^ ^ - WVJII1./ Ji v/ ^OFCAUF ^ v^ % ^ f ^ ^ %." I I ^^•« ^ >§ 1 I ) v5 f - I i( 'VAasauiriv^' '^itfOJITVOJO'^ ^OJIIVD-JO"^ '<0l3DNVS(n'^ "^ ^^MEUNIVffiy^ «^^WtUNIVER% sa3MNftmv^ <^^33NVS01'^ •^/saaAiNn-awv^ ^•UBRARYQ^ %0JllYDiO'^ ^OFCAUF0% ^l-UBRARYOc. ^()FCAUF(% .55^EUNIVER% . ill]? Vs tr! CO ^^Aavaani^ ^( m^- THE KYI, 2, MANCHEGTtK ^fHLE PREFACE. The author of the following verses does not intend to enter, in this place, into any arguments, to prove the fitness of political themes for the purposes of the poet. Merely party themes may be unpoetical ; but there are politics higher and purer than parties, which he, for one, will never allow to be beyond the scope and sympathies of Poetry. The great cause of Human Progi-ess in intel- lectual elevation, virtue, and happiness, has required at every period of the world the support of earnest and thinking men. In this day it is more especially the duty of those who claim to be the teachers of the people — and if the man of letters be not a teacher of the people he has mistaken his vocation— to aid, by whatever means may be in their power, the progress of mankind from an im- perfect into a higher and better civilisation. With this object, not because he has arbitrarily or for any purposes of popularity thought fit to devote himself to the task, but because he could not choose but utter that which was in hun, the following verses were written, and are now pub- lished. Whatever, in an artistical point of view, may be )3> •^( ■^\ VI PREFACE. their demerits, they were not undertaken idly. On the contrary, the author devoted his best energies to them, with a hope that they miglit he useful in some degree, however humble, in aiding the advancement of many great questions that are now before the public in those stages of development, when the idea transforms itself into the fact, and the aspikatiox into the reality. Good or bad, they were the best utterance he could find at the time, or that he can find now, and as such they are offered to the con- sideration of those who have faith in humanity, and who look upon poetry as something better than a pastime for the idle, or an amusement for the thoughtless. A portion of them — about one-third — have from time to time appeared in " The Daily News," and two or three others have seen the light elsewhere in a fugitive shape. The favour with which they have been received is an earnest that they have not been written altogether in vain. Those now published for the first time are imbued with the same principles. To those correspondents, known and unknown, who from various parts of the country, and from the other side of the Atlantic, have encouraged him with their sympathy and approval, the author can but say how great a reward they have bestowed, and what an incentive to' deserve it better in future efforts they have afforded him. June \8th, 1846. 5^ ■CO CONTEXTS. PAGE CLEAR THE WAY 1 THE WANTS OF THE PEOPLE . . . . • . . 3 THE THREE PREACHERS ...... OLD OPINIONS . ...... DAILY WORK ......•• AX emigrant's BLESSING . . . . • . . 16 THE WATCHER ON THE TOWER . . . . . -19 WAIT A LITTLE LONGER ...... 6 10 14 •70 A REMONSTRANCE WITH THE AMERICANS . TO JOHN QUINCY ADAMS THE POETRY OF RAILWAYS THE FERMENTATION .... THE POOR man's SUNDAY WALK -^i Vm CONTENTS. PAGE THE POET AND THE POLITICAL ECONOMIST . . .52 A REVERIE IN THE GRASS 57 TO A FRIEND AFRAID OF CRITICS fil A winter-night's PHANTASMAGORIA 65 THE EARTH AND THE STARS 71 THE YOUNG EARTH 73 FREEDOM AND LAW 78 TRUTH AND ERROR 82 SOLITARY LOFTINESS 84 TO IMPATIENT GENIUS . 85 UNA FATA MORGANA 88 THE ENGLISH PEEP-o'-D.\Y-BOYS 93 THE DEPOSITION OF KING CLOG 97 THE CLAIRVOYANTE. PART I. THE INNER .... 102 PART II. THE OUTER . . . . 1 07 PART III. THE INFINITE PROGRESSION 1]4 ]5^— — v^( ^1 VOICES FROM THE CROWD. CLEAR THE WAY. '^m-- Men of thought ! be up, and stirring Night and day : Sow the seed — withdraw the curtain — Clear the way ! Men of action, aid and cheer them, As ye may ! There 's a fount about to stream, There 's a hght about to beam, There 's a warmth about to glow, There 's a flower about to blow ; There 's a midnight blackness changing Into gray ; ' Men of thought, and men of action. Clear the way ! ^ c ^ -^[ -ffl m CLEAR THE WAY. Once the welcome light has broken, Who shall say, What the unimagined glories Of the day ? What the evil that shall perish In its ray 1 Aid the dawning, tongue and pen ; Aid it, hopes of honest men ; Aid it, paper — aid it, type — Aid it, fbr the hour is ripe, And our earnest must not slacken Into play. Men of thought and men of action, Clear the way ! Lo ! a cloud 's about to vanish From the day ; And a brazen wrong to crumble Into clay. Lo ! the right 's about to conquer. Clear the way ! With that right shall many more Enter smiling at the door ; With the giant wrong shall fall Many others, great and small, That for ages long have held us For their prey ; Men of thought, and men of action. Clear the way ! A \^- THE WANTS OF THE PEOPLE. What do we want ? Our daily bread ; Leave to earn it by our skill : Leave to labour freely for it, Leave to buy it where we will ; For 'tis hard upon the many, Hard — unpitied by the few, To stars'e and die for want of work. Or live, half-starved, with work to do. What do we want 1 Our daily bread ; Fair reward for labour done ; Daily bread for wives and children ; All our wants are merged in one. When the fierce fiend Hunger grips us, Evil fancies clog our brains, Vengeance settles on our hearts, And Frenzy gallops tlii-ough our veins. \^ 3-^ — ■ — - — — Het( -^i THE WANTS OF THE PEOPLE. What do we want I Our daily bread — Sole release from thoughts so dire : To rise at morn with cheerful faces, And sit at evening round the fire ; To teach our babes the words of blessing, Instead of curses, deep though mute ; And tell them England is a land Where man is happier than a brute. What do we want 1 Our daily bread : Give us that ; all else will come ; Self-respect and self-denial, And the happiness of home ; Kindly feelings, Education, Liberty for act and thought ; And surety that, whate'er befall. Our children shall be fed and taught. What do we want ? Our daily bread ; Give us that for willing toil : Make us sharers in the plenty God has shower'd upon the soil; And we '11 nurse our better nature With bold hearts, and judgment strong, To do as much as men can do. To keep the world from going wrong. :j?rK- THE WANTS OF THE PEOPLE. What do we want 1 Our daily bread, And trade untrammell'd as the wind And from our ranks shall spirits start, To aid the progress of mankind. Sages, poets, mechanicians ; Mighty thinkers shall arise, To take their share of loftier work, And teach, exalt, and civilise. What do we want 1 Our daily bread Grant it : — make our efforts free ; Let us work and let us prosper ; You shall prosper more than we ; And the humblest homes of England Shall, in proper time, give birth To better men than we have been. To live upon a better earth. r)33-- j^ — --^^ THE THREE PREACHERS. There are three preachers, ever preaching, Each with eloquence and power ; One is old, with locks of white, Skinny as an anchorite ; And he preaches every hour With a shrill fanatic voice. And a Bigot's fiery scorn : — " Backwards I ye presumptuous nations ; Man to misery is born ! Born to drudge, and sweat, and suffer — Born to labour, and to pray ; Backwards, ye presumptuous nations — Back ! — be humble, and obey !" The second is a milder preacher ; Soft he talks as if he sung ; Sleek and slothful is his look. And his words, as from a book, Issue glibly from his tongue. 55^ HiiPJ J>)K- ■ f^^ THE THREE PREACHERS. 7 With an air of self-content. High he lifts his fair white hands : — " Stand ye still, ye restless nations ; And be happy, all ye lands ! Earth was made by God our Father, And to meddle is to mar ; Change is rash, and ever was so : We are happy as we are." Mightier is the younger preacher ; Genius flashes from his eyes : And the crowds who hear his voice, Give him, while their souls rejoice, Throbbing bosoms for replies. Awed they listen, yet elated, While his stirring accents fall ; — " Forward ! ye deluded nations. Progress is the rule of all : — Man was made for healthful effort ; Tyranny has crush'd him long ; He shall march from good to better, And do battle with the wrong. " Standing still is childish folly. Going backward is a crime : — None should patiently endure Any ill that he can cure ; , Onward ! keep the march of Time. ^^3^ — — ^( :^^ THE THREE PREACHERS. Onward, while a wrong remains To be conquer'd by the right ; While Oppression lifts a finger To affront us by his might : While an error clouds the reason — Or a soiTow gnaws the heart — Or a slave awaits his freedom, Action is the wise man's part. " Lo ! the world is rich in blessings — Earth and Ocean, flame and wind, Have unnumber'd secrets still, To be ransack'd when you will. For the service of mankind ; Science is a child as yet, And her power and scope shall grow, And her triumphs in the future Shall diminish toil and woe, Shall extend the bounds of pleasure With an ever-widening ken, And of woods and wildernesses Make the homes of happy men . " Onward ! — there are ills to conquer, Ills that on yourselves you 've brought. Tyranny is swoll'n with Pride. Bigotry is deified, Error intertwined with Thought. 7 I -^( PQTjK ^-^ 9> _, _ — — "^ — ■ ^\)V^ THE THREE PREACHERS. Vice and Misery ramp and crawl, Boot them out, their day has pass'd :- Goodness is alone immortal ; Evil was not made to last ! Onward, and all Earth shall aid us— Ere our peaceful flag be furl'd." — — And the preaching of this preacher,": Stirs the pulses of the world. )^ J^ — ■ ^f [ OLD OPINIONS. Onck we thought that Power Eternal Had decreed the woes of man ; That the human heart was wicked, Since its pulses first began ; — That the earth was but a prison, Dark and joyless at the best, And that men were born for evil, And imbibed it from the breast ; That 'tM'as vain to think of urging Any earthly progress on. Old opinions ! rags and tatters ! Get you gone ! get you gone ! Once we thought all human sorrows Were predestined to endure ; That, as laws had never made them. Laws were impotent to cure ; ]^3y - -^J ) OLD OPINIONS. 11 That the few were born superior, Though the many might rebel ; They to sit at Nature's table, We to pick the crumbs that fell ; — They to live upon the fatness — We the starvelings, lank and wan. Old opinions ! rags and tatters ! Get you gone ! get you gone ! Once we thought that Kings were holy, Doing wrong by right divine ; That the Church was Lord of Conscience, Arbiter of Mine and Thine. That whatever priests commanded No one could reject and live ; And that all who differ'd from them It was error to forgive : — Right to send to stake or halter With eternal malison. Old opinions ! rags and tatters ! Get you gone ! get you gone ! Once we thought that sacred Freedom Was a cursed and tainted thing ; Foe of Peace, and Law, and Virtue ; Foe of Magistrate and King ; — ^ 12 OLD OPINIONS. That all vile and rampant passion Ever follow'd in her path ; Lust and Plunder, War and Rapine. Tears, and Anarchy, and Wrath. That the angel was a cruel. Haughty, blood-stain'd Amazon. Old opinions ! rags and tatters ! Get you gone I get you gone ! Once we thought that Education Was a luxury- for the few ; That to give it to the many Was to give it scope undue. That 'twas foolish to imagine It could be as free as air : Common as the glorious sunshine To the child of want and care : — That the poor man educated, Quarrell'd with his toil anon ; — Old opinions ! rags and tatters ! Get you gone ! get you gone ! Once we thought it right to foster Local jealousies and pride ; — Right to hate another nation Parted from us by a tide ; — > OLD OPINIONS. Right to go to wax for glory, Or extension of domain : — Right, through fear of foreign rivals, To refuse the needful grain ; Right to bar it out till Famine Drew the bolt with fingers wan : Old opinions ! rags and tatters ! Get you gone ! get you gone ! Old opinions, rags and tatters ; Ye are worn ; — ah, quite threadbare ; We must cast you off for ever ; — We are wiser than we were : Xever fitting, always cramping, Letting in the wind and sleet, Chilling us with rheums and agues, Or inflaming us with heat ; — We have found a mental raiment Purer, whiter to put on. Old opinions ! rags and tatters ! Get you gone ! get you gone ! -^j \^ ^ iOjb- DAILY WORK. Who lags for dread of daily work, And his appointed task would shirk, Commits a folly and a crime : A soulless slave — A paltry knave — A clog upon the wheels of Time. With work to do, and store of health, The man 's unworthy to be free, Who will not give, That he may live. His daily toil for daily fee. No ! Let us work ! W^e only ask Reward proportioned to our task : — We have no quarrel ^vith the great ; No feud with rank — . With mill or bank — No envy of a lord's estate. HU DAILY WORK. 15 If we can earn sufficient store To satisfy our daily need ; And can retain. For age and pain, A fraction, we are rich indeed. No dread of toil have we or ours ; We know our worth, and weigh our powers ; The more we work the more we win : Success to Trade ! Success to Spade ! And to the Corn that 's coming in ! And joy to him, who o'er his task Remembers toil is Nature's plan : Who, working, thinks — And never sinks His independence as a man. Who only asks for humblest wealth, Enough for competence and health ; And leisure, when his work is done, To read his book By chimney nook, Or stroll at setting of the sun. Who toils as every man should toil For fair reward, erect and free : These are the men — The best of men — These are the men we mean to be ! ig^sK- ^^ AN EMIGRANT'S BLESSING. Farewell, England ! blessings on thee, Stern and niggard as thou art ; Harshly, Mother, thou hast used me, And my bread thou hast refused me ; But 'tis agony to part. 'Twill pass over ; for I would not Bear again what I could tell ; — Half the ills that I have sufTer'd : Though I loved thee twice as well. So — my blessings on thee, England, And a long and last farewell. Other regions will provide me Independence for my age : Recompense for hard exertion — For my children the reversion Of a goodly heritage. England — this thou couldst not give me ; i05l3- -^fiS AN EMIGRANT S BLESSING. England, pamperer of squires, Landlord-ridden, pride-encumber'd, Quencher of the poor man's fires ; — But, farewell ! My blessing on thee ; Thou art country of my sires. Though I love, I 'm glad to fly thee ; Who would live in hopeless toil, Evil-steep'd and ill-exampled, Press'd and jostled, crush'd and trampled, Interloper on the soil 1 — If there were 07ie other country Where an honest man might go : Winning corn-fields from the forest — All his own, too — blow by blow ? Farewell, England — I regret thee. But my tears refuse to flow. Haply o'er the southern ocean I shall do my part, to rear A new nation, Saxon-blooded, Which with plenty crowned and studded, To its happy children dear. Shall eclipse thy fame, England ; Taught and warned alike by thee ; — Mightier with unshackled commerce, Mightier in her men more free, Mightier in her virgin vigour. And her just equality. ^ IS AN EMIGRANTS BLESSING. But farewell. My blessing on thee ! Never, till my latest day, Shall my memory cease to ponder On thy fate, where'er I wander ;— Never shall I cease to pray That thy poor may yet be happy ; That thy rich their pride may quell ; That thou may'st in peaceful progress All thy misery dispel ; — Queen of nations : once their model — God be with thee ! Fare-thee-well I A\ L ^^ i THE WATCHER ON THE TOWER. " What dost thou see, lone watcher on the tower ? Is the day breaking 1 comes "the wished-for hour 1 Tell us the signs, and stretch abroad thy hand, If the bright morning dawns upon the land." " The stars are clear above me, scarcely one Has dimmed its rays in reverence to the sun ; But yet I see on the horizon's verge. Some fair, faint streaks, as if the light would surge." " Look forth again, oh, watcher on the tower — The people wake, and languish for the hour ; Long have they dwelt in darkness, and they pine For the full daylight that they know must shine." " I see not well — the morn is cloudy still ; There is a radiance on the distant hill. Even as I watch the glory seems to grow ; But the stars blink, and the night breezes blow." jy- ' c 2 c. 20 THE WATCHER ON THE TOWER. ^ " And is that all, oh, watcher on the tower ? Look forth again ; it must be near the hour. Dost thou not see the snowy mountain copes. And the green woods beneath them on the slopes ?" " A mist envelops them ; I cannot trace Their outline ; but the day comes on apace. The clouds roll up in gold and amber flakes, And all the stars grow dim. The morning breaks." " We thank thee, lonely watcher on the tower ; But look again ; and tell us, hour by hour, All thou beholdest ; many of us die Ere the day comes ; oh, give them a reply." " I see the hill-tops now ; and Chanticleer Crows his prophetic carol on mine ear ; I see the distant woods and fields of corn. And ocean gleaming in the light of morn." " Again — again — oh, watcher on the tower — We thirst for daylight, and we bide the hour, Patient, but longing. Tell us, shall it be A bright, calm, glorious daylight for the free V " I hope, but cannot tell. I hear a song, Vivid as day itself ; and clear and strong ; 1 As of a lark — young prophet of the noon — <^ Pouring in sunlight his seraphic tune." J ^^ .^ -^^ THE WATCHER ON THE TOWER. 21 "S* / " What doth he say — oh, watcher on the tower ? la he a prophet 1 Doth the dawning hour Inspire his music ? Is his chant subhme With the full glories of the Coming Time ?" " He prophesies ; — his heart is full ; — his lay- Tells of the brightness of a peaceful day — A day not cloudless, nor devoid of storm, But sunny for the most, and clear and warm." " We thank thee, watcher on the lonely tower, For all thou tellest. Sings he of an hour When Error shall decay, and Truth grow strong, And Right shall rule supreme and vanquish Wrong ? " " He sings of brotherhood, and joy, and peace. Of days when jealousies and hate shall cease : When war shall die, and man's progressive mind Soar as unfettered as its God designed." " WeU done ! thou watcher on the lonely tower ! Is the day breaking ? dawns the happy hour 1 We pine to see it : — tell us, yet again, If the broad daylight breaks upon the j^laiyi ? " " It breaks — it comes — the misty shadows fly : — A rosy radiance gleams upon the sky ; The mountain tops reflect it calm and clear ; The plain is yet in shade ; but day is near.'" 0i9^ ;jj>- "WAIT A LITTLE LONGER.' There 's a good time coming, boys, A good time coming : We may not live to see the day, But earth shall glisten in the ray Of the good time coming. Cannon balls may aid the truth, But thought 's a weapon stronger ; We '11 win our battle by its aid ; — Wait a Utile longer. i There 's a good time coming, boys, A good time coming : The pen shall supersede the sword. And Right, not Might, shall be the lord, In the good time coming. Worth, not Birth, shall rule mankind, And be acknowledged stronger ; The proper impulse has been given ; — Wait a little longer. c 55>- . ^l , ;j> ^& " WAIT A LITTLE LONGER." 23 There 's a good time coming, boys, A good time coming : War in all men's eyes shall be A monster of iniquity. In the good time coming. Nations shall not quarrel then, To prove which is the stronger ; Nor slaughter men for glory's sake ; — Wait a little longer. There 's a good time coming, boys, A good time coming : Hateful rivalries of creed Shall not make their martyrs bleed In the good time coming. Religion shall be shorn of pride, And flourish all the stronger ; And Charity shall trim her lamp ; — Wait a little longer. There 's a good time coming, boys, A good time coming : And a poor man's family Shall not be his misery, In the good time coming. Every child shall be a help, To make his right arm stronger ; The happier he, the more he has ; — Wait a little longer. 93-- -^i — ^( "wait a little longer." . "I There 's a good time coming, boys, A good time coming : Little children shall not toil, Under, or above, the soil, In the good time coming ; But shall play in healthful fields. Till limbs and mind grow stronger ; And every one shall read and write ; — Wait a little longer. There 's a good time coming, boys, A good time coming : The people shall be temperate. And shall love instead of hate, In the good time coming. They shall use, and not abuse, And make all virtue stronger. The reformation has begun ; — Wait a little longer. There 's a good time coming, boys, A good time coming : Let us aid it all we can, Every woman, every man. The good time coming. Smallest helps, if rightly given. Make the impulse stronger ; 'Twill be strong enough one day ; — Wait a little longer. THE DAYS THAT ARE GONE. Who is it that moums for the days that are gone, When a noble could do as he Hked with his own ? When his serfs, with their burdens well fiUed on their backs, Never dared to complain of the weight of a tax ? When his word was a statute, his nod was a law, And for aught but his " order " he cared not a straw ? When each had his dungeon and racks for the poor, And a gibbet to hang a refractory boor 1 They were days when a man with a thought in his pate. Was a man that was born for the popular hate ; And if 'twere a thought that was good for his kind, The man was too vile to be left unconfined ; The days when obedience in right or in vprong, Was always the sermon and always the song ; When the people, like cattle, were pounded or driven. And to scourge them was thought a King's license from Cj heaven. ;)7R> ^€^ 26 THE DAYS THAT ARE GONE. "S They were days when the sword settled questions of right, And Falsehood was first to monopolise Might ; When the fighter of battles was always adored, And the greater the tyrant, the dearer the Lord ; When the King, who, by myriads, could number his slain, Was considered by far the most worthy to reign ; When the fate of the multitude hung on his breath — A god in his life, and a saint in his death. They were days when the headsman was always prepared- The block ever ready — the axe ever bared ; When a corpse on the gibbet aye swung to and fro. And the fire at the stake never smouldered too low. When famine and age made a woman a witch, To be roasted alive, or be drowned in a ditch ; When difference of creed was the vilest of crime. And martyrs were burned half a score at a time. They were days when the gallows stood black in the way. The larger the town the more plentiful they ; When Law never dreamed it was good to relent. Or thought it less wisdom to kill than prevent ; When Justice herself, taking Law for her guide. Was never appeased till a victim had died ; And the stealer of sheep, and the slayer of men, Were strung up together again and again. ^ ^J^- '3i ■^ THE DAYS THAT ARE GONE. S They were days when the crowd had no freedom of speech, And reading and writing were out of its reach ; When ignorance, stolid and dense, was its doom, And bigotry swathed it from cradle to tomb ; When the few thought the many mere workers for them. To use them, and when they had used, to contemn ; And the many, poor fools, thought the treatment their due. And crawled in the dust at the feet of the few. No— the Present, though clouds o'er her countenance roll. Has a light in her eyes, and a hope in her soul. And ve are too wise, like the bigots to mourn. For the darkness of days that shall never return. Worn out, and extinct, may their history serve As a beacon to warn us whene'er we would swerve ; To shun the oppression, the folly, and crime. That blacken the page of the records of Time. Their chivalry lightened the gloom, it is true. And honour and loyalty dwelt with the few ; But small was the light, and of little avail, Compared with the blaze of our Press and our Rail. Success to that blaze ! May it shine over all, Till Ignorance learn with what grace she may fall. And fly from the world with the sorrow she wrought, j4 And leave it to Virtue and Freedom of Thought. i:i^ }^- A REMONSTRANCE WITH THE AMERICANS. March, 1846. Brothers, why this rage and scorn 1 Why these gibes and tauntings flung 1 Were your sires not English born 1 Speak you not the Enghsh tongue ? Think you not with English thought 1 Is not Shakspeare yours and ours ? And the same religion taught In our cities, and your bowers ? Brothers, turn your thoughts to peace. And let all this discord cease. Why should war affright the earth l Were the lands you covet thus, Richer, larger, better worth, Wherefore should you fight with us I 'Twould be scandal to our kind, An opprobrium to our creed. If through rage and malice blind, One American should bleed ; Or if England's meanest son Lost his life for Oregon. U3-- -^l A REMONSTRANCE WITH THE AMERICANS. If ye SO desire the land, Bide your hour — 'twill not be long — Clear it — plant it — send a band, Peaceful, enterprising, strong, Who will people all the cHme, — Spreading Commerce as they go, Free to answer in their time. When you ask them " Yes, or no 1" But beware, for Freedom's sake — Oh, beware, the part you take. It would be a dastard shame — Shame more deep than words can breathe, If for this we lit the flame, Or drew weapon from its sheath. Deeper guilt, more heinous sin, If the foolish quarrel grew. And the nations, pressing in, Ranged themselves for us or you, And the earth was filled with hate, Because you were insatiate. Freedom's prophet, England taught — And you learned what she instilled ; You the inspiration caught ; Be your prophecy fulfilled. * Show the world, who doubts the fact, That of Freedom is not born Sk Q^ - — -i({I)j yffSH- --flsiys! 30 A REMONSTRANCE WITH THE AMERICANS. Rabble passion, frenzied act, Utter recklessness and scorn, — If so once, they need not be ; — Wisdom dwells with Liberty. Let the bloody flag be furl'd : Nobler is the task we 're set ; And 'tis treason to the world To neglect it, or forget. Science woos us to her arms ; New Discovery waits our time ; Young Invention spreads her charms ; Knowledge beckons us to climb. Brothers, join us in the van, And we '11 lead the march of man. But if madly bent on strife, And all reason speaks in vain. Be the guilt of every life In the unnatural contest slain On your heads ; — and ere 'tis o'er, Such a lesson you shall learn, As shall sicken you of war. Brothers, for your hand we yearn ! Let us give our thoughts to peace ; Let this foolish discord cease. o ^ <^^ --^^ TO JOHN QUINCY ADAMS, ON HIS SPEECH IN THE SENATE OF THE UNITED STATES, ON THE SECOND OF JANUARY, 1846, RECOMMENDING THE SEIZURE OF THE OREGON TERRITORY. QuiNCY Adams, Quincy Adams, English hearts are pained to view Such a burst of foolish passion In an ancient man like you. Though they scorn you not, nor hate you, Yet they pity, and deplore. That when Age has cooled your pulses. Wisdom has not taught you more. Quincy Adams, Quincy Adams, Cling to right whate'er it cost ; Plunder never pays a nation For the honour it has lost. You should know it — you should teach it, That with Many as with One, Evil gains are daily curses. Fruits to wither in the sun . 'JiJ^ — 32 TO JOHN QUINCY ADAMS, Quincy Adams, Quincy Adams, If from no desire of spoil, But from honest niisconviction You and yours have bred this broil, Let a Congress of the nations, Men of honour, firm and true. Hear the claim and give decision Fairly betwixt us and you. Quincy Adams, Quincy Adams, Men will think, whate'er you say, If, when urged to this solution. You persist in answering. Nay, That your Code is like the robber's, Force, not Right, to win the prize ; That your quarrel is not honest, And your logic built on lies. Quincy Adams, Quincy Adams, Trust us English. Take our word, 'Tis not fear — or debt — or weakness. Makes us loth to draw the sword. Though 'tis bad to lose a battle, 'Tis not perfect good to win ; We have learned a useful lesson : Both are bad. We '11 not begin. Ito ,^- TO QUINCY ADAMS. . Quincy Adams, Quincy Adams, We could work you fearful woe ; But what pleasure could it give us. Though we crushed you at a blow ? We are elder — you are younger — We the man, and you the boy ; And we 'd rather clothe than fight you, Rather cherish than destroy. 33 y 9 Quincy Adams, Quincy Adams, War has lessons you should con ; Think upon them — use your reason — Arbitrate for Oregon. If you will dispute — so be it, We '11 be ready ere the time : But, Old Man, to death descending, Weigh the sorrow, weigh the crime. Quincy Adams, Quincy Adams, Think that you have done your best, To enkindle wrath and ruin, Ere you sink into your rest. Think that millions of your fellows May have cause to curse your name ;- Quincy Adams, take our offer, And retract — retract for shame. D £» -^q THE POETRY OP RAILWAYS. No poetry in Railways ! foolish thought Of a dull brain, to no fine music wrought. By mammon dazzled, though the people prize The gold alone, yet shall not we despise The triumphs of our time, or fail to see Of pregnant mind the fruitful progeny Ushering the daylight of the world's new morn. Look up, ye doubters, be no more forlorn ! — Smooth your rough brows, ye little wise : rejoice. Ye who despond : and with exulting voice Salute, ye earnest spirits of our time. The young Improvement ripening to her prime. Who, in the fulness of her genial youth, Prepares the way for Liberty and Truth, And breaks the barriers that, since earth began, Have made mankind the enemy of man. Lay down your rails, ye nations, near and far — Yoke'your full trains to Steam's triumphal car ; Link town to town ; unite in iron bands The long-estranged and oft-embattled lands. Peace, mild-eyed Seraph — Knowledge, light divine, Shall send their messengers by every Hne. -■^0 ]^ ^{ THE POETRY OF RAILWAYS. 35 Men, joined in amity, shall wonder long That Hate had power to lead their fathers wrong ; Or that false Glory lured their hearts astray, And made it virtuous and sublime to slay- Blessings on Science ! When the earth seemed old, When Faith grew doting, and the Reason cold, 'Twas she discovered that the world was young. And taught a language to its lisping tongue : 'Twas she disclosed a future to its view, And made old knowledge pale before the new. Blessings on Science ! In her dawning hour Faith knit her brow, alarmed for ancient power ; Then looked again upon her face sincere, Held out her hand, and hailed her — Sister dear ; And Reason, free as eagle on the wind. Swooped o'er the fallow meadows of the mind, And, clear of vision, saw what seed would grow j On the hill slopes, or in the vales below ; What in the sunny South or nipping Nord, And from her talons dropped it as she soared. Blessings on Science, and her handmaid Steam ! They make Utopia only half a dream ; And show the fervent, of capacious souls, Who watch the ball of Progress as it rolls. That all as yet completed, or begun. Is but the dawning that precedes the sun. D 2 }-(J3K- ^ cr\ ^ THE FERMENTATION. Lonely sitting, deeply musing, On a still and starry night, Full of fancies, when my glances Turned upon those far romances Scattered o'er the Infinite ; On a sudden, broke upon me Murmurs, rumours, quick and loud, And, half-waking, I discovered An innumerable crowd. 'Mid the uproar of their voices Scarcely could I hear a word ; There was rushing, there was crushing, And a sound like music gushing, And a roar like forests stirred By a fierce wind passing o'er them : — And a voice came now and then. Louder than them all, exclaiming " Give us Justice ! we are men ! " ^ o THE FERMENTATION, And the longer that I Hstened, More distinctly could I hear, 'Mid the poising of the voicing, Sounds of sorrow and rejoicing, Utterance of Hope and Fear ; And a clash of disputation. And of words at random cast — Truths and Errors intermingling, Of the present and the past. Some were shouting that Oppression Held their consciences in thrall ; Some were crying " Men are dying, Hunger-smit, and none supplying Bread, the birthright of us all." Some exclaimed that Wealth was haughty, Harsh, and callous to the poor ; — Others cried, the poor were vicious. Idle, thankless, insecure. Some, with voice of indignation, Told the story of their wrongs. Full of dolour — life-controller — That for difference of colour They were sold and scourged with thongs. Others, pallid, weak, and shivering, Said that laws were surely bad, When the willing hand was idle. And the cheeks of Toil were sad. -H^Pj ^51 38 THE FERMENTATION. " Give US freedom for the conscience !" " Equal rights !"— " Unfettered Mind !" " Education !" — " Compensation !" " Justice for a mighty nation !" " Progress !" — " Peace with all mankind !" " Let us labour !" — " Give us churches !" " Give us Corn where'er it grow !" These, and other cries, around me Surged incessant, loud or low. Old opinions jarred with new ones ; New ones jostled with the old ; In sucli Babel, few were able To distinguish truth from fable, In the tale their neighbours told. But one voice above all others Sounded like the voice of ten, Clear, sonorous, and persuasive : — " Give us Justice ! we are men !" And I said, " Oh Sovereign Reason, Sire of Peace and Liberty ! Aid for ever their endeavour : — Boldly let them still assever All the riglits they claim in thee. Aid the mighty Fermentation Till it purifies at last. And the Future of the people ^ Is made brighter than the Past." -- THE POOR MAN'S SUNDAY WALK. The morning of our rest has come, The sun is shining clear ; I see it on the steeple-top : Put on your shawl, my dear, And let us leave the smoky town, The dense and stagnant lane, And take our children by the hand To see the fields again. I 've pined for air the live-long week ; For the smell of new-mown hay ; For a pleasant, quiet, country walk, On a sunny Sabbath day. Our parish church is cold and damp ; I need the air and sun ; We '11 sit together on the grass. And see the children run. _^'-j"- -^m. 40 THE POOR man's SUNDAY WALK, "S We '11 watch them gathering buttercups, Or cowslips in the dell, Or listen to the cheerful sounds Of the far-off village bell ; And thank our God with grateful hearts, Though in the fields we pray ; And bless the healthful breeze of heaven, On a sunny Sabbath day. I 'm weary of the stifling room, Where all the week we 're pent ; Of the alley filled with wretched life, And odours pestilent. And long once more to see the fields, And the grazing sheep and beeves ; To hear the lark amid the clouds, And the wind among the leaves ; And all the sounds that glad the air On green hills far away : — The sounds that breathe of Peace and Love, On a sunny Sabbath day. For somehow, though they call it wrong, In church I cannot kneel With half the natural thankfulness And piety I feel, When out, on such a day as this, I lie upon the sod, S^ ^^ '- -^ ^^61 THE POOR man's SUNDAY WALK. 41 And think that every leaf and flower Is grateful to its God : That I who feel the blessing more Should thank him more than they, That I can elevate my soul On a sunny Sabbath day. Put on your shawl, and let us go ; — For one day let us think Of something else than daily care, Of toil, and meat, and drink : For one day let our children sport And feel their limbs their own ; For one day let us quite forget The grief that we have known : — Let us forget that we are poor ; And, basking in the ray. Thank God that we can stiU enjoy A sunny Sabbath day. -^i -^m A CONVICT'S BLESSING. Blessings on England !— but why should / bless her 1 I that she tutored from bad into worse ; — / that could never, since Reason possessed me, Balance my faults by the weight of my purse. She 's a very good land for the man who has money, But Misery gives her, as I do, a curse. What else should I give her 1 One day, in my boyhood, I plucked from a branch a fair apple, that swung Tempting and ripe o'er the wall of an orchard, But ere the first morsel delighted ray tongue. Was hurried to gaol, where some older offenders Conceived it their duty to train up the young. When I came out, is it likely that goodness Brightened my face or made warmth in my breast 1 Blighted in name, with a mark set upon me. And vengeance within me to trouble my rest — I practised their lessons for want of employment. And lived upon others, and fared on the best. J cr Hi^ '^ A convict's blessing. 43 s For three dreary months I was doomed to the treadmill, For killing a pheasant one midsummer night ; For six I was shut from all sight of my fellows, For catching a hare when my pocket was light ; And now I am banished for shooting a keeper — A murder or manslaughter — done in a fight. Blessings on England ! Perhaps — when she alters, And ceases to worship a lord, as a lord ; When the soul of a man is worth more than a partridge, And labour may see healthy cheeks at its board ; When her laws are alike for her poor and her wealthy ; And Justice is not quite so fond of her sword. Meantime I can give her but that which is in me, That which will cling to my heart evermore ; That which so many, heart-broken have given her. To rankle and fester, life-deep at her core ; The curse which she gave me instead of a blessing — The curse which she brands me with, leaving her shore. Had she but taught me in days of my childhood. The folly of youth had not ripened to crime ; Had she but given me a chance of amendment, I might have been useful and happy in time ; Had she not treated the boy like a felon. The man might have been a good man ere his pi'ime \lp^- -^i 44 A CONVICTS BLESSING. r But this was denied me. So, blessings on England ! Blessings — ay, give them that name if ye will ; — Such blessings as mine ever turn into curses — I cannot give good for a life-time of ill. Blessings on England ! the word may be pleasant ; But the Curse and the Vengeance shall follow her still. 5fl^- ENGLAND AND FRANCE. We make no boast of Waterloo ; Its name excites no pride in us ; We have no hatred of the French, No scorn of Yankee or of Russ. The GLORY that our fathers gained In bloody warfare yeai's agone, And which they talk of o'er their cups, Gives us no joy to think upon. In truth we rather love the French, And think our fathers did them wrong ; And sometimes blush when in the streets. Quite out of date, an ancient song — Ghost of a prejudice — comes back, And tells us how, in days gone out, The best of Englishmen was he. Who put a dozen French to rout. We have no foolish thoughts like these, Of France, or any other land ; And jealousies so poor and mean. We 're somewhat slow to understand. )4^ 1(PP-- 46 ENGLAND AND FRANCE. We 'd rather with our friends, the French, Encourage kindhness of thought, Than gain a score of Waterloos, Or any battle ever fought. And in this year of " forty-six," We rising men, in life's young prime, Are men who think the French have done The world good service in their time. And for their sakes, and for our own, And Freedom's sake o'er all the earth. We 'd rather let old feuds expire. And cling to something better worth. If thought of battles gained by us Disturb or gall them, let it rest ; — Napoleon was a man of men. But neither wickedest nor best ; Neither a demon nor a god ; And if they icill adore a king, The honest man who rules them now Deserves a little worshipping. To be at strife, however just, Has no attraction to our mind : And as for nations fond of war, We think them jiests of humankind. -^l «£( ENGLAND AND FRANCE. 47 ^ I Still — if there must be rivalry Betwixt us and the French ; — why then Let earth look on us, while we show Which of the two are better men. We '11 try the rivalry of Arts, Of Science, Learning, Freedom, Fame- We '11 try who first shall light the world With Charity's divinest flame — Who best shall elevate the poor, And teach the wealthy to be true : We want no rivalr)' of arms. We want no boasts of Waterloo. S5 )fi> THE DREAM OF THE REVELLER. AS SUNG BY MR. H. RUSSELL. Abound the board the guests were met, the lights above them beaming, And in their cups, replenish'd oft, the ruddy wine was streaming ; Their cheeks were flushed, their eyes were bright, their hearts with pleasure bounded, The song was sung, the toast was given, and loud the revel sounded. I drained a goblet with the rest, and cried, " Away with sorrow ! Let us be happy for to-day ; what care we for to-morrow ?" But as I spoke, my sight grew dim, and slumber deep came o'er me. And, 'mid the whirl of mingling tongues, this vision passed before me. I Methought I saw a demon rise : he held a mighty bicker, 1 Whose burnish'd sides ran brimming o'er Avnth floods of | burning liquor, ^ ^'p- => THE DREAM OF THE REVELLER. Around him press'd a clamorous crowd, to taste this liquor, greedy, But chiefly came the poor and sad, the suffering and the needy ; All those oppress'd by grief or debt, the dissolute, the lazy. Blear-eyed old men and reckless youths, and palsied women crazy; "Give, give!" they cried, " Give, give us drink, to drown all thought of sorrow ; If we are happy for to-day, we care not for to-morrow ! " The^rst drop warmed their shivering skins, and drove away their sadness ; The second lit their sunken eyes, and filled their souls with gladness ; The third drop made them shout and roar, and play each furious antic ; The fourth drop boiled their very blood; and thejijith drop drove them frantic : — " Drink !" said the Demon, " Drink your fill ! drink of these waters mellow ! They '11 make your eye-balls sear and dull, and turn your white skins yellow ; They 'U fill your homes with care and grief, and clothe your backs with tatters ; They '11 fill your hearts with evil thoughts ; but never mind ! A — what matters ? E -HJ^( 7 tS 50 THE DREAM OF THE REVELLER. "^ " Though virtue sink, and reason fail, and social ties dissever, I '11 be your friend in hour of need, and find you homes for ever; For I have built three mansions high, three strong and goodly houses, To lodge at last each jolly soul, who all his life carouses. — Thejirst it is a spacious house, to all but sots appalling. Where, by the parish bounty fed, \ile, in the sunshine crawling, The worn-out drunkard ends his days, and eats the dole of others, A plague and burthen to himself, an eye-sore to his brothers. " The second is a larger house, rank, fetid, and unholy ; Where, smitten by diseases foul and hopeless melancholy. The victims of potations deep pine on a couch of sadness, Some calling Death to end their pain, and others wrought to madness : The thii-d and last is black and high, the abode of guilt and anguisli, And full of dungeons deep and fast, where death-doomed felons languish ; So drain the cup, and drain again ! One of my goodly houses, Shall lodge at last each jolly soul who to the dregs i^L carouses ! " %2 j>- ^i )^ THE DREAM OF THE REVELLER. 51 But well he knew — that Demon old — how vain was all his preaching, The ragged crew that round him flocked were heedless of his teaching ; Even as they heard his fearful words, they cried, with shouts of laughter, — " Out on the fool who mars to-day with thought of an hereafter ! We care not for thy houses three ; we Hve but for the present ; And merry will we make it yet, and quaff our bumpers pleasant." Loud laughed the fiend to hear them speak, and lifting high his bicker, " Body and soul are mine !" said he, " I 'U have them both for liquor." flsiv ^ — —, ^( E 2 (3^^-- ^{ THE POET AND THE POLITICAL ECONOMIST. A DIALOGUE. THE POLITICAL ECONOMIST. Prithee, Poet, why this spinning, Spinning verses all the day ? Vain and idle thy vocation, — Thou art useless to the nation. In thy labour and thy play. Little doth the world esteem thee. And it takes thee at thy worth ; Loftiest rhyme that e'er was fashioned, Sounding, gorgeous, or impassioned, Is a drug upon the earth. Go — and be a cotton-spinner ; Put thy hand upon the spade ; W^eave a basket out of willow ; Dig the mine, or sail the billow ; Anything but such a trade. SiSsy -<^i THE POET AND THE POLITICAL ECONOMIST. 53 '^ / THE POET. Why thy scorn, man of logic ? Speak of that ^vithin thy ken ; I despise thee not ; — thy labours, If they make us better neighbours. Are not valueless to men. Highly all the world esteems thee, And a poet may declare, That the wise should place reliance On the efforts of thy science To diminish human care. Bring thy hidden truth to daylight, And I '11 ne'er complain of thee ; Dull thou 'rt called — and dullness cumbers, Yet there 's Wisdom in thi/ numbers ; Leave m^ numbers unto me. Each of us fulfils a mission. And, though scorned, I '11 cling to mine, With a passion ever growing In my heart, to overflowing ; — Cling thou with as much to thine. Thou ''rt a preacher ; — / 'm a prophet. Thou discoursest to thy time ; 7 discourse to generations ; — And the thoughts of unborn nations Shall be fashioned by my rhyme. -^i 1 a ^' f 54 THE POET AND THE POLITICAL ECONOMIST. Thou, to dubious politicians Staid and passionless and slow, Givest pros and cons with candour. Bland and patient, growing blander As thy trim deductions flow. / send forth electric flashes To the bosom of the crowd ; Rule its pulses, cheer its sadness, Make it throb, and pant with gladness. Till if answers me aloud. Not for me to linger idly, Gathering garlands by the way ; Singing but of flowers and sunsets, Lovers' vows, or knightly onsets, Or of ladies fair as May. — No, the poet knows his mission, Nature's lyre is all his own ; He can sweep its strings prophetic, Till the nations sympathetic, Gather breathless to its tone. For he knows the People listen When a mighty spirit speaks, And that none can stir them duly. But the man that loves them truly, 3 And from them his impulse seeks. W3^ -^i THE POET AND THE POLITICAL ECONOMIST. 55 V What they feel, but cannot utter ; What they ho^De for, day and night ; — These the words by which he fires them, Prompts them, leads them, and inspires them To do battle for the right. These the words by which the many Cope for justice with the few ; — These their watch-words, when oppression Would resist the small concession But a fraction of their due. These the poet, music-hearted, Blazons to the listening land, And for these all lands shall prize him, Though the foolish may despise him, Or the wise misunderstand. Go thy way, then, man of logic, In thy fashion, speak thy truth ; — Thou hast fixed, and I have chosen ; — Thou shalt speak to blood that 's frozen, I to vigour and to youth. Haply we shall both be useful. And, perchance, more useful thou, If their full degree of merit Unto other moods of spirit Thou wilt cheerfully allow. h )^ H^( r \^ 56 THE POET AND THE POLITICAL ECONOMIST. "==" As for me, I fear no scorning, And shall speak with earnest mind What is in me ; — self-rewarded If I aid, though unregarded, The advancement of my kind. ]S3^ ^ ^^^ W^ ^i A REVERIE IN THE GRASS. There let me rest, amid the bearded grass Sprinkled with buttercups ; and idly pass One hour of sunshine on the green hill slope : Watching the ridged clouds, that o'er the cope Of visible heaven sail quietly along ; Listening the wind, or rustling leaves, or song Of blackbird, or sweet ringdove in the copse Of pines and sycamores, whose dark green tops Form a clear outline right against the blue : — Here let me lie and dream : losing from view All vexed and worldly things ; and for one hour Living such life as green leaf in a bower Might live ; breathing the calm pure air, Heedless of hope, or fear, or joy, or c^re. Oh, it is pleasant in this summer time To be alone, to meditate and rhyme : To hear the bee plying his busy trade. Or grasshopper alert in sun and shade. With bright large eyes and ample forehead bald, i^ Clad in cuirass and cuishes emerald. g5iv- ^ HPfii ' )> ^ -^g )^ 58 A REVEKIE IN THE GRASS. 9^ \ 7 Here let me rest, and for a little space Shut out the world from my abiding place ; Seeing around me nought but grass and bent, Nothing above me but the firmament ; For such my pleasure, that in solitude Over my seething fancies I may brood, Encrucibled and moulded as I list, And I, expectant as an alchymist. Oh, beautiful green grass ! Earth's covering fair ! What shall be sung of thee, nor bright, nor rare. Nor highly thought of 1 Long green grass that waves By the wayside — over the ancient graves — Or shoulders of the mountain looming high — Or skulls of rocks — bald in their majesty, Except for thee, that in the crevices Liv'st on the nurture of the sun and breeze ; — Adorner of the nude rude breast of hills ; Mantle of meadows ; fringe of gushing rills ; Humblest of all the humble : — Thou shalt be, If to none else, exalted unto me, And for a time a type of Joy on Earth — Joy unobtrusive, of perennial birth, Common as light and air, and warmth and rain. And all the daily blessings that in vain Woo us to gratitude : the earliest born Of all the juicy verdures that adorn The fruitful bosom of the kindly soil. Pleasant to eyes that ache and limbs that toil. ^ )9ii3 ' ^^ m^- 3 ? A REVERIE IN THE GRASS. Lo ! as I muse, I see the bristling spears Of thy seed-bearing stalks, which some, thy peers, Lift o'er their fellows — nodding to and fro Their lofty foreheads as the wild winds blow. And think thy swarming multitudes a host Drawn up embattled on their native coast And officered for war : — the spearmen free Raising their weapons, and the martial bee Blowing his clarion — while some poppy tall Displays the blood-red banner over all. Pleased with the thought, I nurse it for awhile; And then dismiss it with a faint half smile : And next I fancy thee a multitude, Moved by one breath — obedient to the mood Of one strong thinker — the resistless wind, That passing o'er thee bends thee to its mind. See how thy blades, in myriads as they grow, Turn ever eastward as the west winds blow ; Just as a human crowd is swayed and bent By some great preacher, madly eloquent, Who moves them at his will, and with a breath Gives them their bias both in life and death. Or by some wondrous actor, when he draws All eyes and hearts, amid a hushed applause Not to be uttered lest dehght be marred ; Or, greater still, by hymn of prophet-bard. Who moulds the lazy present by his rhyme, = And sings the glories of the coming time. ^93y Hi^i G' 60 A REVERIE IN THE GRASS. "2 And ye are happy, green leaves every one. Spread in your countless thousands to the sun. Unlike mankind, no solitary blade Of all your verdure ever disobeyed The law of Nature : every stalk that lifts Its head above the mould enjoys the gifts Of liberal heaven — the rain, the dew, the light — And points, though humbly, to the Infinite ; And every leaf, a populous world, maintains Invisible nations on its wide-stretched plains. So great is littleness ! the mind at fault, Between the peopled leaf and starry vault, Doubts which is grandest, and with holy awe Adores the God who made them, and whose law Upholds them in Eternity or Time — Greatest and least, ineffably sublime. I>- h!^ p^ — ■ -^{ TO A FRIEND AFRAID OF CRITICS. Afraid of critics ! an unworthy fear : Great minds must learn their greatness and be bold. Walk on thy way ; bring forth thine own true thought ; Love thy high calling only for itself, And find in working recompense for work, And Envy's shaft shall whiz at thee in vain. Despise not censure. Weigh if it be just. And if it be — amend, whate'er the thought Of him who cast it. Take the wise man's praise And love thyself the more that thou couldst earn Meed so exalted ; but the blame of fools Let it blow over like an idle whiff Of poisonous tobacco in the streets, Invasive of thy unoffending nose. Their praise no better, only more perfumed. The Critics — let me paint them as they are. Some few I know, and love them from my soul ; Polished, acute, deep read ; of inborn taste Cultured into a virtue ; full of pith ntfj JS^ <^ 62 TO A FRIEND AFRAID OF CRITICS. "i / And kindly vigour ; having won their spurs In the great rivalry of friendly mind, And generous to others, though unknown. Who would, having a thought, let all men know The new discovery. But these are rare ; And if thou find one, take him to thy heart, And think his unbouglit praise both palm and crown, A thing worth living for, were nought beside. If to be famous be thy sole intent. And greatness be a mark beyond thy reach. Manage the critics, and thou 'It win the game ; But fear them not, if thou art true thyself, And look for fame, now, if the wise approve. Or, from a wiser jury yet unborn. The Poetaster may be harmed enough. But Criticasters cannot crush a Bard. One, if thou 'rt great, will cite from thy new book The tamest passage : something that thy soul Revolts at, now the inspiration 's o'er. And would give all thou hast to blot from print And sink into oblivion ; and will vaunt The thing as beautiful — transcendant — rare — The best thing thou hast done. Another friend. With finer sense, will praise thy greatest thought, Yet cavil at it ; putting in his " Ijtds " And " i/ets," and little obvious hints c LV -^ 3?)TP -^( ' TO A FRIEND AFRAID OF CRITICS. 63 That though 'tis good, the critic could have made A work superior in its every part. Another, in a pert and savage mood, Without a reason, will condemn thee quite, And strive to cj^uench thee in a paragraph. Another, with dishonest waggery, Will twist, misquote, and utterly pervert Thy thought and words ; and hug himself meanwhile Tn the delusion, pleasant to his soul. That thou art crushed, and he a gentleman. Another, with a specious fair pretence. Immaculately wise, will skim thy book, And, self-sufficient, from his desk look down With undisguised contempt on thee and thine ; And sneer and snarl thee from his weekly court, From an idea, spawn of his conceit, That the best means to gain a gi-eat renown For wisdom, is to sneer at all the world, With strong denial that a good exists ; — That all is bad, imperfect, feeble, stale. Except this critic who outshines mankind. Another, with a foolish zeal, will prate Of thy great excellence ; and on thy head Heap epithet on epithet of praise In terms preposterous, that thou wilt blush i, To be so smothered with such fulsome lies. ^ 3%- ^ — -^^ c TO A FRIEND AFRAID OF CRITICS. *i Another, calmer, with laudations thin. Unsavoury and weak, will make it seem That his good nature, not thy merit, prompts The baseless adulation of liis pen. Another with a bull-dog's bark, will bay Foul names against thee for some fancied slight That thou ne'er dreamed of, and will damn thy work For spite against the worker ; while the next Who thinks thy faith or politics a crime, Will bray displeasure from his monthly stall, And prove thee dunce, that disagrees! with him ; And, last of all, some solemn sage, whose nod Trimestrial, awes a world of little wits. Will carefully avoid to name thy name, Although thy words are in the mouths of men And thy ideas in their inmost hearts Moulding events, and fashioning thy time To nobler efforts. — Little matters it : Whate'er thou art, thy value will appear. If thou art bad, no praise will buoy thee up ; If thou art good, no censure weigh thee down, Nor silence nor neglect prevent thy fame. So fear not thou the critics ! Speak thy thought ; And, if thou 'rt worthy, in the people's love Thy name shall live, while lasts thy mother tongue. )g^ ^( JKs^ — ^ -^'! A WINTER-NIGHT'S PHANTASMAGORIA. Said I to my Fancy, " Go, wandering sprite, And sail on the winds of this chiU winter night ; The earth is before thee, thy pinions are free, And wild as thou art there is earnest in Thee ! — Go forth ! and returning with Truth for thy guide Recount me the ills thou hast seen on thy ride ; The pain, the misfortune, the sorrow, the wrong, The woes of the weak, and the guilt of the strong ; That Hope may take courage through all that 's endured, And whisper to Reason how much may be cured." And Fancy untrammell'd went forth on her way To an army encamped, and awaiting the day : — The soldier was dreaming of home's distant shore, And the friends that, alas ! he might visit no more. Of the little ones lisping that came to his call. And- the wife of his bosom — oh, dearer than all ! But short was his sleep : ere the morn's latest star Was dimmed in the light of the dawning afar. He heard the alarum beat loud on the drum, ^ And a low sudden cr)' that the foeman had come. gO> ; & ' ^ g' as A winter-night's phantasmagoria. ^ 1 They armed at the summons, each man at his post ; The watchword of battle flew fast through the host ; The trumpets loud sounded ; the war-horses neighed As the squadrons came rushing with banners displayed ; And, long ere the noon, on that moist battle plain The gi-een sod was red with the blood of the slain ; And the glory, that dazzled all eyes like the sun, Was bought by the many, and given to one ; And Fancy was pained for those multitudes blind, And wept for the folly and sin of mankind : — But Reason exclaimed, "Be of cheer, stricken soul, Though strife be the race, and dominion the goal, Not ever shall nations be victims of war, Not ever shall men be the fools that they are." Next, borne on the winds that were drifting the snow, Went Fancy careering, and dreaming of woe ; And she came to a mansion, scant-window'd, high-wall'd, Where a thin-visaged cold-hearted Law sat install'd — The Palace of Paupery, naked and bare, And she saw a poor vagrant unhoused in the air ; He was sickly and feeble, and famished, and old. And his thin tattered garments flapped loose in the cold. And, timidly knocking, he asked with a sigh For a pallet of straw to lie down on and die : — " We are full," said a voice ; " we have room for no more ! j Thou 'rt not of our parish ; begone from the door ! " And the pauper, scarce able to crawl from the gate, Sj Lay down with a groan and prepared for his fate. ^ :> ^ "^ A winter-night's phantasmagoria. 67 y But close within sight was a lordly abode — Its windows, lit up, cast a gleam, o'er the road ; He heard the loud laughter, the shouts, and the din As the wine-cups were drained and replenished within, The bacchanal chants that the revellers sung, The soft sadder lays of the loving and young. And, high over all, the inspiriting strain That called up the dancers again and again ; And Fancy beheld his vain efforts to rise As he turned to the mansion his pitiful eyes, And heard his last moan as despairing of aid He gathered his tatters around him and prayed — His last feeble sigh as he died by the door. In sight of the aid that he could not implore ; And she wept for the cruelty wrought upon plan. And the heart-petrifaction of overfed man : — But Hope, still undaunted, exclaimed, " Be of cheer : Not ever shaU Wealth make humanity sear ; Not ever shall Famine slay under the sun. Where all might have plenty if justice were done ; Nor Law give the pauper, defrauding its trust, A coffin of planks with more joy than a crust." Again Fancy travelled away on the blast. Till she came to a city imperial and vast. With its domes and its temples and spires rising high. Dim seen through the darkness that shrouded the sky. The starlight looked down on its myriad abodes. And the long line of lamps glittered far on the roads ^ 539^ -r ^^ c 68 A winter-night's phantasmagoria. '^ Like the crown of the city embossed and impearled, As she sat on her throne to give laws to the world : And there, at a corner that swarmed with a crowd Of squalor and raggedness shouting aloud, She entered a tenement flaring with light, And saw a degraded disheartening sight ; The young and the aged, the sick and the well, The child and the mother, with antic and yell And laughter most horrid, and screeching, and din, Destroying their souls and their bodies with gin ; Imbibing the frenzy, in draught after draught, And loving it better the more that they quaflF'd ; And one, a young creature, still fair as a dream. Rushed out through the dark to a bridge o'er a stream — Her eye bright with madness, her cheek pale with woe — And paced by the parapet sadly and slow ; Then stopped to look down on the dark-flowing tide Where others before her heart-broken had died, And wrung her hands wildly, and muttered the name . Of one who had robbed her of virtue and fame ; — And sprung with a shriek to the coping of stone, And plunged in the waters, unheeded, unknown — One splash in the wave, and the struggle was o'er ; And Fancy, lamenting, remained to deplore. Morn rose o'er the city ; the domes and the spires Were bright in the sunshine ; the smoke of the fires Curled upwards, dispersing in wreathlets of grey ; Sound followed on sound ; and the tumult of dav ^ k^- -s>- ■■^m THE EARTH AND THE STARS. Said the Stars to the Earth — " Oh mournful sister, RolHng calmly through the calm infinity, We have rolled for countless ages on our track, Ever onward — pressing onward — never back ; — There is progress both for us and for thee. " There is neither standing still nor retrogression In the laws of Eternal governance ; And Death itself, which prompts thee to repine, Is no evil unto thee nor unto thine, But a step from good to better ; an advance. " Thou wilt make, oh thou foolish little sister. The full cycle of thy glory, in thy time ; We are rolling on in ours for evermore ; — Look not backward — see Eternity before, And free thyself of Soitow and of Crime. " God who made thee, never meant thee, mournful sister, To be filled with sin and grief eternally ; And the children that are born upon thy breast Shall, in fulness of their Destiny, be blest : — There is Progress for the Stars, and for Thee." m- ^ ^ C}:j-5v- THE YOUNG EARTH. "The earth gives signs of age, disease, and fickleness. It yields its increase grudgingly, and demands an exorbitant fee beforehand, in toil and sweat from the husbandman. It has ill turns, or paroxysms, when it rouses the ocean into a tempest, and makes sport of navies, strewing the shore with the wrecks and carcases of men. It rocks a continent or sinks an island ; shaking massive cities into countless fragments, and burying its wretched inhabitants in indiscriminate ruin ; anon it writhes and groans in mortal agony, and finds relief only by disgorging its fiery bowels, burying cities and villages in burning graves. The earth is old and feeble, and must needs groan on imtil it renews its prime." — Miseries and Liabilities of the Present Life. Old Earth ? Young Earth !— though myriad years, Since Time's primeval morn. She may have flourished 'mid the spheres Before a man was born. Still young : though race succeeding race Have trod her breast sublime, And flourished in their pride of place Their full allotted time, — Then passed away, like daily things. Nor left a trace behind To tell how many thousand Springs (4 They lived before mankind. --^i m^- ^ 74 THE YOUNG EARTH. We, who for three-score years and ten Toil deathwards from our birth, Deem sixty centuries of men A ripe old age for Earth. But all our deeds, though back we look With yearning keen and fond. Fill but a page ; the mighty book Lies fathomless beyond. She is not old, nor waxing cold, But vigorous as of yore Amid her kindred globes she rolled, Exulting evermore. Six thousand years of human strife Are little in the sum ; A morning added to her life, And noonday yet to come. Six thousand years ! — what have thei/ brought, poor ephemeral man ? Go, reckon centuries by thought — Thou 'It find them but a span. Go, reckon time by progress made — And lo, what ages pass, Swift as the transitory shade Of clouds upon the grass. ^ )d3^- -^M -^m THE YOUNG EARTH. 75 "S' Six thousand years ! and what are they ? A cycle scarce begun — A fragment of a grander day Unmeasured by the sun ; Too short to purify the sight Of souls in Error blind — Too short to show the healing light Of Love to all mankind. For, lo ! the lesson has been read In every clime and tongue ; The Sea has breathed it from her bed, And Earth and Air have sung — The Sun has beamed it from above To all his worlds around ; The Stars have preached that God was Love :- What answer have we found ? The generations, cold and dark, Have lived and passed away, And never caught the faintest spark Of Love's eternal ray. The myriads, seeking to create An idol to adore. Have made their God a God of Hate, And worshipped him with gore. iT> 1>- -^g 70 THE YOUNG EARTH. And living multitudes have heard That love is Nature's plan, Yet shut their souls against the word That teaches love to man. But there is Progress in the spheres, The glorious Earth is young ; The seed has lain six thousand years, The tender shoots have sprung. She is not old, but young and fair, And marching to her prime : Her teeming bosom yet shall bear The harvest of her time. And generations — thought-endued — Each wiser than the last. Shall crowd, in one short year, the good Of centuries of the past : Shall, living, aid by loving deeds The truths for which we pine, And, dying, sow the fruitful seeds Of progress more divine. The struggle long and sorely fought — Embittered as it spread — For simplest rights — free hand, free thought. And sustenance of bread : y -^Pi -^1 THE YOUNG EARTH. 77 y' The struggle of the righteous weak Against th' unrighteous strong — Of Justice firm, though mild and meek, Against oppressive Wrong — Draws in, and must be ended yet — It ripens to its hour : The mighty combatants have met ; And Truth has challenged Power. Young Earth ! — her sad six thousand years Now passing swift away, Are but her infancy of tears — The dawn before the day. )>• ■