FLOWERS. 45 Where the sun glows fierce in his torrid zone, And worshippers bend at his burning throne — Where the thunders roar, and the whirlwinds sweep The wild waves on to the furious deep — And plains engulphed seem to move with the sea, Like earth rolling on towards eternity, In each clime ye lift your bright heads to the sky, And bow to the sun as he passes by ! The stormy gales, and the plashing rains, May sweep ye off from your green domains, Yet they waft your seeds to the farthest shores, On the highest mount, where the eagle soars ! Round old Olympia's cloud-capp'd brow ! To the lowest depths in the vale below ! Flowers ! beautiful flowers ! Ye are nature's own — her eternal dowers ! She puts you forth in her course sublime, To announce the stages of fleeting time ; Ye tell of the music that wakes with the spring, When woodland and welkin with melody ring ; When laughing is heard 'midst the shades and bowers, And the rainbow peeps through the soft sunny showers ; 4() MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Ye tell of the pomp and luxuriance of June, When summer springs forth in the height of her gloom, Awakening her echoes the rallies along, Till the forests are lulled with the depth of her song ! Ye tell of the autumn when orchards unfold Their bright luscious fruits of green, purple, and gold ; When the harvest waves o'er the smiling plains, And the vintage is wreathed round the fallen fanes. Ye tell of the tempests that winter sends forth, From his caves in the dark rolling waves of the north ! When the earth lies dead like an erring world, That Heaven from her high summits has hurled, To consume in dim exhalations away, Like a gloomy mist on the young brow of day ! SPAIN. SPAIN. ! Pelavio, thy country is sadly declining, Midst the grapple of tyrants who seek to enchain ; And thy soft maids in sorrow dark wreaths are entwining, To deck the cold graves of their lovers long slain. n. The sun, his bright beams with strange sabres is blending, And glares on the battle field reeking in gore ! And the moon np the steep west as softly ascending, Turns pale at the sight from that heart-stricken shore ! in. The altars, whose splendour had hallow' d thy glory, Are plunder' d by tyrants and shared by their slaves ; And that faith so renowned in thy pages dark story, Is swept from thy shores like the storm-ridden waves 4$ MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. IV. The prize of a game which two nations are playing, Mere dust in the scale for to balance their fame ! O ! hast thou no arm to undo this betraying, No minds to dare boldly these robbers to tame ! In vain did Pelayio's bold ranks from thy mountains, Hurl rocks on the heads of the moslems below ! In vain did their dark blood gush forth in red fountains, And purple thy streams with their pale livid glow ! VI. For thy old chivalrous banner in shreds is fast flying, And the ghosts of thy heros shriek out on the wind ! They moan o'er their country so tamely lying, The footstool of tyrants, the slave of the blind. VII. (J ! Spain wilt thou yield to this degradation ! Nor make one bold effort to loosen thy thrall, Aronse thy stout sons — they can make thee a nation, Let them once but arise, and thy shackles must fall ! CAN MAMMON CONQUER LOVE. 49 CAN MAMMON CONQUER LOVE. Pourquoi rompre leur mariage, Medians parens ? lis auroient fait fl bon menage, A tous momens, Q,ue sert d'avoir bague et dentelle, Pour se parer ? Ah ! la richesse la ijIus belle. Est de s'aimer." HoNcnn . Can mammon conquer love!" Go ask the youthful maiden ; Whose parents madly strove to stay, The flame that burned her heart away ; Because the youth she sought was laden, With penury's chill cares, and doomed To earn the bread his wants consumed ! o 5U MISCELLANEOUS POEMS II. Her tongue will move not, Nor her lips disclose one parting breath ; But yet her wan and faded cheek, "Will tell far more than words can speak, That soon her eye will close in death ; Love is her life and he will find A sphere in Heaven to suit her mind ! in. Can mammon conquer love ? No ! nought can conquer him ; He bathes his wings in golden light, And soars above to catch the sight Of all, their hearts to win. His dart pierces alike the brave, — The coward, — the free-born, — and the slave CAN MAMMON CONQUER LOVE. 51 IV. The warrior who has shook the world With revolutions dire ; Whose heart ne'er entertained a fear, Or quailed when ruthless foes were near, Has fell before his fire ! And gave a heart up to its charm, Which human power could ne'er disarm ! Then never part true minds Entranced by mutual love ; But let them both enjoy the bliss, Which waits on youthful loveliness, A sweet foretaste of joys above; — Then God will bless their nuptial hearts With all the gifts his grace imparts ! 52 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS ODE TO SOLITUDE. Upon some beetling cliff's rude promontory. Whose mound lies rooted in the ocean's bed, Thou lov'st to bend thine ear, And list the echoing waves ! ii. Or buried in the forest's sombre gloom, Where day hath never dawned nor evening set, Thou hear'st wild sounds arise That spake man far away. ODE TO SOLITUDE. 53 III. Or on the summit of the Alpine crags, Cradled by tempest's winds, thou stand' st unmoved, The lightning round thy brow ! The thunder at thy feet ! IV. The castaway upon the wreck' d plank moored, Surveys with wild affright thy awful gaze, And fears to meet that death, For which his sick heart longs. The sailor clinging to the shattered rock, Loosens his grasp as he surveys thy form, And in the sullen waves Plunges, to rise no more ! 54 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, VI. The wand'rer cast on wild unpeopled shores Seeks death, rather than 'hide within thy arms, So terrible art thou ! Eternal solitude! VII. Man seeks thee mid the scenes his hands have formed, And for the phantom of his ideal brain, Bends down and worships thee, Who scorns his noisy power! Mil. Thou rear'st thy tower o'er fallen empires' graves, Time's sentinel ! who keeps thy silent watch Through the long dreary night Of earth's sepulchral years! LIFE. 55 LIFE. What is life? — a fairy trance, A vision of unreal romance, A dream made up of pain and pleasure ! Now thought a bourne and now a treasure ; A stage whereon men show their skill, Break up the scenes and act at will ; A shadow on a dial stone, Which wav'ring flits, and then is gone ! A morning mist that melts away, Before the half uprisen day ; A sparkling sun -beam that doth fade, Before the dark cloud's passing shade ; 56 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 'Tis fragile :is the tenderest flower, Blown, snapt, and vanish' d in an hour ! Cameleon like its colours change, To things eventful, varying strange, Till death sweeps o'er them his black pall, And calls the worm, to banquet at her funeral! INSCRIBED TO E 57 INSCRIBED TO E- Hail ! worshipper of thrice accursed gold, Who every year in plenty's lap has rolled, Whose schemes of wealth would make hell's nurslings fear! And wring from Pluto's iron cheek a tear. High priest of Mammon ! from thy dreams arise, And chase the drowsy sleep-god from thy eyes. Now, while pale Cynthia sheds her yellow blaze, Across the boundary of the western wave ; And rolling worlds lit by Sol's backward ray, Weave pensive starlight o'er the vessel's way ; H 58 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. While sleep and silence, night's companions, rear Their drowsy watch-towers o'er the slumbering air ; Come speak thy thoughts, thy hidden feelings tell, Dark night vibrates, no business going bell : Say, does thy spirit yon bright stars o'er-tower, And pant to grasp its own immortal dower ? Say, does yon ocean, which afar off gleams, Make glad thy heart with its ten thousand streams ? Say, does thy soul with yon grey hills arise, And emulative pierce the spangled skies ? I guess thy thoughts — the air is bitter cold, And piercing winds are shrieking in the wold ; The midnight dew quick freezes ere it falls, And icicles encrust the city's walls ; Whilst Morpheus, cheated of his wonted reign, Shoots quickening pangs along the creeping vein ; So I unto my broken rest must hie, For life is short, and business hours soon fly. Go driveller — wake — and sleep — and eat thy fill, Till life is surcharg'd with the enormous bill ; Rear up thy gold till the increasing pile Draw all the vultures from this sea-girt isle ; INSCRIBED TO E 59 Then while the troop upon thy viands feed, Descanting on thy great illustrious deeds ; Imagine true all that their lips essay, Though night would scar the falsehood worse than day ; Thus journey on till death his prey demands, Then strive to bribe him with thy barter' d lands ! 60 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. THE WINTER TRAVELLER. i. God help thee weary traveller, and speed thee on thy way, For drooping clouds portentous shield the smiling face of day; And dreadful ills beset thy path of pitfalls deep and wide, Without one lonely ray to cheer thy journey's lonesome void. ii. The storm howls fierce across the moor, the snow falls thick and fast, The wreathed flakes are drifted far before the ruffian blast, Fast covering with deceitful face the hollows lurking near ; May pitying angels guard thy feet, and lull each anxious fear ! THE WINTER TRAVELLER. 61 III. God help thee weary traveller, and speed thee on thy way, Thou seem'st so sad and lonely, impatient of delay ; And well thou may'st be, for thy years have long since past their prime, And all thy cares would agonize a younger heart than thine. IV. The sun has not appeared to day to greet thy care worn face, No star will lend its kindly ray thy dreary path to grace ; Oh ! may'st thou reach some friendly cot before night's clouds are spread ! God speed thee weary traveller — his blessings on thine head. 62 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. THERE'S BEAUTY IN THAT EYE. There's beauty in that eye, Lit up with dreaming trances ; Mistrust and error fly Before its chast'ning glances. n. The mind bespeaks its tone From out its pearly cov'ring, And love plays round its zone Like a gentle spirit hov'ring. there's beauty in that EYE. ()3 III. There's music in that voice, Like the sound of Zurich's waters, Which bids the heart rejoice As on the tongue it falters. IV. Not the magic harp's sweet air Or the wildest sound that lingers, Could with that voice compare, Though woke with fairy fingers ! (J4 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. LINES. I hate the din of trades ; — the droning wheel — The restless engine, with its booming noise — The hammer ringing on the clanging steel, And heard above the breathless workmen's cries- But serve to show the crowded city's joys. ii. Then let me haste from ont the noisy throng, And to the forest's lonely glades repair, Where every bush is fraught with merry song — Where every flower breathes fragrance on the air — Where every stream laughs music wild, thro' glades and grottos fair. LINKS. III. 65 Who would exchange green fields, rose-scented bowers, Blue skies, and quiet rural homes — for towns Where belching smoke descends in constant showers ! And grating team to driver's bawl resounds, Who drags his lagging horse along its sleepy rounds. IV. In cities vast, the spirit folds her wings Like wild-born falcon, doomed no more to rise ; Pressed by the leaden weight of earthly things, She pants in vain to scale her own blue skies, For sunk in sickly dreams— she languishes and dies. v. But in the forest's maze, the spirit soars Through rolling clouds, and leaves the stars behind ! And when the tempest through the branches roars, She strides aghast the terror-winged wind, And grasps it like a mane, and looks the lightning blind ! t)6 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. ODE TO SPRING. My heart feels a throbbing delight For winter — dark winter is o'er, And spring sheds her emerald light On the woods and streams — painting gay to the sight Whate'er had been darkling before. ii. Brigbt Phoebus now shines on his way Through the heavens, so pathless and clear, And the swain pipes his amorous lay, To beguile in sweet moments the hours away. Beside his fair maiden so dear. ODE TO SPRING. 67 IV. The sweet lark resumes his gay song ; — The thrush is now heard in the wood, — The streams sport in sunshine along, — And the cuckoo is heard the green bowers among, To mock the deep roar of the flood ! IV. The air is rife with sweet sounds Of insects and birds on the wing : The golden bee flits its gay rounds, And echoing far o'er the dew lambent ground ; The woodman's strokes loudly ring. The fisher is out on the sea, Casting the nets from his bark ; And the wild deer sport o'er the lea, And the antelope bounds o'er the pasturage free, Far away from the keen hunter's mark. 68 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. VI. ! Spring thou art dear to my soul — 1 hail thee with tears of joy, — Though shadows across thee may roll, And feelings arise which the mind would control ; Yet, I see thee depart with a sigh ! A SONG OF SPAIN. <>9 A SONG FOR SPAIN. Awake, ye sons of chivalry ! your serried lines advance, And beard your foes like trusty men, with barbed helm and lance : Your heroes past have led the way, to freedom's glorious fane, Then follow in their noble steps, — be freemen once again ! ii. Uplift! uplift! your daring blades, and deal them on your foes, Till every foreign slave shall reel before your sturdy blows : And Spain arise in all her strength, and claim her rights again ; Her altars, plains, and mountains free — and free her own stout men ! 70 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. ill. Your wood crown' d hills and laughing vales, a fearless grave inspire, And even thrill a Northern breast with freedom's sacred fire ; For they are hallow' d by the blood which flow'd from Moslem's veins, And by proud Gaul's dastard repulse which broke her lion's chains. IV. Then arm in freedom's glorious cause, a bold and valiant band, And wipe from off your country's brow, dark slavery's shameful brand ; And call her ancient splendour round her royal throne again; Her mountains, plains, and mansions free — and free her own stout men ! THE IRK. 71 THE IRK. This poem was begun a little later than my fourteenth and fifteenth year, being the result of impressions made at that period, through exploring its ruined castle, decayed wood, and park grounds. Since, the hall has been levelled with the ground, the moat filled up, and the wood has vanished before the woodman's axe. This is owing to the march of cotton trade ; and, with the greatest deference for what Adam Smith has written on this subject, it presents a true picture of the practical effect of town on country. Darling muse come lend thine aid, Whilst no sensual joys invade ; The upland slopes invite thy song, Where winds the lazy Irk along ; Come with all thy dazzling hues And o'er my soul thy sweets diffuse : Now the morn with rosy fingers On the eastern curtain lingers, And the wood lark soaring high, Seems but a speck upon the sky. '"J MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Now a thousand birds upspring, Bursting forth on whirring wing, Scorning the earth, they soar away To catch a gleam of Sol's first ray, Whilst their voices, shrill and loud, Ring above the matin cloud ! Come then, sweet muse, at this bright hour, Entrance me with thy magic power ; Shed o'er my soul that holy feeling, Gleams of heavenly light revealing ; That I may sing, — unsung before — The scenes that deck Irk's winding shore. How dim the morning's misty hue, As on the west we turn our view ; How bright the morning's kindling rays. As on the lovely east we gaze. The Irk lies rippling at our feet, Whilst o'er our head the wild briars meet, Which from the mountain's surly brow Cast many a chequer' d glance below. Now girt with trees the sinuous stream, ' i urn our path scarce throw a gleam, THE IRK. 73 Whilst alcoves darkling to the sight, Create around eternal night ! Genius of woodland shades descend, And o'er my path thy wings impend ; That rapt in inspirations dreams, I may muse on heavenly themes ; Till my full eyes, brimming o'er, Shall taste the fount of sacred lore. 'Tis sweet, beneath these shades reclined, To hear the hunter's shrill horn wind, Or the trees with sudden wail Quiver in the stormy gale, Or the blackbird's merry note On the still air softly float, Or the dash of mountain stream Through the distant covert seen. Leaving these sombre shades we view Scenes of a bright and homelier hue ; Wide sloping plains with fallows grey, And cattle nibbl'ing on their way ; White primrose cots with stile embowered, And walls with bright eglantine flowered ; 74 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. And mansion built on rising ground, With forest, lake, and park trees bound ; Where perhaps some modest beauty lies, The cynosure of neighbouring eyes. Now let us gain this hill's steep side, And gaze o'er all the landscape wide ; The white cots in the vale below Have dwindled into specks of snow, And the cattle grazing near, A dim and lifeless group appear ; While man appears to life exprest, A fleeting shade on earth's cold breast ! Robed in the morn's resplendent light, The distant wood starts on the sight, O'er whose lone and voiceless bowers Proud Colly hurst rears her stately towers. Colly hurst ! whose battlements have stood The rage of sword, of wind, and flood, And still appears as fresh and gay As if she rose but yesterday. The lowly chapel by her side, Shows that the altar was her pride Before the old religion died. THE IRK. But now its walls with moss o'er grown, Present a mouldering heap of stone ; And through its aisles no sound is heard, Save pensive song of lonely bird. Yet round their arches may be seen Straight niche where carved saint has been ; And angels on the transcept traced, Who smile amidst the desert waste. Thus art before time's breath must fade, Scarce leaving one lone om'nous shade, To point the future to the past And show her triumphs may not last. But nature wears the same bright form As on creation's lovely morn, When God hurled Chaos from his throne And bade light spring from depths unknown. Still at the call of fiery sun, The varying seasons constant run ; Whilst soften' d by the moon's pale ray, The starry night succeeds the day. Still the forests proudly rise, Decked in their gorgeous liveries ; And the rivers ceaseless flow As thine bright Irk which sleeps below; 75 76 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS,, First moist' ning the parched grounds, Then joining ocean's widening bounds. 'Tis thus the workings of God's power Are seen, confessed, enjoyed each hour ; Whilst man's proud domes no sooner raised, And to the gaping crowd displayed, Then Time, exulting o'er his prey, Sweeps the proud burnished pile away ! The morning pointing to the sun Informs us that her course is run ; So leaving this commanding height, Across the fields we take our flight. Now the frolic zephyrs stir, Sporting with the gossamer ; And startled by our passing feet, The wild hare leaves her lone retreat ; Whilst on the heath the wild bird springs, And in the dale the milk maid sings ; Responsive to the heifer's low, Which rises from the vale below. Now o'er a rustic bridge we pass, O'erlaid with shrubs and pendant grass ; m THE IRK. Whilst the water sweetly falls In softly dying madrigals. On its calm translucent breast Stands an old ivy wall impressed, Where constant lovers nightly stray, Sauntering the moonlight hours away. Bright stream, farewell ! I now must track My steps across the uplands back, Where manufacture's haunts arise, And taints with smoke the ambient skies ; Yet half a child I fain would leave All that a childish heart could grieve, Upon thy flowery banks to stray, And loiter all my youth away. With light shallop and pliant oar, Bold issuing from the shelving shore, I'd skim across thy flowing tide — A king o'er all thy stream beside. And when the winter nights would come, I'd build myself a fairy home ; And as the stormy winds would blow, Hurl in ten thousand shapes the snow. 77 78 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Alas ! such dreams stem truth dispels, And mind in hope no longer dwells — But once a solid footing found, She scorns her bright enchanted ground. SONNETS. SONNETS. 81 NOVEMBER. The wan moon hurries through the frowning skies, Deserted by her host of trooping stars, Dark stripes of clouds in quick succession rise, And strewed by winds her beauteous aspect mars, — The forests ravaged by the moaning gale, Shower their stricken leaves on passer by, Whilst silence, pausing in some snow-clad vale, Starts as she hears the owlet's shrieking cry, I wake alone to brood o'er days gone by, — To think on joys that never can return, And scan the future till my thoughtful eye Weeps at the prospect that its looks discern : — Yet spring will come again, and, perhaps, with me, When I from this vile flesh's endurance shall be free. 82 SONNETS. TO THE MOON. Pale Cynthia climbs the blue meridian height, Companion'd by a star, whose modest rays Melt in the flood of her unclouded light, Upon the beauteous pair my soul could gaze Till drunk with ravishment, and this crazed world With all its beings faded from my brain — Pale star, art thou like ours a world of pain ? Sad vestal, dost thy 'habitants regard This earth a palace, where the just shall reign For ever — Clad in bright effulgent garb ? Thy looks do answer me with sadd'ning air, As if thou saw' st the hideous crimes which stalk Through city's street — the prowler's stealthy walk, Who stabs his victim by thy midnight glare ! SONNETS. 83 EVENING. Now twilight on her purple car descends, To lull the birds and fold the drooping flowers, And Cynthia pale her cheerful influence lends, To wake the nightingale in forests' bowers, Who thrillingly exerts her aerial powers, Till farthest glen her faintest notes prolong, Whilst dull time cheated of his lagging hours Frowns on the witchery of her soothing song: — The wild hare leaps the braken furze among, Exposed to lurking poacher's subtle aim, Who stealthily pursues his heedless game, Till the hare's blood displays his wanton wrong. Ranges the forest guard of this dark bane, And bring these prowlers to a sense of shame. 84 SONNE I TO DISAPPOINTMENT. Come disappointment, bring thy cypress wreath, And twine it round thy pallid victim's brow, And I will sing a song to mock the grief Which from thy cave in wanton streams doth flow. — I knew thy hated visage long ago, For thou hast often cross'd my journey's path, And when my lips hopes nectar fain would quaff Hast broke the goblet by thy heartless blow, And mad'st my eyes with briny tears o'erflow. But now I've grown familiar with thy face, And frowns and smiles receive with equal grace, Like the stern rock embedded in the ocean, Which spurns the waves that foam around its base, And stand' st unmoved amid the storm's commotion ! SONNETS. 86 DEPARTURE FROM TOWN. I turn disgusted from the dingy town To linger in the forest pathways deep, And list the billows as they onward sweep, Content my care within their roar to drown : — Here we meet no upstart fopling's frown, Nor wealthy boor with vain and pompous stride, But peasants to the free-born hills allied, On whom the Saxons might with pride look down ! Proud swell the daisied slopes — the uplands brown — Glad rush the streams through copse and tufted brake, Loud ring the song of birds who soaring shake Etherial music from each passing cloud ! My heart leaps up to hear the joyance loud, And sweet emotions in my mind awake. 86 SONNETS. RETURN. On gold tipp'd hills, flush' d by the western sun, And vine-clad fields, and quiet woodland nooks, I cast a lingering glance — my journey done : — My steps are homeward, yet I fain would shun Yon fading spires that rush into the skies, And distant walls with dark unquiet looks, Where commerce steeps the clouds in blackest dies; But fate has fixed my lot, and I must bend ; So gird thyself to battle with the crowd, Nor let the weak be trampled by the proud, Nor coinless virtue be without a friend, Sweet harp ! these strifes accord not with thy strain, So with the willow leaves thy strings shall blend, Until this hand shall wake their sleep again. NOTES. NOTES Note 1. •' Then the Eternal hade the light spring forth.' 1 ' It is impossible to conceive any situation grander, or more sub- limely interesting, than to imagine oneself on the lofty summit of Mount Ararat, just as the Almighty tiat was pronounced, and light came forth, replenishing the void. What greater spectacle than to behold the wild waste of waters driven from their domin- ions by the power of an invisible agent, and at times hurling their mountainous waves in loud roarings against the rocks which started up on all sides to keep them within their hollow prison ? What more magnificent than to behold plains, valleys, and mountains, which had been covered for ages, rising, as the waters receded, and for the first time basking their dappled sides in the new splen- dour of the flaming sun, while chaos skirting the rear, seemed loath to forsake a realm over which she had so long stretched her sceptre ? Such a subject ought to be presented to the mind of the spec- tator, tout ensemble, to produce any extraordinary emotion, and, therefore, is more tit for the painter's pencil than the poet's song. May we hope it only awaits a master mind, who, in executing its delineation, will cast an halo round his art, and give his name to posterity. JVI 90 NOTES. Note 2. " Bear witness Earth, how are thy sons decayed, " To those stout hearts which trod thy breast of yore, " Behold it, heaven, how many minds are laid " Prostrate on earth, which were designed to soar, " Through that cursed juggling fiend ivhose harpies crowd this shore.'' Commerce originally sprung from the wants of mankind, and was intended by their alienation to convey a greater amount of happiness on all those who embarked in its concerns. Hence we err most egregiously in taking commerce to be that system of mo- ney grasping, which aggrandizes everything to itself, and which emboldens its possessor to depress tbe interests of his fellows in order that he may raise his own. This is turning commerce into a kind of mammon worship, which narrows the minds of its devotees, as surely as it debases those who are constrained to work out their interest. That the followers of this system are ruining numbers of God's noblest creatures is a fact which no one can doubt, who is not contented with the mere surface of things. Look at the thousands which the mills teem forth every day, whose complex- ions bespeak the unnatural and lengthy state of their employment, with the total want of both physical and mental culture. In my opinion this state of thing is snatching from Albion many noble minds, whose names she would have been proud to hand down to future generations, for it appears plausible that if Johnson, Pope, Newton, D'Alembert, or Voltaire had been forced to gain a living in complying with the present factory regulations, they would only have risen to be overlookers of self-acting ma- chines and spinning jennies. Ought, then, that system to be endured which crushes minds NOTES. 91 and keeps whole populations in the darkest ignorance, when the evil could be swept away by a small outlay of funds, with a few hours shortening of their time. If the government or the manu- facturers will not lend any aid thereto, I would say that the Bible and Town Missionary Society should withdraw their funds from their present purpose and apply them to the enlightening of the minds of numbers of their benighted brethren, who are, or ought to be, more dear to them than any other race of people by the common relationship of home and kindred. If something be not done we cannot complain of the evils which must necessarily follow ; for I would say to the sceptic, every infringement of the natural law entails immediate punishment ; and to the Christian, that the Omnipotent will not be foiled in his designs, nor see the stamp of his own likeness overwhelmed beneath a sea of misery, without being avenged on the persecutors of his people. Note 3. •' Then only will the clouds be rolled away, " That shadow worse than heathen bondage." Some writers, while they scourge the Egyptian kings for forcing their subjects to build such monstrous mausoleums as the pyramids, forget that the present age is more despotic (considering the ad- vancement of science), in compelling men to work for twelve or fourteen hours per diem, thus throwing all mental culture to the winds. In the building of those startling wonders, the pyramids, men were allowed to breathe; when the rivers became flooded, the conveyance of stone from the quarries would be stopped, as like- wise when the parched season caused them to be shallow, for the carriage of such heavy material could be effected by no other way. But, under the present commercial restrictions, men must be mi- i)'2 NOTES. ceasingly employed, one day in seven excepted, when the goodness of the Supreme Being calls for our grateful return in dedicating that day to his service. These moral obligations, in nine cases out of ten are broken ; thus the gates of vice being unbarred, a flood of misery necessarily ensues. Note 4. " Which sate the unbelievers arm laid bare, "And Egypt of her fairest host dejlowred," Upon the death of Gaberius, Mascimin, the savage tyrant ol Egypt, assumed the title of Emperor, and in opposition to Lici- neus, whose promotion he had ever beheld with a jealous eye, claimed sovereign power over all Asia; and that he might be the better able to make good his claim, he entered into a strict alliance with Maxenteus, the sovereign of Italy and Rome. This Asiatic alliance swelled the presumption of Maxenteus, who now fancied himself sufficiently strong to subdue the west to his obedience ; with this view he declared war against Constantine, under the specious pretence of revenging his father's death ; Constantine, like an able general, judged it better to prevent than to wait his enemy's attack, he hastened the march of his army from Gaul, penetrated into the very heart of Italy, and advanced as far as the bridge Milvius, now called Ponte Mole. Within two miles of Rome he pitched his camp, there, although inferior to his antagonist in number of troops, he resolved to come to a decisive action at once. What confirmed him in this resolution was a wonderful phenomenon, of which his whole army, as well as him- self, had been occular witnesses upon their march ; the fact is cir- cumstantially related by Eusibius (vita constan) as he heard it from Constantine himself. Having passed the Alps and reached NOTES. 93 the plain of Italy, behold, as he was marching on, a little after mid-day, at the head of his troops, a luminous cross appeared in the open sky, above the sun, and upon the cross a legend express- ing victory was distinctly seen by all, written in Greek characters, Ev TOYTfi NIKA. To commemorate this fact, as well as to show his gratitude for so signal a mark of the Divine goodness towards him, Constantine ordered an exact representation of the cross, as it appeared in the sky, to be made and emblazoned in the Imperial banner. This was the famous baburum which fifty chosen men were appointed to carry by turn before the Emperor whenever he went to battle. Constantine was encamped, as we said, near the bridge Milvius, upon the Tiber ; Maxenteus, with the united force of these armies, composed of veteran soldiers, and esteemed the best in the whole empire, advanced with full confidence of victory to attack him. Both armies met in the Quintian fields to decide by the force of arms who should be master of Rome, and of the empire. The battle was long and obstinate, Maxenteus at last gave way, and in the general rout, pressing forward to save himself over a temporary bridge at some distance, fell into the Tiber and was drowned. This memorable victory, gained on the 27th October, 312, put Constantine in possession of the west; Rome, joyfully opened her gates to him on the same day, and the seriate, four years after, erected in his honour a triumphal arch, which is still to be seen at the head of the Appian way — Reeve. Note 4. " When rush'd the Turks, a cataract of steel." The famous battle which John Sobieski, the heroic king of Po- land, fought with the Musslemcn. This sage was no less a saint 94 NOTES. than a warrior ; on the morning of the memorable day he heard mass and devoutly received the blessed sacrament. Note 5. " It starts a thousand spears mid freedom s band, " Vouch it brave Scotia, thou whose hosts of yore " Trod down base Edward's slaves like reeds on the sea shore." The past advances, and the present verifies many facts which tend to raise this truth above the common level of disputation. History informs us that those Britons who dwelt amidst the fast- nesses of their native boundary, preserved their liberty for the longest period, whilst those who inhabited the plains were the first to submit their necks to the yoke of their invaders. The same authentic source furnishes us with the galling intelligence that Englishmen were slaves while the sons of Edina were free- men, and that the former were overwhelmed in their attempt to subjugate the latter, at the terrible odds often to thirty thousand fighting men on the memorable field of Bannockburn. The Rus- sians are well known to be a race of dull drivelling slaves, partly on account of the insipid stagnant level of their plains, whilst on the other hand the Swiss have always been firm devotees at the shrine of liberty, mostly because they are surrounded with those land-marks of time and co-heirs of eternity, the rugged mountains of their native land. That gush of freedom which circled round the heart of Tell, was mostly inspired by the bleak summits of his naked hills, which stamped the impress of liberty on his soul — bent his bow — and made him strike for the regeneration of his country ! NOTES. 95 Note 7. " Bereft of knowledge man must grope his wag " Thro' murkg realms — without a sun to guide." Are our rulers sensible that while they are withholding from the people a free system of national education, they are frustrating some of God's noblest purposes ? For what other reason has this wise being planted the germ of certain faculties into the breast of every child, than to be cultivated and made to act for the preser- vation of its own being, and the welfare of its fellow creatures. Yet we continue, in the face of the Omniscient, to swamp His great designs by warping those faculties in their very birth. He has sown the seeds and left us to till the soil and reap the harvest. This labour we think beneath our notice, and that field which He expected would be abundant in fruit, produces nothing but noxious tares; so the seeds which he has sown with as much effect, might have been scattered to the four winds of heaven. But there is a still more important consideration, which ought to speak in a voice of thunder to the steerers of Albion, viz. : That reason, which God has chosen for the guidance of man, depends entirely for its existence on the cultivation of the soul; whereas, the passions rise spontaneously, and if that soul be not buoyed up by high moral feelings, it must never fail of becoming drenched in the worst of crimes. Animals have instinct to regulate all their motions and make them subservient to the designs of the Deity ; but bereft of cultivation, man descends a step lower in the scale than the beasts which perish ; for, not being held by the ties of reason, he follows the instigation of his depraved nature, which set the principles of instinct, order, and regularity at defiance. We cannot complain of political bravados while we withhold from the people that light which would display to their deluded eyes 9(J NOTES. the ignis fatuus which cause their wanderings. The charm which these men have over the hearts of their followers is mainly owing to the application of what crude talent they possess to their pseudo interest, which, on their ignorant minds, strike like lightning through a dark atmosphere, they mistake its flashes for the bril- liancy of truth, and discern not their error until they find them- selves immersed in pitfalls ! Note 8. " Know ye not Henry's torch, and Charles's yuile?" That the torch which kindled the flames of Smithfield was lighted at the shrine of lust, must appear evident to all those who cast prejudice beneath their feet. Henry the eighth, wishing to separate from his virtuous queen, Catherine of Arragon, and marry Anne Boleyn, entered into negociations, through Wolsey, with the See of Rome, wishing to transact, beneath the cloak of Christi- anity, an affair of the most odious nature. This the church would not submit to, and so still pandering to his passion, he was led to call the authority of that church into question, and to form a new code of worship, of which he must be acknowledged the head. This sudden change, not suiting the complexion of the times, the cruel and despotic monarch consigned to the flames all who would not close their eyes on such infamous proceedings. Charles the second, through keeping up that infernal pandemo- nium which some historians please to baptise by the name of par- liament, kept a whole nation in the most absolute state of ser- vility. Why had he recourse to this subterfuge ? Merely to conceal the expenses of himself and court, the character of which is notorious to every tyro in English history. NOTES. 97 Note 9. '* I do remember one lone orphan boy." The reader may think this tale unnatural, but I could furnish him with many instances, did I wish to fatigue his memory with recitals which must inspire horror. However, if he wishes to track this painful subject, I would beg to refer him to " Zimmerman's Solitude," where he will find several authenticated details of this nature, which, though written by a foreign hand, are mostly drawn from this country. But what occasion have we to refer to books when our heroes are taking their part on the same stage as our- selves. I know many men in my own town of the most dissolute habits who have confessed in their cool moments that their first disorders originated at school. Take the simple facts of the case ; a crowd of boys are herded together to be prepared for the world. Profane learning is generally taken to be the medium through which that preparation is acquired, whilst morality is scarcely ever impressed upon their minds, or at best limps awkwardly behind and can never overtake them, except at morning or evening pray- ers, or some monthly lesson. Is it possible, then, remembering the words of the apostle James — " one spark is sufficient to reduce a whole forest to ashes ; " is it possible, I reiterate, that surprise should be awakened in our breasts because one boy, whose passions are more perocious than the rest, should impart his extravagancies to those around him? No! evil is more catching than the hottest fire, more contaminating than the most raging fever ; and conse- quently such results cannot but be expected. The more necessary an institution is, the stronger ought to be the reasons for its reformation, and what is there of more value in the system politique than schools for the training of the rising generation. Let, then, their conductors take care that no scholar N 08 NOTES. be admitted who cannot produce the most satisfactory references with regard to his character Let them divide the scholars into classes for the performance of some moral duty, and let each class have their own conductor, who must be bound to furnish the su- perior with any irregular conduct Let all the pupils be obliged to fulfil all those obligations which their religion demands within a specified period ; and, moreover, let praetors be watching night and day in order that no disorders may creep into that fold over which they have charge. Until such regulations are established, fathers may tremble for the result. PRINTED BY JOSEPH OILLETT, LATE SIMPSON AND GILLETT, MARKET STREET, MANCHESTER. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. Form L9-32m-8,'58(5876s4)444 m,mn,J^. mREG 'ONAL LIBRARY FACILITY M 000 369 122 7