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LIBRARY OF AMERICAN POETRY, 
 
RUFUS DAWES. 
 


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 Published by Samuel Colman. , 
 
GERALDINE, 
 
 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS, 
 
 AND 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 BY RUFUS DAWES. 
 
 NEW-YORK: 
 PUBLISHED BY SAMUEL COLMAN. 
 
 SOLD BY COLLINS, KEESE & CO. PEARL-STREET, AND 
 
 THOMAS, COWPERTHWAIT & CO. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA. 
 
 1839. 
 
Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1839, by 
 
 S. COLMAN, 
 
 in the Clerk s Office of the District Court of the United States, for the 
 Southern District of New- York. 
 
 G. F. HOPKINS, Printer, 2 Ann-street. 
 
AS A MEMORIAL 
 
 OF AFFECTION AND ESTEEM, 
 
 $oems 
 
 ARE INSCRIBED 
 
 TO JOHN CRANCH, ESQ. 
 
 BY HIS FRIEND, 
 
 RUFUS DAWES, 
 
 0007*58 
 
 *>rvjO i t^U 
 
PUBLISHER S ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 THE volume here offered to the public, is proposed as the 
 first of a series of the writings of American Poets. Though 
 Poetry has not heretofore met with so ready a reception as 
 other works of fiction, the publisher has been prompted to 
 undertake it, from a desire of aiding our native literature, 
 and also from the encouragement of many judicious adviserr. 
 
 A LIBRARY OF AMERICAN POETRY may be collected, which 
 would reflect honour on any country, and add to the reputa 
 tion of our own. Several of our Poets are well appreciated, 
 admired, and respected abroad, and many others are worthy of 
 ranking with them, who are comparatively unknown, except 
 in the circle where they shine. The object of this series is 
 to publish as complete a LIBRARY OF AMERICAN POETRY as 
 is practicable; the volumes to appear without reference to 
 their rank in popular estimation. Each volume will be em 
 bellished with a portrait of the author, and a vignette title- 
 page engraved on steel, in the highest style of the art ; 
 the whole to be executed uniformly with the present volume, 
 and in no degree inferior to it in any respect. 
 
16 PUBLISHER S ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 It was originally intended to publish this volume by sub 
 scription. After the manuscript was purchased by the 
 publisher, this course was taken, and with flattering suc 
 cess ; but the plan was abandoned on the ground that 
 American Poetry ought to be published independently, un 
 der a full confidence that it will be properly encouraged. 
 As the price of the volume is considerably augmented since 
 the subscription, subscribers are of course released from 
 any obligation to take it ; but the publisher has the satis 
 faction of feeling, that while he labours to promote the re 
 spectability of American Literature, he has an intelligent 
 community to sustain him, 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Geraldine 19 
 
 Athenia of Damascus 113 
 
 Lancaster 205 
 
 Katy-did . . 223 
 
 Margaret ........ 234 
 
 The Galley Slave 238 
 
 Painting 244 
 
 Sunrise from Mount Washington .... 248 
 
 Buried Love 251 
 
 Anacreontic 254 
 
 Albuquerque 256 
 
 Sonnet , 257 
 
 Spirit of Beauty 260 
 
 Spring 262 
 
 Song .*. . V. 263 
 
 Yarico s Lament ....... 265 
 
 Mary Hall . ; 267 
 
 To Cressid 270 
 
 An Introduction ....... 272 
 
 Sonnet 274 
 
 To Genevieve ....... 275 
 
 Fading Flowers . 377 
 
 Stanzas for Music 279 
 
 To an Infant sleeping in a garden .... 280 
 
 Wilt thou go far away 281 
 
 Anne Boleyn 282 
 
 Stanzas 283 
 
 * 
 
18 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Spirit of Love 285 
 
 TheBaya .* , ... , . . . . 287 
 
 Ode 289 
 
 The Deluge. 292 
 
 Love Unchangeable 296 
 
 Moral Beauty 298 
 
 To Genevieve 300 
 
 Stanzas for Music . .... 302 
 
 Lines written off Point Judith 304 
 
 Gulnare 306 
 
 Song 308 
 
 I ve listened at Eve ...... 310 
 
 Flora ... 311 
 
 An Inscription ....... 313 
 
 Art thou happy, lovely Lady . 314 
 
 To Ellen 315 
 
 Written in the Prospect of Death . . . .317 
 
 Correspondences 319 
 
 Dreams ......... 321 
 
 Ode .,.,; 323 
 
 The Poet 329 
 
 Mozart s Requiem ..>>.. 331 
 
 Ode 334 
 
 Ode 337 
 
 Despair 339 
 
 The Division of the Earth . . . 342 
 
GERALDINE. 
 
 I KNOW a spot where poets fain would dwell, 
 To gather flowers and food for afterthought, 
 
 As bees draw honey from the rose s cell, 
 To hive among the treasures they have wrought ; 
 
 And there a cottage from a sylvan screen, 
 
 Sent up its curling smoke amidst the green. 
 
 Around that hermit-home of quietude, 
 
 The elm trees whispered with the suihmer air, 
 
 And nothing ever ventured to intrude, 
 But happy birds that caroled wildly there, 
 
 Or honey-laden harvesters that flew 
 
 Humming away to drink the morning dew. 
 2 
 
20 GERALDINE. 
 
 Around the door the honey-suckle climbed, 
 
 And Multa-ticrd spread her countless roses, 
 ;: ;;A$d ijever minstrel sar^ nor poet rhymed 
 
 Romantic seen ; where happiness reposes, 
 Sweeter to sense than that enchanting dell, 
 Where home-sick memory fondly loves to dwell. 
 
 Beneath a mountain s brow the cottage stood, 
 Hard by a shelving lake, whose pebbled bed 
 
 Was skirted by the drapery of a wood, 
 That hung its festoon foliage over head, 
 
 Where wild deer came at eve, unharmed, to drink, 
 
 While moonlight threw their shadows from the brink. 
 
 The green earth heaved her giant waves around, 
 Where through the mountain vista, one vast height 
 
 Towered heavenward without peer, his forehead bound 
 With gorgeous clouds, at times of changeful light, 
 
 While far below, the lake in bridal rest, 
 
 Slept with his glorious picture on her breast. 
 
 O thou who seated by the golden wave 
 Of classic Tiber, stol st the prismy hues 
 
 From the rich landscape that Italia gave, 
 CLAUDE-! whose celestial genius could transfuse 
 
 Heaven s beauty into earth s, and both combine 
 
 In those undying paintings only thine ; 
 
GERALDINE. 21 
 
 Could st thou have travelled to our western sky, 
 And neared the setting sun, whose vesture spreads 
 
 Its gold and purple, blent harmoniously ; 
 When Autumn chills the foliage, and sheds 
 
 O er the piled leaves among the evergreen, 
 
 All colours and all teints to grace the scene ; 
 
 Thou would st have shown that there are other climes 
 Besides Ausonia s where the heart may gush 
 
 With overflowing fulness, and at times 
 Feel the deep influence of bland nature s hush, 
 
 When evening steals in blushes to her West, 
 
 And clouds are in their marriage garments drest. 
 
 Not all unnoticed are thy forms of love, 
 
 Peerless AMERICA ! thy mountains rise 
 With cloudy coronals, and tower above 
 
 The vegetable kingdom to the skies, 
 Calling upon thy sons to gaze with thee, 
 Starward in homage of the Deity. 
 
 Thy rivers swell majestic to the sea 
 
 In one eternal diapason, pour 
 Thy cataracts, the hymn of liberty, 
 
 Teaching the clouds to thunder, on thy shore 
 The Tritons dash their chariots and tear 
 The adamantine echoes from their lair, 
 
22 GERALDINE. 
 
 Where are thy bards, AMERICA 1 The lyre 
 Hangs in its listless solitude too long ; 
 
 Why should the song of nightingales expire, 
 Because the rooks are screaming raise their song 
 
 And still the dissonance their silence brings ! l 
 
 Bards of the mountain lyre, awake its strings ! 
 
 And thou compeer of ZAMPIERI, lend 
 A master-genius to Columbia s glory, 
 
 Touch with immortal beauty, and extend 
 Thy name with her s to never-dying story ; 
 
 Rise ALLSTON ! the Assyrian Feast detains 
 
 A hundred million hearts a world complains. 
 
 Within that cottage girdled with green wood, 
 Dwelt one of those heroic men who gave 
 
 Their early strength to freedom, who withstood 
 Opprobrium and looked smiling on a grave, 
 
 So might their sons be free. Who would have held 
 
 Our race had fathers so unparalleled 1 * 
 
 The men who deluged BUNKER-HILL with blood, 
 Have left a progeny that stand for gold, 
 
 As firmly as for Liberty they stood. 
 Go to that sacred altar and behold 
 
 Lean Avarice with Gratitude contending,. 
 
 And Liberty her backward glances sending ! 
 
GERALDINE. 23 
 
 Go, see the fire gleam over CHARLES once more, 
 While heaven looks down in blushes, tis the same 
 
 Demoniac vengeance kindled on his shore, 
 To light up rebel Freedom s funeral flame. 
 
 One Hero more, and emigration s tide 
 
 Will kiss the Atlantic on its eastern side. 
 
 Twas well with him who lorded the rich soil, 
 Where so much beauty and true grandeur reigned : 
 
 WILTON was known to few, since years of toil 
 A fortune and that sweet retirement gained : 
 
 His earthly hope anchored on one sweet child, 
 
 That many a weary hour of care beguiled. 
 
 How like the heart is to an instrument, 
 
 A touch can wake to gladness or to wo ! 
 How like the circumambient element, 
 
 The spirit with its undulating flow ! 
 The heart the soul O, mother Nature, why 
 This universal bond of sympathy ! 
 
 Why should chromatic discord charm the ear, 
 And smiles and tears stream o er with troubled joy, 
 
 Unless our guardian angels hover near, 
 To wake some sense we know not to employ ; 
 
 Intenser faculties of love, concealed, 
 
 And in such moments painfully revealed. I 
 2* 
 
24 GERALDINE. 
 
 First, like the breath of summer o er the strings 
 
 Of the unfingered lyre, the infant heart 
 Pours forth in smiles minutest echoings, 
 
 Responsive to its mother s, ere the art 
 Of waking kindred feelings is applied, 
 While every string has melody untried.. 
 
 Then, childhood s trial comes, how faint its pleasures ! 
 
 The gossamer that sets the diamond dew 
 Full of the daybeams, like enjoyment measures, 
 
 Ere the rude wind has torn its web in two. 
 Who would go back to childhood, for the brief 
 Illusion that but gilds its darker grief? 
 
 To feel an unintelligible being 
 To roam in faery-land and dream awake 
 
 To strain the gaze intensely, without seeing 
 To thirst yet know not how our thirst to slake ; 
 
 Such are its misnamed pleasures ; who, with power, 
 
 Would be a child again one little hour 3 
 
 Then, comes the breathing-time of young romance, 
 The June of life, when Summer s earliest ray 
 
 Warms the red arteries, that bound and dance, 
 With soft, voluptuous impulses at play, 
 
 While the full heart sends forth as from a hive, 
 
 A thousand winged messengers alive. 
 
GERALDINE. 
 
 These, as they murmur o er Love s nectar-cup, 
 With sympathetic feeling light among 
 
 Hyblsean roses, till they garner up 
 Sweet treasures, where the lonely bird has sung 
 
 His unavailing love, and thus they fill 
 
 The cells of memory, against future ill. 
 
 And GERALDINE was one of those few maids, 
 Who live to throw a glory on their sex, 
 
 Not made for routs and balls and masquerades, 
 And heartless fashion s follies that perplex ; 
 
 Her heart was formed for love and seemed to vie 
 
 With virtue s self in active charity. 
 
 Her household duties done, at summer eve, 
 She loved to sit without the cottage door, 
 
 And watch the sunbeams, as they took their leave 
 Of bush and tree, while shadows gathered o er 
 
 The distant mountain s brow, when all was still, 
 
 Listening to hear the plaintive Whip-poor-will 
 
 There is a glory in the dying day, 
 
 That hallows meditation, and subdues 
 
 The willing heart with such effectual sway, 
 While mind with nature holds sweet interviews, 
 
 That passion sleeps, while heavenward hopes ascend, 
 
 To dream of pleasures that shall never end. 
 
 25 
 
26 GERALDINE. 
 
 Thus was her virgin mind by nature led 
 To look beyond the sphere of this fair earth, 
 
 While in her ample page, the vision read 
 High correspondences of heavenly birth, 
 
 And pure philosophy, whose cloudless eye 
 
 Looks thoughtfully on man s humanity. 
 
 Her heart was formed for universal love 
 And self-communion, not a flower that bent 
 
 Its petals to the sun-, but from above 
 
 Suggested to her thought some kind intent ; 
 
 And she would nurse their buds, as if a sense 
 
 Perceived her bosom s kindred innocence* 
 
 How shall I paint her beauty ? I have seen 
 A Magdalene of GUIDO S, where was wrought 
 
 Her still expression, when her brighter mien 
 Was shadowed by the holiness of thought ; 
 
 Yet was its beauty more divinely pure, 
 
 Transcending art s supremest portraiture. 
 
 Twere easier far to paint the hues of heaven, 
 When morn, resplendent with new glory, wakes, 
 
 Or steal the varying teints by sunset given 
 To the gold-crested wave, the while it breaks, 
 
 Than to embody the harmonious grace, 
 
 That, ever changing, flitted o er her face. 
 
GERALDINE. 27 
 
 Her eyes were like the sapphire of deep air, 
 
 The garb that distance robes elysium in, 
 But O, so much of heaven lingered there, 
 
 The wayward heart forgot its blissful sin, 
 And worshipped all religion well forbids, 
 Beneath the silken fringes of their lids. 
 
 She had a look that seemed to reach afar 
 
 Some lovely object distant from our sight, 
 As if communing with some brighter star, 
 
 Or drinking in an angel s smile of light : 
 Some thought her reason touched, SD rapt her air, 
 Whene er her spirit lifted her in prayer. 
 
 She loved to roam in SPENSER S faery bowers, 
 
 And drink delicious music from his page, 
 And while she listened to the dropping showers, 
 
 Mark how his courtly heroes could engage, 
 Well pleased to see triumphant virtue rise, 
 And hold a bosom s purity the prize. 
 
 She loved to lend imagination wing, 
 And link her heart with JULIET S in a dream, 
 
 And feel the music of a sister string 
 That thrilled the current of her vital stream, 
 
 Or on her faery isle, to laugh and cry 
 
 With sweet MIRANDA, and yet know not why. * 
 
28 GERALDINE. 
 
 Scarce sixteen summers o er her loved abode 
 Had heard the green leaves rustle, since her sire 
 
 Wept o er the infant that its being owed 
 To a fond mother s death. Thus hopes conspire 
 
 To cheat the human heart ; our wishes crave 
 
 That which we do not dream must prove a grave. 
 
 But WILTON loved his child, and in her face, 
 Smiled to behold the swelling buds of thought, 
 
 And every lineament distinctly trace, 
 
 Of her he, waking, found not where he sought : 
 
 His ADELAIDE was gone, but O how pure 
 
 His joy while gazing on this miniature ! 
 
 There, in the green, retiring solitude, 
 
 The varying face of nature marked the hours, 
 
 As sunshine drew the shadows round the wood, 
 Or kissed the orient crystal from the flowers, 
 
 Or barred the west with gold, or called away 
 
 The beams that veiled the burning stars all day. 
 
 Why has there been no Eden here below, 
 Without a serpent 1 Unalloyed delight 
 
 Lives but a moment, and the happiest know 
 An earlier canker than the rose s blight : 
 
 But so it is, and they alone are sure, 
 
 Who, midst the worst, can patiently endure. 
 
GERALDINE. 29 
 
 Love is the demon of man s paradise : 
 A few brief hours we thread its garden alleys, 
 
 And the bright pebbles of our path suffice 
 To lure us onward, while the flowery valleys 
 
 And sheltered nooks fill up our idle spaces, 
 
 Till other things come crowding in their places. 
 
 The virgin lily, in her innocent joy, 
 
 Holds up her cup brimful of tremulous dew, 
 
 And wastes her last bright bubble to decoy 
 The fickle light that stays an hour to woo, 
 
 And coldly leaves her, when she bows her head, 
 
 And joins the million broken-hearted dead. 
 
 O what a world of beauty fades away 
 
 With the winged hours of youth, deep-breathing plea- 
 That still renewed with every coming day, [sure, 
 
 And filled affection s store-house with its treasure ; 
 How does it pass away, and passing, prove, 
 How much is lost from ignorance of love ! 
 
 Tis said there is a tide in men s affairs 
 That leads to fame and fortune, there is too, 
 
 A tide in every bosom that upbears 
 
 Upon its wave an arch of mingled hue : 
 
 The light of early hope that cannot fade, 
 
 Till memory s sunset wraps the heart in shade. 
 
30 GERALDINE. 
 
 It springs from early grief that knows no guile, 
 And lifts the eye to heaven, still it bends 
 
 Through weal and wo, till passion s funeral pile 
 Smoulders in flameless ashes, it extends 
 
 To life s cold verge, and fading, leaves the gaze 
 
 On that immortal bourne which bounds our days. 
 
 And so we love the memory of love, 
 
 Weaving around the phantom of a dream, 
 
 Ideal garlands, such as fancy wove 
 
 In early youth, building a world we deem 
 
 Secure from every ill a world our own : 
 
 Who would exchange such empire for a throne 1 
 
 How charming is divine philosophy ! 
 Philosophy I mean of one s own brewing, 
 
 The art of making up the loss of eye, 
 
 And viewing with a transcendental viewing. 
 
 For every block of marble holds a Venus, 
 
 With nothing but unchiseled stone between us. 
 
 O sage of Koningsberg, immortal KANT, 
 
 O FlCHTE, SCHELLING, HEGEL, and COUSIN, 
 
 Compared with you, how very small and gant 
 
 Is BRUCKER with his metaphysic gang ! 
 What wells of ink you ve wasted, but to know 
 One truth revealed to reason long ago.* 
 
GERALDINE. 31 
 
 1 pity him who loves to speculate 
 
 On the sublime relations of the soul, 
 Yet narrows down his views at such a rate, 
 
 He d measure heaven with a ten-foot pole 
 Who dares not dive in those forbidden wells, 
 Where truth, with falsehood mingled, ever dwells, 
 
 In MILTON S Satan there is so much good, 
 
 That were it but abstracted from the evil, 
 A very fair ideal angel would 
 
 Spring from the mixed ingredients of a devil : 
 Tis thus with every intellectual demon 
 The rankest infidel would dare to dream on. 
 
 SPINOZA, MIRABAUD, and DAVID HUME 
 How frightful to the fancy ! how contagious 
 
 The pestilence they bear ! even to presume 
 To mention them, to some may seem outrageous 
 
 The crucible of truth, some day, though late, 
 
 Will every false alloy precipitate. 6 
 
 There s scarce a speculative truth unmixed 
 With some foul error and till men can bear 
 
 To keep their intellectual vision fixed 
 Upon the sundisc spotted everywhere, 
 
 The mind, bewildered, must be tempest-tost, 
 
 in faithless, hopeless, wandering mazes lost. 
 3 
 
32 G E R A L D I N E . 
 
 On evil days though fallen, and evil tongues, 
 To take a line from the great living dead, 
 
 Bards will make poems, though the critic bungs 
 Their eyes up for their pains, myself would wed, 
 
 But for polygamy, the sisters nine, 
 
 Though courting them is certainly divine. 
 
 Scribendi cacoethes, though it shocks 
 A scribbler like myself to say, in fact is, 
 
 An ousted tenant of Pandora s box, 
 
 And claims the care of any doctor s practice, 
 
 Who, if he sedulously go about his 
 
 Affairs, will find it commoner than gout is. 
 
 For gout may sometimes let a sinner rest, 
 And Colchicum will help him for a season, 
 
 Unless it leave a card within his breast* 
 And then there is no help from human reason : 
 
 The itch of writing is, and e er has been* 
 
 To ail who have it, like the gout within. 
 
 The paper-makers grow as rich as CRCESUS, 
 And quills are getting dear as ostrich plumes ; 
 
 Fine times for all who have a chance to fleece us, 
 While we are walking monuments for tombs. 
 
 O AMOS COTTLE, for a moment think, 
 
 What meager profits spring from pen and ink. 6 
 
GERALDINE. 
 
 The bard who wrote these verses in a fury, 
 Did little dream, the while, what he was doing ; 
 
 He was not yet connected with old Drury, 
 
 And still was smarting under Scotch reviewing ; 
 
 He little dreampt each letter worth a guinea, 
 
 The while he dubbed a brother rhymer, ninny. 
 
 He poured his heart s full affluence in song, 
 And good with bad went reconciled together, 
 
 Right, eloquently vindicating wrong, 
 Like rainbows bending over stormy weather : 
 
 His faults were those of men, but who shall find 
 
 The heir to his sublimity of mind 1 
 
 BYRON ! high-priest of nature, self-abased, 
 In the great caste thou could st not wholly lose, 
 
 Thou problem of humanity, I ve traced 
 The tangled thread, with all its misty hues, 
 
 That bound thy complex being, and reversed 
 
 Through a mirage of mind, what goodness nursed. 
 
 Endowed with faculties, whose reach of thought 
 Could grasp all knowledge, with a mind, whose eye 
 
 Looked into nature, with a bosom fraught 
 With animal passion and kind sympathy, 
 
 How could st thou help spreading thy mighty wings, 
 
 And soaring upward among brighter things ; 
 
& GE RALDINE. 
 
 And bearing with thee in thy heavenward flight, 
 That love, imagination wrought below, 
 
 That it might bear a touch of purer light, 
 And coincide with what the angels know, 
 
 Within that luminous ocean, where all rays 
 
 Converge to one intoxicating blaze 1 
 
 O God ! that one should fall from such a height, 
 On the Daedalian wings of human thought, 
 
 Which, ever, as they rise above our sight, 
 
 Melt, while the mind with dizziness distraught, 
 
 Sinks to that hell, whence murky vapours rise, 
 
 In blasphemy, to curse the innocent skies. 
 
 Reason converses with humanity, 
 
 With nought beyond ; 7 that reason is a scale 
 By which to measure higher things, tis vanity, 
 
 One moment to pretend : therefore prevail 
 Iron-hearted doubt and Atheism s brood, 
 And truth profaned by falsehood s hardihood. 
 
 Such is the rock that wrecks so many, tost 
 On the wide sea of speculative daring ; 
 
 Here BYRON foundered, SHELLEY, too, was lost, 
 A doom so many thousands now are sharing, 
 
 Who had they known the limit of all thought, 
 
 Had never perished in the gulf they sought 
 
GERALDINE. 35 
 
 Without the Palinurus of self-science, 
 
 BYRON embarked upon the stormy sea, 
 To adverse breezes hurling his defiance, 
 
 And dashing up the rainbows on his lee, 
 And chasing those he made in wildest mirth, 
 Or sending back their images to earth. 
 
 He saw APOLLO from, the stormy deep, 
 Lift up his water-spouts to scare the flood ; 
 
 He saw him rouse the Python from his sleep, 
 And deluge superstition in her blood : 
 
 Blinded with light, his emulous arrow sheers, 
 
 And meek Religion bows herself in tears ! 
 
 Alas, the emptiness of human good ! 
 
 Men drew a picture false in light and shade, 
 And held it up as his similitude 
 
 And BYRON chose to be the thing they made. 
 Thus reputation often may confer 
 On men an artificial character. 8 
 
 VOLTAIRE, while yet a boy, was told that he 
 
 Was marked for something strange, that he would bear 
 The rallying flag of infidelity ; 
 
 From that time forth, it was his secret care 
 To flatter that bad hope ; he did, and died. 
 Here are a thousand histories beside. 
 3* 
 
36 GERALDINE. 
 
 Poets, like fish, so sang a modern poet, 
 Do seldom shine until they are decayed ; 
 
 His language is more racy, could I show it, 
 But people are so squeamish, I m afraid. 
 
 There never was a truer dictum said, 
 
 For bards are rarely thought of till they re dead. 
 
 The popularity of those who write, 
 
 Is more uncertain than an April day, 
 Much like a lantern hanging from a kite, 
 
 Which boys make out of pumpkins in their play : 
 It seems a meteor, but the clouds may wash 
 The fragile kite, when pumpkin comes down squash, 
 
 But then what signifies a little puffing, 
 
 Who cares for being blown up like a bladder 1 
 
 The goose that has the largest share of stuffing, 
 Has very little reason to be gladder : 
 
 Men, now-a-days reverse what HOMER brags, 
 
 And raise the wind, before they fill their bags. 
 
 There s a vile taste abroad, and what is worse, 
 It seems to grow more morbid every year : 
 
 One might as well darn stockings and turn nurse, 
 Make pap for babes, and * chronicle small beer, 
 
 As cater for the bloated thing that droops, 
 
 Like a sick Alderman on wholesome soups. 
 
GERALDINE. 37 
 
 Tis a sad truth in letters, while the love 
 
 Of money makes us more than patriotic ; 
 There s no necessity for one to prove 
 
 An aphorism native or exotic, 
 For public spirit, alias speculation, 
 Does wonders for a dollar-saving nation. 9 
 
 I ve known a person speculate in churches, 
 Who went to meeting twice a day at least, 
 
 Yet seldom left the table without lurches, 
 And very often went to bed a beast ; 
 
 He d give a fip to clothe a beggar s shins, 
 
 And cover thus a multitude of sins. 
 
 And this was Charity ! the laying by 
 
 Of treasure in high heaven, O human pride ! 
 
 O vanity supreme ! as if the eye 
 Of the Eternal Spirit could abide 
 
 Hypocrisy so monstrous, and be mocked 
 
 With outward show of good, where vice is locked. 
 
 All men must live, indeed tis very rare, 
 
 To find a person starving in our days ; 
 Some men feed well on sumptuous daily fare, 
 
 On canvass-backs and sundry other ways, 
 And many, who to ruin are turned over, 
 But go to grass, to roll themselves in clover. 
 
f GERALDINE. 
 
 Some know the world a goose and club together, 
 In hope to find a standing for their legs, 
 
 One salts its tail to rob it of a feather, 
 Another kills it for the golden eggs : 
 
 Friendship in trade abandoned store and cottage, 
 
 About the time that ESAU sold his pottage. 
 
 The silver age of poesy is past, 
 
 When lady-love so loudly woke the lyre, 
 
 And bards on such a frigid one are cast, 
 I hardly dare to one lone smile aspire, 
 
 That hangs upon the curling lip of rose, 
 
 Like a clear dew-drop quivering ere it flows. 
 
 But if there be no thrilling glance of love, 
 No siren whisper* no delicious smile, 
 
 No murmuring voice to hush the turtle-dove, 
 Nor eye to light up Calebs funeral-pile, 
 
 If my sad heart of hearts with true-love grapples, 
 
 I ll hie away and -comfort me with apples. 
 
 They say that gold can never charm Love s eyes, 
 Poor fellow, doomed to darkness, like the miners ! 
 
 But then a truer sense the lost supplies, 
 
 In touch, that never can mistake the shiners : 
 
 He wears a little lens set round with gold, 
 
 Enough to warm a heart however cold. 
 
G E R A L DINE. 
 
 ,, 
 
 Love long since left the myrtle-shade for towns, 
 He did not like to hear the green leaves rustle ; 
 
 His taste for nature changed for silken gowns, 
 And so he left the groves for ball-room bustle ; 
 
 And now no perfume from the roses thrown, 
 
 Can charm him like Maccassar or Cologne. 
 
 Then, while I sing of Cydnian-flowing brooks, 
 Or woodbine where the humming-bird may revel, 
 
 I ll have an eye on other things with hooks, 
 Wherefrom poor mortals dangle to the devil, 
 
 And artificial curls and forms that raise 
 
 The market-price of cotton now-a-days. 
 
 I am no woman-hater, for I prize 
 
 The gentle sex, though some have tongues of cankei 
 Though more of art than simple nature lies 
 
 Harboured within their little hearts at anchor ; 
 Society s a garden, where the rose 
 Is thorny, from the soil in which it grows. 
 
 Near where old WILTON S cottage blest the scene, 
 Uprose a lordly seat where fashion dwelt, 
 
 When summer flushed the forest-trees in green, 
 Or young VERTUMNUS saw POMONA melt ; 10 
 
 A princely family were they, and proud, 
 
 Who rode in carriages and spurned the crowd. 
 
40 GERALDINE. 
 
 Acus had been a dashing Bond-street tailor, 
 Some few short years before, who took his measures 
 
 So carefully, he always cut the jailor, 
 
 And filled his coffers with exhaustless treasures ; 
 
 Then with his wife, a son, and three fair daughters, 
 
 He sunk the goose and straightway crossed the waters. 
 
 O land of liberty, the last and best, 
 
 Where all men think, who can think, as they please, 
 Thou who hast feathered many a hero s nest, 
 
 Thou who hast suffered many a bard to freeze, 
 What witching skill hast thou, what strange agility, 
 In tricking out a kitchen-bred nobility ! 
 
 So Acus found it, when his guineas flashed, 
 Where folly could be dazzled, and his girls 
 
 In laces flourished, and in jewels dashed 
 With alabaster necks set round with pearls : 
 
 Each wore an eye-glass and a conch medallion, 
 
 And spake a little French and sang Italian, 
 
 Then beaux began to simper at their sides, 
 And melt each other s ices with their sighs, 
 
 And calculate the chances for their brides, 
 And fix their collars and adjust their ties : 
 
 While the fair girls outshone the very day, 
 
 And thought themselves at every thing aufait. 
 
GERALDINE. 
 
 But ALICE was the belle ; that is, she had 
 More manner, tact and beauty than the others ; 
 
 She tried to suit all comers like her dad, 
 And so succeeded with all sister s brothers ; 
 
 That not a beau for twenty miles around, 
 
 But he was in her silken jesses bound* 
 
 Her clear blue eyes beneath a forehead fair* 
 Arched like an Iris, looked beneath their lashea 
 
 Like morning-glories, and her curling hair 
 Threw off such light as from the laurel flashes, 
 
 When the half hidden sunbeam mellows down 
 
 The laughing face of summer to a frown. 
 
 She had an innocently downcast look^ 
 And when she lifted up her eyes of blue* 
 
 It seemed as if her features were a book, 
 
 Where sweet affection lettered love for you ; 
 
 And there you saw the timid thought revealed, 
 
 Like modest PALLAS from behind her shield. 
 
 Fair prototype of ALICE, by the way, 
 These characters are wholly drawn from life, - 
 
 Unmoulded beauty, chiseled into day, " 
 And just cut out to be a PELHAM S wife ; 
 
 How memory loves in soft, voluptuous dreams, 
 
 To watch your eyes and sun her in their beams. 
 
 41 
 
42 GERALDINE. 
 
 Tis sweet to fall in love when we are boys, 
 Tis sweet to make a faery s pinions flutter ; 
 
 O halcyon days when valentines and toys 
 Set off the fragrancy of bread and butter ; 
 
 I ve walked a hundred miles in boyhood s prime, 
 
 To see a pair of belled and wake their chime. 
 
 Fair prototype of ALICE should these lines 
 Induce your eyes to bend their gaze upon them, 
 
 If peradventure your lone heart inclines 
 
 To recognise your features as you con them, 
 
 Turn back your year-book but a dozen pages, 
 
 And, after dinner, sigh o er both our ages. 
 
 True, we ve not gained the sear and yellow leaf, 
 Nor have the flakes of winter hinted crutches, 
 
 But yet, I ween, the burglars care and grief 
 Have both of us at times within their clutches. 
 
 HAMLET was not alone, perhaps you know, 
 
 When he had that within which passeth show. 
 
 But ALICE was a woman, and at length 
 Resigned her true affections all for nought ; 
 
 She loved with all her sex s soul and strength, 
 But her ADONIS was not to be caught : 
 
 And so she loved the more, yet hated, loving, 
 
 For love s all-complex pulleys failed of moving. 
 
GERALDINE. 43 
 
 Within the halls of fashion, she had seen 
 A youth among the rest, who stood alone, 
 
 Of gentle manners and of noble mien, 
 And him she would have cherished as her own ; 
 
 But WALDRON was a lion, who had come, 
 
 Not to anticipate millennium. 
 
 Who would not be a lion 1 one to whom 
 
 The restless ladies every fidget owe, 
 The cynosure of every drawing-room, 
 
 Whose motto is monstrari digito ; 
 Who awes the great menagerie of fops, 
 In admiration at his whisker crops. 
 
 For whiskers are enough to make a lion, 
 
 So they are large enough to stuff a bed, 
 Mattresses being very good to die on, 
 
 And see MONTAIGNE what he opinioned ; 
 ALPHESIBCEUS might renounce his jumps, 
 To see saltantes satyros in pumps. u 
 
 Now there are many different kinds of lions, 
 As there are wares, from porcelain to Brummagem, 
 
 Some manufactured by the curling irons, 
 And others, the museums, should you rummage ern, 
 
 Could only match, TECUMSEH for example, 
 
 Done up at Alexandria, is a sample. 
 4 
 
44 GERALDINE. 
 
 But then the surest way to lionize, 
 
 Is, after all, to travel, that s enough ; 
 
 Throw off your modesty and damn your eyes, 
 Ambition should be made of sterner stuff: 
 
 Take every fort by storm ; there s nothing vexes, 
 
 Like mauvaise honte the softer of the sexes. 
 
 The hero left unhanged to grace this history, 
 Obtained his lionship by foreign travel, 
 
 Seductive manners and a certain mystery 
 Of character, so pleasant to unravel ; 
 
 Twas whispered he had shot his man, but certain, 
 
 All his misdeeds were done behind the curtain. 
 
 In height he was lord BOLINGBROKE S ideal, 
 
 Five feet eleven ; his hair both dark and curly, 
 
 Fell idly o er a brow almost unreal, 
 So intellectual was it and so girly : 
 
 And then his Phidian features, finely chiseled, 
 
 The coldest heart incontinently wizzled. 
 
 I m sorry that the unity of time 
 
 Cannot o erleap a hundred equinoxes, 
 
 Else would I show how hard it is to climb, 
 Unless you are a lion among foxes ; 
 
 A season at the Capitol, at least, 
 
 Is wanting now to graduate the beast 
 
GERALDINE. 45 
 
 At this great University, the candidate 
 
 Must enter as a bachelor of hearts, 
 Ranking according to his dandy-date, 
 
 And estimated justly by his parts ; 
 Without which requisites, no human college 
 Will grant one chaplet from the tree of knowledge. 
 
 Lions, like certain nouns of some philologists, 
 
 Are of the neuter gender, sans declension, 
 While all such accidents as need apologists, 
 
 With them have no accusative to mention ; 
 All cases therefore yield to them by syntax, 
 While some they never can decline, like pin-tax. 
 
 But I am getting into HORNE S enclosure, 
 
 The labyrinth of syllables and sentences, 
 So I resume the thread of my disclosure, 
 
 Like ARIADNE S to regain the entrances : 
 In time 1 shall attempt a grand descensus 
 Averni, and the theme will recompense us. 
 
 Our hero was a youth of noble blood, 
 
 "Pis true he had no heraldry to cite, 
 But his hair curled, and this was understood 
 
 As prima facie evidence of right, 
 If not of title, and his tiny hand 
 Betrayed the fabric, though twas contraband. 
 
46 GERALDINE. 
 
 
 
 Where he was born, was not exactly known. 
 
 It was enough that he had condescended , 
 To leave awhile the glitter of a throne, 
 
 And visit rebel yankees that pretended 
 To talk of liberty, and treat the fishes 
 To tea, served up in chests instead of dishes. " 
 
 Now WALDRON brought with him across the seas, 
 
 A dinner-ticket, alias, a carte blanche, 
 Caught at by democratic humbugees 
 
 For entertaining strangers with a haunch. 
 And being laughed at even to their faces, 
 And regularly done in forms and chases. 
 
 Safe at the pier, our hero sent his plunder 
 Up to the old Exchange and took his quarters 
 
 Seven stories high, which made him somewhat wonder, 
 Because, he said, on t other side the waters, 
 
 They kept their highest houses for religions, 
 
 And the accommodation of the pigeons. 
 
 One dinner given, the cards began to fall 
 
 Like snow-flakes, and the tea began to slaughter, 
 
 At those portentous battles without ball, 
 
 When characters are hit tween wind and water j 
 
 Then jam succeeded jam, with dances gratis, 
 
 Till WALDRON groaned in bitterness jam satis. 
 
GERALDINE. 47 
 
 Twas here he met with GERALDINE and ALICE, 
 Two blooming beauties who had just come out, 
 
 To taste society s thrice-poisoned chalice, 
 Their first appearance at a city rout, 
 
 Brimful of hope and innocence and buoyance, 
 
 Both belles and revelling in youthful joyance. 
 
 There s nothing like manosuvring in good season, 
 Ye parents who have daughters to dispose of, 
 
 Especially, if you have any reason 
 
 To think, in maidenhood their lives will doze off) 
 
 And there is one in fifty thousand chances, 
 
 That CASH S eldest son will make advances. 
 
 Suppose you have some half-a-dozen daughters, 
 From four feet high to five with some odd inches, 
 
 But cast your bread, you know, upon the waters, 
 And save the shoe from telling where it pinches. 
 
 Throw open wide your doors, burn spermaceti, 
 
 And never more despair of Bell or Betty. 
 
 And so the city Fair of matrimony 
 
 Blazes forever, and the bids run high, 
 What s offered, ladies, for this matter o money ? 
 
 A hundred thousand in the stocks ! who ll buy? 
 
 Going! who bids ? going ! he s good as ROTHS 
 CHILD 
 
 < Gone ! and Miss WILHELMINA rocks the Goth s child. 
 4* 
 
48 GERALDINE. 
 
 O honey-moon of Love and crimson hangings \ 
 O BrusseFs carpeting and the et cetera ! 
 
 O bankruptcy soon after ! and O hangings 
 
 Of headache and remorse, and things that fetter a 
 
 Poor devil that was married for his Bentons, 
 
 And having lost them, shares his rib s repentance. 
 
 Within that sea of silver, there was seen 
 A pearl, more lovely than the precious one, 
 
 Once sacrificed by Egypt s foolish queen 
 To vanity, a deed since often done : 
 
 But now-a-days, instead of wasting pearls, 
 
 They have a way of melting down the girls. 
 
 The draught is always vinegar in gold ; 
 
 What though the pearl that gave it worth, be lost 
 
 What though the priceless jewel has been sold 
 For nothingness 1 the sacrifice that cost 
 
 So much, is registered among the things, 
 
 That gratify ambition s hankerings. 
 
 Why do we stamp upon the tender mind 
 
 Our false conceptions why cramp nature up 
 
 In the unnatural folds around her twined, 
 And sanctify the bitter poison-cup 
 
 That saps the health of youth, while Mammon reigns, 
 
 And round his horrid empire throws his chains ? 
 
GERALDINE. 
 
 The causes are in human passion seated 
 While ignorance and prejudice combine 
 
 To work upon the brain by self-love heated, 
 To cling as if for life at falsehood s shrine. 
 
 Strange ! that so many cycles should pass by 
 
 Without a gleam of true philosophy. 
 
 Could the cathedral of old Time, that buries 
 All natural changes in its boundless tomb, 
 
 Open to us its inmost cemeteries, 
 And from its moral charnal-house exhume 
 
 Truth with her thousand-folded robe of error, 
 
 Close shut in her sarcophagi of terror : 
 
 So might we tear the Stygian folds away, 
 And show the buried life in its true features, 
 
 Ere man s designing hand had made a prey 
 Of loveliness to mock his fellow-creatures, 
 
 How would we burn with shame to scan the pages 
 
 That hold the records of but threescore ages? 
 
 Then might we see the human mind upspringing 
 In its primeval beauty, unencumbered 
 
 By the unnatural chains around it clinging, 
 Bolted and riveted by hands unnumbered, 
 
 Now free, and conscious of its true relation 
 
 In this fair world, its blessed habitation ; 
 
 49 
 
50 GERALDIXE. 
 
 So full of happiness if man would feel 
 The truth that his Eternity is now, 
 
 That Time is but a name for the great wheel 
 Of natural changes, that to this we bow, 
 
 When we lie down in death, another name 
 
 For being, and though modified, the same. 
 
 Death only moulds the body in new forms, 
 Mind always is, in one eternity ; 
 
 And when we learn to live above the storms 
 Engendered by false notions, and apply 
 
 Our hearts to wisdom, we shall find our heaven, 
 
 On this long injured earth, already given. 
 
 < Tis from high life high characters are drawn, 
 Prerogative must form the real rascal ; 
 
 Plebeian knaves deserve our utmost scorn, 
 Whereas such fellows as are lashed by Pascal, 
 
 May rob the very altar of a horn, 
 
 Sprinkling with rosy light the dewy lawn. 
 
 One twice a saint in lawn, de vinijure, 
 Is thrice a saint in liquor ; free from trouble, 
 
 He loves his enemy, and bears its fury, 
 
 And though his eye be single, must see double. 
 
 Pope Alexander always had his followers, 
 
 As Alexander Pope has had his swallowers. 
 
GERALDINE. 51 
 
 Why is it that the world is full of wo, 
 
 That misery in all her Protean shapes 
 Breeds evil passions, want and vice below, 
 
 That in ten thousand, hardly one escapes ; 
 What nourishes this mighty poison-tree ? 
 The Atheist answers, Tis necessity : 
 
 Whatever is, must be, 13 self-love supreme, 
 
 Is always moved by motive power to act, 
 And when self-love is vanquished, we must deem 
 
 The power-motive sufficient for the fact ; 
 Man has no choice in acting, he must do 
 Whate er the motive-power prompts him to : 
 
 And yet it is our duty to direct 
 
 The budding passions to a worthy end, 
 That moral conduct may be so correct 
 
 That public good with happiness shall blend. 
 All the necessity that here can be, 
 Is the necessity of Liberty. 
 
 Thus even the fatalist admits the will 
 
 Free to direct our actions to some aim ; 
 And thus we find good mingling with dire ill, 
 
 While truth and error feed a common flame. 
 
 But truth recedes when error spreads her sail, 
 
 Alas ! how long must ignorance prevail ? 
 
52 GERALDINE. 
 
 Among the million victims of self-love, 
 
 WALDRON himself was found, midst classic lore, 
 His mind had freely wandered, while it strove 
 
 To anchor on some truth unknown before ; 
 But self-derived intelligence destroyed 
 The only power he might have well employed. 
 
 Reason, he deemed, could measure every thing, 
 And reason told him that there was a law 
 
 Of mental action, which must ever fling 
 A death-bolt at all faith, and this he saw 
 
 Was Transference : 14 He searched it and it left 
 
 The reason-dreamer of all truth bereft. 
 
 He loved, where sings the heart-sick nightingale 
 In Albion s moonlit groves, the worshipper 
 
 Of nature breathed his melancholy tale 
 Of disappointed passion, but the stir 
 
 And boiling eddies of uncalmed desire 
 
 Buoyed up his swelling heart, nor quenched its fire. 
 
 And now he recked not, but of pleasure s stream ; 
 
 Thought was to him a tumult, which so jarred 
 On his racked brain, that like a fever-dream, 
 
 Twas steeped in madness, and his memory marred 
 What lingering gleams of gladness sometimes fell 
 From his thick-clouded sky, on Hope s farewell. 
 
GERALDINE. 53 
 
 He sought new scenes, he drained the goblet dry, 
 And whipped his rebel fancy to strange forms 
 
 That mocked him with angelic falsity, 
 But, ah ! the fire that with delirium warms, 
 
 Curdles the blood at last with shivering pangs, 
 
 Like Winter breathing through his icy fangs. 
 
 Shame to the selfish throng who gather gold, 
 
 To build up palaces and mirror walls, 
 Where pride its towering image may behold, 
 
 While candelabri silver the wide halls ; 
 And this that rival folly may admire, 
 And hate the more, as it can less aspire. 
 
 Shame to such crampt idolatry, more crampt 
 From the strong contrast with the nobler few, 
 
 The generous, whom public good has stampt 
 Their country s benefactors, they that hew 
 
 Whole mountains through to sap their shining veins, 
 
 And by Golconda s starlight tell their gains : 
 
 Who nourish the faint Arts and feed the poor, 
 And give their palaces, where pleasures ran, 
 
 For hospitals, whose beauty may allure 
 Hygeian gales to bless the dying man ; 
 
 Who yield the blind a sense that will upraise 
 
 A monument of gratitude and praise. 
 
54 GERALDINE. 
 
 Maelstrom of fashion ! whirl of heartless fools ! 
 
 Hell-tainted atmosphere of dizzy madness ! 
 Where envy laps the filth of scandal s pools, 
 
 And Mirth herself laughs hollow out of sadness ! 
 Where Virtue s form is aped by prudish Vice, 
 And Moloch self claims every sacrifice ! 
 
 Within thy busy vortex WALDRON moved 
 And drugged his sense of wo, an evil hour 
 
 To GERALDINE, an hour alas ! that proved 
 To ALICE, fraught with desolating power. 
 
 The one grew gentler than the morn of Spring, 
 
 The other savage with sharp suffering. 
 
 For ALICE found where WALDRON S hopes were placed, 
 And saw that GERALDINE returned his love ; 
 
 She knew it were in vain for her to waste 
 The sighs she wafted tearlessly above ; 
 
 But jealousy and envy bore her up, 
 
 To mingle poison in her rival s cup. 
 
 In vain she summoned falsehood to her aid ; 
 
 In vain she flattered, and in vain she fainted ; 
 For WALDRON, having flirted with the maid, 
 
 Grew tired, and wished sincerely she were sainted : 
 Till love at last rose to a sort of madness, 
 And she would seem in sorrow, as in gladness. 
 
G-ERALDINE. 55 
 
 Then slighted love turned to a settled hate, 
 
 And malice whispered vengeance in her breast, 
 
 And thus her tainted heart threw wide the gate, 
 Where wildest passions coiled their serpent nest, 
 
 So lived the wretched girl but none knew why 
 
 Her cheek grew pale and sunken was her eye. 
 
 The winter passed away, and May, returning 
 
 With genial weather and ungenial taxes, 
 Drove the great few, the wealthy and discerning, 
 
 Who hail the moon of money while it waxes, 
 And turn their backs, when any signs of waning 
 Are indicated by assessors training. 
 
 And thus the merchant, who consumes the wealth 
 Of half NANTUCKET, pouring o er his ledger, 
 
 When Spring returns, invigorates his health, 
 Not as a horticulturist or hedger, 
 
 But by transferring all his personal 
 
 Estate wife, nieces, babies, nurse and all. 
 
 Once more to her abode of happiness, 
 Tired GERALDINE returned, not all uncaught 
 
 By the great snare of worldly restlessness, " 
 And dissipation she had lately sought ; 
 
 For she had learned to glow beneath the sun 
 
 That centres every feeling into one. 
 5 
 
56 
 
 GERALDINE. 
 
 O would that love were ever still the same, 
 Unchanged, unbiased, constant, and sincere, 
 
 Would that the heart that owns a heavenly flame, 
 Might never dim its brightness with a tear ! 
 
 But human hearts, alas ! too often show 
 
 That bliss may sometimes banquet upon wo. 
 
 There came a cloud o er WALDRON S sunny smile, 
 And grief revealed her impress on his brow ; 
 
 Care had built up contentment s funeral-pile, 
 And ashy paleness spread his features now ; 
 
 And when he gazed on GERALDINE, his eyes 
 
 Saddened, and left her tearful and in sighs. 
 
 She loved him, and she gloried in her love, 
 
 For nature s imprint of a noble mind 
 Proclaimed his intellectual rank above 
 
 The common herd, the loftiest of his kind: 
 And then his heart seemed pure and formed to share 
 Affections warm and true as angels are. 
 
 Now GERALDINE would watch the sun go down, 
 
 Day after day, in pining solitude ; 
 And yet he came not from the crowded town, 
 
 As he was wont to do in careless mood : 
 Yet still she never deemed his thoughts unkind, 
 Poor guileless girl, to all but virtue blind ! 
 
GERALDINE. 57 
 
 He told her many a tale, and turned away 
 
 Distressfully, and forced his lips to smile ; 
 But GERALDINE observed that anguish lay 
 
 Couched in his joyless eyes, that spake the while, 
 Unutterable language, half defined, 
 The speechless, hopeless, agony of mind. 
 
 And then such wildness gleamed beneath his frown, 
 That furrowed print of self-consuming care, 
 
 She dropped her silken lashes meekly down, 
 And veiled her features with her cloud-like hair, 
 
 Entreating him to make his sorrow known, 
 
 That she might share it with him as her own. 
 
 Why will you nurse that adder in your breast, 
 <O WALDRON ! why disturb your peace with care! 
 
 Within this heart is room for you to rest, 
 Alas ! there is no place for others there ; 
 
 1 For Heaven is robbed of love, that you, alone, 
 
 May rest sole sovereign on my bosom s throne ! 
 
 Yet WALDRON spake not but, with hurried power, 
 Rang out wild music from the troubled flute, 
 
 As if to drown the tempest of the hour, 
 
 And speak some language, though his tongue were mute. 
 
 We hear such music rushing from the strings, 
 
 When rude blasts wake the wind-harp s sorrowings. 
 
58 GERALDINE. 
 
 Thus was her agonizing heart oppressed, 
 
 Till the dark storm passed over, then he gazed 
 
 Upon her wistfully, and mildly blessed 
 Her loving constancy, and gently raised 
 
 Her dimpling hand of snow, where one warm kiss 
 
 Thrilled to her heart with love s delicious bliss. 
 
 Strange ! how much darkness melts before a ray, 
 How deep a gloom one beam of hope enlightens, 
 
 When from devoted love is rent away 
 The veil of doubt, and her Aurora brightens 
 
 Like the fair Iris of a sunless sky, 
 
 When stars shine through and clouds pass idly by ! 
 
 Love can atone for every thing, with sighs, 
 The only coin that passes without weight, 
 
 Their mint within the bankrupt bosom lies, 
 Their impress, passion all disconsolate. 
 
 But bills on Love thus bought, are surely no test, 
 
 For all his suits anticipate the protest. 
 
 All are not what they seem, the humblest weeds, 
 Like funeral-garments, hide the wreck of sin, 
 
 And many a heart in silent sorrow bleeds, 
 Beneath the robe that falsehood dresses in ; 
 
 There is a guise, so like to Love s own dress, 
 
 The god himself would hardly deem it less. 
 
GERALDINE. 
 
 Tis thus our hopes are shipwrecked if the breast 
 Be not steel-clad against the worst of ills, 
 
 Tis thus so many wander without rest, 
 While acid wo corrodes and tamely kills ; 
 
 And many seek out graves, by poisoning slowly, 
 
 The bitter fountains of their melancholy. 
 
 The morn is up again the dewy mom ! 
 Fresh from the bed of night in matron bloom, 
 
 Weeping to see so many take a horn, 
 And walk out rosy from the soda-room ; 
 
 For many, ere the morning s eye uncloses, 
 
 Forestall Aurora s blushes on their noses. 
 
 * Tis sweet to hear the watch-dog s honest bark, 
 But not so pleasant when you re worn with labour, 
 
 To hear a bull-dog howling in the dark, 
 
 Chained to the gate-post of your honest neighbour, 
 
 With forty friendly curs that follows up his 
 
 Notes, in a panharmonicon of puppies. 
 
 Nor is it pleasant, lying in your bed, 
 
 To hear a duet from a brace of cats, 
 Or trumpet solos round your drowsy head, 
 
 From lean musquitos with their sharps and flats ; 
 Nor is it more delightful to rehearse 
 All night, like WILLIAM PITT, your daily curse. 1<s 
 5* 
 
 59 
 
60 GERALDINE. 
 
 To those who are accustomed to such blisses, 
 The morn is ever welcome with her smile, 
 
 Lighting a beauty in the ugliest phizes, 
 And giving pleasure to the heart awhile ; 
 
 Making a man breathe freely and feel grateful, 
 
 For such an interregnum of the hateful. 
 
 There is a virtue in the breath of flowers 
 Borne on the light-winged dew-drops to the sun, 
 
 That melts from out these stubborn hearts of ours, 
 The purest incense to the Holy One. 
 
 A virtue, more medicinal for sadness, 
 
 Than morning drams to turn the heart to gladness. 
 
 There is a time for all things, says the preacher, 
 A time for dancing and a time for drinking ; 
 
 The last is qualified by Dr. BEECHER, 
 
 And I am more than half his way of thinking : 
 
 A man may love his ven son and be cramming it, 
 
 But if he loves his wine, must give up dramming it. 
 
 I made an estimation, some time since, 
 Of all the spirits drunk in Gotham city, 
 
 And found the gills that annually rinse 
 
 Its thirsty sons, enormous ; more s the pity : 
 
 The total sum of drinks would float as we know, 
 
 The British fleet that fought at Navarino. 
 
GERALDINE. 61 
 
 All men have hobbies women have them too ; 
 
 For my part, I ve a dozen at the least, 
 And neighbour PRY can tell them all to you, 
 
 Who love an anti-intellectual feast : 
 Among the rest that number me with sinners, 
 I m very fond of suppers and of dinners. 
 
 1 love to sit, as I have often sat, 
 
 With men of genius gathered around the board, 
 To interchange at club, a social chat, 
 
 When wine and eloquence are freely poured : 
 Let sage and cynic prattle as they will, 
 These hours alone, redeem life s years of ill. 
 
 I like to see the Mountain-dew served up, 
 
 No matter how, for mixing in the bowls, 
 But grant a wooden ladle for my cup, 
 
 To dip the liquid di mond as it rolls ; 
 It minds me so of BURNS, in all his pride, 
 Behind the plough upon the mountain side. 
 
 Poor BURNS ! thy soul was hardly meant for earth, 
 Thy heart had here too small a dwelling-place ; 
 
 Nature that smiled upon thy humble birth, 
 Wept, when she saw the anguish of thy face, 
 
 That so much genius should be thrown away 
 
 On cold and senseless denizens of clay. 
 
S GERALDINE. 
 
 They slandered thee, fine spirit ! and the breath 
 Of heartless slaves that could not feel thy fire, 
 
 Swept over thee and tortured thee to death, 
 Thou martyr to the passion-kindling lyre ! 
 
 But thou shalt live through time s revolving years, 
 
 The poet of our hearts, our smiles and tears. 
 
 "We live who heeds ] We die what then 1 All die ; 
 
 And they who live the longest, have to bear 
 The weary burthen of humanity, 
 
 With little bliss and ever-dark ning care, 
 Stuffing their sacks, as EPICTETUS says, 
 Fearing to die, yet groaning out their days. 
 
 We left the lovers in that calm condition, 
 In which Dan Neptune left the troubled billows, 
 
 What time he bellowed at the coalition 
 
 Of East and West on their ambitious pillows, 
 
 While o er the blue, macadamized rotundo, 
 
 Flectit equos, curruque volans, dat lora secundo. 
 
 I ll thank you, patient reader, to excuse 
 
 My rhythm, or rather VIRGIL S, since I can t 
 
 Make our two horses travel as I choose ; 
 My Pegasus is very apt to pant 
 
 With such an off-companion, when I ve spanned em ; 
 
 But were there one more HOMER, we d go tandem. 
 
GERALDINE. 
 
 We left the lovers in a sweet condition, 
 Dreaming awake, stark-mad in rationality, 
 
 Feeding on thoughts decidedly elysian, 
 With symptoms of a mutual partiality, 
 
 And feeling very full of generosity, 
 
 For self-love s very pleasant reciprocity. 
 
 Among the worshippers of ALICE Acus 
 
 Was one of that insufferable genus 
 So common in all cities, men who make us 
 
 Ashamed of any common bond between us ; 
 The beastly, brutal, brainless, bullying blower, 
 Infesting low hotels and hot hells lower ; 
 
 Fellows in wadded coats and hats cocked aft, 
 Like the great WILD of FIELDING, when he ticked 
 
 For liquor, and refused to cash his draught, 
 Fellows that never leave their game unpicked ; 
 
 Sportsmen, in short, who dine on brant and widgeon, 
 
 And then for change, retire to pluck a pigeon. 
 
 This modern Jonathan, whose name was BORE, 
 Was always flush of impudence and dollars, 
 
 And had a way of twigging at her door, 
 A milliner who dealt in capes and collars, 
 
 With other things too numerous to mention, 
 
 And difficult for common comprehension. 
 
64 GERALDINE- 
 
 This little milliner was French and modest, 
 All milliners are French in rhymes and books, 
 
 But this my milliner was sure the oddest 
 Of the whole tribe of Cupid s pastry-cooks, 
 
 Though nothing strange in ogling with the chaps, 
 
 And showing misses how to set their caps. 
 
 There are more things behind a gew-gaw purchased, 
 Sometimes, than people dream of ; but tis scandalous, 
 
 Cries mistress A. and B. and C. and her chaste 
 Friends, that a satirist should dare to handle us : 
 
 As if he fired the Ephesian dome, to drown 
 
 With melted icicles, the gaping town ! 
 
 I sing of days gone by, and mingle truth 
 Too largely with my fiction for romance ; 
 
 And if some wincing jades yet feel the tooth 
 Too keenly, whirling in the giddy dance 
 
 Of drunken conscience tis the vice, not I, 
 
 That plants the barbed shaft of agony. 
 
 Meanwhile, the heart of ALICE was engaged 
 
 In one great scheme of mischief : when the soul 
 
 Is once corrupt, with passion unassuaged, 
 What can a female hurricane control ] 
 
 She made her milliner her friend, who swore 
 
 To work her full revenge through Mr. BORE. 
 
GERALDINE. 66 
 
 And now I leave your sympathetic fancies 
 
 To fill the outline of this pencil sketch, 
 Hating detail although it oft enhances 
 
 The interest of pictures, where some wretch 
 Has all his moral ulcers touched, to raise 
 The self-complacent virtuous of our days. 
 
 Let it suffice that WALDRON was drawn in 
 By the base tool that had no fiendish peer, 
 
 To the unfathomed depths of dismal sin : 
 
 When thus his demon-lover stunned his ear ; 
 
 I have you in my power the hour you wed, 
 
 Brings down an avalanche upon your head ! 
 
 There was a fete-champetre, the saloon 
 Of Acus glittered with a thousand lights, 
 
 And music melted while the crested moon 
 
 Shone down on one of summer s fairest nights ; 
 
 The trees, like Cashmere forests, were on fire , 
 
 And woman s eyes were drest in love s attire. 
 
 Away, away with care, tis pleasure s hour, 
 The wide lake answers to the voice of glee, 
 
 Groups there are seen in clusters round a bower, 
 And here a grotto rings with revelry ; 
 
 While glittering sets upon the close-cut green, 
 
 Whirl like a crowd of faeries round their queen. 
 
O GERALDINE. 
 
 As on Eurota s banks or Cynthus height, 
 
 Waltzed the Oreades I was about 
 To steal a simile but HOMER S sprite, 
 
 And VIRGIL S, and my own without a doubt, 
 In such a case, in our post mortem quarrels 
 Hereafter might dispute about our laurels. 
 
 But ALICE, like a silver-girdled gem, 
 
 Throws lustre on the band, and many an eye 
 
 Of many a vassal of love s diadem, 
 Bends on the smiling beauty listfully, 
 
 Who throws away sweet looks and does not spare them, 
 
 While other ladies take them up and wear them. 
 
 Far from the glittering throng, in modest dress, 
 Stands GERALDINE, her mild eyes softly bending 
 
 Upon the dazzling scene yet dazzled less 
 By its bright glare, than by emotions tending 
 
 To make her tell-tale bosom heave its sighs 
 
 In visible delight to WALDRON S eyes. 
 
 Arm locked in arm, they turned them from the crowd, 
 And gazed upon each other, who has known 
 
 Such hour of bliss when language was not loud, 
 And beauty s full affection was his own, 
 
 That would exchange one moment, for the treasure, 
 
 The loveless world could lavish without measure ! 
 
GERALDINE. 67 
 
 Now Acus had a son just compos mentis 
 
 Enough to be the heir to his estate ; 
 And WILTON, therefore very often sent his 
 
 Fair daughter to see ALICE and when late, 
 The hour of visiting, of course the brother 
 Protected her for want of some one other. 
 
 For WILTON, though affectionate and kind, 
 Held the same doctrine that the English hold, 
 
 That love is foolish in a girl and blind, 
 That marriage is all moonshine without gold ; 
 
 Besides, he guessed that WALDRON was a hum, 
 
 And knew that CLIFFORD would be worth a plum. 
 
 And so a match was struck between the sires, 
 In secret bargain CLIFFORD was advised, 
 
 And bent his heart s best energies and fires 
 To win her love, and he was not despised : 
 
 For should an angel bow before a maid, 
 
 The god of gold would throw him in the shade. 
 
 Far from the giddy throng of mirth and glee, 
 Old WILTON marked his daughter with her lover, 
 
 And beck ning CLIFFORD, bade him, chidingly, 
 Observe his rival lest he should discover, 
 
 Too late, how well he sped with her in wooing ; 
 
 And that would be their mutual undoing. 
 6 
 
I GERALDINE. 
 
 O thou invisible spirit of love, that art 
 
 Worse than thy sister spirit wine, for treason ! 
 
 How dost thou so contrive to tear the heart, 
 And rob the brain of its immortal reason ! 
 
 Making us dream in madness, to awake 
 
 With hell s hot thirst that death alone can slake. 
 
 The blood ran boiling into CLIFFORD S cheek, 
 And on the instant, with revengeful stride, 
 
 He hurried on, his hated foe to seek, 
 
 And found him whispering to his promised bride ; 
 
 When with upbraidings harsh he aimed a blow, 
 
 Which but for skill had laid his rival low. 
 
 A moment but a moment and a spring 
 When the rash youth was in a tiger s grasp, 
 
 That, with the lightning of an eagle s wing, 
 
 Hurled him down, where was heard his screaming gasp, 
 
 Deep in the lake below. The wave closed o er 
 
 The bubbling blood and CLIFFORD was no more. 
 
 The dance is done the guests are all departed 
 The lights are quenched, but CLIFFORD is not found, 
 
 WILTON has gone with GERALDINE, sick-hearted, 
 Death ringing in her ears the funeral sound ; 
 
 But none surmised abroad, that WALDRON S arm 
 
 Had done the absent CLIFFORD any harm. 
 
GERALDINE. 
 
 Now morn with matron step and languid eye, 
 Leads on the bright Aurora who with joy, 
 
 Opens the pearl-barred portals of the sky, 
 
 And sends among the dews her rose-winged boy ; 
 
 While, from behind, the chariot-steeds of day 
 
 Scatter the darkness and the mist away. 
 
 Now silence watches discord in repose, 
 And solitude loves cities who would think, 
 
 Ere yet the busy crowd renew their woes, 
 How placidly they sleep upon the brink 
 
 Of wretchedness ! the dove upon the sea, 
 
 Has more to hope, than men of misery. 
 
 And they who slumber now whose dreams are gay 
 And full of happiness, in one brief hour, 
 
 May wake to all the agonies of day ; 
 
 To heart-sick pain, and melancholy s power, 
 
 And all the complicated ills that press 
 
 The bosom, when tis lone and comfortless. 
 
 This is the hour of thought when mind is free 
 As is the unchained eagle look ! whose flight 
 
 High o er yon golden-bosomed clouds, I see 
 Mocking the sun now struggling with the night, 
 
 And reddening to behold the proud bird spread 
 
 Triumphantly its pinions o er his head ! 
 
70 GERALDINE. 
 
 Brave bird ! thy dwellings are the blackened rocks 
 That scowl upon the thunder from thy perch, 
 
 Thou laugh st upon the lightning when it shocks 
 Thy cloud-masked eyrie, as the mountain birch 
 
 And shivering pine bend like the scudding mast, 
 
 That trembles as an aspen in the blast. 
 
 Now gliding through the printless track of day, 
 With not a cloud to rain upon thy wings, 
 
 Onward and onward thou dost hold thy way, 
 Higher than ever lark his matin sings ; 
 
 And none but He who fashioned thee in might, 
 
 Can stay thy course or curb thee in thy flight. 
 
 Thou art the emblem of unshackled mind, 
 Freed from the bondage of a coward world, 
 
 Whose thoughts would paralyze their feeble kind, 
 Were they in all their majesty unfurled ; 
 
 But all alone it folds itself in power, 
 
 Or leaves the earth to spread its wings an hour. 
 
 How eloquent is nature ! from yon sky, 
 
 Where beauty lays her crimson-cinctured breast, 
 
 A voiceless music melts upon the eye, 
 
 And lulls the throbbings of the heart to rest, 
 
 Sweeter than woman s voice, whose song prevails 
 
 To hush the broken-hearted nightingale s. 
 
GERALDINE. 71 
 
 But see ! the clouds grow pate and beauty s smile 
 Turns from her weeping lover to the rose 
 
 Thou foolish flower to nurse a heart of guile ! 
 Long ere the western sky with evening glows, 
 
 The blush will leave its resting-place, and blight 
 
 Shall fold thee in a sleep of endless night ! 
 
 Waked by the morning bird, with cheerless feet, 
 WILTON S pale child walked forth the slanting sun 
 
 Swept o er the fields, the dewy herb to greet, 
 Sparkling to find another day begun ; 
 
 The skies above were deeper in their blue, 
 
 Kindling the heart to gratitude anew. 
 
 Ah, little did her guileless thought suppose, 
 While nature looked so innocent and gay, 
 
 That WALDRON lay in sleep without repose, 
 The apoplectic image of decay, 
 
 His God-like faculties, through dire excess, 
 
 A mass of senseless, soullesss drunkenness ! 
 
 But now, that soul was. like the eagle s flight, 
 
 Lofty and full of spirit-breathing fire ; 
 Tis past the revels of a single night, 
 
 Have deluged every thought and high desire, 
 And paralyzed the feelings that refined 
 The earthliness of passion in his mind. 
 6* 
 
72 GERALDINE. 
 
 And when he wakes Oh God, when will he wake ! 
 
 The seal of hell is fastened on his brow 
 Wave after wave ebbs off from Lethe s lake, 
 
 And consciousness is clinging to him now : 
 Remorse; dread thirst with agony in waiting, 
 The horrors of the damned anticipating. 
 
 And now he makes a vow he ll drink no more, 
 No more he ll stake his fortune at the bank ; 
 
 But ere the last resolve is muttered o er, 
 The empty goblet shows that he has drank. 
 
 And once again delirium has its sway, 
 
 While all his thoughts are revelling at play. 
 
 Drunk without pleasure destitute of power 
 To shun the scourging furies that pursue him, 
 
 He counts the tedious moments of the hour, 
 
 And hugs the vulture that is gnawing through him. 
 
 While mean suspicion turns all eyes to see 
 
 His degradation and insanity. 
 
 And so he drinks the more and damns himself 
 
 Then drinks again and sleeps and wakes and raves 
 1 Staking his fortune madly for the pelf, 
 
 That buys for gamester s their untimely graves ; 
 Thus living, wallowing in foul despair, 
 And struggling for oblivion everywhere. 
 
GERALDINE. 
 
 Say, is the picture heightened ye whose days 
 Wear the dark shade that night has cast- before, 
 
 Whose hypocritic joys seem all ablaze, 
 
 While the pained heart lies cankered at the core, 
 
 Are there not colours of a deeper hue, 
 
 That cross your waking dreams to torture you 1 
 
 But GERALDINE S warm heart was free from doubt, 
 Or if it lived a moment twas in vain, 
 
 She blushed and plucked the rebel monster out, 
 Till all within was hope and peace again. 
 
 But where is WALDRON, while she deems him true, 
 
 And prays his secret sorrows may be few 1 
 
 The cloud which hung upon his sallow cheek, 
 Has passed away like mist his eye is bright, 
 
 Its smothered fire breaks out again to speak 
 In eloquence, and glad the weary night : 
 
 The feast is spread, and merry hearts ring out 
 
 The swelling sound of revelry and rout. 
 
 And now the wine goes round, the bright champagne 
 Goes off in sparkling foam and joyless glee 
 
 Laughs out tumultuous, and the maddened brain 
 Whirls round with giddiness and jollity : 
 
 A bumper lads all round, the wine is bright, 
 
 Life short and merry, be the toast to-night ! 
 
74 GERALDINE. 
 
 A song a song keep silence for a song ! 
 And every tongue was silent : WALDRON twirled 
 
 His empty glass all care and pain were gone 
 And like a being of another world, 
 
 So happy were his looks in accents clear, 
 
 He sang as follows to the midnight ear. 
 
 Go rob the green vine of its opulent gems, 
 
 Tear the clusters away, lest they crimson thy snow, 
 Crush the lilies as useless, and snap all their stems, 
 
 And blast all the flowerets that fragrantly grow : 
 Go preacher of morals and victim of lust, 
 
 Thou hypocrite cloaked in the mantle of law, 
 Gather gold, die and rot already too curst, 
 
 Like the herd of thy kind, to be damned any more ! 
 
 Give me back the bright cup of enchantment again, 
 
 The garlands that pleasure drenched richly in wine, 
 Let the cold heart of age hug its icicle chain, 
 
 Be the goblet s warm blush in youth s holiday, mine : 
 Let the hoarse raven scream when the tempest is up, 
 
 And the dove fold her wings in security blest ; 
 I ll bathe every plume ere I fly from the cup, 
 
 To soar where the sunbeams eternally rest 
 
GEEA^DINE. 
 
 Who talks of forgetf ulness ? give me, once more, 
 
 Those moments but sadly remembered as past, 
 When the surge broke in wildness on youth s rocky shore, 
 
 And mirth spread her rainbow of joy to the last. 
 Give me back the glad hearts intertwined with my own, 
 
 The flashes that thrilled, and the feelings that gushed ; 
 Too long has the dull cloud of solitude thrown 
 
 Its shade where my heart lay in apathy hushed. 
 
 If life be a dream let its slumbers be sweet 
 
 Then shake off the incubus care from the soul 
 Though the pinions of time are relentless and fleet, 
 
 Their shadows may sparkle with drops from the bowl : 
 Were mine but one moment I d hallow its flight, 
 
 With pleasures that gladdened my young summer day, 
 Like the bird that soars up to the sun s blazing light, 
 
 And pours his bright spirit in glory away ! 
 
 Loud were the shouts that sounded through the hall, 
 And deep the draughts of frenzy till the tongue 
 
 Grew blasphemous with wine, and reason s call 
 Was lost the noisy rioters among : 
 
 Strange ! that immortal souls can thus give way, 
 
 And yield the masterdom to servile clay. 
 
76 
 
 G ERALDINE. 
 
 And who are they that shame the brow of night, 
 With impious mirth and riotous excess, 
 
 Who urge the hours to such impetuous flight, 
 And steep their senses in forgetfulness V 
 
 The corsair s mark is on them human blood, 
 
 Stains them with guilt, the foemen of the flood. 
 
 WALDRON was thrown among them first, by chance, 
 And riot made them friends alas for him, 
 
 Weak child of passion ! rashly to advance 
 While ruin dared him onward, and the dim 
 
 And shadowy future hid itself, while vice 
 
 Called virtue to his drunken paradise. 
 
 Their days have plumed their wings upon the wave, 
 Their bark has drenched its thirsty beak in gore, 
 
 Their countless victims sleep without a grave, 
 And widows weep for those who weep no more ! 
 
 The outlaws of all nations, sworn to wage 
 
 Promiscuous war with wild relentless rage. 
 
 Unknown to mercy hand in hand with guilt, 
 They bid the restless night prolong her wake ; 
 
 Wine flows as freely as the blood they spilt, 
 And conscience sleeps a slumber none can wake. 
 
 Yet WALDRON is among them sworn to die, 
 
 Or live, the foeman of humanity. 
 
GERALDINE. 
 
 Twere vain to trace the current of our crimes 
 To their unhappy spring one vicious hour 
 
 Too often grafts a bud for after-times, 
 
 And when we little dread its baleful power, 
 
 We find a Upas breathing o er the shade, 
 
 Where brightest hopes of future bliss were laid. 
 
 And thus, by slow degrees, the tempter gained 
 For hell, another vassal till remorse 
 
 Maddened the wretch s brain, with torture pained, 
 And desperation stung him to his course. 
 
 No hope was left, and so he used to press 
 
 His fevered head, and court forgetfulness. 
 
 Let no one judge the suicide, but God, 
 The father of the Spirt none can feel 
 
 Another s woes, nor feel the scorpion rod 
 
 Of his enduring Time may sometimes heal 
 
 The vulture-eaten heart, but pale despair 
 
 Too often takes his deathly dwelling there ! 
 
 The stars are fading in the morning sky 
 The rioters are still and one by one, 
 
 The flickering lights smoke out ; in ruin lie 
 The shattered glasses for the revel s done 
 
 And palsied Pleasure reels to Lethe s bed 
 
 Where Conscience watches for the waking head. 
 
 77 
 
78 
 
 GERALDINE. 
 
 The thirsty moon, that from the orange west 
 Shone faintly down on WALDRON S last embrace, 
 
 Had drunk the stars up in her glorious crest, 
 Veiling their beauty with her brighter face ; 
 
 And GERALDINE S wan cheek was damp with tears, 
 
 That came her heart s sad messengers of fears. 
 
 The corpse of CLIFFORD had at length been found 
 Washed on the pebbly beach the doubling tongue 
 
 Of gossip rumour multiplied around, 
 Surmises, that with foul suspicion clung 
 
 To WALDRON : he was gone, and none knew where 
 
 Should GERALDINE the horrid cause declare ? 
 
 O strange, mysterious nature ! tell me why 
 Has human love such sway within the breast, 
 
 That it should live through crime, and not descry, 
 Even blood on Virtue s ermine and there rest, 
 
 As if it scorned as artificial lines, 
 
 The barriers, society defines ? 
 
 One day at noon, within a green recess, 
 By sheltering elm-trees canopied from dew, 
 
 While robins sang in mid-day idleness, 
 And now and then the whirring wood-cock flew, 
 
 She lay in lapsing indolence of thought, 
 
 The fast tears falling as her fancy wrought. 
 
GERALDINE. 
 
 In one of those strange dreams of nothingness, 
 That nail the vision down in senseless gaze, 
 
 A death in life as the dull veins confess, 
 While Lethe leads the memory in a maze, 
 
 A shape stood by her like a thing of air 
 
 She started WALDRON S haggard form was there. 
 
 She gazed a moment on him, while her brain 
 Swam with delirious tumult : It is he, 
 
 My loved, my lost, my WALDRON, come again 
 To prove his faith and loving constancy! 
 
 He held her to his heart her cheek was cold, 
 
 And tears shone crushed within their silken fold. 
 
 He laid her gently down of sense bereft, 
 And sunk his picture on her bosom s snow, 
 
 And close beside these lines in blood he left : 
 Farewell forever, GERALDINE ! I go 
 
 Another woman s victim, dare I tell! 
 
 Tis ALICE ! curse us GERALDINE ! farewell ! 
 
 He kissed away the crystals from her eyes, 
 
 And wet them with his tears one shadowy tress 
 
 That hung like twilight o er the morning skies, 
 He severed from her brow, one kiss to bless 
 
 And like a feathered arrow, charged with death, 
 
 WALDRON spurred onward with a whirlwind s breath. 
 7 
 
 79 
 
GERALDINE. 
 
 As from a dream of horror and cold fear, 
 When the heart lingers to go on again, 
 
 Woke GERALDINE as from a funeral bier, 
 
 Midst rushing sounds, and strange commingled pain 
 
 With dream-like joy and speechless wonderment 
 
 Then memory dawned, and all the shadows went. 
 
 4 Sure twas my WALDRON stood before me now, 
 Whose presence overcame me list, what s here, 
 
 His miniature] the same that manly brow, 
 And eyes of love to all my wishes dear 
 
 O this is all a trick to win from me 
 
 A foolish sigh, but ah ! it shall not be ! 
 
 4 Come forth ! she cried, I know you are not far, 
 You truant WALDRON ! shame on such device ; 
 
 Plow can you thus torment, oh ! why thus mar 
 The sweetest bud in all love s paradise! 
 
 She turned the blood-scroll met her fading eye : 
 
 Tis done the veil is rent from misery ! 
 
 There is a bark upon the broad blue sea, 
 
 Her red flag streaming to the conscious wind ; 
 
 Look ! how she proudly plunges on her lee, 
 And sends a foaming rush of snow behind ! 
 
 Her sides are black and darkness is her pride, 
 
 A white-winged raven screaming o er the tide. 17 
 
GERALDINE. 81 
 
 Away, away she hurries o er the wave, 
 Dashing the brine up as she heaves away, 
 
 There s not a heart with her that would not brave 
 The lightning s bolt, and gladden at its play : 
 
 Away, away she struggles in her might, 
 
 The fresh wind straining all her braces tight. 
 
 Who does not love the ocean 1 from a boy, 
 I breathed the salt-air on thy rocky coast, 
 
 NEW-ENGLAND! where the Atlantic breaks in joy 
 And when I seemed to others idle most, 
 
 Was garnering from nature s ample store, 
 
 And probing human passions to the core. 
 
 Who does not love the ocean, that has stood 
 On thy black borders wild NAHANT, and seen 
 
 The north-east tearing up the giant flood, 
 And whelming the rock-island of the scene, 
 
 And heard the Tritons sounding through the blast, 
 
 As if the judgement-angel s trumpet past 1 
 
 Who there has seen the dashing spray mast high, 
 And the huge mountain billows rolling on, 
 
 Can better judge of true sublimity, 
 Than ocean midst when beacon lights are gone ? 
 
 But then without the danger, half the zest 
 
 In all such things, is wanting, tis confest. 
 
Es GERALDINE. 
 
 Not that there s any pleasure in the danger, 
 More than in being shot at with ounce bullets ; 
 
 Tis sweet to seem to be to fear a stranger, 
 The while we wish that we were feeding pullets : 
 
 Most men can fight a duel to the letter, 
 
 Yet when a man survives, he feels the better. 
 
 I never knew but one, that for itself 
 
 Loved fighting or that seemed at least to love it, 
 And he would lay a fellow on the shelf, 
 
 J ust like a horse-cake when the bakers shove it 
 Into the oven for a while to bake : 
 Which would you rather be the corpse or cake 1 
 
 The sea-fowl whit ning o er the leaden sky, 
 
 Shriek a dire omen to the sailor s ear, 
 The shadowing water heralds, sullenly, 
 
 The spirit of the tempest to be near : 
 All hands aloft, close reef away my boys ! 
 And ready hands the instant work employs. 
 
 The clouds roll on their mountain piles of mist ; 
 
 Darkness comes down impatient of her time : 
 Ocean lifts up his frighted head, to list 
 
 Where comes the storm-king from the Indian clime, 
 Crested with arrowy lightning sounding far 
 Through heaven s profound, the thunder of his can 
 
GERALDINE. 83 
 
 Behind the mainmast, as the ship plunged fast, 
 WALDRON stood gazing at the awful scene, 
 
 He thought perchance that night would be his last, 
 And then he heaved a sigh for GERALDINE, 
 
 And then he thought of his bad life, and went 
 
 To take a glass of brandy, and repent 
 
 While wrapt in mingled dreams his vision caught 
 
 The dim prospective of a mountain form, 
 That seemed to bear upon them quick as thought 
 
 He snatched a trumpet, while he rent the storm, 
 * Helm hard a-port! and hard a-port! replied 
 While the shade rushed in fury by their side. 
 
 Then came the fear of death to stoutest men, 
 While the ship reeled mast first upon the wave, 
 
 And breathing ceased beneath the briny den, 
 And even hope was lost them in their grave. 
 
 But lo ! she rights and proudly on the wing, 
 
 Mounts up and stoops, a falcon in her spring. 
 
 The morning sun shines on the pirate bark, 
 
 And gilds the dripping canvass the fresh wind 
 
 Bears her on steadily to actions dark, 
 Bloody and dark and fearful to mankind : 
 
 But let us draw the veil, and change the scene 
 
 To the sad home of hapless GERALDINE. 
 7* 
 
84 GE RALDINE. 
 
 There lies a sorrowing beauty, bathed in tears, 
 The hectic burning on her dimpled cheek, 
 
 A parent watching her with anxious fears, 
 While tears are half the language he can speak : 
 
 Her faithful heart still desolate, yet true 
 
 To him who left her for the pirate crew. 
 
 She will not speak the anguish of her breast, 
 She cannot chide the one she loves to bless j 
 
 What though her bosom own no soothing rest? 
 She does not cease to pray for his distress ; 
 
 Her heart is wasting in a slow decay, 
 
 And the disease of hope smiles o er her prey. 
 
 At times she wanders when the air is warm, 
 
 And gazes on the trysting-place so dear, 
 When love and innocence, in gentle form, 
 
 United like a dew-drop and a tear, 
 
 When happy thoughts went heavenward in sweet prayer ; 
 And all was bliss when WALDRON S smile was there. 
 
 And then she turns her sickened heart away, 
 And bends her footsteps to her mother s grave, 
 
 Thinking how soon she ll mingle with her clay 
 She knows there is no human arm to save. 
 
 And though she smiles at death her thoughts of life, 
 
 And faithless WALDRON, cause a tearful strife. 
 
GERALDINE. 85 
 
 And then she seeks her quiet home again, 
 
 Or stands beside the brook, and lends her ear, 
 
 While the blithe robin whistles his wild strain ; 
 For there is something to remembrance dear 
 
 In objects most familiar, where we trace 
 
 A withered feeling, or a once-loved face. 
 
 Day after day she pined, nor comfort knew, 
 In the lone anguish of her hopeless grief; 
 
 But while her spirit sank, affection grew, 
 And only found in flooding wo relief. 
 
 The world may laugh at broken-hearted love, 
 
 Alas, how many do its influence prove ! 
 
 The Autumn leaves had decked the forest trees, 
 In robes of crimson, gold, and modest brown, 
 
 And loitering winter whispered in the breeze, 
 He soon should lay his colder mantle down ; 
 
 For eve and morning chilled the sun s low ray, 
 
 That only warmed the earth in highest day. 
 
 And WILTON urged his child to go with him, 
 
 Where warmer suns throw shadows from the lime, 
 
 For though his hairs were gray and eyes were dim, 
 And age grew cheerful in the northern clime, 
 
 He could not wish his only hope to stay 
 
 Where winter s arm might snatch the bud away. 
 
83 GERALDINE. 
 
 Oh father, cried the hapless child of wo, 
 What boots it, that so frail a thing as I, 
 
 A withered leaf that waits the wind to blow, 
 Should seek a milder clime, a warmer sky? 
 
 Far better would it be, when nought can save, 
 
 To sink with calmness in my mother s grave. 
 
 My mother ! when this spirit shall have flown, 
 Say will it mingle in thy home with thee ? 
 
 Wilt thou, who gav st thy being for my own, 
 Receive me still and kindly smile on me? 
 
 Then let me lie at peace with thee in earth 
 
 Till God shall call me to a second birth. 
 
 Stay father ! dry those tears they give me pain : 
 I would not cross thy wishes at this hour 
 
 * But look upon the dangers of the main 
 * Say do you think your summer-stricken flower, 
 
 Worth all the cruel tempests you must bear, 
 
 Before we breathe the citron-scented air? 
 
 Think not of danger, GERALDINE, for me, 
 
 I ve crossed the mountain wave and love its roar ; 
 
 My GERALDINE shall gaze upon the sea, 
 And love its grandeur as she gazes more ; 
 
 There s health upon the billows, and thy cheek, 
 
 Ere long their potent qualities shall speak. 
 
GERALDINE. 87 
 
 ******* 
 ******* 
 ******* 
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 ******* 
 ******* 
 
 The evening sun had lit the western clouds 
 
 In glorious beauty ; gorgeous depths were thrown 
 
 Of living purple richly draped in shrouds 
 Of brightest gold while far away alone 
 
 Lay a fair island cloud, like some bright pearl 
 
 That gems the forehead of a blue-eyed girl. 
 
 With eyes of love fixed on the brilliant scene, 
 Stood GERALDINE, and longed to have her home, 
 
 Amidst that heavenly blaze of light, 1 ween, 
 But most in that fair lonely one to roam, 
 
 And seek for those she loved who had departed, 
 
 Dying in peace, but more the broken-hearted. 
 
 It is an innocent delight to lend 
 
 Imagination wing at morn or eve, 
 Or when the shades of night its glories send, 
 
 When we are glad in heart or when we grieve ; 
 For thoughts which rise above us are all pure, 
 Unlinked with earth or aught that we endure. 
 
GERALDINE. 
 
 It is a privilege which all enjoy, 
 But few intensely for the heart must be 
 
 Fashioned by thoughts alone, which can destroy 
 The masterdom of passion s tyranny, 
 
 Ere it can feel the beauty of a scene 
 
 Which now entranced admiring GERALDINE. 
 
 Now WILTON stood looking with earnest gaze 
 On the far spread horizon in his hand, 
 
 A sea-glass minding him of absent days, 
 When he so eagerly would watch for land, 
 
 Or from the top, expectant look for sail, 
 
 And chide the tardy breeze, or wait the gale. 
 
 While musing thus an object struck his eye, 
 Far, far away, behind the distant sea, 
 
 When from aloft he heard the look-out cry 
 A sail ho ! so it seemed to him to be 
 
 And straight the helm was down, and the fast prow 
 
 Bore down upon the stranger s hidden bow. 
 
 With steady eye, the captain held the glass, 
 Nor changed its level once till suddenly 
 
 His features shading < We shall have to pass 
 A bloody night I fear, unless my eye 
 
 * Deceives me ; she s a pirate, with a row 
 
 Of heavier teeth than hell-hounds have below ! 
 
GERALDINE. 
 
 Night spread her raven wings upon the sea, 
 While solid darkness, stifling the pent stars, 
 
 Blocked up the firmament yet bold and free 
 The Vulture dashed on with her bending spars, 
 
 And imitating darkness, sent before her 
 
 Phosphoric brightness as a young Aurora. 
 
 And GERALDINE lay sleepless in her berth, 
 With throbbing temples and an aching breast, 
 
 While the waves dashed beside her in their mirth, 
 And the tired rudder groaned with its unrest : 
 
 How fervently she prayed for death s repose, 
 
 Full many a love-lorn sister-sufferer knows ! 
 
 4 Alas ! she thought, and where is WALDRON now 1 
 O, could he know how great a sacrifice 
 
 * His GERALDINE has made how pale her brow, 
 
 How hot the tears that scald her sleepless eyes, 
 
 - How true her heart alas ! so nearly broken, 
 
 4 Would he repent the word was thought, not spoken. 
 
 4 Perhaps some other heart has won his love 
 
 Perhaps ! Oh God ! my WALDRON is no more 
 
 4 O may we meet once more, that I may prove, 
 How freely I forgive the wrong I bore, 
 
 4 That he may know a woman s heart once given, 
 
 Still lives, though crushed, to love the same in heaven ! 
 
90 
 
 GERALDINE. 
 
 So passed the night away till morning sent 
 Her heralds on before her and the clouds 
 
 Marshalled along the eastern firmament, 
 A heavenly host in thick embattled crowds ; 
 
 While light stole slowly o er the deep blue water, 
 
 As if it dreaded the impending slaughter. 
 
 For now was seen, close by the Vulture s stern, 
 The black flag flying at the pirate s mast, 
 
 And ere she hailed or once essayed to learn 
 Her name, or destination, vollied fast 
 
 A broad -side from her hull the fight began, 
 
 And fiends from hell fought hand to hand with man. 
 
 The pirate threw her grapnel, and the ropes 
 Clinging together like a death-grasp, held 
 
 The ships inseparable mutual their hopes, 
 Taintless their courage, never to be quelled ; 
 
 The scuppers streamed with blood both flags are nailed, 
 
 And heart meets heart that never yet has quailed. 
 
 Long did the combat last, till only five 
 Were left within the Vulture ; they at length 
 
 Were overpowered by numbers yet alive, 
 Faint with the loss of blood and without strength. 
 
 But while the pirate was of plunder thinking, 
 
 He found both vessels filling and fast sinking. 
 
GERALDINE, 
 
 91 
 
 Twas vain to ply the pumps, the holds had drunk, 
 While both were fighting, and their power was spent ; 
 
 Still were they sinking soon they would be sunk ; 
 Some moments passed in cursing ; then they went 
 
 To ship the long-boat, man it, and provide 
 
 Provisions for a week, and arms beside. 
 
 But first they threw their prisoners overboard, 
 Who sunk without resistance then pushed off, 
 
 Fifteen inhuman monsters who had poured 
 The blood of thirty men, who yet could scoff 
 
 The arm of heaven, yet swear by that to die, 
 
 Rather than share with man humanity. 
 
 And they are on the ocean with the waves, 
 The play-things of the tempest, far away 
 
 From land, each brain with desperate madness raves 
 But WALDRON had not hardened in a day, 
 
 For sighs at times betrayed his burthened heart, 
 
 And sad repentance caused the tears to start. 
 
 And they are all alone upon the wave ; 
 But where is WILTON with his pale-lipped child] 
 
 She when the loud broadside the signal gave 
 Of desperate conflict, ran in terror wild, 
 
 Urging her father with her, where no harm, 
 
 She deemed, could reach them from the pirate s arm. 
 8. 
 
92 GERALDINE. 
 
 There heard they clashing arms and shouts of war, 
 The bursting cannon and the plashing dead, 
 
 And shrieks of parting spirits sent before 
 The brine shut eddying o er the dying head ; 
 
 And O, the horrid sound of human blood, 
 
 Rushing in torrents to the red ning flood. 
 
 There WILTON clasped his daughter to his heart, 
 A bright dirk glittering in his trembling hand, 
 
 And whisp ring, vowed no being should them part, 
 Or if the VULTURE owned the murderous band, 
 
 That dirk should save her innocence secure, 
 
 From all that Virtue might from Vice endure. 
 
 They heard the last gun booming o er the sea, 
 They heard the hoarse shout of the savage crew, 
 
 And well they feared how soon their turn would be, 
 To dye the waters with a deeper hue : 
 
 At length they heard the dipping of the oars, 
 
 And WILTON saw at once the frightful cause. 
 
 For now the water rose above their feet 
 Upon the lower deck, and WILTON knew 
 
 The vessel had been scuttled in the heat 
 Of fiendish malice ; but it was not true : 
 
 The broadside, ere the vessels closed, had told 
 
 Beneath the water-line, and filled the hold. 
 
GERALDINE. 93 
 
 Now what to do he knew not then he took 
 His pistols from his berth, and went on deck, 
 
 And round about he pressed a dizzy look ; 
 And then he saw the long-boat as a speck, 
 
 Far on the rocking main and next he saw 
 
 A sight that brought more anguish than before. 
 
 The Vulture s long-boat had been stove in two, 
 Struck by a random shot the quarter boat 
 
 Was missing from each side the pirate crew 
 Had stolen the jolly. How were they to float 
 
 When the ship sunk, as soon she must, for now 
 
 Both vessels seemed to lower at the bow. 
 
 And GERALDINE stood halfway up the stairs, 
 
 In the companion-way, her feet in water, 
 While WILTON, sending up half wandering prayers, 
 
 That heaven would only save his hapless daughter, 
 Went busily to frame a little raft, 
 Lashing some oars and plank he found abaft 
 
 These one by one he floated, and then tied, 
 And covered all with a large sheet of duck, 
 
 Then lashed a keg of biscuit which he spied 
 Awhile before some wine he had the luck 
 
 To find two kegs of water cord for lashing 
 
 The stores, to save them from the water s dashing. 
 
94 GERALDINE. 
 
 Then having taken his poor fainting daughter, 
 He placed her on the raft and pushed away, 
 
 Alas ! was ever frailer bark on water, 
 Or passengers more piteous than they 1 
 
 There on the billows tost, we leave to fate, 
 
 Sad WILTON and his child disconsolate. 
 
 Far on the crested wave the long-boat tost, 
 Red with the blood of wounded, dying men ; 
 
 For ere the earth revolved, four men were lost, 
 And one was bleeding fresh, and fainting, when 
 
 The second day saw the dim sun go down, 
 
 And one despairing man in frenzy drown. 
 
 Nine only now remained, and hunger came 
 With tenfold fury on them, and the rage 
 
 Of feverish excitement lit the flame 
 
 Of burning thirst that nothing could assuage, 
 
 Effectually an inward eating fire, 
 
 That kindled more while seeming to expire. 
 
 And soon their scanty fare was like a dream, 
 
 Where Slumber banquets Famine, and she wakes 
 
 In tenfold horror, as her blear eyes gleam 
 On the sad contrast which her vision makes ; 
 
 So felt the wretched men in wild despair 
 
 Much had they borne, but they had more to bear. 
 
GERALDINE. 95 
 
 Sun after sun rose up and sunk again, 
 
 And o er the fading glory of the west, 
 The young moon drunk the sunset from the main, 
 
 Swelling with beauty as she doffed her crest, 
 And looking down upon the flattered sea, 
 Let fall her elfin veil in modesty. 
 
 Alas ! away upon the stagnant water, 
 
 Nor sun, nor moon, nor stars could bring them joy; 
 Their famished hearts were bent on mutual slaughter, 
 
 And means for this their every thought employ. 
 And while sleep pressed him to her, one would start 
 To feel a comrade s dagger at his heart. 
 
 The hot sun blazed upon their naked heads, 
 And boiled the blood within them till some grew 
 
 Mad, and blasphemed and tore their flesh in shreds, 
 While others, starving, helped the deed to do, 
 
 Then weeping in wild mirth drank the dark gore, 
 
 And cried aloud to God, and shrieked for more. 
 
 Some prayed to heaven some cursing God, expired, 
 
 While the boat lay upon the blazing sea, 
 With not a breath of wind, that was not fired, 
 
 Hotter than any Siroc blast can be, 
 Till only one with WALDRON gasped for breath, 
 His bleeding eyes dim with the glaze of death. 
 8* 
 
GERALDINE. 
 
 There as his lone companion breathed his last, 
 Whisp ring unconscious curses to the air, 
 
 Unhappy WALDRON, though declining fast, 
 Sat like the silent statue of despair : 
 
 The blackened carcasses heaped up around, 
 
 He had not strength to cast in the profound. 
 
 He seemed like death, disgusted with his work, 
 
 Alone, alone, pent in by rottenness ; 
 Sure ne er the charnel dungeon of a kirk, 
 
 Could boast decay in such a hateful dress ; 
 The sun again went down and moonlight gave 
 A gentle breeze that rippled o er the wave. 
 
 The moon was shining full upon the sea 
 
 Waked by the stranger breezes WALDRON S mind 
 
 Had wandered, but with waking memory, he 
 Thought of his helpless victim left behind : 
 
 O could he see that face, he thought, and die, 
 
 Her prayers might save him in eternity ! 
 
 The moon was shining full upon the wave 
 
 When WALDRON saw a moving mass come on : 
 
 O can it be a spirit come to save? 
 
 His sight grew dim alas ! too quickly gone ! 
 
 Again ! O God, that such a sight were seen, 
 
 The stiffened corse of murdered GERALDINE ! 
 
GERALDINE. 
 
 Cold horror chilled him as the raft came down, 
 And fastened on the boat there WILTON lay, 
 
 In the chill arms of death, without a frown, 
 And GERALDINE as dead without decay ! 
 
 Her eyes fixed glistening in the moon s full light, 
 And smiling as her spirit winged its flight. 
 
 And round her neck the miniature was hung 
 Of him who gazed with hell s unmingled wo ; 
 
 He saw her kissed her cheek and wildly flung 
 His arms around her with a mad ning throw 
 
 Then plunged within the cold, unfathomed deep, 
 
 While Sirens sang their victim to his sleep. 
 
 97 
 
NOTES 
 
 TO 
 
 GERALDINE 
 
NOTES TO GERALDINE. 
 
 NOTE 1. Page 22. 
 Why should the song of nightingales expire, 
 
 Because the rooks are screaming raise their song 
 Jnd still the dissonance their silence brings. 
 
 The reader may recognise this idea in LESSING S beautiful fable Der 
 Schafer nnd die Nachtigall. 
 
 NOTE 2. Page 22. 
 
 Who would have held 
 Our race had fathers so unparalleled ? 
 
 Who had thought this clime had held 
 A deity so unparalleled ? 
 
 MILTON S Arcades. 
 
 NOTES. Page 27. 
 Or on her fairy isle, to laugh and cry 
 With sweet Miranda^ and yet know not why- 
 Miranda. I am a fool, 
 To weep at what I m glad of. 
 
 The exquisite beauty of the above is only equalled by a speech in Troilus 
 and Cressid, v/hich has never been sufficiently admired. 
 
 Troilus. Why was my Cressid then so hard to win ? 
 
 Cressid. Hard to seem won ; but I was won, my lord, 
 With the first glance that ever Pardon me ; 
 If I confess much, you will play the tyrant. 
 
102 
 
 NOTES- TO GERALDINE, 
 
 , S.l3>v8.you oevf ; but not till now, so much 
 Br.t I Bright .Tester it : in fnilh I Ho ; 
 My thoughts were like unbridled children, grown 
 Too headstrong for their mother : See, we fools I 
 Why have I blabb d ? who shall be true to us, 
 When we are so unsecret to ourselves ? 
 But, though I lov d you well, I woo d you not ; 
 And yet, good faith, I wish d myself a man ; 
 Or that we women had men s privilege 
 Of speaking first. Sweet bid me hold my tongue ; 
 For in this rapture, I shall surely speak 
 The thing I shall repent. See, see, your silence, 
 Cunning in dumbness, from my weakness draws 
 My very soul of counsel : Stop my mouth. 
 
 NOTE 4. Page 30. 
 One truth revealed to mortals long ago. 
 
 The following extract from Ripley s translation of COUSIN S Exposition of 
 Eclecticism, will show what progress has been made by the French philoso 
 phers, in connexion with the Germans. 
 
 Consider the importance of psychology. It was a single psychological 
 error that seduced Kant into a path which led to an abyss. Kant has made 
 an admirable analysis of human reason. It is impossible to describe with 
 more clearness and precision the conditions and the laws of its developement ; 
 but not having analyzed with the same care, the free and voluntary activity, 
 this great man did not perceive that it is particularly to this class of pheno 
 mena that personality is attached ; and that reason, although connected with 
 personality, is essentially distinct from it. Now, if reason be personal, like 
 attention and will, it follows that all the conceptions which it suggests are 
 personal also ; that all the truths which it reveals to us are merely relative 
 to our mode of conceiving ; and that the objects, the things, the beings, the 
 substances, which claim to be real, whose existence is made known to us by 
 reason, as they rest only on this equivocal testimony, can have only a subject 
 ive value ; that is to say, relative to the subject which perceives them, and 
 no objective value, that is to say, actual and independent of the subject. We 
 may indeed continue to believe in the reality of these objects, if our reason 
 be so constituted that it cannot but believe in them, and because it is so con 
 stituted ; but in that case there is an abyss between believing and knowing ; 
 and all our knowledge then consists only in recognising the internal and 
 psychological conditions of the necessity of believing, which in itself is barren 
 of all real and absolute knowledge. From this proceeds a new and original 
 
NOTES TO GERALD IN E. 103 
 
 skepi icism which not calling in question the existence of reason as a faculty dis 
 tinct from sensibility, admits that, in its regular developement, reason in fact 
 suggests to us the idea of the soul, of God, and of the world, a skepticism, 
 entirely distinct from that of the sensual school, which takes its stand in psy 
 chology even with dogmatism, and begins to doubt only when ontology is con 
 cerned ; but as soon as that is brought up, disputes the legitimacy of every pas 
 sage from psychology to ontology, on the principle that reason being a faculty 
 peculiar to the subject, can have no validity beyond the limits of the subject, 
 and that accordingly all the objective and ontological truths which it reveals , 
 are only the subject itself, transported away from its sphere by a force which 
 belongs to it and which itself is subjective. 
 
 Would you know the last result of this system ? Go from the prin 
 ciple to the consequence, from the circumspect master to the daring pupil ; 
 Go from Kant to Fichte ; and you will see reason already subjective in Kant, 
 confounded by Fichte with personality itself. Hence his formula, the ME 
 supposes itself; it supposes the world ; it supposes God ; it supposes itself 
 as the primitive and permanent cause with which every thing commences, to 
 which every thing is referred ; as at once the circle and the circumference ; 
 it supposes the world as a simple negation of itself; it supposes God as 
 itself again taken absolutely. The absolute ME, this is the last degree of 
 all subjectivity, the extreme and necessary term of the system of Kant, and, 
 at the same time its refutation. Good sense cannot fail to do justice to this 
 extravagant consequence ; but it belongs to philosophy to destroy this conse 
 quence in its principle, and this principle is the subjectivity and personality 
 of reason. This is the radical error, the psychological error, which a rigid 
 psychology should dissipate. All my efforts have been given, therefore, to 
 demonstrating that personality, the me is eminently the free and voluntary 
 activity; that this is the true subject, and that reason is no less distinct from 
 this subject, than sensation and organic impressions. 
 
 As COUSIN is very particular in ascribing the discovery of all philosophical 
 facts to their respective authors, it is remarkable that he is ignorant that 
 EMANUEI, SWEDENBORG occupied the same ground that he does, relative to 
 the reason and the will, long ago. The writings of that illustrious man con 
 tain all that is valuable in the French philosophy of the present day, and in 
 finitely more, in which the severest analysis and closest logic cannot detect 
 a fault. Though my mind has been principally occupied for fifteen years 
 with legal, metaphysical, and logical studies, I have never found any evi 
 dence so conclusive, any reasoning so exact, any scheme of mind, if I may be 
 allowed the expression, so perfect in all its parts, or a thousandth part so sub 
 lime, as that contained in the works of EMANUEL SWEDENBORG. I consider it 
 a privilege to be permitted to bear my public testimony to their value, to their 
 all-importance ; for I know that the time must come, when they will be nni-> 
 
104 NOTES TO GERALDINE. 
 
 versally received, as comprising the true philosophy of man, and the most 
 perfect ontology. It is wonderful that in an age like this, prejudice should 
 be allowed to interpose between thesublimest and most comprehensive truths 
 ever made known to man, and a willingness to receive them. The specula 
 tions of MAINE DE BIRAN, and of his followers, are eagerly entertained, in 
 the vain hope of establishing a spiritual philosophy ; when not only the 
 elements, but the full form of that philosophy have been in existence, almost 
 unnoticed, for two-thirds of a century. 
 
 The following extract from the preface to "THE GROWTH OF THE MIND," 
 is in point. 
 
 " The New Church can discern, in almost every moral and religious writer 
 of any acknowledged merit at the present day, some outbreakings of its own 
 power ; while its principles are pressing into the natural sciences, like so 
 many gushing fountains from an inexhaustible fountain above them. It is 
 painful to see how little willingness there is to acknowledge the source of 
 truth ; and how often a man seems to think that it has answered its legiti 
 mate purpose, when he has bedecked his own person therewith, so as to 
 command the admiration of the multitude. 
 
 " But the time is approaching, when the claims of the New Church on the 
 public attention may not be easily set aside. There is a problem to solve, 
 to which those who reject the claims of this Church, will find it difficult to 
 furnish a solution ; and the misrepresentations and ignorance which have 
 often prevailed in regard to it, will, before many years, be seen to be neither 
 consistent with good manners nor good scholarship. The writings of Swe- 
 denborg are so pure in their character and influence, that the moral sense of 
 the community will bear testimony that there is no wilful imposture ; and 
 they are so perfect in their method and logic, that the rationality of the com 
 munity will bear testimony that there is no insanity. The voice of these two 
 witnesses cannot be silenced ; and the day is>pproaching, when the assertion 
 that these writings are not of sufficient importance to command the attention 
 of the public, will not be hazarded by any one, who is either a man of intel 
 ligence, or seeks to be esteemed." 
 
 NOTE 5. Page 31. 
 
 The crucible of truth, some day, though late, 
 Will every false alloy precipitate, 
 
 Bishop WHATELY, speaking of fallacies, cites the following illustration 
 from an anonymous pamphlet, "An Examination of Kett s Logic:" It 
 [a fallacy] consists of an ingenious mixture of truth and falsehood, so en 
 tangled, so intimately blended, that the falsehood is (in the chemical 
 phrase) held in solution : one drop of sound logic is that test which imme- 
 
NOTES TO GERALDINE. 105 
 
 diately disunites them, makes the foreign substance visible, and precipitates 
 it, to the bottom. 
 
 NOTE 6. Page 32. 
 What meagre profits spring from pen and ink. 
 
 I like the spirit of the following paragraph from the Philadelphia Gazette, 
 BO much, that I transfer it to this place, in the hope that its truth may prevail 
 in eradicating the too well established notion that men of letters must ne 
 cessarily starve to death in garrets, and be most sentimentally wretched of 
 course. 
 
 "There could not be, perhaps, a more inspiring office than to gather from 
 the history of men of mind, the evidences of their triumph in attaining to 
 that which the world most values, independence and distinction. They 
 who prate of the toils of genius, the doom of intellect, and all that sort of 
 humbug, are always puzzled for exemplifying instances. A few stereotype 
 narratives and names, are all that are left to any of these complaining souls, 
 wherewith to excite the fountains of their sympathy, and make their heads 
 as waters. A learned and acute writer in the October number of Frazer s 
 London Magazine, has set this point in the true light, as regards the current 
 literature of England. He discusses the subject with an evidently close 
 knowledge of facts. After a calm and clear survey of the whole ground, in 
 reply to an "Exposition," (pamphlet,) which takes the converse of the ar 
 gument, he proceeds to put forth his own conclusions. " On no ground 
 then," it is observed, " can we agree with the sentimentalist, that literary 
 talents earnestly exerted, fail to benefit the possessor in a worldly point of 
 view." Cases, even where it stated that aspirants whose pretensions far 
 outwent their powers, according to the estimate of the high Tory writer, 
 (whose political antipathies should in this case be considered,) are cited in 
 exemplification of the justness of his argument. Almost to a man, he writes, 
 did the major part of Her Majesty s present ministers abandon the bowers of 
 the Muses, to guide the destinies of the British empire. "They started as 
 poets: MELBOURNE, (LAMB) poet; RUSSELL, ditto; SPRING KICK, ditto ; 
 PALMERSTON, ditto ; HOBHOUSE, ditto ; MORPETH, ditto ; MULORAVE, nov 
 elist; HOLLAND, translator from Spanish ; LANSDOWNE, pamphleteer ; GLEN- 
 KLG, essayist: all these noble and right honourable persons invoked the 
 muses," &c. For a man of genius, it is added, a man of high intellectual 
 powers, and humanizing pursuits, society is ever anxious to evince respect ; 
 well knowing that a man of true genius is a man of the truest sense, as also 
 of the most courteous and gentlemanlike feelings. We are well aware, 
 continues the same writer, that all languishing people of whatever literary 
 description, will pronounce us unfeeling, and incapable of sympathy with all 
 
106 NOTES TO GERALDINE. 
 
 that is interesting in intellect, and so forth. We do not wish to disturb the 
 dreams of any one of the class here spoken of, how insipid soever he or she 
 may be ; what we have wished and endeavoured to do, is this ; to disabuse 
 the public mind of the trashy untruths, perpetually palmed off upon it, viz : 
 that men of high creative powers, men of genuine talents, duly applied, and 
 proportionate mental culture, are doomed to disappointments, reverses, 
 " and so." All this is plain, common sense, and verity, established con 
 stantly, in instances plentiful enough to constitute a rule instead of an ex 
 ception. The case of BULWER, "whose path to parliament lay through the 
 bookseller s shop," is one high in evidence. With him, literature has proved 
 a most lucrative profession ; his residence in the West End is replete with 
 sumptuousness and luxury ; his income a fortune, as well as his possessions. 
 In our own country, in the cabinet of the empire, in the halls of our univer 
 sities, in the successes of business life, in a thousand ways, we may mark 
 the testimony which gainsays the cant about the doom of talent. It is high 
 time that the defiling and mendacious outcry were reformed together. 
 
 NOTE 7. Page 34. 
 Reason converses with humanity, 
 With nought beyond. 
 
 No reference is here made to that ineffable perception of truth which be 
 longs to the recipient of goodness. By reason is meant reasoning. With 
 regard to quantity and number, we always proceed from the known to the 
 unknown, with mathematical certainty, only because we use signs expressive 
 of homogeneous ideas, rigidly excluding all others. So when we use words 
 significant of homogeneous ideas, and carefully avoid all others, we may 
 reason with perfect precision: but when heterogeneous ideas under a 
 common term, are admitted into an argument, we may fancy ourselves arriv 
 ing at transcendental conclusions, but we are necessarily misled by fallacies. 
 
 The thorough investigation of this branch of knowledge deserves philo 
 sophical attention. Its study should be preliminary to that of Logic, which 
 orders the arrangement of terms and propositions according to the invariable 
 process of reasoning, and regards the relation which words bear to each oth 
 er, but which does not define words or terms individually. It is for want of 
 such an instrument of truth, that civil liberty and public wealth are so often 
 endangered by men, who argue with irresistible power, because with logical 
 consistency ; but as their fundamental propositions contain ambiguous 
 terms, which common sagacity does not always detect, they rally around 
 them a numerous crowd of adherents who are confirmed and dazzled by the 
 very magnitude and brilliancy of their errors. The term wealth is an in 
 stance of the kind of ambiguity referred to ; since, as it has always been 
 
NOTES TO GERALDINE. 107 
 
 predicated of nations as well as of individuals, it has been generally suppos 
 ed to be identical with them ; an assumption without sufficient foundation. 
 
 All ideas are relative. To be convinced of this, let there be given two af 
 fections of sense. Let A represent the affection of heat, and B represent the 
 affection of cold. If A had always been submitted to the sense, and had 
 never given place to B, there could have been no knowledge of either, since 
 the very essence of A is that it is not B, but its opposite. But if A, having 
 been submitted for awhile, suddenly gives place to B, the feeling of differ 
 ence is instantly generated, and both A and B are simultaneously known, the 
 former through the medium of memory, the latter by immediate affection. 
 Relation is the mode of this intelligence or knowledge. 
 
 This is not hypothetical, but is the result of analysis. Natural phenomena 
 are invariable in their modes. If then we can ascertain how the mind of 
 any man now acts, we shall know how it has always acted from the first 
 moment of its action. We know that logic is the syntax of reasoning, and 
 that it implies sameness of mental action, universally. It is by comparing 
 one term with another, and by being able to affirm or d my of one term what 
 we know of anot ier, that we arrive at conclusions and accumulate ideas. 
 If in testing the truth of the hypothetical idea A, we compare its qualities 
 with those often thousand homogeneous ideas already proved and classified 
 under the common term Y, it is plain that if it were compared with the first 
 idea acquired in the class, its truth would have been established as necessari 
 ly as now when compared with Y, and that the first idea in the class must 
 have been derived from the relation which it sustained to other ideas. Now, 
 since it was the first of a class, it must have been unlike those of other 
 classes, and its individuality must have been established from its differing 
 qualities. The same may be said of the first of any class of ideas ; and 
 consequently the first possible ideas must have been the effect of compari 
 son, by which two opposite ideas were generated at the same time. Sensa 
 tion, therefore, could not be the origin of ideas, since the mind s judgement 
 of difference in sensation, constitutes the very condition of its being. 
 
 It will follow from what has been said, that all common words are rela 
 tive : which will be more clearly perceived on examination. The word 
 intelligence, and the term intelligent author, are instances ; since there may 
 be more or less intelligence, human intelligence and divine intelligence. So 
 with the word design ; there is that which represents end, cause and effect 
 in human actions, and in the operations of what is called nature, which are 
 superhuman. Natural theology is based on the assumption of homogene- 
 ousness between human and divine intelligence and design, an assumption 
 not susceptible of proof, which when exposed, tumbles the fabric to the 
 dust. PALEY S Evidences, Lord BROUGHAM S Natural Theology, and all 
 other works of the kind, purely argumentative, are erected on the same foun- 
 9* 
 
108 NOTES TO GERALDINE. 
 
 dation. The error lies in predicating intelligence of man s works, when only 
 apart of intelligence, viz , human, is predicable of them. The same may be 
 said of design ; and it is remarkable, that even professed logicians, like 
 Bishop WHATELY, should have overlooked it. All we can say of a watch 
 or of a house, is, that it indicates marks of human design and human intelli 
 gence ; and the proposition, " whatever indicates marks of design, must have 
 had an intelligent author," simply expresses the fact that all works of man 
 indicate his design and intelligence: for if the recognition of any divine work 
 is understood to be included in the proposition, it is supererogatory to reason 
 any further from it ; but if it be understood to express the exclusive fact 
 above stated, it is plain that in the argument, " whatever indicates marks of 
 design, must have had an intelligent author ; the world indicates marks of 
 design ; therefore, the world must have had an intelligent author:" the con 
 clusion is a non sequitur, because of an undistributed major. 
 
 There is a class of words which signify conclusions of the judgement, ra 
 ther than ideas, and which, as might be expected, mislead the mind, in pro 
 portion to the force of their delusion. These pretend to signify what have 
 been denominated the mathematical affections of matter : such are exten 
 sion, form, and space. Now, the very essence of the idea of an object is its 
 differentia in relation to all other things. In contemplating the differen 
 tia, we necessarily define, and the complex of the definition is nothing 
 more or less than its form. Form, therefore, is inseparable from everything 
 objective or subjective ; but we can have no idea of form, except in the con 
 crete ; for if we could, there might be form without substance, which is ab 
 surd. The same may be said of extension, which while in connexion with 
 substance is intelligible, but is inconceivable as an abstraction. As for 
 space, if any one supposes that he has an idea of it, he may disabuse his 
 mind of the error, by trying to see more than three sides of a cubic body at 
 once. How then can he have a conception of the whole substance, or of the 
 room it once occupied 1 What we call an idea of space, is nothing but a 
 belief we have that there is simultaneous extension in all directions, pre 
 cisely as we believe a mountain to be six thousand feet high, because we 
 have measured it ; but who would seriously pretend that a mountain six 
 thousand feet high could produce that individuality of affection called an 
 idea? 
 
 It is only necessary to thoroughly analyze words, to see that we must rea 
 son in a circle when we attempt to soar above our sphere. A perfect analy 
 sis of language would enable us to demonstrate the complete subjectivity of 
 reasoning, and would establish the truth of revelation by showing that on no 
 other hypothesis, could we account for certain ideas which we possess. It 
 would subvert atheism, by forever disarming it, and by leaving it nothing on 
 
NOTES TO GERALDINE. 109 
 
 which to stand : for when the wisdom of man shall yield to infidelity, thoso 
 arguments which have been so long used to prove the being of God, and ad 
 mit their inadequacy to that end ; the arguments of the infidel, which aro 
 equally subjective and inconclusive, must be yielded up likewise. For if 
 reasoning cannot find out the being of God, reasoning cannot disprove it. 
 
 NOTE 8. Page 35. 
 
 Thus reputation often may confer 
 On men an artificial character. 
 
 The influence of reputation on moral conduct, ought not to be overlooked 
 in a liberal system of education. The monks in the early centuries having 
 been unjustly charged with misdemeanours, gradually sunk under the very 
 vices which had been attributed to them. 
 
 NOTE 9. Page 37. 
 
 For public spirit, alias speculation, 
 
 Does wonders for a dollar-saving nation. 
 
 There is no greater blunder in Political Economy, than that which suppo 
 ses national and individual wealth to be the same thing. From this error 
 arises the extreme jealousy of our legislators in watching the people s money, 
 as if every dollar that is appropriated to public improvement were not the 
 best investment that could be made of it. Invention is the only true basis of 
 national opulence, without which economy is extravagance, and accumula 
 tion, poverty. 
 
 NOTE 10. Page 39. 
 
 When Summer flushed the forest trees in green, 
 Or young Vertumnus saw Pomona melt. 
 
 VERTUMNUS represents a large class of young men who play the hypocrita 
 and make old women of themselves, to win the objects of their affection. 
 
 NOTE 11. Page 43. 
 
 ALPHESIBCEUS might renounce his jumps, 
 To see saltantes satyros in pumps. 
 
 Saltantes Satyros imitabitur Alphesibneus. Virg. Buc. Eel. 5. 73. 
 
110 NOTES TO GERALDINE. 
 
 NOTE 12. Page 46. 
 To talk of liberty, and treat the fishes 
 To tea,) served up in chests instead of dishes. 
 
 After the Boston tea-party had finished their labours, they met together at 
 the house of EDES, the printer and publisher, in the street now called Frank 
 lin Avenue, where they regaled themselves with punch. PETER EDES, now 
 residing in Bangor, Me-, the son of that man and the oldest printer in the 
 United States, informed me that he was present, and had the honour of 
 squeezing the lemons for the thirsty patriots. The bowl is still in his posses 
 sion, and ought to be preserved in the old Cradle of Liberty. But it would 
 probably be as difficult to enshrine a punch-bowl in Faneuil Hall, as to gain 
 admission for Lord BYRON S statue in Westminster Abbey. 
 
 NOTE 13. Page 51. 
 Whatever is, must be. 
 
 I believe that I have correctly stated the amount of the argument in Systime 
 de la Nature, a work so associated with the name of MIRABEAUD, that it is 
 difficult to think of him as not the author. From that work, SHELLEY gath 
 ered his ideas of Necessity, as many others before and after him have done* 
 
 Motive, says Shelley, is to voluntary action in the human mind, what 
 cause is to effect in the material universe. 
 
 Now there can be no voluntary action without will, because voluntary 
 action is itself action from the will. Whatever a man wills to do, he loves 
 to do, and to say that a man has a motive for willing, is only to say that he 
 wills to will. The very essence of will is that it is free. We may control 
 the actions of a man, but we cannot control his will, any more than we can 
 his love. We know that love cannot be controlled ; but it is not generally 
 known that love is the will. When we speak of free voluntary activity, we 
 speak tau to logically. Voluntas means will, desire, affection ; hence voluntarily, 
 freely, with desire, with affection. Voluntary activity means free activity 
 of the will, without the superadded adjective. It is absurd to talk about a 
 constrained will ; we might as well suppose an involuntary volition. Any 
 phrase which would convey the idea of not a free will, would contain a contra - 
 diction in terms. 
 
 A word or two about the term necessity. As every phenomenon of nature 
 is, if practicable, referred to a cause, it has been universally believed that 
 there is an indefinite chain of phenomena, each link of which is both cause 
 and effect, as it happens to be related to its antecedent or consequent. Caus 
 ality demands a reason for everything ; and because this has always been 
 the case, when men could find no cause for a phenomenon, they referred it to 
 
NOTES TO GERALDINE. 
 
 Ill 
 
 an unknown one; believing that causes never ceased. The ne eesso of 
 causes was appealed to as a reason, when no known cause was perceived ; 
 and thus necessitas, became to be regarded as the cause of all things. So 
 easy is it, by means of the law of transference, to make a physical cause out 
 of a logical conclusion. 
 
 NOTE 14. Page 52. 
 Reason, he deemed, could measure every thing ; 
 
 And reason told him that there was a law 
 Of mental action, which must ever fling 
 A death-bolt at all faith ; and this he saw 
 Was Transference. 
 
 If any one ha s curiosity to look into this subject, and wishes to see how far 
 the force of reasoning and analysis may carry him, independently of revela 
 tion, I would suggest such inquiries as the following : 
 
 Whether the First Philosophy, considered in relation to Physics, was first 
 in time ? 
 
 How far our moral perceptions have been influenced by natural phenom 
 ena? 
 
 How far our metaphysical notions of cause and effect are attributable to 
 the transference of notions connected with logical language ? 
 
 NOTE 15. Page 55. 
 
 Not all uncaught 
 
 By the great snare of worldly restlessness. 
 Cleop. O infinite virtue ! com stthou smiling from 
 The world s great snare uncaught ? 
 
 Antony and Cleopatra. 
 
 NOTE 16. Page 59. 
 Nor is it more delightful to rehearse 
 All night, like WILLIAM PITT, your daily curse. 
 
 It is said of Mr. PITT, that he was often so harassed by his efforts in 
 Parliament, that he rehearsed his speeches audibly in his sleep. 
 
 NOTE 17. Page 80. 
 Ji white-winged raven screaming o er the tide, 
 
 This can hardly be said to be a rara avis in terris, in the sense of the 
 classical allusion, if we consider the modern discoveries in Natural History, 
 
112 NOTES TO GERALDINE. 
 
 in New-Holland. The black swan, says MALTE-BRUN, exceeds the common 
 white swan. Its beak is a rich scarlet, with a yellow point. All its plumage 
 is of a very beautiful black, except the primary and secondary feathers, which 
 are white. The eyes are black, and the feet dark brown. It is found on the 
 Hawkesbury River and other fresh waters near Broken Bay. In its motions, 
 it has all the gracefulness of the white species. This bird was first discovered 
 by the Dutch navigator, Vlaming, on the banks of Swan River, in D End- 
 racht s Land. 
 
ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS 
 
DRAMATIC PERSONS. 
 
 EUPHRON, Prefect of Damascus. 
 
 CALOUS, Syrian leader. 
 
 LUCRETIUS, A distinguished citizen. 
 
 DECIUS, A Senator. 
 
 KALED, Saracen Chief. 
 
 ABDALLAH, His Lieutenant. 
 
 DERA, A Saracen officer. 
 
 ATHENIA, Daughter O/EUPHRON. 
 
 ADA > Her attendant. 
 
 OPHIRA, A Syrian woman. 
 
 Senators, Syrian and Arabian soldiers, Messenger, Grecian 
 
 captive, People of Damascus. 
 
 The scene lies in the Ager Damascene, and in the City of 
 Damascus, at the close of the siege A. D. 634. 
 
 10 
 
ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 
 
 ACT I. 
 SCENE I. 
 
 A Street in DAMASCUS. Time, sunrise. 
 (Enter LUCRETIUS and DECIUS.) 
 
 Dec. And is there then no hope, Lucretius 1 
 
 Luc. Yes, such as looks from out the headsman s eye, 
 When the axe gleams before a malefactor. 
 
 Dec. What s to be done ? 
 
 Luc. Murder and sacrilege ! 
 
 Dec. And then to starve ! 
 
 Luc. What can the Emperor mean 1 
 
 Surely, the fate of Bosra might have waked 
 The boa from his slumber, but he lies 
 
118 
 
 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 Gorged with his Persian victories, as if 
 Sleep were the best security. 
 
 Dec. Heaven s wrath 
 
 Unvials on the earth the plagues are out 
 For Syria s overthrow. 
 
 Luc. It is but just ; 
 
 We have offended heaven ! 
 
 Dec. But know you not, 
 
 Heraclius is entreated for our aid 1 
 
 Luc. What signifies his aid at such a pass, 
 When like the scorpion, we are girdled in, 
 And scorched to suicide ] To hear these wolves 
 Howl for their Paradise ! as if the wretch 
 That fixed the seal of hell upon their foreheads, 
 Would cheat that hell of its own sensual slaves ! 
 
 Dec. It is a weary siege ! Damascus reels 
 Even to her downfall. Should Heraclius fail 
 To send us speedy succour, we are lost. 
 
 Luc. What say the Senate ] Have you yet proclaimed 
 Last night s determination ] 
 
 Dec. When retired, 
 
 We were again convoked to meet at sunrise, 
 Caloiis is summoned to the council room, 
 For some important matter. 
 
 Luc. Heaven forefend 
 
 Greater calamity ! the times are bad 
 When soldiers prompt the Senate. 
 
A TRAGEDY. 119 
 
 Dec. Were you going 
 
 On to the Senate-House, Lucretius 1 
 
 Luc. Yes. 
 
 Dec. Let us then go together, tis so dull 
 In such a time to be corapanionless ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 The Senate-House ; EUPHEON, DECIUS, and other Senators 
 seated. CALOUS standing in the background. 
 
 EupJi. Fathers, I have convoked you at this hour, 
 To reconsider last night s resolution. 
 There have been spies on your deliberations. 
 The morning watch challenged a cowled foe, 
 Who shouted Allah akbar! and escaped 
 On wings of lightning. We have tracked his path 
 Even from this chamber, where he must have lain 
 Treacherously hidden : Howe er that be, 
 Our weakness is betrayed. It now remains 
 To scan our desperate purpose. Senators, 
 Let us receive your views in this emergence : 
 Only remember, moments now are hours. 
 
 Dec. 1 see no reason, in this foul mischance, 
 Which scourges so our negligence, that we 
 Should change the resolution we have made. 
 It is impossible for us to hold 
 
 10* 
 
120 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 The city two days more : we starve already, 
 Though the extent of her necessity, 
 Damascus does riot know ; she little dreams 
 How certain is her ruin. I advise, 
 Even as I did last night, to sue for peace, 
 And leave the rest to heaven. 
 
 Euph. Let him who controverts what Decius says, 
 Speak to the Senate. 
 
 (A pause.} 
 
 Have you all one mind ? 
 Know then 1 summoned Caloiis among you 
 In apprehension of this same restraint : 
 For in a matter of such deep concern, 
 A soldier s sphere may stir the stagnant blood, 
 And give it healthy action. Caloiis, speak, 
 The Senate asks your free, untrammelled mind ! 
 
 (CALOUS comes forward.} 
 Col. For this unusual honour had I power 
 Commensurate with gratitude, Fd bear, 
 Most willingly, the weight of all your woes. 
 But, conscript fathers ! all I have is yours, 
 A life devoted to the public weal. 
 In early days, midst Rome s exalted pride, 
 Twas deemed no mean occasion to decree 
 The highest honour that a soldier loves, 
 That he did not despair of the Republic. 
 For me 1 hold no commerce with despair. 
 
A TRAGEDY. 121 
 
 Damascus may be, shall be free again. 
 Could 1 have had a voice with yours, last night, 
 I had protested strongly gainst your vote. 
 Do ye not know, that they who sue for peace, 
 To such a foe as ours, can hope no more ? 
 Had they one Christian feeling, like our own, 
 Some bond of human brotherhood, that extends 
 Self-love unto a neighbour, then indeed, 
 The dove might bear the olive-bough to them ; 
 Not now ; no, fathers ! we must fight or die ! 
 And better to do both, to fight and die, 
 Than sue to them for peace. 
 
 No ; conscript fathers ! 
 
 They have forestalled your purpose; it is well. 
 Your chances of success are multiplied ; 
 Even now, while they expect your suppliant suit, 
 Astonish their base hopes, and when the bell 
 Strikes as a signal, let the ready gates 
 Pour out a flood of war upon their camp, 
 And crush them with its weight. Meanwhile, perhaps, 
 The imperial forces may fresh succour bring, 
 And seal our great endeavour to be free. 
 Fathers ! I am for liberty or death. 
 
 Euph. We thank thee, Caloiis ; Senators, you hear : 
 Shall we adopt our counsellor s advice ; 
 Say ; shall the vote be "liberty or death?" 
 
 (Several voices.) Death or Liberty ! Liberty forever ! 
 
ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 Euph. Tis done : and when the dial feels the sun 
 Steal o er the hour of noon, let the great bell 
 Strike from the Martyr s Tower for liberty ! 
 When next we meet, may peace be with Damascus. 
 (The Senators rise and disperse EupmiON/oZfows C ALDUS.) 
 
 Euph. Soldier ! one moment, ere you quit this room. 
 
 Col. I wait your pleasure but be brief, I pray you. 
 We have no leisure now for idleness. 
 
 Euph: Athenia ! 
 
 Col. Is t then of her you d speak 1 
 
 EupJi. It may seem strange, in times of such calamity, 
 To mingle private thoughts with public business ; - 
 But there are secret springs within the breast, 
 Which, when disordered, clog the whole machine. 
 You love Athenia ! 
 
 Cal If ever man loved woman. 
 
 Euph. Odious, you have a treasure in that heart, 
 Of golden fruit, that CrcEsus had not bought, 
 Though he had hewn his Lydian mountains down, 
 And turned Pactolus from his shining sands, 
 To bribe the Hesperian dragon. Yet you deem 
 Your love equivalent to such a gain ! 
 
 Cal. If ever such unworthy thought were mine, 
 How could I know the happiness of loving ] 
 A heart that feels the immortal glow of love, 
 Knows no such selfishness. 
 
 Euph. Your mutual hopes 
 
A TRAGEGY. 
 
 Have long been known to me ; but if you think 
 To wed my daughter, you must give me proof, 
 Like Curtius, who would leap within the gulf 
 His country wished to close : and coulds t thou stand 
 O er such a verge as that which Marcus saw 
 Before assembled Rome, and plunge within, 
 Reckless of all things but the public good 1 
 
 Cal Ay; though it were to grapple with the Sphinx, 
 Or headlong dive where Typhon breathes the fires 
 Locked in his rock-ribbed sepulchre ; so long 
 As Honour points the way, and Love s fair hand 
 Beckons me onward name the desperate deed, 
 And for the heavenly guerdon promised me, 
 The Fates shall bow before ennobling will, 
 And resolution o erleap destiny ! 
 
 Euph. And could you bear the hisses of the people, 
 The execrations of distempered men 
 For making some unheard-of sacrifice ; 
 Say, could you immolate a noble name, 
 But for a day forego your reputation 
 Assume the villain wear a traitor s mask 
 Bring down a hundred thousand human curses, 
 Within an hour, on your devoted head, 
 And all to wed Athenia 1 
 
 CaL Senator ! 
 
 Well might I say I d grapple with the Sphinx, 
 For never did Cimmerian riddle wear 
 
124 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 So dark an aspect prithee, sir, explain ! 
 
 Euph. What if the popular breath should damn the sun, 
 In his meridian glory do st thou think, 
 His beams would fall less brightly? 
 
 Cal And what then ? 
 
 Euph. Reputation is but idle wind 
 
 Blown against character, which when unstained, 
 With an immortal vigour may upbear 
 Against the slanderous world its angel face, 
 And fix its gaze on Heaven ! 
 
 Cal. Let me drink 
 
 The Clarian waters that invest thy soul, 
 Though I imbibe my death ! unlock the spring 
 And if the revelation blanch my cheek, 
 The Sibyl whisper must propound some deed, 
 Too horrible for human utterance. 
 
 [EUPHRON whispers him.] 
 
 Cal What do you mean, my lord? 
 
 Euph. Patience ! 
 
 [ Whispers again.] 
 Now dar st thou do this thing 1 
 
 Cal. 1 am a very coward in all deeds 
 Where honour dares not mingle. No ! 1 dare not ! 
 
 Euph. Yet the archangel when he folds his wings, 
 Veils, not destroys, his glory ; think of this. 
 
 Cal. My lord, 1 cannot think of degradation, 
 And link the foul imagination, too, 
 
A TRAGEDY. 125 
 
 With the immaculate image of my love 
 Nature revolts at such dire contraries. 
 Methinks you task my virtue in strange wise ; 
 Or standing in such delicate relation 
 To my respect and sufferance you presume 
 More than becomes you to inflict on one 
 Disarmed by his affections, and your own ! 
 
 Euph. Were my intent, dishonourable, Caloiis ! 
 Thy serpent-twisted armour would strike dead 
 The base assailant of thy character 
 But I would build up honour for thy name, 
 And make thee heir to higher, richer treasure, 
 Than the sun- worshipper of Persia lost, 
 If thou wouldst only reach thy hand to take it ! 
 Cal. I have the senate s mandate on my mind 
 
 The legions wait my presence 
 
 [Shouts of "Liberty forever!" without.] 
 
 The senate s last decree has found a tongue 
 In every heart and, " Liberty forever /" 
 
 Rings through the iron phalanx, and inflames 
 
 With heavenly ardour ; welcome, oh, thrice welcome 
 
 Death-daring Hope ! Shout, shout again, brave soldiers ; 
 
 Your eagles strain their golden wings once more 
 
 For victory and the red vultures cleanse 
 
 Their clotted beaks to banquet on the foe ! 
 Euph. Onward to battle then, for liberty ! 
 Cal For liberty! [Exeunt. 
 
126 
 
 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS 
 
 SCENE 111. 
 
 An apartment in EUPHRON S house. ATHENIA and ADA. 
 
 Aih. Poor sufferers ! would that my means were greater ! 
 
 Ada. They were so grateful, lady, that their tears 
 Mixed with their supplications for thy blessing. 
 1 could not help weeping to see them weep. 
 
 Afh. Oh, my poor bleeding country ! for thy sins, 
 How terrible this judgement of high Heaven ! 
 They were all fed, and well provided, Ada ! 
 
 Ada. Yes ; but the little infant that you saw, 
 Died at its mother s breast and would you think it 1 ? 
 The mother laughed out loud weeping and laughing 
 And then she shuddered so, in anguish, lady, 
 1 ran and brought the pretty flowing mantle 
 You gave me on my birth-day, which she took, 
 And, sighing, folded round her lifeless child : 
 It was a trifling present nay, not so 
 Yet, pardon me look, here she comes again ! 
 {Enter OPHIRA.) 
 
 Afh. Merciful Heaven ! what a sight is this ! 
 
 Oph. Hush ! sh ! you will wake my child so ! softly ! 
 
 softly ! 
 
 We shall have food enough when the moon changes 
 They say the grave is not so cold, neither ! 
 
A TRAGEDY. 127 
 
 Ath. What wouldst thou have, thou poor unfortunate ! 
 
 Oph. Only a little food while my child dies ! 
 For mercy ! charity ! hush ! sh ! I am coming 
 \Vait awhile wait awhile we ll bury this first 
 And then keep off thy hand, base Saracen ! 
 He is my husband do not kill him! monster! 
 Right through his heart ! murder ! help ! Christians, help ! 
 
 [Rushes out. 
 
 Ath, Spirit of holiness ! dove of the hallowed ark, 
 That bears the sinking soul above the tide, 
 Come with the olive-blooming harbinger 
 Of meek-eyed Peace, and midst the spirit s strife, 
 
 Bend once again thy rainbow o er the storm ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 
 An opening in a range of mountains (the Libanus. ) The river 
 BARRADY breaking out from the opening DAMASCUS in the 
 distance with gardens. A high precipitous rock surmounted 
 by a castle overhanging the river. The scene lies below in the 
 Ager Damascenus. The tent of KALED discovered. Time, 
 sunrise : the sun gilding the spires of the city. KALED 
 and DERA outside the tent. 
 
 Dera. Thus far has Allah blest us praised be Allah ! 
 Scarce had 1 left the infidel s abode, 
 Fit paradise for dew-eyed luxury, 
 11 
 
128 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 When the bright morning spread her Tyrrian wings, 
 And waked the slumbering echoes : I have passed 
 A night of danger thrice along the walls 
 The lynx-eyed sentinel his challenge sent, 
 And twice was it eluded one alone 
 Suspected my great purpose but i hurled 
 Defiance in his teeth, and here I am. 
 
 Kaled. Well Dera, with thy business ! 
 Dera. Sleep had fled 
 
 The fearful people o er their pallid brows 
 The night-torch spread a hue of ghastliness 
 Some bowed themselves in tears, and kissed the cross, 
 While I stood by and smiled : twas murmured there, 
 The trunkless head of one they call divine, 
 Parted its bloodless lips and whispered "wo !" 
 At length I gained the council of their chiefs, 
 \Vho wearied out the watches of the night, 
 And heard their resolution pinched to death 
 By famine rent by civil broils, and foes 
 Who mask themselves in dark hypocrisy 
 They have resolved to sue to thee for peace. 
 
 Kaled. Then will they sue the hungry lion s mercy - 
 For by the shrine of Mecca, ere the sun 
 Shall gild again these lo f ty mountain tops, 
 I ll feast upon the bloodless heart of Syria, 
 And crown the eldest daughter of the world, 
 In mockery of herself : how proudly now, 
 
A TRAGEDY. 
 
 129 
 
 She lifts her conscious beauty to the skies, 
 Careless of ruin ! Thou hast ever been 
 The spot where Nature dimpled into smiles ; 
 Fit residence for dark-eyed messengers, 
 Who bear the mandates of eternal God. 
 Thou art too fair for Christian dogs to inhabit ; 
 Thou whom Mohammed loved, and loving feared, 
 Amidst thy sweet seductions while his work 
 On earth remained exposed to earth s corruption. 
 The altars which disgrace thee shall be razed, 
 With all their countless, false divinities. 
 And thou shalt forge the thunder-bolts of wo 
 For thine own ruin and this day shall build 
 A monument to Abubekir s name, 
 Which shall not crumble be we only just, 
 And faithful to our cause. 
 
 Dera. When Kaled speaks, 
 
 The sword of Allah leaps to Victory ! 
 
 Kaled. Nay, scourge of Christians ! keep thy honied 
 
 words 
 
 To recreate a mistress we have need 
 Of action, or our scimitars will rust 
 1 charge thee, Dera, for this last assault ; 
 See every man be ready; when the san 
 Shall call to morning prayer the Prophet s hour 
 Of certain victory one sudden burst 
 Shall overwhelm the city ; though 1 would, 
 
1.30 
 
 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 If possible, preserve so fair a place, 
 
 That Abubekir might repose his age 
 
 Among its pleasant gardens ; but tis written ! 
 
 Dem. My bosom burns to pay the Christian dogs 
 The debt I owe their coward treachery. 
 
 Kaled. Hope is a willing slave despair is free 
 So shall Damascus gird her iron on, 
 In desperate resistance but her doom 
 Is registered in those black leaves of fate, 
 Which Allah reads in Heaven while men tremble. 
 
 Enter ABDALLAH. 
 
 Worthy Abdallah ! may the Prophet s blessing, 
 And Abebukir s honours rest upon thee ! 
 What think st thou, soldier, shall we carry home 
 A glittering tribute and a few poor rags, 
 
 To grace our triumph in the Caliph s eyes 
 
 Shall we, who sacked Bassora, and upraised 
 The Sanjeak-sheriff on the Christian walls 
 Of many a leaguered town, now leave Damascus ? 
 No ! by Medina, I will storm her citadel 
 Exterminate her people, and wring out 
 
 The last red drop that gives a Christian life : 
 
 The treacherous infidel ! was t not enough 
 
 To parley with foul thoughts, when victory hung 
 
 Triumphantly upon the Moslem side, 
 
 And tempt my life by stratagem ? Enough 
 
A TRAG E D Y. 
 
 Speak, my lieutenant, I would take thy counsel ; 
 [Aside.] So it accord with my fixed resolution. 
 
 Abd. Sword of God ! 
 
 The tongue of wisdom lies behind her heart ; 
 This world is but the shadow of a cloud 
 A dream of troubled sleep : were I to seek 
 So much thy friendship, as the way of right, 
 1 would not think so loudly as 1 do ; 
 But when 1 cease to do the high behest 
 Of Allah when my heavenly leader shows 
 The way of duty, and I cease to follow, 
 Then may the angel of relentless death 
 Bsar me to judgement. Kaled, I protest 
 Against thy dark design ; our swords were sent 
 In the high cause of Allah, to persuade, 
 Or force, if necessary, every one 
 Who bows to Christ, to leave his impious faith, 
 And follow all the Koran s sacred laws ; 
 Why should we scatter death so needlessly 1 
 
 Kaled. You talk like one that has not been abused ; 
 Half Christian, by my faith ! and would you turn 
 Like one contemned, to beg for more contempt ? 
 This is to be a Christian ; fie, Abdallah ! 
 I thought you cherished more of manliness ! 
 
 Abd. When Abubekir gave the sword to you, 
 And took from me the standard, which you bear, 
 Though 1 acknowledged your superior power 
 11* 
 
 131 
 
ATHENIA OF DAM ASCIIS, 
 
 And followed you as leader, do not think 
 J acted so from love of degradation ! 
 Had 1 been so ambitious like the orb 
 Which wears our silver crescent in the sky, 
 
 I could have thrown a shadow o er your glory ; 
 
 1 thought you worthy, but I find you not ; 
 
 Nor brave, as once I held you ; though you frown 
 
 And chafe, and rage I still will stand unmoved, 
 
 And tax you with this weakness. Do not think 
 
 To scare me with your wrath ; what though you smote 
 
 Moseilam with the spear that Hamza slew, 
 
 And sealed Mohammed s favour 1 It was I 
 Who stood the Prophet s witness here below, 
 
 Twas I unfurled the sacred banner first, 
 
 And fought its holy battles ever ready, 
 
 As now, to die, ere it shall be polluted ! 
 Kaled. It is not meet that one the Prophet loved, 
 
 Should rouse my anger else, would I 
 
 Dem. Forbear ! 
 
 Why should you wage, heroes of Ismael ! 
 
 A war of words in conflict with each other ? 
 
 Abdallah was Mohammed s earthly witness, 
 
 His friend, companion, and the light which chose 
 
 His faithfulness, instructed him to act 
 
 According to his will ; I hate the Christians 
 
 But then the love I bear his memory, 
 
 Is stronger than my hatred of his foes. 
 
A TRAGEDY. 133 
 
 Kaled. I am the last to love dissension, Dera ! 
 
 Abd. Then listen ! if we urge extremities, 
 We blind ourselves to every fair advantage 
 Damascus must be ours ; but if we hold 
 A deaf ear to her cries, and slaughter wildly, 
 What city henceforth will submit, while lives 
 A single arm to keep a city free ? 
 Humanity is policy in war 
 And cruelty s a prodigal that heaps 
 A suicidal burthen on himself. 
 
 (The bell of Damascus strikes.) 
 (Enter a Saracen Soldier.) 
 
 Sold. The Christians are upon the move, my lord ! 
 The sentinel from yonder precipice, 
 Bade me declare a sally. 
 
 Kaled. How is this ? 
 
 [To Dera, 
 They ve fooled thee, soldier, hurry to the rescue ! 
 
 [Exit Dera. 
 
 Abdallah ! head the Armenian archers, bear 
 The standard in thine own particular hand ; 
 I trust it to thy charge ; forget the past ! 
 Onward and fight for Paradise ! 
 
 Abd. For Paradise ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 (End of Act /.) 
 
134 ATHENIAOFDAMASCUS 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 A pleasure-ground in DAMASCUS. ATHENIA alone. 
 
 Afh. 1 will not pluck thee from thy parent tree, 
 Sweet rose of beauty ! while the raindrops hang 
 O er thy clear blush their modest ornaments 
 Another hour shall glory in thy smile, 
 And when the daylight dies, the queen of heaven 
 Shall fold thee in a silver veil of love, 
 Forgetting her Endymion. Foolish heart ! 
 As if I loved ! Yet truly, as 1 live, 
 I fear I love the very thought of love ! 
 Oh, childish joy indefinite delight ! 
 That I should dream so sweetly and at morn 
 Find my eyes wet with tears ! 
 
 Enter C ALDUS. 
 
 Cal [Embracing her.] Athenia ! 
 
 Afh. Thank thee, Heaven ! 
 
 Cto^ What kind, indulgent power 
 
 Has smiled on Caloiis, that so much bliss 
 
A TRAGEDY, 
 
 135 
 
 At once should dissipate his darkest gloom, 
 And make a noon of midnight ! 
 
 Ath. Thank thee, Heaven ! 
 
 Cat Say then, thou lovest me still, Athenia ! 
 
 Ath. Love thee ! indeed I know not if I love. 
 When thou art nigh, I fain would be alone 
 And when away, I m sad and desolate : 
 Beshrew this maiden fickleness of thought ! 
 I would not give the treasure of my love, 
 For all the wealth that earth or ocean covers : 
 And thou wilt save our altars, Caloiis ! 
 The holy cross, and every dear remain 
 Of sainted martyr, still inviolate ! 
 So shall we wander in our honrs of joy, 
 On the green margin of life s sunny stream, 
 With more delight than ever shall we not? 
 
 Col. What grief can throw a shadow o er our way, 
 When love is cloudless 1 let thy heart be still, 
 Young Halcyon, on its marble resting-place ! 
 There is no fear, Athenia, that the foe 
 Can harm Damascus ; though his arm is strong, 
 The arm above is stronger even now, 
 The victory is ours. 
 
 Ath. Alas! Damascus. 
 
 Cal. Chase these vain fears ! and dost thou, maiden, 
 
 think, 
 The soil where Adam trod in majesty 
 
136 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 The land Jehovah guarded, when the fiend 
 Drove Saul to persecute and where the light, 
 And breath of God softened his heart of steel, 
 Turning his thoughts to pity and to love ; 
 Think st thou, this consecrated place can yield, 
 While He is with us, as He e er has been ? 
 
 Ath. His ways are dark, and deeply intricate 
 When Heaven was kindest, innocence was lost, 
 And Paradise gave birth to Misery. 
 
 Cal. Let not such thoughts plant lilies on thy cheek, 
 My own Athenia ! all will yet be well 
 Come, let me bind a chaplet of fresh flowers 
 To deck thy temples I will steal an hour 
 From anxious Care, and sacrifice to Love, 
 The hopes and wishes I have nursed for thee. 
 Not always thus shall be our wayward lot, 
 To wander here and steal from Love s rich store, 
 These precious moments of sweet ecstacy ! 
 Not always thus, my girl ! when dove-eyed peace 
 Spreads her white wings again, the sacred tie 
 Shall bind our wedded hearts till then, my love ! 
 Thy smile shall cheer me on in peril s hour, 
 With its dear influence ! 
 
 Ath. Oh, Caloiis, 
 
 Thy words have touched a string of memory s lyre, 
 And waked the key-note of the saddest dirge 
 That Fancy ever played to Melancholy ! 
 
A TRAGEDY 
 
 137 
 
 1 dreamed last night how could I have forgotten 1 
 I dreamed we stood before St. Michael s altar, 
 Breathing eternal vows when oh ! how strange ! 
 Suddenly, without cause, you tore away 
 The holy cross down from above the altar, 
 And trampled it beneath your sandaled feet 
 Oh, such a dream ! and then methought that I, 
 With Delphic fury maddened in my dream, 
 And prophesying ruin, snatched from air, 
 Hot thunder-fire and hurled thee to the dust, 
 Shrieking from very agony of hatred ! 
 Oh, horror, horror, horror ! 
 
 Cal. Stay these fantastic thoughts, strange excellence ! 
 I love thee more, Athenia, for that mind, 
 So capable of wild imaginings ! 
 
 Aih. But why 
 
 Can truant Reason thus desert her throne, 
 And suffer Truth and Falsehood, hand in hand, 
 To conjure such conceptions in the brain 1 
 
 Cal The mind is ever wakeful when the spirits 
 Grow weary, nature calls for their repose ; 
 And thus our animal being slumbers nightly ; 
 Yet the mind moves in its eternal course, 
 Thought following thought, by that association, 
 Which governed them by day but like a king 
 Throned with his vassals slumbering at his side, 
 Its counsellors are gone Perception s messengers 
 
138 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 Lie mute before their monarch whose mistake 
 Leads on to such a labyrinth of errors, 
 That bright Aurora, with her threads of light, 
 Must be its Ariadne, or tis lost. 
 
 Ath. Oh, strange, mysterious Nature ! strange Philosophy, 
 That reads its true relations ; Caloiis ! 
 It is because of their reflex conditions, 
 Matter and mind thus imaging each other, 
 That 1 am led away by fantasy. 
 Pray Heaven you fall not in this cruel strife ! 
 
 Cal. 1 prithee do not play Cassandra s part, 
 And prophesy of dying ; I have here 
 A fairer Paradise than Moslems have, 
 With such an Houri Come, away with this ; 
 How can this dull cloud pass before the sun, 
 And turn our spring to winter 1 There, I knew, 
 The dimpling bud of my Damascus rose 
 Was only folding its sweet leaves awhile, 
 To garner up more beauty ! 
 
 Ath. Flatterer ! 
 
 How well you coin Love s silver currency 
 Beshrew me that I so should like its chime ! 
 My bosom is a hive whose winged thoughts 
 Steal honey from the Hybla of your tongue, 
 That when its absence brings their wintry hour, 
 They may retire to their sweet home awhile, 
 And dream again of summer ! Now, I know, 
 
A TRAGEDY. 139 
 
 That angels hover round us when we love 
 For I have heard strange music in my walks, 
 Linking the loved ideal of my heart 
 With all things beautiful till eye and ear 
 Drunk in delicious pleasure : How is this 1 
 
 Cal If angels ever leave their pure abodes, 
 They could not live more spotless than with thee ! 
 
 Ath. Hush ! they will hear thee, and offended Heaven 
 Blast us for sacrilegious vanity. 
 Caloiis ! I fear I love thee more than Heaven ! 
 
 Cal. Love such as thine may strike its roots below, 
 But tis a plant that blossoms in the skies. 
 Look ! how the dew of heaven upon this flower 
 Drinks up the sunbeams ! do st thou think that they 
 Were sent so many million miles to shine, 
 Except to bless the petals which they warm 1 
 Oh, would I were a pencil of that light, 
 To live an hour with my Damascus rose ! 
 
 Ath. Oh, would 1 were a rose, and you my sun 
 That every tear which lonely night distils, 
 Might dance with gladness, when you brought the morn ! 
 
 [Caloiis embraces her. 
 Oh, how the heavenly alchemy of Love, 
 Turns every thought to golden blessedness ! 
 
 Ada, [without.] What, ho ! my lady ! 
 
 Ath. It is my Baya s voice the innocent bird, 
 That bears our dearest messages of love ! 
 12 
 
140 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 Enter ADA. 
 
 Well, minion, thou hast found me art afraid? 
 What hast thou there 1 An arrow, by my life ! 
 Has Cupid sped a shaft at thee so soon 1 
 
 Cal Where didst thou find that instrument of death ? 
 
 Ada. I hope, my lord, it is no evil sign. 
 E en now while standing by the marble spring, 
 Listening to hear two sweet birds sing together, 
 That arrow rustling through the fruit-tree leaves, 
 Pierced one of those poor birds, which fell down moaning, 
 Even to my very feet. I plucked it out, 
 And in exceeding sorrow sought my mistress ; 
 Still do I hear that dear bird s dying music, 
 And its poor broken-hearted mate lamenting. 
 
 [During ADA S speech, CALOUS takes the arrow from her, 
 and breaks it ; a paper falls out, which he takes up, and 
 reads.] 
 
 Cal. To Euphron, Prefect of Damascus ! " 
 Athenia, 1 must leave thee ! Stay here, Ada ! 
 Where is the Prefect gone, Athenia 1 
 
 Ath. What can this mean 1 Ah me, some new distress ! 
 
 Cal In sooth, tis nothing, love ! where is your father? 
 [abstractedly.] Yes ! it shall be done ! 
 
 Ath. What shall be done ? 
 
 Cal. What Heaven ordains Leave me, my love, awhile ! 
 
 Ath, Leave thee awhile ! alas, alas, Damascus ! 
 
A TRAGEDY. 141 
 
 I hear the death-bird screaming on the wind, 
 
 Wo to Damascus ! Leave thee awhile ! Farewell ! 
 
 [Going. 
 
 Cal Stay, sweet enchantress ! by the light of love, 
 And the enshrined divinity that burns 
 Within that guileless bosom, where I worship, 
 Dim not those angel eyes with mortal tears ; 
 I did not mean to give thee pain, Athenia ! 
 
 Ath. [Looking earnestly at him.] 
 Caloiis, thy God will leave thee to that worship, 
 And wed thee to despair ! [ Turning away sorrowfully. 
 Alas, Damascus ! [Exit. 
 
 Cal. [Musing.] If I give up this city, they will think 
 Caloiis the worst of traitors though the end 
 Must show the deep fidelity I bear her. 
 Another day would find Damascus fallen : 
 Why then delay? when sudden death impends, 
 The direst medicine is not amiss. 
 But, should I fail ! just Heaven, what wo were mine ! 
 If I succeed thy smiles, my rescued country ! 
 Thy brighter smiles, Athenia, will repay 
 This conflict between duty, love, and fear. 
 It shall be done ! dry up your tears, Damascus ! 
 And spare your curses while I work your weal. 
 Let me peruse this strange despatch again 
 
 [ While he is reading, EUPHRON enters seeing him, CA- 
 LOUS starts.] 
 
142 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 Now by the Baptist s blood, the thing itself, 
 The very body that the shadow threw ! 
 
 [To EUPHRON.] 
 Know st thou this signet 1 
 Euph. it is Werdan s ! 
 
 Cal See what a herald he has sent to you 
 Euph. [Reading.] " If you cannot hold the city, contrive 
 to gain time in some way. The army will be at your gates to 
 morrow." 
 
 The very words ! 
 
 Cal. Had you another like it? 
 
 Euph. Even to the very folding in a reed 
 Shot as an arrow o er the garden wall, 
 I found it ere I saw you in the morning, 
 And this is but its fellow to secure 
 Communication. May it be the last ! 
 Had 1 your youth 
 
 Cal. Speak not to me of youth 
 
 1 have resolved upon the sacrifice ; 
 Yet how shall it be done ] That is the question. 
 
 Euph. Openly, like a traitor tis a part 
 Requiring the free action of a mind 
 Bent on the perpetration of a deed, 
 Against all dangers panoplied. 
 
 Cal Alas! 
 
 Who would believe that Caloiis has revolted ] 
 They could not find a motive for the crime, 
 
A TRAGEDY. 143 
 
 To satisfy astonishment. In truth, sir, 
 My better nature shrinks. 
 
 Euph, Why should it so 7 
 
 Cal The Christian precept, it would seem, were only 
 A matter of convenience ! I have learned 
 To deem it universal in its meaning. 
 And 1 confess, my conscience does not like 
 To view this strange transaction. 
 
 Euph. As you please ! 
 
 Your country, nay, Athenia, has no claim 
 Upon your pity. When Damascus falls, 
 As fall fahe must, should the impending blow 
 Strike as it threatens, how can you behold 
 The flames the sacrilege the foul pollution, 
 You might have once prevented ! look you there 
 They drag my daughter from me she is dead ! ?. 
 No ! tis the seal the wanton Arab sets 
 On Christian innocence ! 
 
 Cal. Oh, spare me, spare me ! 
 
 I prithee do not let thy fancy stain 
 Her spotless ermine by another thought : 
 Name but a pretext that will varnish o er 
 The absurdity of such a foul revolt 
 Make it but actable and 1 will do it. 
 Teach me to make the treachery probable ! 
 
 Euph. I have it, but it tasks thy virtue further 
 Thou shalt be superseded in command, 
 12* 
 
144 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 And then revenge were natural ! 
 
 Cal. Excellent ! 
 
 Euph. I ll pull the strings that move those dancing jacks, 
 The hangers-on of Government for office ; 
 And they will wag their venal tongues at thee, 
 And lash the rabble public into foam, 
 E en while you save them. Tis an easy thing 
 To open the light flood-gates that hedge up 
 Public opinion, and let scandal work 
 On reputation. Are you satisfied 1 
 
 Cal Methinks Lucullus asks me to a feast, 
 To banquet all the senses I am lost 
 In mere imagination of such bounty. 
 Great God ! was ever mortal tasked as I am ? 
 Oh, I could wade through blood for honour s sake, 
 But to seek glory in so rank a path, 
 Shames me in doing. May we trust Athenia ? 
 
 Euph. No, not a living soul. But I must act 
 The hypocrite and liar for her sake, 
 And curse thee to my daughter ! 
 
 Cal Horrible, 
 
 That love should mask in livery of hell ! 
 
 Euph. To-morrow, ere the impatient sun goes down, 
 Think what a bright reverse ! Our city free ; 
 The Imperial Army at our very gates ; 
 The shouts, the triumph of a grateful people ; 
 While their deliverer bears his bride in joy 1 
 
A TRAGEDY. 145 
 
 But if the foe once gain the city walls, 
 Though Werdan should invest them with his rank, 
 The country is alive with maddened Arabs, 
 And midst their still accumulating power, 
 How could we hope for mercy ? 
 
 Col. Say no more, 
 
 It shall be done, be thou but prompt to aid me. 
 
 Euph. Meet me an hour hence in the library. 
 1 have a friar s dress which oft at night, 
 Serves me in my excursions through the city. 
 Twill help this great occasion. Fare thee well ! 
 
 [Exit 
 
 Cal If I should fail ! oh God, if I should fail ! 
 What crawling wretch would hug his grim despair 
 Like Caloiis ! hence spectre, to thy grave ! 
 Why dost thou come to make a coward of me ] 
 
 [Exit, 
 
 SCENE II. 
 The Saracen camp. KALED, ABDALLAH, DERA. 
 
 Kaled. Foiled yet again ! the standard taken too ! 
 Abd. Tis safe, my lord ! 
 Kaled. But then it was polluted. 
 Abd. Not by a Christian s touch ! tis true awhile 
 They bore it by the staff myself struck down 
 
146 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 By their infernal engines ; not a thread 
 Of its green folds was yet contaminated. 
 Dera was present, and can vouch for this. 
 
 Dera. By Mecca, it is true ! Twas the best fight 
 Since Karbur swam with blood at Akrabar ! 
 
 (Enter a Saracen soldier in haste.) 
 
 Kaled. How now ! speak, fellow ! tell me what s the 
 matter. 
 
 Sol God is great ! May the word of God be ever victo 
 rious ! The garrison at Bozra is in danger A caravan from 
 Antioch has been taken, bound for Damascus. We have 
 learned from one who has renounced the idolatry of Christ, 
 that Heraclius the Emperor, has sent an army to relieve Da 
 mascus. May the arm of Allah strengthen you ! 
 
 Kaled. Presumptuous fool ! 
 
 Would Kaled had an hundred thousand arms 
 To clear the world of those unwashed idolaters ! 
 What shall we do, brave soldiers 1 Is it best 
 To raise this siege awhile or wilt thou go 
 
 [To Dera. 
 
 With half the Caliph s forces, and thyself 
 Dash at these wood-adorers scourge of Christians ? 
 Ere thou return, Damascus will have poured 
 Her treasures to pile up the monument 
 Which thou shalt lay with the imperial gold. 
 
 Dera. Let me away at once, before the foe 
 
A TRAGEDY. 147 
 
 Can hurry on their legions to these gates. 
 
 If we march on to-night, the palm s long shade 
 
 Will point the east to conquered Syria. 
 
 Kaled. Begone in Allah s name ; for Paradise ! 
 On the event of this great action, Dera ! 
 Much will depend. Be cautious, curb thy valour ; 
 Strike once, and mightily. Remember, Paradise ! 
 Thou who hast saved the standard, art deserving 
 To fight beneath its shadow ; bear it with thee ! 
 Begone and conquer ! 
 
 Dera. \ have already won 
 
 The favour of the black-eyed girls of heaven ! 
 
 Kaled. They look with eager longing for thee, Dera ; 
 There s rest for thee in heaven. On, action, action ! 
 
 (Enter two Saracens, leading in a Grecian captive. ) 
 What have we here? stay, Dera, here s more news. 
 What art thou, dog? 
 
 Capt. A prisoner, at thy mercy ! 
 
 Kaled. A Christian and a dog. Whence art thou ? tell me, 
 Or I will throw thy carcass to the hounds 
 That howl for thy whole kindred ! 
 
 Capt. Spare my life, 
 
 And 1 will serve thee faithfully and well. 
 God is the only God, and Mohammed 
 His Prophet. 
 
 Kaled. Thou hast won thy life, already ; 
 
ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 Speak freely to me. How canst thou serve Allah ? 
 Thou shalt be harnessed in pure gold, speak freely. 
 
 Capt. The Grecian army 
 
 Kaled. What of it ? where 1 how many ? haste, I pray 
 thee ! 
 
 Capt. Ten leagues away, and hurrying by forced marches. 
 It will be here to-morrow. 
 
 Kaled. Know st its rout ? 
 
 Capt. Yes, and will guide thee to it, unerringly. 
 
 Kaled. Enough ! we ll go together, scourge of Christians ! 
 Abdallah, thou shalt govern in my absence ! 
 Keep the defensive and retreat, if haply 
 These rabid dogs unkennel from the city. 
 Go, Dera, rouse the lions from their lair, 
 Bring out ten thousand archers, and as many 
 High mettled chargers, manned and scimitared ; 
 Provision for one day Heraclius 
 Has doubtlessly provided with large bounty 
 For all our possible wants Go, and when ready, 
 Bring up my guard, and we will on to Bozra. 
 
 [Exit Dera. 
 
 Bear off your prisoner give him nourishment, 
 And have him ready for the march forthwith. 
 
 [Exeunt soldiers with captive. 
 Abdallah, I must charge thee in my absence, 
 To have a keen observance of Damascus. 
 These infidels are wily as the brood 
 
A TRAGEGT. 149 
 
 That weep upon the borders of the Nile. 
 Be sparing of thy pity, should they send 
 Their olive-bearing messengers to thee. 
 Our policy is conquest, and our aim 
 To propagate Mohammed s revelation. 
 Be all things to all men but seemingly, 
 And keep thy own heart as a citadel, 
 Where to retire in every great emergence. 
 But trusting to thy faith and high discretion, 
 Thou hast full power when Kaled is away. 
 
 Abd. Alas, my shoulders are unfit to bear 
 Unwonted burthens and my heart misgives, 
 Lest Kaled may return dissatisfied. 
 
 Kaled. Fear not. Thy course is plain. Follow it out, 
 And discontent can find no place to enter. 
 Hazard no battle and what else betides, 
 So we possess Damascus, all is well. 
 
 Abd. If Abubekir be my judge, perhaps 
 My motives to advance the cause of Allah, 
 May make amends for all imprudences. 
 
 Kaled. See ! Dera is already on the march. 
 There is a soldier who can carve out empire. 
 Yet should he hold a sceptre, his weak head 
 Would swim so, he would dash his giddy brains out 
 And yet how well he bears himself in war ! 
 
 (Martial music; enter Dera with a guard of Saracens, wto 
 
150 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 march and counter-march ; Dera, in the meantime, gives up the 
 command to Kaled, and exeunt. ) 
 
 (End of Act II.} 
 
A TRAGEDY. 151 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 Enter LUCRETIUS andDEcrus. 
 
 Luc. What, further shortened in our poor allowance 1 
 
 Dec. The granaries are exhausted. 
 
 Luc. Gracious Heaven ! 
 
 Where will this end 1 Yet no relief Oh, patience ! 
 To what extent must we endure these ills 1 
 Oh, madness ! that the Prefect should divest 
 Syria s right arm of power at such a time, 
 When all its strength is needed ! Why was this 1 
 
 Dec. He urges the advice he gave the Senate, 
 Though prompted by himself, and he declares 
 That Caloiis has o erstepped authority, 
 Using a dangerous influence with the people. 
 Tis strange how many unimagined charges 
 Can swarm upon a man, when once the lid 
 Of the Pandora box of contumely 
 Is opened o er his head ! 
 
 Luc. Tis strange indeed I 
 
 13 
 
152 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 Dec. There never was a soldier more deserving-, 
 Than he who is rejected. He has borne 
 Office with modesty, performing- ever, 
 His duty with a promptitude and zeal, 
 That many a time have gained his country laurels. 
 
 Luc. Nor is he a mere soldier. 
 
 Dec. Far from it. 
 
 He served his country in a magistracy, 
 And what is wonderful in these bad times, 
 He never served himself. Why, look around, 
 And count, if possible, the pampered numbers 
 Who fatten on the state. They are the men, 
 Who, if they find a man too honourable 
 To be a fellow-gleaner of the spoils, 
 When faction s sickle sweeps the public wealth, 
 Lift up their angry voices to the crowd, 
 And breathe around their pestilential breath, 
 Till virtue s self is tainted by its touch : 
 So has it been with him ; the people cry 
 " Down with the Greek ! Give us a Syrian leader." 
 And for the good which he has done to them, 
 They pelt him with hard curses hiss at him 
 And call him General of their misfortunes. 
 But yesterday, he was their lord and idol ; 
 Why, sir, the very soldiers curl their lips, 
 And whisper in sarcastic raillery, 
 Sporting in his disgrace. 
 
A TRAGEDY. 153 
 
 Luc. The sun is set, 
 
 Which broke from the high places on his head, 
 And he who scattered its reflected beams, 
 Condenses on his cold and rayless brow, 
 The reeking atmosphere of insolence. 
 The Prefect is a traitor to our hopes ! 
 Some say he s jealous of Athenia s favour, 
 As ill bestowed ; thus for a private pique, 
 He shapes the destiny of countless thousands. 
 
 Dec, Athenia is a noble gentlewoman, 
 Stampt in the finest mould of excellence. 
 Rome in her palmiest state, when woman nursed 
 Her grandeur, by the care of her young heroes, 
 Had scarce her equal. How will she endure 
 This outrage on affection, she whose mind 
 High overtops all selfishness 1 
 
 Luc. Yet know, 
 
 Her love is but the blossom of a tree 
 Of most luxuriant verdure ; in her heart, 
 The love she bears her country is supreme 
 To all affections ; and her Christian zeal 
 So shames the false and meretricious colour 
 That mantles our deep-grained hypocrisy, 
 That 1 have sometimes gazed on her with awe, 
 As an angelic substance. Many a time 
 When her wrapped spirit winged itself away 
 In holy meditation, I have seen 
 
154 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 Unearthly beauty kindle o er her face, 
 
 And almost heard the harmony I knew 
 
 Her kindred thoughts were hymning with her God. 
 
 [Shouts without. 
 Why this tumult 1 
 
 Dec. Probably the appointment 
 
 Of Manlius the Centurion. 
 
 [Shouts continue. 
 Shout away ! 
 
 Toss up your caps, enjoy your festival ! 
 Riot in madness ! in a few brief hours, 
 You ll wear your chains more gracefully for this : 
 Here comes lord Caloiis I will leave you to him. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Enter CALOUS. 
 
 Luc. Noble Calous, 
 
 I greet thee with a soldier s sympathy ! 
 
 Cal Thanks for this courtesy ! 
 
 Luc. Do st thou not grieve 
 
 To see Damascus mad ) 
 
 Cal Say, had she cause 
 
 To blow this mildew on my honour s bud? 
 
 Luc. Never ! thou st always served her like a son,. 
 And she has proved a most unnatural mother, 
 
 Cal. Why, she has cast me offj as I had been 
 Tainted with crime. Lucretius, thou rt a man 
 
A TRAGEDY. 155 
 
 Lifted so high above the influence 
 
 Of popular breath that sways these demagogues, 
 
 That in my sore distress I come to ask 
 
 For counsel in this great calamity. 
 
 What shall I do, Lucretius, proudly scorning 
 
 To court the pity of the multitude ; 
 
 Degraded, stigmatised, and pointed at 
 
 By the bought fingers of those brainless shapes 
 
 Which call each other men? 
 Luc. Ask st thou me ] 
 
 Cal Ay, good Lucretius, what is to be done 1 
 Luc. Set thou the first example of true greatness, 
 
 And pity an infatuated people. 
 
 What is t to thee, that others do thee wrong ? 
 
 Thou art thyself, amidst the worst injustice, 
 
 That hatred can heap up upon thy head. 
 
 Revenge thy wrongs with magnanimity ; 
 
 Build up thy virtue higher than the clouds 
 
 That human passion girts the good man with, 
 
 And let perpetual sunshine rest upon it. 
 
 Forgive thy country, pity her, and save ! 
 
 Cal Oh, would I could, Lucretius, would I could ! 
 
 But she has come to such a pass, I fear 
 
 That patriotism is dead, while selfishness 
 
 Stalks like a pestilential spectre forth, 
 
 The shadow of her ruin ! 
 Luc. No one knows . 
 
 13* 
 
156 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 The influence of individual effort. 
 
 The lowliest man wields every day and hour, 
 
 A moral lever which may sway the world. 
 
 But one who stands as thou do st, far apart, 
 
 And islanded amidst the foaming crowd, 
 
 That chafes upon his shore his high example 
 
 Gives life unto a system, and tis his 
 
 To be the saviour or the scourge of men ! 
 
 Cal True, good Lucretius, it is very true. 
 Thine is a fine philosophy ; I feel 
 The holy inspiration that breathes forth 
 From thy pure precepts ; but humanity L 
 Poor, error-loving, fond humanity 
 How do st thou read the wisdom of the skies, 
 Yet turn to gaze on earth ! 
 Farewell ! I ll think upon thy good advice, 
 And sigh o er its instruction. [Exit. 
 
 [Shouts without. 
 
 Luc. Farewell, thou noble and most injured man ! 
 Here are chromatic discords that might stir 
 A frame less sensitive. Shout, shout away ! 
 Ignoble slaves ! abominable tyrants ! 
 
 [Shouts approach. 
 Well, ye may come this way 1 shall not shun ye ! 
 
 [Enter a crowd of people with clubs. 
 
 1st Oil. Here is a fellow of the same fine trim, 
 A rank aristocrat. 
 
A TRAGEDY. 157 
 
 2nd Cit. Look ye, my hearty ! 
 
 Where have ye snugged away that clean-faced scoundrel 1 
 
 Luc. Whom seek ye, sage supporters of the state 
 Supreme dictators, worthy mobocrats ! 
 Can poor Lucretius serve ye any way? 
 
 ] st Cit. Where s the aristocrat ] bring him before us ! 
 
 Luc. Whom is it that ye call aristocrat 1 
 
 1st Cit. Caloiis, the white-washed Greek our former 
 General. 
 
 Luc. A nobler nature ne er was sacrificed 
 To an ungrateful people ! hark ye, sirs ! 
 This Caloiis, whom ye basely vilify, 
 Echoing the noisy demagogues that rule ye 
 
 Many voices. We are not ruled we are the sovereign 
 people. 
 
 Luc. Ye are the lowest of all earthly slaves ! 
 Ye suffer to be collared, bridled, bitted ; 
 Ye let your riders mount ye, so they cry, 
 " Dear sovereign people, sinews of the state." 
 Ye re led as asses are as willingly 
 So your conductors flatter you with crying 
 " Tis as you will, your will is all supreme, 
 Most honest people !" 
 
 Many voices. Down with this Lucretius ! 
 
 Luc. If, haply, midst your crowd of servile flatterers, 
 An independent child of God is found, 
 To assert the great prerogative of man, 
 
158 
 
 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 And speak the truth with boldness, instantly, 
 Ye cry, aristocrat," oppressor," tyrant !" 
 Ye are yourselves your only true oppressors ; 
 Ye are yourselves the true aristocrats ; 
 Ye are the kind of tyrants, who, stark mad, 
 Blind, and bewildered, grope among themselves, 
 And sacrifice each other. Get ye home, 
 And purge away the dulness of your eyes, 
 To see your true condition. Gracious Heaven ! 
 Will the time ever come when man shall learn 
 There s such a thing as too much liberty ? 
 
 Many voices. Down with this rank aristocrat, down with 
 him. 
 
 Luc. Ye dare not lay a finger on my head, 
 Unworthy Syrians ! I defy your rage 1 
 Where is your leader 1 let him show his face 
 Ye are a pack of cowards, every one, 
 Scared even at each other 1 Do ye come 
 To seek out Caloiis ? Why look ye, sirs ] 
 Were Caloiis here, he d frown ye to submission. 
 Here is some money for you ; get some drink, 
 And pledge us your good wishes do, 1 pray ye ! 
 
 Many people. [All scrambling for the money. ] 
 Huzza for Caloiis ! long live Lucretius ! 
 Huzza ! huzza ! huzza ! 
 
 [Exeunt tumultuously. 
 
 Luc. I d buy a million of ye, had I money, 
 
I KQ 
 
 A TRAGEDY. 
 
 For any act rebellious. God have mercy ! 
 If our deliverance rests on such as these ! 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 An Apartment in EUPHRON S house. ATHENIA and ADA. 
 
 Ada. Why does my mistress weep? It grieves my heart 1 
 To see her shed so many tears has Ada 
 Offended her] 
 
 Ath. Hush, Ada, I am done 
 
 The fountain is exhausted. Have you seen 
 My father in his usual walk, to-day 1 
 
 Ada. Early this morning not since he went abroad. 
 
 Ath. Would he were within ! my heart is heavy, 
 And longs to pour its griefs within some bosom. 
 There is a noise in his apartment now ; 
 Go, Ada, call him to me, and request, 
 If he have leisure, a short interview. , 
 
 [Exit Ada, who returns immediately. 
 
 Ada. Tis not your father, madam. 
 
 Ath. Not my father ! 
 
 Ada. It is a holy friar an intimate ; 
 I ve seen him often pass the corridor. 
 But never with your father. 
 
160 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 Ath. Call him thither ! 
 
 [Exit Ada. 
 
 My spirits would be lightened of this weight, 
 That presses them to earth. Why are we thus 
 The sport of circumstance that some light breath 
 Should quench the taper that dispelled the night, 
 And call it back again ? 
 
 Enter ADA. 
 
 Ada. My lady, he is gone his hurried step 
 Chid my request, ere I had uttered it. 
 
 Ath. Oh, for a sister s heart, to share with mine, 
 Its burthen of affection. 
 
 Ada. Dearest lady ! 
 
 Ath. My gentle girl, dost thou not sometimes wish 
 To be among the playmates of thy home, 
 And watch the antelopes among the hills, 
 Bounding from crag to crag ; and hear the storm 
 Sounding majestic anthems 1 
 
 Ada. Dearest lady ! 
 
 I often think of home but tis to bless 
 My parents that they gave my youth to thee. 
 Oh, they were kind, and taught me how to live ; 
 But thou, alone, hast taught me how to die ! 
 May I not call thee, sister? 
 
 Ath. Yes, sweet Ada ! 
 
A TRAGEDY. 161 
 
 Enter EUFHRON, in haste. 
 Oh, my father ! 
 
 Euph. Quickly, Athenia, 
 
 Tell me who passed the corridor just now? 
 
 Ath. Why, father? was it not the holy friar, 
 Who visits you so often 1 
 
 Ada. It was he. 
 
 1 saw him pass with an unusual speed, 
 Some time ago. 
 
 Euph. Hark ! what noise is that 1 
 
 Again 1 
 
 [Going to the window. 
 Look how the people hurry through the streets ! 
 
 [Bell strikes. 
 Why all this tumult ? treason, by the cross ! 
 
 Ath. God forbid ! God forbid ! 
 
 Enter a Soldier. 
 
 Euph. How now? what means this tumult ? speak! 1 
 charge thee ! 
 
 Sold. My tongue refuses utterance I cannot. 
 
 Euph. Slave, if you think to trifle with me thus, 
 I ll hurl thy trunkless head among the crowd. 
 Speak, chicken-hearted varlet ! 
 
 Sold. Treason is out Caloiis has fled to Kaled ! 
 
 Ath. Liar ! May heaven s hot lightning scorch thy heart, 
 Infamous liar ! tis false, thou hollow villain 
 
162 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 Caloiis a traitor ! Caloiis fled to Kaled ! 
 Sooner would Michael fly to the arch fiend, 
 And storm the throne of heaven ! 
 
 Euph. Impossible! 
 
 Ath. Ay, though you stripped him of his oaken crown, 
 Blasted his full-blown honours banished him 
 He could not play the Roman exile s part, 
 And strike against his country ! 
 
 Yet that dream ! 
 
 How like an ugly fiend at murky night, 
 
 It rises up before me ! Hence, base phantoms ! 
 
 Ye hell-engendered offspring of bad thoughts, 
 
 Back to your sulphurous caverns ! Air ! 
 
 [Faints. 
 
 The attendants support ATHENA Another soldier enters. 
 
 Euph. More news! 
 
 Out with it screaming raven tell us quickly, 
 Is it all true 1 Has Caloiis fled indeed 1 
 
 Sold. Most basely fled. 
 
 Euph, Then are we lost, forever ! 
 
 Ath. [Reviving.] Where is lord Caloiis 1 
 
 [looking around, wildly. 
 
 Euph. Alas! tittyWi^tclieddatiglitWi 
 
 Caloiis has played the traitor to his trust, 
 And sacrified his country. Damned villain ! 
 
 Ath. Speak not thus ! speak not thus ! in pity father ; 
 I never knew you thus ; your own Athenia, 
 
A TRAGEDY. 163 
 
 Your daughter, father, begs you to forbear ! 
 
 No ! no ! no ! no ! just heaven, avert the omen ! 
 
 Euph. Alas ! my gentle sufferer, tis too true ! 
 
 Ath. Then thou eternal father of all truth, 
 Pour out the vials of thy wrath upon him. 
 May his false heart blaze with the flames of hell, 
 And crust to ashes. [kneels.] Here I vow to thee, 
 Never again to commune with kind thoughts, 
 Till thy sure retribution mete to him 
 The scourge of perfidy ! Hence, charmer, hence ! 
 Come black revenge, revenge that knows no stay, 
 From that cold grave, where lies my buried love, 
 And may death s angel hover o er his path, 
 And darken it still deeper with despair ! 
 
 [ While she is still kneeling, the scene closes.] 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 Near the Saracen camp. 
 Enter CALOUS, (throwing ojf a friar s dress.) 
 
 Col. Now then I ll play the villain thus the soul 
 Strips off its mortal dress to play the fiend, 
 And lure confiding fools to certain ruin. 
 Unhappy city ! I can bear your curses ; 
 Howl your wrath louder yet ; a few more hours 
 Shall change this jarring discord to a hymn 
 14 
 
164 
 
 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 Of gratitude and joy. And thou, Athenia ! 
 Thou who hast chained me to the car of love, 
 Keep back the ignorant current of thy thoughts, 
 And let its tranquil beauty, as is wont, 
 Paint the clear depths of heaven ! 
 
 This should be 
 
 The outposts of their camp. Now steel thy heart, 
 Caloiis, for perfidy ! forgive me, heaven, 
 If thou can st sanctify unrighteous means, 
 To aid the cause of Christian truth and mercy ! 
 Hist ! who is here ] sure tis a Syrian woman ; 
 Ah me ! what sorrows may that creature have ! 
 For none but earth-deserted wanderers, 
 From yon beleagured charnel-house of wo, 
 Would seek asylum here. Who art thou, woman ] 
 
 Enter OPHIRA, who does not heed CALOUS. 
 
 Oph. Who said the ravens brought Elijah food 1 Hush ! 
 twas the vulture s scream ! Twas manna saved them. 
 To think that the monster could kill her own child ! She 
 ought to have nursed the poor innocent. I wish it had been 
 mine. Come ! come ! come ! 1 will not hurt you ! Ophira 
 is only a lone woman ! Now, we can talk the matter over- 
 He said that man-slaughter and man* s-laughter were the same 
 thing ! ha ! ha ! ha ! well might the screech-owl laugh ! 
 
 Cal. Unhappy woman ! 
 
 Oph. (Discovering him.) Ha ! I have found you then ! 
 
A TRAGEDY. 
 
 165 
 
 why do you not go home to her, if she is unhappy 7 She 
 gave me food, and I left her mad ! They are all mad now ! 
 
 Cat. Merciful Heaven ! 
 
 Oph. 1 told them so ! though they all blasphemed and 
 hissed at me. I told Athenia that I would find you, too ; but 
 I cannot find him. Tell me, for the love of God, where they 
 have buried my husband ? 
 
 Cal Distraction ! 
 
 Oph. Look you here, sir ; tell me, is not this a sweet corpse ? 
 Yet Ophira is not mad. I wish she were; for see, how 
 they look at me as they pass along : there ! they are whisper 
 ing about it now ! [Falls down. 
 
 Cal (Aside.) Poor maniac ! 
 
 Oph. 1 heard her tell, how she and her husband were 
 lost in a desert, where they could not get any food. How 
 the Arabs murdered him, while the poor child starved at her 
 parched bosom. It was a sweet ballad, though enough to 
 break a heart of stone. It went thus : 
 
 (Sings.} 
 " The Elf-King breathed in its infant ear. 
 
 While the earth-worm coiled in its clayey bed." 
 
 I forget the rest ; but it went on to tell, how they laid it un 
 der the cypress tree, and covered it with fresh flowers. Let 
 us now go home, and leave them all in the church-yard. 
 They are sound asleep don t wake them ! hush sh ! let 
 me cover you over, my dear child ! there ! [Dies, 
 
166 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 Cat, This is but one of the unnumbered ills, 
 Conquest has brought Damascus such is war ! 
 Oh heavens ! when will the spiritual sun arise, 
 And with his beams effulgent, drive away 
 The mists of error that so long have hung 
 Their dark, unnatural drapery o er the mind, 
 That broods o er human carnage ! when will man 
 Turn from the path of Cain, and learn to see 
 A brother without hating ] Hear me, Heaven ! 
 Alas ! how much have / to be forgiven ! 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 (End of Act III} 
 
A TRAGEDY. 167 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 Inside of the Saracen tent. ABDALLAH surrounded with 
 Soldiers. 
 
 Abd. No news from Kaled yet ? 
 
 Officer. Nothing decisive. 
 
 But from the Christian captives we have learned 
 Intelligence, that he has met the foe. 
 Allah is on our side, and we must conquer. 
 
 Abd. Oh, that Mohammed would come down from Heaven, 
 And teach us, o er again, those holy lessons 
 We have so soon forgotten:! Not for war 
 Nor conquest was the Koran sent to earth ; 
 But to teach men to live. Would Kaled knew 
 That mercy is the attribute of Allah ! 
 
 Enter a Soldier., 
 
 Sold. Strength to the arm of Allah ! Gracious Abdallah, 
 A Christian prisoner waits to be admitted I 
 14* 
 
168 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 Abd. Bring him before us. 
 
 [Exit Soldier. 
 Now would they be wise 
 And barter infidelity for faith, 
 Damascus still might be their Paradise. 
 
 (Re-enter soldier with CALOUS in chains. 
 
 This is no common man ! his high blood speaks 
 Even in his silence. As I live, the same ! 
 Art thou not Caloiis, the Syrian leader 1 
 
 Col. I wore the livery once, that slaves for fame I 
 To-day I am an outcast of the earth : 
 But Heaven has set a mark upon my brow, 
 By w r hich Abdallah knows the thing that was. 
 1 am thy willing prisoner ! 
 
 Abd. This is strange ! 
 
 Why do st thou say a willing prisoner ] 
 
 Cal. i am that wretched thing which men call traitor ! 
 
 Abd. Is t possible? 
 
 Cal. I am a liar else. 
 
 Abd. He who can turn a traitor to his cause, 
 And sell his country, is the worst of liars ! 
 
 Cal. I do not sell my country, she sells me ! 
 
 Abd. How sells thee ] 
 
 Cal. Listen to me, sage Abdallah ! 
 
 Thou hast a reputation which transcends 
 The narrow confines of the Arab s path, 
 
A TRAGEDY. 169 
 
 And Christian princes, though they will not learn, 
 Have listen d to thy more than Christian wisdom. 
 Abdallah ! I address thee as a man, 
 With all his human frailties thick upon him ; 
 Hear then my story weigh it and believe. 
 
 Abd. Proceed ! I ll throw my passions in one scale 
 And yours in th other and I ll sit in the midst, 
 Portioning my humanity, to keep 
 The balance, lest thy own preponderate. 
 
 Cal But yesterday, alas ! the wond rous change, 
 That one short revolution of this globe, 
 May bring to man ! but yesterday 1 was the pride 
 The pillar of Damascus. Thou, Abdallah ! 
 Know st how 1 fought her battles. 
 
 Abd. Would to Allah, 
 
 Thou hadst been half as zealous in his cause ! 
 Cal. Dissention in our ranks, and foul disunion 
 
 Have turned my little merit to a fault, 
 
 And magnified the transformation so, 
 
 It frights them to behold it. Need I tell thee ! 
 
 They would have sued for peace, and I opposed it. 
 
 And being unsuccessful yesterday, 
 
 The faction which had yielded up the city, 
 
 Have cried me down, and heaped on me their scorn ; 
 
 While Euphron, who was bound to take my part, 
 
 Has turned me from my office, and disgraced me. 
 Abd. Oh, faction ! what a fiend on earth art thou ! 
 
170 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 The madness of a party or a sect,. 
 
 Is but a whip placed in the hands of men, 
 
 To scourge our vices with. Oh, Caloiis ! 
 
 Thou art our bitterest enemy ; and yet, 
 
 There is an echo from my inmost heart, 
 
 Responsive to thine own ; but can 1 think 
 
 Thy noble nature would have stoop d so low, 
 
 To play the traitor, and disgrace thy blood, 
 
 As thou wilt here pretend? Thou do st deceive me. 
 
 Cal Alas ! my passions weighing against thine, 
 Bear down that same humanity thou speak st of ; 
 Have I asked any favour at thy hand, 
 That thou should st so discredit my intentions ? 
 My life is in thy power, I pray thee take it ; 
 For I do loathe existence, which can bring 
 Nothing but foul dishonour every way. 
 
 Abd. Would that I could believe thee but I cannot 
 
 Cal. 1 tell thee, sir, I have renounced my country 
 Its rank idolatry ingratitude 
 And all that 1 have cherished, or have loved. 
 
 Abd. Impossible ! 
 
 Cal. And given myself to Islam t 
 
 Abd. To Islam? 
 
 Cal To the Prophet. 
 
 Abd. Gracious Allah ! 
 
 Can this be true ? 
 
 Cal God is the only God,, 
 
A TRAGEDY. 171 
 
 Mohammed is his Prophet ! 
 
 Abd. [Throwing himself into his arms. 
 
 Caloiis ! 
 
 Forgive me ! I have wronged thee ! how should 1 
 Have known the gracious will of the Most High ? 
 Twas He who turned thy heart from Syria ; 
 Twas He who reconciled thy heart to Him, 
 In this mysterious way ! Kneel then, good brother! 
 And thank with me the Father of all light. 
 
 [They kneel together. 
 
 Col. Oh, what a wretch am I ! [Aside. 
 
 Abd. [Rising.] Now then, my brother, 
 Thou hast disarmed suspicion let me know 
 Freely thy purpose, and 1 will endeavour 
 To lend a patient hearing to thy words. 
 
 Cat. Know then, I come to ask no favour of thee, 
 Unless it be a favour to allow 
 Cooperation in thy great design 
 Of conquering Damascus ! 
 
 Abd. Say st thou so ! 
 
 Cal. Guard me, and hold above my recreant head, 
 Thy sharpest scimitar. I ll show the way, 
 At midnight, where a secret passage leads 
 Right to the city s heart : when this is done, 
 Strike through my neck, and seal the truth 1 utter. 
 
 Abd. And ask st thou no reward for this great service ! 
 
 Cal. Only the privilege to die revenged. 
 
172 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 Abd. Thou wouldst not bathe thy hands in kindred blood 1 
 Cal. No! 
 
 Abd. Wouldst thou strike the ruler who disgraced thee ] 
 Cal. I said I would not ask to be rewarded 
 Yet would I have thy promise not to shed 
 One drop of Christian blood : 
 Abd. Thy wish is granted. 
 
 Cal. An oath ! 
 
 Abd. I swear to thee by Mecca s tomb, 
 To keep my word inviolate. 
 
 Cal. Enough ! 
 
 At midnight I will teach thee to elude 
 The watchful sentinel and ere the dawn 
 Leads on Aurora, there shall be a cry, 
 Such as Damascus has not heard before, 
 In her distresses. 
 
 Abd. Caloiis, I believe 
 
 Sincerity has stampt thy every word ; 
 
 But I am ruling now in Kaled s stead 
 
 Cal Ruling in Kaled s stead ? 
 Abd. Ay, in his place. 
 
 Why, know they not, in thy unhappy city, 
 That Kaled has withdrawn one half his forces, 
 To meet the imperial arms and give them battle 1 
 
 Cal. No ! on my life. Oh, would they had but known it ! 
 
 [Aside. 
 Abd. What do st thou think of that, ransomed of Allah ] 
 
A TRAGEDY. 173 
 
 Cal I cannot wish the imperial army ill 
 So it bring DO relief unto Damascus ! 
 
 Abd. Oh, have no fear of that ; / have no fear. 
 Before to-morrow s dawn, Kaled will bring 
 The trophies of his victory. 
 
 Cal Now, God forbid ! 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Abd. Caloiis ! it grieves me to declare it to thee ! 
 I cannot strike those fetters from thy arms, 
 Till thou hast made thy promises secure ! 
 
 Cal. Chains cannot fetter the free mirxd. Ah me ! 
 
 [Aside. 
 Would that they could ! when conscience tortures it ! 
 
 Abd. Now then for action ! Soldiers to your posts ! 
 This night we have Damascus ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 Cal. [Loitering.] Precious villain 4 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 An apartment in EUPHRON S house. EUPHRON alone. 
 
 Euph. Tis done ! Another day will drop the scroll, 
 Whore in the record of revolving years 
 And great events, Damascus fate is written. 
 Angel of Hope ! thou, who, when dark despair 
 
174 
 
 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS, 
 
 Hangs heavily, with sable pinions spread, 
 To shut out Heaven from the desponding soul, 
 Fiercest the sombre veil, and bringst us peace, 
 Come from thy seraph-home and gild this hour 
 So wrapt in clouds of dim uncertainty ! 
 
 [Pauses. 
 
 Caloiis, ere this has gained the ear of Kaled, 
 And acted like a player, his hard part. 
 Now, were Abdallah chief instead of him, 
 The Arab s pity might be taught to flow 
 Like some poor heart-sick maiden s, at a tale 
 Less true than this great fiction now on foot. 
 Oh, would Athenia s grief were no more real ! 
 
 Enter ATHENIA. 
 
 My daughter ! [Embracing her. 
 
 Afh. Dearest father ! 
 
 [Bursting into tears : then with emotion. 
 
 Caloiis ! 
 
 To think that he, of all men, should prove false ! 
 Oh wretch, to give away my heart to love ! 
 Oh fool, to traffic my immortal soul, 
 For such a recreant s worship ! oh, my father, 
 The hope I should have anchored on my God, 
 1 threw away on him. Oh, help me, father ! 
 1 have no other father beside thee ! 
 Save thy poor daughter ! oh, my brain is hot, 
 
A TRAGEDY. 175 
 
 And my heart swells to bursting; I have prayed 
 
 [Solemnly. 
 
 Most fervently for death but without faith ; 
 I have waked up at last, to the dark truth, 
 That all my heart s devotion has been false : 
 Twas my imagination that I served, 
 And not my Maker ! Heaven have mercy on me ! 
 
 Euph. Amen. May Heaven have mercy on us all ! 
 
 Afh. Why, what a sinful, selfish thing am I ! 
 My own particular grief absorbs the world s ! 
 Here is Damascus reeling to her fall, 
 While I, myself, am wailing. Patience, Heaven ! 
 
 Euph. Hold to that fond idea, my sweet child, 
 And pray to Heaven for patience. Oh, just God ! 
 Look down upon my child, and pity her ! 
 
 Afh. No ; do not ask Him to look down on me ! 
 I ll hide me from Him, like the first weak creature 
 Who curs d herself for love ! Oh, conscience-smitten, 
 Vain, foolish woman, how art thou a prey 
 To thy wild fantasy ! 
 
 Euph. My dear Athenia ! 
 
 Yield not to this too stern necessity ; 
 
 Time, which has brought thee grief, will bring thee comfort. 
 Think how Damascus suffers ! 
 
 Ath. Oh, ido! 
 
 Poor, widowed, lone Damascus. Yes, my father, 
 I ll steel my bosom for this double strife 
 15 
 
176 
 
 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 Bury my hopes and perish with my country ! 
 
 Euph. Thou shalt not perish neither shall Damascus. 
 Come, cheer thy heart, sweet mourner, there is hope 
 I have not told thee of. To-morrow s sun 
 Shall find the imperial army at our gates. 
 
 Ath. That were a joy too mighty ! Do st thou think so ? 
 
 Euph. 1 know so, my dear daughter. 
 
 Ath > But, my father, 
 
 I dreamed an angel touched my lips with fire, 
 And bade me prophesy ! 
 
 Euph. It was thy fancy. 
 
 Ath. (Solemnly.) Father, his wings were like a summer 
 
 cloud 
 
 Touched with the sunset ; and they veiled his face, 
 Which streamed such dazzling brightness, I fell down, 
 Stunn d with unearthly splendour. While I lay, 
 Like Saul, God-smitten, paralysed with dread, 
 A voice that mocked all melody that floats 
 From choral song and instrumental breath, 
 Bade me arise. And as I rose, a hand 
 Immortal, touched my quivering lips with fire* 
 And then a voice like many thunders rent 
 The dome of Heaven s high temple, crying loudly : 
 " Go, prophesy the downfall of Damascus ! 
 " Her sins are scarlet, and they cry aloud 
 " In blasphemy ! her day of doom is come. 
 " Wo to Damascus ! wo to the head of Syria !" 
 
A TRAGEDY. 177 
 
 [Raxing.] 
 
 Merciful Heaven, suspend this retribution ! 
 Hold thou death-angel ! take another bolt, 
 That will bring madness ! Let me not go mad ! 
 I would not die in madness ! 
 
 Euph. Oh, my daughter ! 
 
 Afh. My mind ! my mind ! Oh, the dull agony 
 Of this alternate glimmering and shadow, 
 That will not let me fix my unhinged thought ! 
 Lie still thou fluttering traitress ! Tis % fault ; 
 Thou st gorged thyself with honeyed hopes so long, 
 Thou do st rebel against these bitter drugs 
 Of wholesome sorrow and untasted anguish : 
 Despair is med cine for thee drink or die ! 
 
 EupJi. Oh, if thou lov st thy father, talk not thus ! 
 
 AtJi. [With forced calmness.] 
 Is it not strange that reason should see madness 
 Tugging to reach her throne and still more strange, 
 For consciousness to see the two at war, 
 Throttling for mastery, in their great death-struggle ? 
 
 [Smiling unnaturally.] 
 
 Thou see st I yet can think, my dear, dear father ! 
 Such is the power of my most strenuous will. 
 Now I will go and say my evening prayers, 
 And then to bed. Good night ! good night, dear father ! 
 
 [As she goes out.] 
 Wo to Damascus ! wo ! [Exit. 
 
178 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 Euph. Good night ! good night ! may blessed messengers 
 Hold thee in peaceful slumbers and the morn 
 That finds Damascus free, awake thy smile 
 To greet her unexpected happiness ! 
 
 Enter LUCRETIUS. 
 
 How now, Lucretius ! welcome. 
 
 Luc. Euphron ! 
 
 Thou st done a mighty wrong to Syria, 
 And now thou givest a welcome to a man, 
 Who comes to rate thy folly. 
 
 Euph. How is thisl 
 
 Luc. Hast thou not sold thy country for a bribe 1 
 
 Euph* Never ! 
 
 Luc. Betrayed it ] 
 
 Euph. On my soul 1 have not ! 
 
 Luc. Where is our General, Caloiis 1 
 
 Euph. Revolted. 
 
 Luc. And why has he revolted ] tell me that. 
 
 Euph. Go ask the people. 
 
 Luc. Ask the people ! Traitor ! 
 
 Euph. Tis well for thee, that midst the public wo, 
 The railer has the privilege to fret, 
 Or I would have thee whipt for insolence ! 
 
 Luc. Poor fool ! thou art beside thyself thou know st 
 Twere more than thy bad life is worth, to do it. 
 Where is that wretched victim of injustice, 
 
A TRAGEDY. 
 
 Whom 1 must call thy daughter ] 
 
 EupJi. I prithee do not cut my heart in twain 
 It is already sundered so, its parts 
 Divide with life and death. Thou canst not judge 
 A father s feelings, who hast had no child ! 
 Lucretius, thou hast done me cruel wrong ! 
 Yet I forgive thee, for thou art a man 
 Incapable of meditating evil. 
 I do entreat thee, wait awhile with patience. 
 Time will unravel all this mystery ; 
 And thou wilt turn thy curses into blessings ; 
 The people, too, will bless me ! 
 
 Luc. They are mad : 
 
 Too late they find the folly of their course, 
 In being led so blindly ; and they rave 
 In bitterness of heart, against the Senate. 
 Manlius, whom you so wickedly have raised, 
 Already have they sacrificed. 
 
 Euph. Indeed ! 
 
 Luc. Indeed ! in very deed ; art thou the Prefect,. 
 And still art ignorant of what is doing ? 
 Go to the market-place, and see the ruin 
 Which twenty thousand furious men have wrought 
 Within an hour the Arab need not come ; 
 Despair and rage are enemies enough 
 To crush a hundred cities like Damascus. 
 Tell me, where is Athenia? 
 
 15* 
 
 179 
 
180 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 Euph. Just now retired, 
 
 Heart-sick, and laden with excessive sorrow ; 
 She would not be disturbed. 
 
 Luc. I did intend 
 
 To proffer comfort to her yet, alas ! 
 What solace could I offer ] 
 
 Euph. None, whatever. 
 
 If she be spared another day, there s hope. 
 
 Luc. What hope 1 
 
 Euph. The Imperial army 
 
 Luc. What of it? 
 
 Euph. It will be here to-morrow. 
 
 Luc. Mockery ! 
 
 Euph. As surely as the sun will rise to-morrow, 
 Werdan will bring relief. 
 
 Luc. How know st thou this 1 
 
 Euph. 1 had a message from him yesterday. 
 
 Luc. I fear twill be too late. 
 
 Euph. Pray heaven, it be not ! 
 
 Luc. Alas, the indignation of the people 
 Will leave but little to be saved to-morrow. 
 
 Euph. Go, hie thee to them, good Lucretius ! 
 Tell them the tidings, and perchance it may 
 Turn the dark current backward. 
 
 Luc. Twere in vain ! 
 
 Thou might st as well roll back the troublous tide 
 Of swoll n Euphrates, Why dids t thou keep secret, 
 
A TRAGEDY. 
 
 181 
 
 The news that might have staid its course at once ? 
 
 Euph. Reasons of state did prompt me. 
 
 Luc. I will do 
 
 Thy bidding ; but I fear it is too late. 
 Come, go with me perchance thy countenance 
 May more avail than mine. Let us away. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 A public square in Damascus. Shouts and disturbance around. 
 Enter EUPHRON and LUCRETIUS. 
 
 Luc. What dost thou think oft now ? 
 
 Euph. Tis terrible. 
 
 Luc. They ve razed St. Michael s temple to the ground 
 With sacrilegious violence. Look you there ! 
 How the dark torrent swells and heaves along, 
 Like to the thundering avalanche, that swings 
 Its ponderous mass from Lebanon, uptearing 
 Gigantic rocks, and forests of huge cedars, 
 Crowding them into ruin. Look you there ! 
 How like the very spirit of the blast, 
 Yon towering form of female majesty 
 Bears herself onward. See, they follow her ! 
 She sways their thousands as a single one, 
 And that an infant ! Look ! they come this way ! 
 
182 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 Marked ye that ! marked ye that ! St. Paul, it is Athenia ! 
 Euph. Now all the saints support me, if t be she ] 
 Luc. See 1 she comes this way, the people following. 
 
 Let us stand by, and mark what she is doing. 
 
 She looks the priestess of the oracle. 
 
 Enter ATHENIA, followed by a crowd of people. 
 
 Afh. Wo to Damascus ! wo to the head of Syria ! 
 
 Euph. [Rushing forward. ] Athenia ! oh, my daughter ! 
 Why are you here, exposed to this rude fury 1 
 
 Citizens. Down with the traitor Euphron, he has deceived 
 the people kill him ! kill him ! kill him ! 
 
 Afh. Kill him ! he is my father ! back, murderers, back ! 
 
 Citizens. He is Athenia s father do not hurt him : 
 Athenia feeds the poor let go her father, 
 But let us kill Lucretius ! 
 
 Ath. In God s great name, I do command forbearance ! 
 There s blood enough upon your hands already. 
 Repent, repent ! the doom of wrath awaits ye ! 
 Wo to Damascus ! wo to the head of Syria ! 
 . Citizens. Wo to the tyrants who deceive the people ! 
 
 Luc. Stay this discordant tumult for a season ! 
 
 Citizens. Wo to the tyrants who deceive the people J 
 
 Ath. Wo to Damascus ! wo to the head of Syria ! 
 
 Euph. Good people, hear me ! tis your good I seek ! 
 
 Citizens. No ! no ! no ! no ! Let us hear Lucretius. 
 
 Luc. Then listen to me, most abused, good people. 
 
A TRAGEDY. 
 
 183 
 
 Citizens. Let us hear Lucretius ! speak to us, Lucretius ! 
 
 Luc. Why do ye riot in your frenzy thus 1 
 Already have ye slain your General ; 
 Already have ye razed our sacred altars ; 
 And spread such desolation, that our foes 
 Would stand aghast, should they possess the city, 
 To find their own work done. Is it despair 
 That drives you to this fury ? Hear me, then ; 
 The imperial army will be here to-morrow. 
 
 Citizens. Huzza ! huzza ! huzza ! 
 
 Luc. Yes, fellow-citizens, another day 
 Will see Damascus free. Werdan has sent 
 A messenger to tell you to have hope. 
 
 Citizens. Huzza ! huzza ! huzza ! Lead us to battle ! 
 
 Luc. Alas ! there is no General to lead you. 
 But in the name of all ye love and worship, 
 I pray ye to disperse, or ruin waits you ! 
 
 Afh. Wo to Damascus ! wo to the head of Syria ! 
 
 Luc. Peace, frantic maiden ! Fellow-citizens, 
 I pray you now disperse If by to-morrow, 
 The imperial army do not succour you, 
 Wreak on Lucretius head your ample vengeance. 
 Will ye disperse, I say 1 ? 
 
 Citizens. We will ! we will ! come let us all away ! 
 
 Luc. Thanks for this spirit ! let us be united, 
 And Syria yet is free ! 
 
 [ The people disperse and exeunt. 
 
ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 In the meanwhile Afhenia stands abstractedly, her hands crossed 
 on her bosom, with her eyes fixed upward. 
 
 Euph. Athenia ! 
 
 Aih. Who is it calls the wretch, whose name I bear ? 
 
 Euph. Thy father, my loved child, thy father. 
 
 Aih. Well ! 
 
 Euph. If thou hast any love for Caloiis 
 Or reverence for me, I do entreat thee 
 
 Aih. [As if waking.] 
 
 Oh misery ! another day of misery ! 
 Why have I waked to count the tedious moments 
 Of one more day of horror ! 
 
 [Looking surprised at Euphron. 
 Oh memory ! my father ! oh my father ! 
 
 [Bursting into tears, and throwing herself on his neck. 
 
 Euph. Blest image of thy sainted mother, come 
 Repose with me thy sorrows. There is hope. 
 And peace, and joy, in store for thee, my child. 
 Come thou poor stricken fawn come to my heart 
 A father s love shall cherish thee, my child 
 A father s love shall wipe away thy tears, 
 And still thy troubled spirit thank thee, heaven ! 
 
 Aih. Oh father, there is comfort in these tears ! 
 Why are we here, my father 1 Good Lucretius ! 
 Let us go home the evening air is cold 
 I have been dreaming sadly, see ! tis late, 
 The pale moon shining o er the orchard trees, 
 
A TRAGEDY. 185 
 
 Lists to the cricket s hymn. Let us go home 
 
 I m very dull in spirits, my dear father ! 
 
 But I will tell thee as we walk along, 
 
 Strange things, revealed to me, in heavy slumber, 
 
 More unimaginable and sublime, 
 
 Than the Apocalypse if it be not sin 
 
 To say so. Come my father good Lucretius ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 (End of Act /F.) 
 
186 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 Outside the watts of Damascus. The bell tolls twelve. 
 Enter CALOUS, in chains. 
 
 Cal [ Speaking to Abdallah at the side.] 
 
 Wait thee awhile ; the gate is here, hard by 
 I must see all things ready. 
 
 [Approaching the secret gate. 
 The Prefect must be here, it was agreed, 
 At twelve o clock precisely. Hush ! Who s there ] 
 A bolt draws slowly and a door opens in the wall which 
 entirely concealed it. 
 
 Enter through the door EUPHRON muffled. 
 
 Euph. [Discovering Calous.] Caloiis ! 
 
 Now this is well ; where are your new-born friends 1 
 
 Cal. Hush ! they are here, close by. 
 
 Euph. Then it is finished ! 
 
 O, noble youth ! thou hast indeed deserved 
 Thy country s admiration, and Athenia. 
 
A TRAGEDY, 
 
 187 
 
 Caloiis, thy conduct has amazed the people, 
 
 As well it might, and heaped such curses on us, 
 
 (For I am a partaker of their hatred,) 
 
 As never men received, i almost fear 
 
 Our project has o erleaped itself and failed ; 
 
 For riot has been ruling in our city, 
 
 O erswaying public order. Yesterday, 
 
 The mob demolished all our granaries, 
 
 To satisfy their fury, and tore down 
 
 St. Michael s tower. We ve had a fearful time ! 
 
 Cal. Oh melancholy presage ! Poor Damascus ! 
 How is Athenia 1 
 
 Euph. Speak not of her now. 
 
 Away with all despondency, and turn 
 Thy sad presages into rainbow hopes. 
 I will away and tell Athenia all. 
 Tis time the imperial army were in hearing. 
 
 Cal. Do st know that Kaled with one half his army 
 Has gone to give them battle? 
 
 Euph. You surprise me ! 
 
 Cal. Tis true ; and on the event, all things depend. 
 Werdan has twice the force that Kaled has. 
 Retire within the city there is hope. 
 Draw up our forces in a solid phalanx 
 Within St. Michael s square : should ill betide, 
 I ll cut my way to meet them. Fare thee well ! 
 
 16 
 
188 
 
 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS- 
 
 Euph. Farewell ! I ll have all ready now God speed 
 
 thee ! [Enters the gate. 
 
 Cat. Now then, Abdallah, follow ! 
 
 Enter ABDALLAH, with soldiers. 
 
 Abd - Thou art faithful ! 
 
 Strike off his chains ; henceforth we will be friends! 
 
 This way ! 
 [ They enter the gate, and the scene doses. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 A street within the city. Enter ABDALLAH and CALOUS 
 with soldiers. 
 
 Abd. Now is Damascus ours : I thank thee, Allah ! 
 That thou hast granted me a bloodless triumph. 
 Without thy aid through him, this goodly place 
 Had swam with Christian blood ; far better thus. 
 
 Enter a Saracen soldier in haste. 
 Why this haste ] 
 
 Sold. Peace to the Prophet s friend ! 
 
 Kaled returns victorious 1 
 
 Abd. Thanks, again ! 
 
 Here is a double glory for our arms. 
 
 Sold. The army of Heraclius is routed, 
 
A TRAGEDY. 
 
 189 
 
 Their General slain. 
 
 Cal [Aside.] Then are we lost, indeed ! 
 
 [Shouts and screams heard without. 
 Now God direct my efforts ! 
 
 [Springing at ABDALLAH suddenty, CALOUS 
 
 wrests his scimitar from his hand. 
 Damascus ! I am with thee, once again, 
 To save thee, or to perish ! 
 
 Abd. Strike down the traitor ! Treason ! 
 
 [The Saracens spring forward, but CALOUS cuts 
 
 his way through them, and exit. 
 Follow him to the death ! 
 
 [Several chase after him. 
 Now curse this credulous heart for trusting him ! 
 
 Enter KALED, 
 
 Welcome, thou sword of God ! by Allah, welcome ! 
 Kaled ! we ve gained Damascus but to lose it, 
 Unless thy valiant arm restore the day ! 
 
 Kaled. How now, Abdallah ! why this great turmoil ] 
 I come to bring thee news of victory ; 
 Ay, victory, Abdallah ! conquest too ! 
 The imperial army we have hewn in pieces ; 
 A hundred thousand Christians are destroyed, 
 Save the poor remnant that escaped to carry 
 Their miserable narrative to Corinth. 
 [Sarcastically.] And thou hast won the city in my absence ! 
 
ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 Aid. Caloiis betrayed it to us. 
 Kaled. Fool ! twas fhou 
 
 That wast betrayed ; nay, I have heard it all. 
 So much for thy great generalship, Abdallah ! 
 Know, then, I ve stormed the western gate, even now 
 While thou wast fooling with that Christian dog. 
 Dera is making havoc like a wolf 
 That s broke into a fold. Onward, and join him ! 
 I ll hunt this Caloiis, wer t but for his head 
 To wear upon my spear, when I return 
 Triumphant to the Caliph. 
 
 Abd. 1 have done wrong 
 
 But Abubekir may forgive the offence. 
 
 Kaled. This is no time for grief; truce to complaining. 
 Abdallah ! I forgive thee, in the joy 
 That vanquishes my bosom. Thou hast gained 
 Merit for good intention. On to battle ! 
 Paradise ! Paradise ! [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE 111. 
 
 A street in Damascus: Greek soldiers flying. C ALDUS 
 rallying them. 
 
 Cal. Stand ! as ye value life ! for God s sake, stand ! 
 What ! shall the glitter of a thousand moons 
 
A TRAGEDY. 
 
 191 
 
 Strike madness on your reason? Hear me, soldiers ! 
 Death gapes for your whole city there he stands 
 With appetite insatiate as your fears ; 
 A moment, and tis lost a chance remains ; 
 Look how they hem us in ! by Christ s own blood, 
 Let not my heart burst with this base confusion ! 
 We must break through a legion of steel men 
 To ransom the lost city save your daughters! 
 Look at me, soldiers ! 1 am yet your General ! 
 True as this steel, dark with the foeman s gore : 
 Or shall L go alone? Ignoble slaves ! 
 
 Soldiers. Lead us on ! lead us on ! Caloiis and victory ! 
 
 Col. Oh, now ye feel the blood of all your sires 
 Tingling, as true blood should ! Grasp ypur bright blades 
 Once more brace every sinew, soldiers ! but once more ! 
 And strike for liberty ! [Exit. 
 
 Soldiers follow, shouting. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 
 St. Michael s square. Enter KALED. 
 
 Kaled. Now, by the tomb of Mecca, these foul dogs 
 Are fang d like desert lions. My good blade 
 Has drunk more life than a Sirocco blast, 
 Yet still it thirsteth. Let me breathe awhile. 
 16* 
 
192 
 
 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 Enter CALOUS. 
 
 Ha ! Infidel, 1 have thee, then, at last ! 
 Bow to the Prophet ! or, I ll cleave thy skull 
 Which better had been turbaned. Yield thee, slave ! 
 
 Cal Bow to the Cross, proud Moslem ! thou shalt find, 
 In this dark moment of necessity, 
 How faint a light imposture yields its vassals ! 
 Kaled. Have at thee, Christian dog ! 
 
 [ They fight, and exeunt fighting. CALOUS driving 
 KALED, while an alarm is heard, with the cry 
 of "The standard, KALED! the standard! rescue! 
 rescue!" 
 
 Enter EUPHRON and LUCRETIUS. 
 
 Euph. This is the place ; our friends are gathering fast ; 
 The square is thronged with most determined men : 
 I never knew their spirit till this hour. 
 
 [Sminds of battle. 
 
 See there, Lucretius ! how the battle rages ! 
 Look how those two in front flash at each other ! 
 That Saracen is Kaled, by my life ! 
 Look there ! he s down, he s down ! victory ! victory ! 
 Gods ! what a blow was that the hero gave him ! 
 By Mars ! it is the noble Caloiis ! 
 Caloiis returned ! he never has revolted! 
 Thou art no traitor ! Onward, Caloiis ! 
 Damascus yet is free ! join him, Lucretius ! 
 
A TRAGEDY. 193 
 
 Keep thy sword hot, my friend ! 
 
 [Exit Lucretius. 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 How now, what news ] 
 
 Mes. Our friends are every where victorious ; 
 Kaled is dead, and by the eastern gate, 
 Where Dera bears the hottest of the fight, 
 Our arms are doing prodigies of valour ! 
 
 Euph. This is, indeed, most glorious tell me, now, 
 If thou canst tell, aught that concerns my daughter ; 
 I ve searched even pented avenues to find her, 
 And all in vain. 
 
 Mes. I heard a soldier say, 
 
 Who brought despatches from the western tower, 
 That she was in the thickest of the fight, 
 Like to an Amazonian maid, and leading 
 The common people bravely in the war, 
 And with an energy that ne er before 
 Was heard of among women. 
 
 Euph. Oh, Athenia ! 
 
 This last blow was too much. Could I undo 
 The tangle in this thread of misery, 
 And make it straight again, I d give up life, 
 With its immortal hopes, to save my daughter. 
 Oh, I must save my lost Athenia, 
 Or perish in the effort ! [Exeunt. 
 
194 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS, 
 
 SCENE V. 
 
 By the Western Tower. 
 
 [Flourish of trumpets. 
 
 Enter DERA and C ALDUS, fighting. They make several turns, 
 and CALOTJS drives Mm out. 
 
 Enter ATHENIA, armed with a short sword. 
 Afh. Oh, my lost country wretched, fallen Damascus ! 
 How art thou set a mark for every shaft 
 That wings misfortune s quiver ! Now, could 1 
 Find out that monster, Kaled, this right arm, 
 Nerved by thy power, holy Omnipotence ! 
 Would search the tyrant s heart, with this good blade, 
 And liberate my country. Caloiis ! Caloiis ! 
 Oh, what a chance was lost of being great, 
 When thou didst play the traitor to our hopes, 
 And sell thy wretched country ! 
 
 Enter CALOTJS almost breathless. 
 
 Cal Oh Athenia! 
 
 Armed ! 
 
 Afh. Robber ! thou st stol n th habiliments of war 
 To sanctify thy murders ! hence, and leave me ! 
 
 Cal. Hast thou not seen thy father, my Athenia ! 
 Has he not told thee of the sacrifice 1 
 
A TRAGEDY. 
 
 195 
 
 I am thy friend, Athenia ! thy own 
 True-hearted Caloiis ! 
 
 Ath. Thou, my Caloiis] 
 
 Tis false, perfidious varlet ! he, so named, 
 Was noble, generous ; selfishness, in vain 
 Searched his great heart to find companionship. 
 But thou ! there s not a reptile which the sun 
 Engenders on the slimy hanks of Nile, 
 That is not nobler than thy hateful self ; 
 Hence, recreant, hence ! I loathe thee ! 
 
 CaL What dire distemper so misshapes the truth ! 
 Look on me, dear Athenia, tis the same 
 True heart that loved thee well, and still loves. 
 Merciful heaven ! 
 
 Ath. Call not on heaven, thou traitor ! 
 
 Hast thou not sacrificed thy plighted faith ; 
 Hast thou not play d a coward s part 1 nay, start not : 
 Hast thou not sold thy country, for the sake 
 Of wreaking thy poor vengeance 1 
 
 CaL No, by heaven ! 
 
 Ath. Infamous liar ! away, I will not hear thee ! 
 
 CaL Oh my own love ! most truly I forgive 
 This transport that thy ignorance has kindled ! 
 Time will explain, Athenia ; thy father 
 Will tell thee, my Athenia ! I am true. 
 Nay, turn not thus away thine angel face, 
 Thou shalt not leave me thus ; nay frown not on me ! 
 
196 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 For I do claim thee my affianced bride, 
 And hold thee to my panting bosom, thus ! 
 
 [Embracing her. 
 
 Ath. Die, then, perfidious traitor ! for a bride 
 Take to thy bosom this true steel, it loves thee ! 
 
 [Stabs him Calous falls. 
 
 Now, hush thy thunder ! 
 
 Cat Athenia, 1 forgive thee it is just 
 I loved thee worshipped thee thou didst predict 
 Farewell! [Dies. 
 
 Enter EUPHRQN. 
 
 Euph. My daughter ! joy to thee ! joy to Damascus ! 
 Kaled is dead ! 
 
 Ath. Now, then, just heaven, I thank thee ! 
 
 Euph. [Discovering the body. 
 
 How, Caloiis slain ! oh terrible decree 
 Who has done this ] 
 
 Ath. Thy daughter. 
 
 Euph. Thou, Athenia! 
 
 Ath. Was t not done nobly 1 Brutus, in old Rome, 
 Saw with prophetic eye this glorious deed, 
 And emulating my self-sacrifice, 
 Slew his own son for justice ! 
 
 Euph. Oh most cruel, 
 
 Mad and misguided girl, how couldst thou do it ! 
 
A TRAGEDY. 197 
 
 Ath. Wouldst thou have had the daughter of thy blood 
 Contaminated by the foul embrace 
 Of a vile traitor ] I had shunn d him, father ; 
 But he pursued me, and though spurn d, abhorr d, 
 He caught me as the serpent the high priest 
 Laocoon ; and in his hateful fold, 
 Claimed me as his affianced ! twas too much ! 
 Father, the spirits of a hundred sires 
 Hissed me to very madness and Damascus 
 Howl d in my ears, Revenge ! the voice of God 
 Burst over me in thunder and I slew him ! 
 
 Euph. Twas a rash deed ! oh, had I trusted heaven, 
 Caloiis had lived to bless thee ! 
 
 Enter LUCRETIUS. 
 
 Look, Lucretius ! 
 
 See how the blood of Syria stains the ground. 
 Caloiis is slain Athenia is a murderess ! 
 
 Luc. Mysterious providence ! 
 Euphron, 1 come the herald of Despair ! 
 
 Euph. What new calamity 1 
 
 Luc. Werdan is dead ! 
 The imperial army routed and the foe 
 Are masters of the city ! 
 
 Eu P h - Then tis finished ; 
 
 There is no other step to misery ! 
 
 Athenia ! it was wrong to hide from thee, 
 
198 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 The clue to this great labyrinth of woes ; 
 But we have trusted in our own weak power, 
 And heaven, that saw our great impurity, 
 Has left our weak designs to work us ill ! 
 Twas I who urged on Caloiis to the deed, 
 That heaven has stampt with dire disapprobation ! 
 Aih. Oh, misery ! 
 
 Euph. Patience ! for the tale, though sad, 
 
 Is quickly told. 
 
 Ath. An > wo is me ! 
 
 Euph. Famine, 
 
 As well ye know, had joined the foe to crush us. 
 Exhausted, spiritless, and destitute, 
 Our people grew licentious in their rage, 
 And hatched rebellion. In this trying hour, 
 Kaled, who knew our weakness, had resolved 
 On one great effort one decisive blow 
 And yesterday, Damascus was to have fallen. 
 In vain had we despatched our messengers 
 To Corinth ; till at last, but yesterday, 
 An arrow thrown o er the wall, brought us intelligence 
 From Werdan, that his army would be here 
 This hour ! Thou dost turn pale, Athenia ! 
 Ath. Go on ! 
 
 Euph. The message intimated stratagem. 
 
 There was presented the alternative 
 Of falling, or of practising deceit ; 
 
A TRAGEDY. 199 
 
 Expediency pointed out the last. 
 
 An instrument was wanting, and I chose 
 
 Ath. Oh no, thou could st not do it say not, father, 
 Say not twas Caloiis ! 
 
 Luc - Oh, wond rous strange ! 
 
 Euph. At first his generous nature did oppose 
 The action, as unworthy but I urged, 
 (Pardon me, dearest daughter, for the truth,) 
 
 Thy unprotected innocence, his love 
 
 And he at last consented. 
 
 Ath. [ Turning to the body.] Murdered innocent ! 
 
 Euph. Damascus was betrayed but seemingly 
 Th imperial army, at this very hour, 
 Was to have turned the sighs of this sad city 
 To shouts of triumph and the rich reward 
 For such a noble deed, thy hand, Athenia ! 
 
 Ath. Where are thy lightnings heaven ! 
 
 Euph. [Turning to the body.] Oh, noble nature ! 
 How hast thou been requited for thy love ! 
 
 Ath. Father ! thou st done a deed to damn thee ever ! 
 It was not / . twas thou that slew my Calous ! 
 Where sleeps the thunder? vengeance, thou art dead. 
 Strike at the murderer ! there ! have at him ! there ! 
 Not him not him ! it was not he that did it ! 
 Rather strike here! oh, my own murdered husband! 
 
 [Throws herself on his body. 
 
 17 
 
200 ATHENIA OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 A flourish of trumpets. ABDALLAH and DERA enter on loth 
 sides with soldiers, and Jill the stage. 
 
 Dera. Here> the Prefect yield thy neck, base Chris- 
 tian! 
 
 Abd. [Rushing forward.] Stand back ! by great Mo- 
 
 hammed, stay thine arm ! 
 
 1 am thy General, now I do command thee ! 
 Damascus is our own no more of blood ! 
 [LUCRETIUS and EUPHRON support ATHENIA, who partly rises. 
 
 Ath. The day of doom is come ! oh, horror ! horror ! 
 How the sea waves with blood, and the red torrent 
 Surges and heaves with life and death commingling ! 
 The graves give up their dead and shrouded skeletons 
 Scream midst the desolation ! hush sh hush sh 
 Hark! how the damned are wailing I ll not hear them ! 
 
 Euph. [Endeavouring to raise her.] Athenia ! 
 
 Ath. Let us alone ! let us alone ! death shall not part us 
 
 thus. 
 
 They have deceived us, Caloiis ! thou art mine ! 
 Death shall not part the faithful ! 
 
 Euph. Oh, my daughter! 
 
 Ath. [Rising.] Look ! how the heavens open ! oh, how 
 
 deep! 
 
 How bright ! how bright ! the angels, oh, the angels ! 
 Hark, how they sing ! oh, rapturous harmony ! 
 See how they bear him up upon their wings, 
 
A TRAGEDJT. 201 
 
 And circle him with glory ! stay ! oh, stay ! 
 Blest seraphim ! Athenia would go with you ! 
 
 [Her head droops, and she falls. 
 [Raising herself, with a smile, looking upward.} 
 Father ! receive my spirit ! 
 
 [Dies. 
 They bend mournfully around Tier, while the curtain falls. 
 
LANCASTER 
 
 17* 
 
LANCASTER. 
 
 THE queen of May has bound her virgin brow, 
 And hung with blossoms every fruit-tree bough ; 
 The sweet Southwest, among the early flowers, 
 Whispers the coming of delighted hours, 
 While birds within the heaping foliage, sing 
 Their music- welcome to returning Spring. 
 
 Oh, Nature ! loveliest in thy green attire 
 Dear mother of the passion-kindling lyre ; 
 Thou, who in early days, upled st me where 
 The mountains freeze above the Summer air ; 
 Or lured st my wandering way beside the streams, 
 To watch the bubbles as they mocked my dreams, 
 Lead me again thy flowery paths among, 
 To sing of native scenes as yet unsung ! 
 
206 
 
 LANCASTER. 
 
 Dear Lancaster ! thy fond remembrance brings 
 Thoughts, like the music of ^Eolian strings, 
 When the hushed wind breathes only as it sleeps, 
 While tearful Love his anxious vigil keeps : 
 When pressed with grief, or sated with the show, 
 That Pleasure s pageant offers here below, 
 Midst scenes of heartless mirth or joyless glee, 
 How oft my aching heart has turned to thee, 
 And lived again, in memory s sweet recess, 
 The innocence of youthful happiness 1 
 
 In life s dull dream, when want of sordid gain 
 Clings to our being with its cankering chain, 
 When lofty thoughts are cramped to stoop below 
 The vile, rank weeds that in their pathway grow, 
 Who would not turn amidst the darkened scene, 
 To memoried spots where sunbeams intervene ; 
 And dwell with fondness on the joyous hours, 
 When youth built up his pleasure-dome of flowers 1 
 
 Now, while the music of the feathered choir 
 Rings where the sheltering blossoms wake desire, 
 When dew-eyed Love looks tenderness, and speaks 
 A silent language with his mantling cheeks ; 
 1 think of those delicious moments past, 
 Which joyless age shall dream of to the last ; 
 As now, though far removed, the Muse would tell, 
 Though few may listen, what she loved so well. 
 
LANCASTER. 
 
 Dear hours of childhood, youth s propitious spring, 
 When Time fanned only roses with his wing, 
 When dreams, that mock reality, could move 
 To yield an endless holiday to Love, 
 How do ye crowd upon my fevered brain, 
 And in imagination, live again ! 
 
 Lo ! I am with you now, the sloping green, 
 Of many a sunny hill is freshly seen ; 
 Once more the purple clover bends to meet, 
 And shower the dew drops on their pilgrim s feet ; 
 Once more he breathes the fragrance of your fields, 
 Once more the orchard tree its harvest yields, 
 Again he hails the morning from your hills, 
 And drinks the cooling water of your rills, 
 While with a heart subdued, he feels the power 
 Of every humble shrub and modest flower. 
 
 Oh thou who journeyest through that Eden clime, 
 Winding thy devious way to cheat the time, 
 Delightful Nashaway ! beside thy stream, 
 Fain would I paint thy beauties as they gleam. 
 Eccentric river ! poet of the woods ! 
 Where, in thy far secluded solitudes, 
 The wood-nymphs sport and naiads plash thy wave, 
 With charms more sweet than ever fancy gave ; 
 How oft with Mantua s bard, from school let free, 
 I ve conn d the silver lines that flow like thee, 
 
 207 
 
208 LANCASTER. 
 
 Couch d on thy emerald banks, at full length laid, 
 
 Where classic elms grew lavish of their shade, 
 
 Or indolently listened, while the throng 
 
 Of idler beings woke their Summer song ; 
 
 Or with rude angling gear, outwatched the Sun, 
 
 Comparing mine, to deeds by Walton done. 
 
 Far down the silent stream, where arching trees 
 Bend their green boughs so gently to the breeze, 
 One live, broad mass of molten crystal lies, 
 Clasping the mirrored beauties of the skies ! 
 Look, how the sunshine breaks upon the plains ! 
 So the deep blush their flattered glory stains. 
 
 Romantic river ! on thy quiet breast, 
 While flashed the salmon with his lightning crest, 
 Not long ago, the Indian s thin canoe 
 Skimmed lightly as the shadow which it threw ; 
 Not long ago, beside thy banks of green, 
 The night-fire blazed and spread its dismal sheen. 
 
 Thou peaceful Valley ! when i think how fair 
 Thy various beauty shines, beyond compare, 
 I cannot choose but own the Power that gave 
 Amidst thy woes a helping hand to save, 
 When o er thy hills the savage war-whoop came, 
 And desolation raised its funeral flame ! 
 
LANCASTER. 209 
 
 Tis night ! the stars are kindled in the sky, 
 And hunger wakes the famished she-wolf s cry, 
 While o er the crusted snow, the careful tread 
 Betrays the heart whose pulses throb with dread ; 
 Yon flickering light, kind beacon of repose ! 
 The weary wanderer s homely dwelling shows, 
 Where by the blazing fire, his bosom s joy, 
 Holds to her heart a slumbering infant boy ; 
 While every sound her anxious bosom moves, 
 She starts and listens for the one she loves ; 
 Hark ! was t the night-bird s cry that met her ear, 
 Curdling the blood that thickens with cold fear? 
 "Again, oh God ! that voice, tis hib ! tis his !" 
 She hears the death-shriek and the arrow s whiz, 
 When as she turns, she sees the bursting door 
 Roll her dead husband bleeding on the floor. 
 
 % " , 
 
 Loud as the burst of sudden thunder, rose 
 The mad ning war-cry of the ambushed foes ; 
 Startling in sleep, the dreamless infant wakes, 
 Like morning s smile when daylight s slumber breaks ; 
 " For mercy ! spare my child, forbear the blow !" 
 In vain ; the warm blood crimsons on the snow. 
 
 O er the cold earth the captive mother sighs, 
 Her ears still tortured by her infant s cries ; 
 She cannot weep, but deep resolve, unmoved, 
 Plots vengeance for the victims so be oved j 
 
210 LANCASTER. 
 
 Lo ! by their fire, the glutted warriors lie, 
 
 Locked in the deathsleep of ebriety, 
 
 When from her bed of snow, whence slumber flew, 
 
 The frenzied woman rose the deed to do; 
 
 Firmly beside the senseless men of blood, 
 
 With vengeful arm, the wretched mother stood ; 
 
 She hears her groaning, dying lord expire, 
 
 Her woman s heart nerves up with mad ning fire"; 
 
 She sees her infant dashed against the tree, 
 
 Tis done ! the red men sleep eternally. 
 
 Such were thy wrongs, sweet Lancaster ! but now, 
 No spot so peaceful and serene as thou ; 
 Thy hills and fields in chequered richness stand> 
 The glory and the beauty of the land. 
 
 From calm repose, while glowed the eastern sky, 
 And the fresh breeze went fraught with fragrance by, 
 Waked by the noisy woodbird free from care, 
 What joy was mine to drink the morning air ! 
 Not all the bliss maturer life can bring, 
 When ripened manhood soars with strengthened wing. 
 Not all the rapture fancy ever wove, 
 Nor less than that which springs from mutual love, 
 Could challenge mine, when to the ravished sense, 
 The sunrise painted God s magnificence ! 
 George-hill, thou pride of Nashaway, for thee, 
 Thyself the garden of fertility, 
 
LANCASTER. 211 
 
 Nature has hung a picture to the eye, 
 
 Where Beauty smiles at sombre Majesty. 
 
 The river winding in its course below, 
 
 Through fertile fields where yellowing harvests grow, 
 
 The bowering elms that so majestic grew, 
 
 A green arcade for waves to wander through ; 
 
 The deep broad valley, where the new mown hay 
 
 Loads the fresh breezes of the rising day, 
 
 And, distant far, Wachusett s towering height, 
 
 Blue in the ling ring shadows of the night, 
 
 Have power to move the sternest heart to love, 
 
 That Nature s loveliness could ever move. 
 
 Ye who can slumber when the starlight fades, 
 And clouds break purpling through the eastern shades, 
 Whose care-worn spirits cannot wake at morn, 
 To lead your buoyant footsteps o er the lawn, 
 Can never know what joy the ravished sense, 
 Feels in that moment s sacred influence. 
 I will not ask the meed of fortune s smile, 
 The flatterer s praise that masks his heart of guile, 
 So I can walk beneath the ample sky, 
 And hear the bird s discordant melody, 
 And see reviving Spring, and Summer s gloom, 
 And Autumn bending o er his icy tomb, 
 And hoary Winter pile his snowy drifts ; 
 For these to me are Fortune s highest gifts ; 
 18 
 
212 LANCASTER. 
 
 And I have found in poor neglected flowers, 
 Companionship for many weary hours ; 
 And high above the mountain s crest of snow, 
 Communed with storm-clouds in their wrath below ; 
 And where the vault of heaven, from some vast height 
 Grew black, as fell the shadows of the night, 
 Where the stars seem to come to you, I ve wooed 
 The grandeur of the fearful solitude. 
 From such communion, feelings often rise, 
 To guard the heart midst life s perplexities, 
 Lighting a heaven within, whose deep felt joy 
 Compensates well, for Sorrow s dark alloy. 
 Then, though the worldly chide, and wealth deny, 
 And passion conquer where it fain would fly, 
 Though friends you love betray, while these are left, 
 The heart can never wholly be bereft. 
 
 Hard by yon giant elm, whose branches spread 
 A rustling robe of leaves above your head ; 
 Where weary travellers, from noonday heat, 
 Beneath the hospitable shade retreat, 
 The school-house met the stranger s busy eye, 
 Who turned to gaze again, he knew not why. 
 Thrice lovely spot ! where, in the classic spring, 
 My young ambition dipped her fevered wing, 
 And drank unseen the vision and the fire 
 That break with quenchless glory from the lyre ! 
 
LANCASTER. 213 
 
 Amidst thy wealth of Art, fair Italy ! 
 While Genius warms beneath thy cloudless sky, 
 As o er the waking marble s polished mould, 
 The Sculptor breathes Pygmalion s prayer of old, 
 His heart shall send a frequent sigh to rove, 
 A pilgrim to the birthplace of his love ! 
 
 And can I e er forget the hallowed spot, 
 Whence springs a charm that may not be forgot ; 
 Where in a grove of elm and sycamore, 
 The Pastor showed his hospitable door, 
 And kindness shone so constantly to bless 
 That sweet abode of peace and happiness ? 
 
 The oaken bucket where I stooped to drink 
 The crystal water, trembling at the brink, 
 Which through the solid rock in coldness flowed, 
 While creaked the pond rous lever with its load ; 
 The dairy where so many moments flew, 
 With half the dainties of the soil in view ; 
 Where the broad pans spread out the milk-maid s care, 
 To feed the busy churn that laboured there ; 
 The garden where such neatness met the eye, 
 A stranger could not pass unheeding by ; 
 The orchard and the yellow-mantled fields, 
 Each in its turn some dear remembrance yields. 
 
214 LANCASTER. 
 
 Ye who can mingle with the glittering crowd, 
 Where Mammon struts in rival splendour proud ; 
 Who pass your days in heartless fashion s round, 
 And bow with hatred, where ye fear to wound ; 
 Away ! no flatterer s voice, nor coward s sneer, 
 Can find a welcome, or an altar here. 
 But ye who look beyond the common ken, 
 Self-unexalted when ye judge of men, 
 Who, conscious of defects, can hurry by 
 Faults that lay claim upon your charity ; 
 Who feel that thrilling vision of the soul, 
 Which looks through faith beyond an earthly goal, 
 And will not yet refuse the homely care, 
 Which every being shares, or ought to share ; 
 Approach ! the home of Goodness is your own, 
 And "such as ye are worthy, such alone. 
 
 When Silence hung upon the Sabbath s smile, 
 And noiseless footsteps paced the sacred aisle, 
 When hearts united woke the suppliant lay, 
 And happy faces blessed the holy day ; 
 Oh Nature ! could thy worshipper have owned 
 Such joy, as then upon his bosom throned ; 
 x When feelings, even as the printless snow, 
 Were harmless, guileless as a child can know ; 
 Or, if they swerved from right, were pliant still, 
 To follow Virtue from the path of ill 1 
 
LANCASTER. 215 
 
 No ! when the morning s old, the mist will rise 
 To cloud the fairest vision of our eyes ; 
 As hopes too brightly formed in rainbow dyes, 
 A moment charm then vanish in the skies ! 
 
 Sweet hour of holy rest, to mortals given, 
 To paint with love the fairest way to Heaven ; 
 When from the sacred book instruction came 
 With fervid eloquence and kindling flame. 
 No mystic rites were there ; to God alone, 
 Went up the grateful heart before his throne, 
 While solemn anthems from the organ poured 
 Thanksgiving to the high and only Lord. 
 
 Lo ! where yon cottage whitens through the green, 
 The loveliest feature of a matchless scene ; 
 Beneath its shading elm, with pious fear, 
 An aged mother draws her children near ; 
 While from the Holy Word with earnest air, 
 She teaches them the privilege of prayer. 
 Look ! how their infant eyes with rapture speak ; 
 Mark the flushed lily on the dimpled cheek, 
 Their hearts are filled with gratitude and love,, 
 Their hopes are centred in a world above, 
 Where in a choir of angels, faith portrays 
 The loved, departed father of their days. 
 
 18* 
 
216 LANCASTER. 
 
 Beside yon grassless mound, a mourner kneels, 
 There gush no tears to sooth the pang he feels ; 
 His loved, his lost, lies coffined in the sod, 
 Whose soul has found a dwelling-place with God ! 
 Though pressed with anguish, mild religion shows 
 His aching heart a balm for all its woes ; 
 And hope smiles upward, where his love shall find 
 A union in eternity of mind ! 
 
 Turn there your eyes, ye cold, malignant crew, 
 Whose vile ambition dims your reason s view, 
 Ye faithless ones, who preach religion vain, 
 And childlike, chase the phantoms of your brain ; 
 Think not to crush the heart whose truth has sealed 
 Its confidence in heavenly love revealed. 
 Let not the atheist deem that Fate decrees 
 The lot of man to misery or ease, 
 While to the contrite spirit, faith is given, 
 To find a hope on earth, a rest in Heaven. 
 
 Unrivalled Nashaway ! where the willows throw 
 Their frosted beauty on thy path below, 
 Beneath the verdant drapery of the trees, 
 Luxuriant Fancy woos the sighing breeze. 
 The redbreast singing where the fruit-tree weaves 
 Its silken canopy of mulb ry leaves ; 
 Enamelled fields of green, where herding kine 
 Crop the wet grass, or in the shade recline ; 
 
LANCASTER. 217 
 
 The tapping woodbird, and the minstrel bee, 
 The squirrel racing on his moss-grown tree, 
 With crowds of pleasant dreams, demand in vain 
 Creative thought to give them life again. 
 
 I turn where glancing down, the eye surveys 
 Art building up the wreck of other days ; 
 For graves of silent tribes upheave the sod, 
 And Science smiles where savage Philip trod ; 
 Where winged the poisoned shaft along the skies, 
 The hammer rings, the noisy shuttle flies ; 
 Impervious forests bow before the blade, 
 And fields rise up in yellow robes arrayed. 
 No lordly palace nor imperial seat, 
 Grasps the glad soil where freemen plant their feet ; 
 No ruined castle here, with ivy waves, 
 To make us blush for ancestry of slaves ; 
 But lo ! unnumbered dwellings meet the eye, 
 Where men lie down in native majesty : 
 The morning birds spring from their leafy bed, 
 As the stern ploughman quits his happy shed ; 
 His arm is steeled to toil his heart to bear 
 The robe of pain, that mortals always wear ; 
 Though wealth may never come, a plenteous board 
 Smiles at the pampered rich man s joyless hoard ; 
 True, when among his sires, no gilded heir 
 Shall play the fool, and damn himself to care, 
 
218 LANCASTER. 
 
 But Industry and Knowledge lead the way, 
 Where Independence braves the roughest day. 
 
 Nurse of my country s infancy, her stay 
 In youthful trials and in danger s day ; 
 Diffusive Education ! tis to thee, 
 She owes her mountain-breath of Liberty ; 
 To thee she looks, through time s illusive gloom, 
 To light her path, and shield her from the tomb ; 
 Beneath thine JEgis, tyranny shall fail, 
 Before thy frown the traitor s heart shall quail ; 
 Ambitious foes to liberty may wear 
 A patriot mask, to compass what they dare, 
 And sting the thoughtless nation, while they smile 
 Benignantly and modestly the while ; 
 But thou shalt rend the virtuous-seeming guise, 
 And guard her from the worst of enemies. 
 Eternal power ! whose tempted thunder sleeps, 
 While heaven-eyed mercy turns away and weeps ; 
 Thou who didst lead our fathers where to send 
 Their free devotions to their God and friend ; 
 Thou who hast swept a wilderness away, 
 That men may walk in freedom s cloudless day j 
 Guard well their trust, lest impious faction dare 
 Unlock the chain that binds our birthright fair ; 
 That private views to public good may yield, 
 And honest men stand fearless in the field I 
 
LANCASTER. 219 
 
 Once more I turn to thee, fair Nashaway ! 
 The farewell tribute of my humble lay ; 
 The time may come, when lofty notes shall bear 
 Thy peerless beauty to the gladdened air ; 
 Now, to the lyre no daring hand aspires, 
 And rust grows cankering on its tuneless wires. 
 
 Our lays are like the fitful streams that flow 
 From careless birds, that carol as they go ; 
 Content, beneath the mountain top to sing, 
 And only touch Castalia with a wing. 
 
 [1828. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS 
 
KATY-DID. 
 
 A FAIRY TALE, 
 
 THE rainbow that hung o er the dropping cloud 
 Has lost the colours that decked its fold ; 
 The sun is wrapped in his ocean shroud, 
 A mantle of green with an edge of gold ; 
 The foliage drops with dew and shower, 
 The lilies are silently bending low, 
 And the garden-rose, in her fragrant bower, 
 Rustles her leaves with a thrilling glow, 
 And dreams of the bee and her rifled treasure ; 
 Tis the hour of dance and the minstrel s measure. 
 19 
 
224 KATY-DID. 
 
 II. 
 
 There is music abroad, but it is not heard, 
 The stars are singing their vesper hymn, 
 There is melody breathing from every limb, 
 Where the fruit-tree shelters the slumb ring bird ; 
 For the fairy-queen s heralds have called together 
 The sylphs and fays from their million spheres, 
 And every fairy the herald hears, 
 And hastens away over moss and heather, 
 To the garden of bliss and of maidens tears. 
 
 111. 
 
 Twas midsummer s eve, and the stars were dim, 
 For the fays had stolen their lamps away 
 To fill the moon, till her silver brim 
 Ran over with light, in their jocund play ; 
 And over the earth, wherever it went, 
 It spread like a smile upon beauty s lips, 
 When fancy-free, and no clouds eclipse 
 Her bosom s unmarbled firmament. 
 And heavenly sylphs from the milky way, 
 With spangled garments of snowy whiteness, 
 Flooded the skies with their brilliant eyes, 
 And dashed the moon with a clearer brightness. 
 For all of heaven and all of earth, 
 Of the holy sylphs and the potent fays, 
 
KATY-DID. 225 
 
 Were called to revel with dance and mirth, 
 On midsummer s eve in the festal blaze. 
 
 IV. 
 
 With the glad hurra and the loud halloo, 
 They heard the whip-poor-will s evening cry, 
 And thousands were sporting with drops of dew, 
 They chased as they fell from the evening sky ; 
 Some dancing the rope which the spider threw 
 From bush to bush and from tree to tree, 
 Or riding the murmuring honey-bee : 
 For they stormed the hive where the workers slept, 
 In festoons from their waxen walls, 
 And laughed aloud as the queen-bee wept 
 At their mischievous pranks in her luscious halls ; 
 They sipped the sweets from her choicest cells, 
 And pilfered the bee-bread garnered there, 
 And when they had emptied the nectar wells, 
 They whipped the drones till their bones were bare ; 
 But they promised, before the morning s sun, 
 To make amends for the mischief done. 
 
 V. 
 
 Then one sprang up on the queen-bee s back, 
 And spurred her sides with a nettle sting, 
 And away she went with a bounding spring, 
 With a myriad tribe in her airy track, 
 
226 
 
 KATY-DID. 
 
 Each with a fay and a honey sack. 
 
 Twas a restless time to the weary bees, 
 
 And every insect that builds by day, 
 
 Whether it lived in the thick-leafed trees, 
 
 Or couched in the moss where the cold snake lay ; 
 
 For some ran down in the red ant s cave, 
 
 And beat their slaves and milk d their kine, 
 
 Then rang d themselves with their fair and brave, 
 
 And ate their viands and drank their wine ; 
 
 While many a jest rang out aloud, 
 
 About the giants that roam the earth, 
 
 Their certain death and their helpless birth. 
 
 The red ant s palace was in a shroud ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 Others have gathered a fragrant store 
 Of the damask rose, which they quickly bring 
 To the Teasel s dewy reservoir, 
 And with feathers brushed from the butterfly s wing, 
 They skim the atter that floats above, 
 Each drop a gift to a fairy love. 
 Some are decked out in Violet leaves, 
 Powdered all over with dust of Fern, 
 Their mantle the web which the spider weaves, 
 With batons they stole from the Lily s urn ; 
 And they march to the sound of the brown ant s drum, 
 Musquito s trumpet, and beetle s hum, 
 
KATY-DID. 
 
 Rousing the leaves from their vesper fold, 
 
 And waking the slumbering Marygold. 
 
 Now the bat, from his hiding hole, 
 
 Wheels through the air on fluttering pinions, 
 
 The beetle soars from his laboured mole, 
 
 And Paddock calls, in drowsy dole, 
 
 That the fairy-queen comes to her earth s dominions. 
 
 VII. 
 
 And first, in garments of living green, 
 Like sea- weed heaving to reach the shore, 
 A numberless crowd of elves are seen, 
 On fire -flies riding, like knights of yore ; 
 Briar-stings were the spears they bore, 
 Their bridles the thatch of the silk-worm s shed, 
 Their fleecy plumes from the white-moth s wing, 
 And down they came where the moon-beam spread 
 Its shadowless light on a Violet bed, 
 Gayly around it hovering. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 " The queen ! the queen !" and a band appeared 
 In courtly dresses of richest dyes ; 
 While a troop of fays on the moon-beam s neared, 
 Clad in a thousand fantasies : 
 Some in the Protea s golden leaves, 
 19* 
 
 227 
 
K A T Y - D I D . 
 
 That waved and dashed like a flaming sea ; 
 
 Others were dressed from the Silver-tree, 
 
 Fastened with threads the silk-worm weaves ; 
 
 The Hyacinth came in a virgin dress, 
 
 The Jonquil brought her fragrant flower, 
 
 And sweet Narcissus, for the hour, 
 
 Gave up his mirrored loveliness. 
 
 The broad Carnation spread her leaf, 
 
 And Amyrillis, with a bell 
 
 Brim-full of fragrance, deigned to swell 
 
 The arbour of the fairy-chief. 
 
 A Nautilus shell was her palanquin,. 
 
 And there the fair Titania sat, 
 
 Fairer than all who are formed to win, 
 
 And still unwon, to be wondered at ; 
 
 The car was lashed to a vampyre s back, 
 
 That was doomed to atone for a deed of blood, 
 
 To skim the air and to swim the flood, 
 
 And bear all day the sun-beam s rack, 
 
 To fly no more in the moon s free ray, 
 
 Till the crime of murder were washed away. 
 
 IX. 
 
 A humming-bird slept on a woodbine flower, 
 Drunk with the nectar it sipped all day, 
 And its heaving bosom had only power 
 To make its golden plumage play 
 
K A T Y - D I D . 229 
 
 Enough to dazzle an elf or fay. 
 
 But the Queen passed by in her robes of state, 
 
 And sent the Fire-fly on before, 
 
 For the woodbine crept by a miser s door, 
 
 Whose touch had blighted a leaf of late. 
 
 A sweetbriar grew by a lattice near, 
 
 Where oft a beautiful maiden sung ; 
 
 She had given away with virgin fear, 
 
 A budding branch no bee had stung ; 
 
 And many a lay had her poet sung, 
 
 And many a wish had he breathed to her ; 
 
 The place was sacred to love forever ; 
 
 Though both grew cold in the world s chill stir, 
 
 And forced the links of their love to sever. 
 
 X. 
 
 By the fire-fly s light, where the insect flew, 
 Titania knew where her throne should be ; 
 Twas where the Haliotis threw 
 Its sparkling rainbow-canopy. 
 And some brought honey for her to sip, 
 In cups where the bee had never flown, 
 With urns of dew for her royal lip, 
 Which even the shrimp had never known. 
 They broke the sleep of the Water-lilies, 
 For wealth of fragrance to please their queen ; 
 
230 
 
 KATY-DID. 
 
 The Moss-rose and the Amyrillis, 
 Verbena and the Eglantine. 
 
 XI. 
 
 And merrily now had the dance begun 
 in circles of light on the close-cut green, 
 The grass blades each like a living sun, 
 Blending their lights in a brilliant sheen, 
 Like breaking waves in the setting sun, 
 Or golden clouds when the day is done : 
 And they moved like teints on the flowery sea 
 When a hurricane sweeps o er a prairie. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Hark ! hark ! and the tingling blood 
 Suddenly startles the frighted fays, 
 And they rush to their queen in a wild amaze ; 
 For distant shrieks and fearful sounds 
 Then stillness and now a piercing cry, 
 An earthquake shudder of something nigh, 
 Unknown, yet felt in the pulse s bounds 
 A dread like that which borders madness, 
 Far darker than the depths of sadness : 
 And why is this, that a sudden gleam 
 Throws into shade the moon s bright beam ? 
 There s a rush like the bending of ripen d maize, 
 A sound like the wind in November days, 
 
KATY-DID. 
 
 When the blast screams through the skeleton trees, 
 
 And the dry leaves whirl in the eddying breeze ; 
 
 There s a tramp of steeds in the forest near, 
 
 And this is the cause of the Elfin s fear ; 
 
 Well may they fear, for a foe is come, 
 
 That moves to the beat of the muffled drum : 
 
 A band of spirits that hate the light, 
 
 And roam like the gouls to feast at night ; 
 
 To batten on food which the jaws of death, 
 
 When the blood dries up, have to reptiles left ; 
 
 To howl their delight when a good man errs, 
 
 And flatter the bad to their sepulchres. 
 
 They come like a cloud o er a summer sky, 
 
 All mirth is hush d, and the dance gone by ; 
 
 On a moccasin snake, which that day had stung 
 
 An infant, that slept while its mother sung,. 
 
 Came the king of the spirits, and round him crowds 
 
 Decked out in shreds of dead men s shrouds, 
 
 In every ghastly shape that gleams, 
 
 Before the eye in fever-dreams, 
 
 And myriad others like vapour dense, 
 
 Or the atoms that form a pestilence. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Full of amaze was the fairy queen 
 But soon she rallied her princely mien, 
 
 231 
 
232 KATY-DID. 
 
 And waving her sceptre around the throng, 
 The herald smote on the sounding gong, 
 And a million spears in a moment shone, 
 Like sunbeams all around her throne. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 "Why come ye here, unhallow d crew? 
 Have ye not enough in the world to do 1 
 Is there not enough of guilt in men ] 
 Why come ye here from your loathsome den ? 
 By the moonbeam s ray, which ye dare eclipse, 
 By the light that spreads o er woman s lips, 
 By the ties of love, and the chain that binds 
 Innocent dreams in lover s minds, 
 Begone ! unless a stain is found 
 On the ermine path of our fairy ground ; 
 If that is pure, abide our spell 
 Away to your graves and your loathsome hell !" 
 
 XV. 
 
 They stood unmoved when the king spake thus 
 " Boast not, proud queen, midst a falling curse ! 
 One of your fays has broken her vow, 
 And the blush may be seen on her visage now ; 
 She has roamed the earth, and is roaming still, 
 And fills a place it is ours to fill ; 
 
KATY-DID. 233 
 
 What right has she to break young hearts ? 
 The merriest boon our caste imparts. 
 Yet even now one heart is breaking 
 Beneath her charms, all hope forsaking ; 
 We come to claim our right ; yield up 
 The syren with her charmed cup, 
 Or bid her cursed tribe forever 
 Cry Katy did, what fay did never." 
 Titania turned to the clear cold sky, 
 And while a tear bedewed her eye, 
 With tones that grief could only break, 
 The test and malediction spake. 
 "By all the vows that e er were spoken, 
 By all the vows that e er were broken, 
 Let the guilty tribe to the green leaves fly, 
 And chaunt forever their summer cry," 
 
 XVI. 
 
 In an instant the trees were filled with fays, 
 While the moon shone out with a brighter blaze, 
 
 And a cry burst forth the throng amid 
 
 "Katy-did! Katy-did ! Katy-did ! Katy-did ! " 
 
MARGARET. 
 
 " She never told her love." 
 
 I KNEW an orphan girl, whose story tells 
 How often woman s heart with sorrow swells, 
 When, with devoted love she gives away 
 Her life-blood, drop by drop, in sure decay. 
 It is a simple story, but to me, 
 Its truth comes home with sad reality. 
 
 She was a serving maid, whose duties were 
 To watch the children placed in trust with her, 
 And wait at table for her lady s call, 
 Within the breakfast room, or dining hall. 
 
 A maid of sixteen years, of twilight eyes, 
 Deep set and dark, and fringed with pencil dyes, 
 
MARGARET. 235 
 
 Her forehead not too high, where thick black hair, 
 
 Combed smooth and parted, showed the whiteness there ; 
 
 Her lips of changeless carmine, often parted 
 
 With dimpling smiles, when sweet sensation started 
 
 In thoughts so pure, an angel s self would choose them, 
 
 Robed in the blush that mantled from her bosom ; 
 
 Her form of rounded symmetry, where art 
 
 That makes so many beauties, bore no part ; 
 
 With mind untutored, yet so constituted, 
 
 She never spake amiss, nor e er disputed ; 
 
 A girl like this, who would not love and cherish 1 
 
 Or having won her heart, could leave that heart to perish ? 
 
 But Margaret was not flattered : no fond youth 
 Had lisped the tale of love, or pledged his truth ; 
 Though many a sigh shook off the frequent tear, 
 That there was no one heart to her more dear ; 
 For woman s love grows up within her breast, 
 Long ere it find a place wherein to rest, 
 Like some poor wandering bird along the wave, 
 Whose shelter, often proves, alas ! its grave ! 
 
 There was a youth within her dwelling place, 
 Her lady s son, a lad of manly grace ; 
 Whose eighteenth summer lit his eye with fire, 
 Fanned by his long devotion to the lyre ; 
 A youth with happy mien and thoughtful rnood, 
 More prone to self-communing solitude, 
 20 
 
236 MARGARET. 
 
 Than noisy revels ; with a heart as free 
 
 From guileful deeds, as thoughts of treachery ; 
 
 His hopes, desires, all centred in one maid, 
 
 Who loved him as he loved, with whom he strayed 
 
 In blissful union, arm in arm along, 
 
 Where, from the trees, gushed out the robin s song ; 
 
 Talking of love romantic, but sincere, 
 
 And urging time to quicken his career, 
 
 When by the holy man, the knot should bind 
 
 Their married hearts in wedlock unconfined. 
 
 * 
 
 But other maidens loved him, and confest 
 In silent grief, the tumult of the breast, 
 And none so much as Margaret her heart 
 By slow degrees, unmoved by any art, 
 Stole from her care, with such sweet pleasure on, 
 She never knew the danger, till twas gone ! 
 
 She ne er essayed his plighted love to try, 
 By common arts of female coquetry, 
 But nursed the passion quietly within ; 
 A passion, such as never dreamt of sin ; 
 And often would she sit, and watch the smile 
 Of her dear infant charge, and dream the while 
 Of Albert, as she marked within their faces, 
 His miniature, with all imagined graces ; 
 And she would stand at table, and lift up 
 
MARGARET. 
 
 Her lovely eyelids, as she filled his cup, 
 So tremblingly, so innocently loving, 
 Without a hope, or e en a wish of moving ; 
 Crushing with her dark lashes, the rude tear 
 That would have wet her cheek when he was near ! 
 
 But Margaret was wary though she knew 
 No rude suspicion with her loved one grew ; 
 And she would save, untouched, the plate he used, 
 And thence partake the viands he refused. 
 Kind hearted girl ! so humble and so true, 
 What happy thought those simple moments knew ! 
 
 But Time drank up her tears, and Sorrow now, 
 Wept out her life blood and her pallid brow 
 Grew deadly, and the hectic on her cheek 
 Mocked the dull roses, and her voice grew weak. 
 Her lips were red but with the purple tide 
 That bubbled from her heart, and so she died. 
 
 1 did not watch her eyes of fading light, 
 Grow dim, then brighten, and then sink in night ; 
 But oftentimes, my heart with anguish weeps 
 O er the green earth where hapless Margaret sleeps. 
 
 237 
 
THE GALLEY SLAVE. 
 
 The moon poured down her mellow light 
 
 Like silver on the sea, 
 And not a breath disturbed the wave, 
 
 In its blue tranquillity : 
 No sound was on the midnight ear, 
 
 Save of the dipping oar, 
 While a Moorish galley anchored lay 
 
 Beneath the Moslem shore. 
 
 Full many a tear-drop swelled the sea 
 
 That calm and quiet night, 
 And many an aching breast grew cold 
 
 With hope s expiring light; 
 For warriors, bowed beneath their chains, 
 
 Obeyed the lashes smart, 
 And thought upon their native land 
 
 With heaviness of heart. 
 
 Among the captives doomed to wear 
 Their weary lives away, 
 
THE GALLEY SLAVE. 239 
 
 And tug to rest the lazy wind 
 
 With labour day by day ; 
 There was a Spanish youth, who long 
 
 Had been a bondman there, 
 Chasing the minutes as they lagg d, 
 
 By sighing to the air. 
 
 Juan had loved and was beloved, 
 
 And gave his hand and heart ; 
 But the silken bands of love were tied, 
 
 Alas ! too soon to part : 
 His country call d to arms he rose 
 
 And answered to her call, 
 And chance of war decreed his fate 
 
 To be a Moorish thrall. 
 
 The day had been a heavy one, 
 
 Though their hopeless task was done, 
 But they had toiled from breaking day, 
 
 Nor ceased at setting sun : 
 While many bent their earnest thoughts* 
 
 Far to their native shore, 
 The weary Juan fell asleep, 
 
 And sunk upon his oar. 
 
 Oh Sleep ! thou art the ftrst and last 
 The surest blessing, given 
 2,0* 
 
240 THE GALLEY SLAVE. 
 
 To be life s interview with death 
 Our only gleam of Heaven ; 
 
 Without thy shadowing wing, how dull 
 Were even the joys of life ; 
 
 Without thy honey-balm for care 
 How hopeless were the strife ! 
 
 And dreams of joy came o er the youth, 
 
 Too pure for aught but dreams, 
 Like youthful images of love, 
 
 Or morning s rosy beams ; 
 For he had broken from his chains, 
 
 And passed the hated sea, 
 And stood upon his native land. 
 
 In the pride of liberty* 
 
 Why gushed the tear-drops from his eye, 
 
 Why swelled his gallant soul 
 With thoughts, he long had cherished deep, 
 
 And could not now control 1 
 Think, how his own dear cottage grew 
 
 Upon his eager sight, 
 And ask not why his crowded heart 
 
 Felt agonized delight ! 
 
 The fruit trees in their white spring robes 
 So purely blossoming, 
 
THE GALLEY SLAVE. 241 
 
 The wild wood where the happy birds 
 
 Were gayly wantoning, 
 The little garden where the flowers 
 
 Were telling tales of love, 
 Had power to move the wanderer s heart, 
 
 As nothing less could move. 
 
 The blue smoke curling o er the roof, 
 
 Told of the dwellers there, 
 The weedless path and garden spot 
 
 Spake of their tender care ; 
 But was his widow d wife still there, 
 
 And might he hope, his child, 
 His father as he blest his boy 
 
 His mother as she smiled ! 
 
 Winged with the tortures of suspense, 
 
 He urged the nearest way, 
 Fear struggling with his guardian Hope, 
 
 To quench her cheering ray ; 
 A moment, and the gate was passed, 
 
 The garden and the door, 
 And Juan knelt in silent joy 
 
 Upon his cottage floor. 
 
 Well has the noble bard declared 
 Young love s redeeming hours, 
 
242 THE GALLEY SLAVE. 
 
 That pay us for a life of ill, 
 
 With a paradise of flowers : 
 Then think what wealth of happiness 
 
 The captive s heart could boast, 
 As the glad tears shone upon the breast 
 
 Of her he loved the most L 
 
 There knelt his silver-headed sire, 
 
 In deep but speechless prayer, 
 With her who only knows full well 
 
 A parent s joy and care ; 
 And see the blooming infant boy, 
 
 With eyes upturned and wild, 
 How he clings upon a father s arms, 
 
 That now embrace his child I 
 
 Alas ! that dreams are only dreams, 
 
 That fancy cannot give 
 A lasting beauty to those forms 
 
 That scarce a moment live ; 
 Alas ! that youth s fond hopes should fade, 
 
 And love be but a name, 
 While its rainbows followed near so fast, 
 
 Are distant still the same. 
 
 The moon was fading fast away 
 Behind the gloomy shore r 
 
THE GALL EY SLAVE. 243 
 
 The sea-breeze brought the sullen sound 
 
 Of the waking ocean s roar ; 
 And Juan s dream of love passed off 
 
 With the moonlight from the wave, 
 When, by the clanking of his chains, 
 
 He woke a galley slave. 
 
PAINTING. 
 
 Suggested by the Portrait of a beautiful Pianist. 
 
 1 STOOD within a palace of the maid, 
 
 Whose magic wand gives life to light and shade, 
 
 Where every teint harmoniously combined, 
 
 Embodied the divinity of mind. 
 
 1 stood in silence language had no power 
 
 To break the grave-like stillness of the hour. 
 
 A vision passed before me on a throne 
 Of rosy clouds, girt by a vestal zone, 
 Sat the fair queen of soft and shadowy things, 
 More beautiful than love s imaginings ; 
 Her language, like the language of the flowers 
 That wave among the music-dropping bowers, 
 Or like the voices of the quiet skies, 
 Was only felt in unheard harmonies ; 
 Her eye was calmer than the breathless wave, 
 Save when a transient gleam from heaven gave 
 Sublimer lustre 
 
PAINTING. 245 
 
 And then the flash was instant, for I saw 
 Its light grow milder than it shone before. 
 
 She waved a delicate and shining wand, 
 Fair as the lily-texture of her hand, 
 And waved but once, for as it passed the air, 
 A rainbow, following, arched in glory there, 
 When, quick as thought, her pencil caught its dyes, 
 And lo ! the vision brightened to my eyes. 
 
 I saw a crowd of airy forms pass on, 
 And kneel before her feet and there was one 
 Of highest personal beauty, such as steals 
 Our manhood from us wounds, and never heals. 
 Another came of loftier mien a maid, 
 1 knew her by the softness of her shade ; 
 By the sweet mellowness all objects caught, 
 Reflected from a mind with fancy fraught. 
 Another came another and another ; 
 Infants that stole the smiles of a fond mother, 
 And many happy faces, where was naught 
 But laughing gladness throned, in place of thought ; 
 And there were bards of intellect divine, 
 One, who had tuned his harp for Palestine ; 
 Another, who had scattered many a gem, 
 Lavish of mental wealth ; whose diadem, 
 
PAINTING. 
 
 The muses now are forming in the shade, 
 To brighten on through ages and not fade. 
 And there was one, whose lyre but newly strung, 
 Sent forth a melancholy strain, and flung 
 A sadness o er the heart but he shall live 
 Even in the very sadness he may give. 
 
 So passed they on while I in mute surprise, 
 Wept inwardly, so gladdened were mine eyes ; 
 And as I knelt to worship, lo ! again 
 She waved her wand, and darkness wrapt my brain, 
 While music filled the air with gentler strains, 
 Than e er aerial lyre from seraph gains ; 
 And then it swelled to loudness, till its crash 
 Came like the sounding avalanche s dash, 
 That made my spirit pray it might be free, 
 And never lose such fine sublimity. 
 Light came to me again, and oh ! how fair, 
 How brightly delicate the minstrel there ; 
 Her eyes were fixt upon the list ning skies, 
 That looked the fulness of their ecstacies ! 
 Her dark locks flowing down her glowing face, 
 Shaded its lustre with such gentle grace, 
 One would have thought the softest hues of night 
 Had gathered round Aurora in her light. 
 A harp stood by Apollo might have swept, 
 While o er the thrilling strings her fingers leapt, 
 
PAINTING. 247 
 
 Racing so emulously fast, they seemed 
 
 Pearls raining upon ivory, yet gleamed 
 
 With a more feminine whiteness, while the notes, 
 
 That gushed as from a thousand warbling throats, 
 
 Held the rapt soul in such sweet ecstacy, 
 
 Full well I knew it was my hour to die. 
 
 Then came again the forms that passed before, 
 Bowing in joyous homage to adore. 
 
 The rainbow-queen looked pleasure as she spake, 
 "Behold what art s magician hand can make ; 
 " Awake ! thy dream is past, and now decide, 
 " Of Art and Nature, which shall hence preside." 
 t woke ; and with me woke the dulcet strain ; 
 My heart drunk in the mingled notes again : 
 It was no dream, the minstrel s self was there, 
 But oh ! than Art s, how more divinely fair ! 
 Queen of the magic wand ! thy power may move 
 To charm the heart, but Nature makes it lave ! 
 
 21 
 
SUNRISE, 
 
 FROM MOUNT WASHINGTON. 
 
 THE laughing hours have chased away the night, 
 Plucking the stars out from her diadem : 
 And now the blue-eyed Morn, with modest grace, 
 Looks through her half-drawn curtains in the east, 
 Blushing in smiles and glad as infancy. 
 And see, the foolish Moon, but now so vain 
 Of borrowed beauty, how she yields her charms, 
 And, pale with envy, steals herself away ! 
 The clouds have put their gorgeous livery on, 
 Attendant on the day the mountain tops 
 Have lit their beacons, and the vales below 
 Send up a welcoming ; no song of birds, 
 Warbling to charm the air with melody, 
 Floats on the frosty breeze ; yet Nature hath 
 The very soul of music in her looks ! 
 The sunshine and the shade of poetry. 
 
 I stand upon thy lofty pinnacle, 
 Temple of Nature ! and look down with awe 
 
SUNRISE. 249 
 
 On the wide world beneath me, dimly seen ; 
 Around me crowd the giant sons of earth, 
 Fixed on their old foundations, unsubdued ; 
 Firm as when first rebellion bade them rise 
 Unrifted to the Thunderer now they seem 
 A family of mountains, clustering round 
 Their hoary patriarch, emulously watching 
 To meet the partial glances of the day. 
 Far in the glowing east the flickering light, 
 Mellowed by distance with the blue sky blending, 
 Questions the eye with ever- varying forms. 
 
 The sun comes up ! away the shadows fling 
 From the broad hills and, hurrying to the West, 
 Sport in the sunshine, till they die away. 
 The many beauteous mountain streams leap down, 
 Out-welling from the clouds, and sparkling light 
 Dances along with their perennial flow. 
 And there is beauty in yon river s path, 
 The glad Connecticut ! I know her well, 
 By the white veil she mantles o er her charms : 
 At times, she loiters by a ridge of hills, 
 Sportfully hiding then again with glee, 
 Out-rushes from her wild-wood lurking-place, 
 Far as the eye can bound, the ocean-waves, 
 And hills and rivers, mountains, lakes and woods, 
 And all that hold the faculty entranced, 
 
250 SUNRISE. 
 
 Bathed in a flood of glory, float in air, 
 And sleep in the deep quietude of joy. 
 
 There is an awful stillness in this place, 
 A Presence, that forbids to break the spell, 
 Till the heart pour its agony in tears. 
 But I must drink the vision while it lasts ; 
 For even now the curling vapours rise, 
 Wreathing their cloudy coronals, to grace 
 These towering summits ~- bidding me away ; 
 But often shall my heart turn back again, 
 Thou glorious eminence ! and when oppressed, 
 And aching with the coldness of the world, 
 Find a sweet resting-place and home with thee. 
 
BURIED LOVE. 
 
 I have often thought that Flowers were the Alphabet of Angels whereby 
 they write on hills and fields mysterious truths. THE REBELS. 
 
 SHE sleeps the quiet sleep of death, 
 
 The maid who lies below ; 
 And these are Angel-missioned flowers, 
 
 That o er the green turf grow. 
 
 And they are sent to warn the fair, 
 
 How transient is their bloom ; 
 See how they bend their tender forms, 
 
 And weep upon her tomb. 
 
 The blush upon her living cheek, 
 
 Had shamed the morning skies ; 
 And diamond light, is not more bright 
 
 Than were her youthful eyes. 
 
 To see her, on a summer s day, 
 Gave love a lighter wing ; 
 
252 BURIED LOVE. 
 
 And happy thoughts would crowd the heart, 
 And gush from many a spring. 
 
 I know the language of the flowers, 
 And love to hear them grieve, 
 
 When crimsoning to the eye of morn, 
 Or drooping to the eve. 
 
 I listened when the star of love 
 Shone through the blue serene ; 
 
 When twilight held her silent wake, 
 Beneath the crested queen. 
 
 They told of her whose spirit comes 
 To breathe upon their leaves ; 
 
 And can 1 choose but love the breath, 
 That once was Genevieve s 1 
 
 She s gone, where sorrow may not come, 
 
 Where pain may never be ; 
 But she who lives an angel still, 
 
 May sometimes think of me. 
 
 Though gone, alas ! her blushing smile, 
 
 Who sleeps in sweet repose, 
 I joy to find its mimic grace, 
 
 Still living in the rose. 
 
BURIED LOVE. 353 
 
 Then will I love the modest flower, 
 
 And cherish it with tears : 
 It minds me of my fleeting time, 
 
 Yet chases all my fears. 
 
 And when my hour of rest shall be, 
 
 I will not weep my doom ; 
 So, Angel-missioned flowers may come, 
 
 And gather round my tomb ( 
 
ANACREONTIC. 
 
 FILL again the mantling bowl, 
 
 Nor fear to meet the morning breaking ! 
 None but slaves should bend the soul, 
 
 Beneath the chains of mortal making : 
 Fill your beakers to the brim, 
 Bacchus soon shall lull your sorrow ; 
 Let delight 
 But crown the night, 
 And care may bring her clouds to-morrow. 
 
 Mark this cup of rosy wine, 
 
 With virgin pureness deeply blushing ; 
 Beauty pressed it from the vine, 
 
 While Love stood by to charm its gushing ; 
 He who dares to drain it now, 
 
 Shall drink such bliss as seldom gladdens ; 
 The Moslem s dream 
 Would joyless seem, 
 To him whose brain its rapture maddens. 
 
ANACREONTIC. 255 
 
 Pleasure sparkles on the brim 
 Lethe, lies far deeper in it 
 Both, enticing, wait for him, 
 
 Whose heart is warm enough to win it : 
 Hearts like ours, if e er they chill, 
 Soon with Love again must lighten ; 
 Skies may wear 
 A darksome air, 
 Where sunshine most is known to brighten. 
 
 Then fill ! fill high the mantling bowl, 
 
 Nor fear to meet the morning breaking; 
 Care shall never cloud the soul, 
 
 While Beauty s beaming eyes are waking ; 
 Fill your beakers to the brim, 
 Bacchus soon shall lull your sorrow ; 
 Let delight 
 But crown the night, 
 And Care may bring her clouds to-morrow, 
 
ALBUQUERQUE. 
 
 A STORM was on the deep 
 
 And lightning, in its wrath, 
 Called the darkness from its sleep, 
 
 In the fierce tornado s path ; 
 The ocean waves went up among 
 
 The thunder-spirit s choir 
 Recoiling as the death-note rung 
 
 From their canopy of fire. 
 
 "Awake! awake! behold 
 
 " Death throned among the clouds ! 
 " The sands of life are told 
 
 " The waves must be our shrouds." 
 Thus spake the chief, while clinging round, 
 
 The shrieking concourse stood, 
 Waiting the sulphurous bolt to sound 
 
 Their requiem for the flood. 
 
 Stern Albuquerque that hour 
 Showed horror on his brow, 
 
ALBUQUERQUE. 257 
 
 While conscience, in her power, 
 
 Made his haughty heart to bow 
 Hot lightning blackened many a corse, 
 
 And split his bending mast, 
 While bounding, like a reinless horse, 
 
 On went the proud ship fast. 
 
 Pressed down with guilty fear, 
 
 He knew his turn might be 
 Another bolt fell near, 
 
 And burst upon the sea ; 
 When, from a mother s bosom blest, 
 
 He snatched her infant care, 
 And clasping it before his breast, 
 
 Defied the lightning s glare. 
 
 " Now strike ! I stand prepared 
 
 " Hurl down, proud Heaven ! thy worst, 
 "For Innocence is bared 
 
 "Before a bosom cursed!" 
 He stood the tempest fell asleep 
 
 The hurricane passed o er 
 
 His arms that keep the mighty deep, 
 
 Showed mercy and forbore ! 
 
SONNET. 
 
 LOOK ! how the young Moon, o er the orange west, 
 Walks in her maiden purity ; she seems 
 Adorned in brighter, more alluring beams, 
 
 To flatter all that look the loveliest. 
 
 The sea-breeze laps him to his halcyon rest, 
 Upon the dark-blue waters where the gleams 
 Of sheeting moonlight silver o er his dreams, 
 
 And melt to love the Atlantic s heaving breast, 
 
 The stars are out, and beautiful are they, 
 Cold, but still beautiful, a crowded choir, 
 
 Harmonious in their heavenly minstrelsy : 
 And I would fain, with beating heart, aspire 
 
 To their communion, but this weight of clay, 
 Clings to the soul, and mocks the vain desire ! 
 
SPIRIT OF BEAUTY. 
 
 The Spirit of Beauty unfurls her light, 
 And wheels her course in a joyous flight ; 
 I know her track through the balmy air, 
 By the blossoms that cluster and whiten there ; 
 She leaves the tops of the mountains green, 
 And gems the valley with crystal sheen. 
 
 At morn, 1 know where she rested at night, 
 For the roses are gushing with dewy delight ; 
 Then she mounts again, and round her flings 
 A shower of light from her crimson wings ; 
 Till the spirit is drunk with the music on high, 
 That silently fills it with ecstacy. 
 
 At noon she hies to a cool retreat, 
 Where bowering elms over waters meet, 
 She dimples the wave where the green leaves dip, 
 As it smilingly curls like a maiden s lip, 
 When her tremulous bosom would hide, in vain, 
 From her lover, the hope that she loves again. 
 22 
 
260 
 
 SPIRIT OF BEAUTY. 
 
 At eve she hangs o er the western sky 
 Dark clouds for a glorious canopy, 
 And round the skirts of their deepened fold, 
 She paints a border of purple and gold, 
 Where the ling ring sunbeams love to stay, 
 When their god in his glory has passed away. 
 
 She hovers around us at twilight hour, 
 
 When her presence is felt with the deepest power, 
 
 She silvers the landscape, and crowds the stream 
 
 With shadows that flit like a fairy dream ; 
 
 Then wheeling her flight through the gladdened air, 
 
 The Spirit of Beauty is every where. 
 
SPRING. 
 
 HAIL to thee, gentle Spring, 
 With thy softened gales appearing ; 
 As a prisoned bird let free, 
 My heart leaps at thy coming. 
 Stern Winter shuns thy smile, 
 Or melts it into tears before thee. 
 
 Look ! how the budding trees 
 Wave to their joyous mother ; 
 How the gay floweret breathes 
 The perfume of its beauty ; 
 How the glad fields arise, 
 And clothe themselves in verdure ! 
 
 The frozen clouds of Winter 
 Are grateful even to weeping ; 
 How warm they grow in the sunshine, 
 Pillowed on the deep blue sky, 
 
262 SPRING. 
 
 Or floating in careless pleasure, 
 With the singing birds of morning ! 
 
 The sleepless streams move onward 
 Through beds of idling lilies, 
 Chiding the foolish flowers 
 That watch their mirrored beauty ; 
 So live the thoughtless many, 
 Who throng the halls of fashion ! 
 
 Come to me, smiling Spring ! 
 Come to my inmost bosom ; 
 I would clasp thee to my heart, 
 For my love yearns to embrace thee. 
 Wake in me early visions, 
 Visions that used to bless me ! 
 
SONG. 
 
 Tis the season of tender delight, 
 
 The season of fresh-springing flowers ; 
 The green earth is covered with spangles of white, 
 
 And Love leads the rapturous hours. 
 Glad Nature is loud in her transport of pleasure, 
 
 The vallies and mountains re-echo her lay ; 
 The robin now warbles his love-breathing measure, 
 
 And scatters the blossoms while tilting the spray. 
 One impulse of tenderness thrills through the groves, 
 While the birds carol sweetly their innocent loves. 
 
 The Westwind ! how mildly he blows, 
 
 What fragrance his light pinions bear 
 He breathes, as if fearful to brush from the roses 
 
 The dew-drops so tremulous there : 
 The brook flowing softly among the green cresses, 
 
 So lightsomely dashes their branches away, 
 It seems some fond mother, who while she caresses, 
 
 Would sportfully chide her young children at play. 
 
SONG. 
 
 Hear the minstrel-bee lulling the blossoms to rest, 
 For the nectar he sips as the wild-flowers guest ! 
 
 Look out then on Nature, awhile ; 
 
 Observe her inviting thee now, 
 Benevolence beams in her sunshiny smile, 
 
 And blandishment sits on her brow : 
 Come stray with me, love, where the fountains are flowing, 
 
 And wild-flowers cluster to drink of the stream ; 
 While watching the lily and daflbdil blowing, 
 
 No moment of bliss shall so exquisite seem. 
 When Nature invites thee, oh why then delay 1 
 While joy is still waking, away ! love, away I 
 
YARICO S LAMENT. 
 
 THY bark is on the midnight wave, 
 Thy thoughts are far from love and me, 
 
 And Hope has found a cheerless grave, 
 Within a heart still true to thee. 
 
 Thy babe is on my aching breast, 
 Where passion breathed a father s sigh, 
 
 When that cold cheek I fondly prest, 
 And wet with tears 1 could not dry. 
 
 1 found thee on my father s isle 
 My father! nay fond memory, cease 
 
 I would not think of one whose smile 
 Can only light the wreck of peace ! 
 
 1 found thee friendless and alone, 
 No hand to soothe thy bed of pain; 
 
 Oh, Inkle, did my bosom own 
 No joy to see thee live again ! 
 
266 YARICO S LAMENT. 
 
 I led thee where the lemon grew, 
 
 Where waterfalls and fountains played, 
 
 And where the kind banana threw 
 Her arms to comfort thee with shade. 
 
 And thou didst swear to love me then, 
 And teach me how the Christians pray ; 
 
 And tears were on thine eyelids, when 
 1 gave my virgin heart away. 
 
 My heart ! oh, do not break so soon, 
 Throb yet awhile to cheer my boy ; 
 
 Kind Heaven, but grant the simple boon, 
 Nor thus my life s poor hold destroy. 
 
 Forgive the wrong ! his heart is mild, 
 And did. not mean to give me pain ; 
 
 Blest image ! come, my tearless child. 
 And let me dream the past again I 
 
MARY HALL. 
 
 ONE lovely summer day, 
 
 When birds were blithely singing, 
 And care had flown away, 
 
 And flowers were freshly springing, 
 I wandered forth to drink the air, 
 
 And waken sweet revealings, 
 While all around me seemed to share, 
 
 My bosom s happy feelings. 
 
 Among the waving trees, 
 
 That rustled o er a valley, 
 Went up the eddying breeze, 
 
 Through a cool and shady alley ; 
 And while I listened to the rush 
 
 Of green leaves blown together, 
 The robin and the playful thrush, 
 
 Were singing in the heather. 
 
 But soon another voice, 
 As though an angel hovered, 
 
268 MARY HALL. 
 
 Made every bird rejoice, 
 Within the foliage covered ; 
 
 With sweeter tone than warbling flute, 
 It lingered on my hearing, 
 
 While other sounds were only mute, 
 But now, so much endearing. 
 
 Beside a pebbly brook, 
 
 1 saw a woman bending, 
 And joy was in her look, 
 
 With melancholy blending ; 
 And close behind her o er a blaze, 
 
 A water-vessel boiling, 
 Told plainly how she passed her days 
 
 In solitary toiling. 
 
 Charmed by her syren tongue, 
 
 That did not cease for me, 
 I asked her why she sung, 
 
 And looked so smilingly ? 
 She told me that she felt delight, 
 
 That GOD, who dwells above her, 
 Allowed her toiling day and night, 
 
 To buy her bondman lover. 
 
 Though humble thou and poor, 
 And of a race enslaved, 
 
MARY HALL. 
 
 Still, Mary Hall, endure 
 
 What all thy truth has braved ! 
 1 would not give thy honest heart, 
 
 So full of noble bearing, 
 For all Potosi s mines impart, 
 
 Or high heroic daring. 
 
TO CRESS1D. 
 
 Tis not the fairest form, that holds 
 The mildest, purest soul within ; 
 
 Tis not the richest plant that folds 
 The sweetest breath of fragrance in ; 
 
 And oft within the rose s bower, 
 A lurking insect lies unknown, 
 
 That steals the honey from the flower, 
 Before its outward grace has flown. 
 
 Then should a rude wind come at length, 
 To break the quiet reigning round, 
 
 The flower that had the look of strength, 
 Falls scarcely heeded to the ground. 
 
 Then lady ! cast thy pride away, 
 
 And chase those rebel thoughts of thine ; 
 
 The casket may be bright and gay, 
 Yet all within refuse to shine. 
 
TO CRESSID. 271 
 
 Beneath a shower of golden light, 
 The ocean s breast seems warm and fair, 
 
 But when the shadows fall at night, 
 We find but few to venture there. 
 
 Hast thou an eye for Nature made, 
 
 A heart to feel the truth she bears) 
 Thou lt learn a lesson from her shade, 
 
 To save thee from thy after-cares ! 
 
 For should misfortune ever lower, 
 T will cloud those charms that dazzle so; 
 
 And friends who greet thy fortune s power, 
 Will smile upon its overthrow. 
 
AN INTRODUCTION. 
 
 THERE S not a bird that charms the air, 
 There s not a flower that scents the gale, 
 
 There s not a bee that wantons where 
 The wild-rose gems the vale ; 
 
 But each has some secluded shrine, 
 The leafy tree, or fragrant fold 
 
 Of blossoms, that in clusters shine, 
 Its happy guest to hold. 
 
 There s not a heart, whose pulses tell 
 How calm or wild the wish within, 
 
 But there is yet some secret cell, 
 No stranger eye can win. 
 
 There, records sweet of banished hours, 
 And tristful pangs of hope deferred, 
 
 As light and shade upon the flowers, 
 Are felt, but never heard. 
 
AN INTRODUCTION. 273 
 
 For many a sigh, and many a tear, 
 
 And many a grief are buried there, 
 While Love s pale image lingers near, 
 
 The picture of despair. 
 
 This wilderness of stainless white, 
 Like Beauty s guileless heart, unknown, 
 
 Must be a place of varied light, 
 
 Where Thought shall build his throne. 
 
 The flatterer s breath shall taint its snow, 
 
 While many a heart of truth shall tell 
 The wish it scarce would have thee know, 
 
 Yet cherishes so well. 
 
 Then, while the hours enjoy their flight 
 Among the flowers that grace this shrine, 
 
 Oh, may one smile of cloudless light, 
 Remain forever thine ! 
 
SONNET. 
 
 OH, thou, who art the fairest of earth s daughters, 
 Delighted could 1 sit a summer s day, 
 To drink the music of thy lips away, 
 
 Gushing their careless melody as waters ; 
 And while I gazed upon thy full blue eyes, 
 
 Still listening to thy passion-kindling songs, 
 Deem myself happiest of thy votaries. 
 
 Thus while the morning lark his notes prolongs, 
 Lists the rapt bard, and bending to the skies, 
 
 Sends up the incense of a grateful heart, , 
 For such a gleam of heavenly ecstacies. 
 
 Oh beautiful in feature, as thou art 
 
 More beautiful in mind, my thoughts of thee 
 Shall live in Love s undying memory ! 
 
TO GENEVIEVE. 
 
 I LL rob the hyacinth and rose, 
 
 I ll search the cowslip s fragrant cell, 
 
 Nor spare the breath that daily blows 
 Her incense from the asphodel. 
 
 And these shall breathe thy gentle name, 
 Sweet naiad of the sacred stream ! 
 
 Where, musing, first I caught the flame 
 That passion kindles in his dream. 
 
 Thy soul of music broke the spell 
 
 That bound my lyre s neglected strings, 
 
 Attuned its silent echo s shell, 
 And loosed again her airy wings. 
 
 Ah ! long had beauty s eyes, in vain, 
 Shone o er its strings with light divine ; 
 
 Alas ! it never woke again, 
 Till inspiration beamed from thine. 
 23* 
 
276 TO GENEVIEVE. 
 
 Thus vainly did the stars, at night, 
 
 O er Memnon s lyre their watch prolong, 
 
 When naught but bright Aurora s light, 
 Could wake its silence into song. 
 
FADING FLOWERS. 
 
 AN ILLUSTRATION. 
 
 WITHIN a bower where roses blushed 
 To see their charms outshone, 
 
 At evening, when the world was hushed, 
 A maiden sat alone. 
 
 The moonlight, blending with the day, 
 
 Shone mildly on her eyes, 
 And birds were dancing on the spray, 
 
 Showering their melodies. 
 
 But peace has left her maiden heart, 
 And blighted hopes are hers, 
 
 While fading flowers the forms impart 
 Of all her worshippers. 
 
 The smiles that used to greet her way, 
 Have ceased to light her feet, 
 
278 FADING FLOWERS. 
 
 And every flower appears to say, 
 We part, no more to meet. 
 
 Oh woman ! could thy bosom know, 
 How rose-like Love must die, 
 
 Thy heart would never languish so, 
 In silent agony ; 
 
 For every flower that fades away, 
 Would mind thee of thy doom, 
 
 That beauty s charm and beauty s sway, 
 Are chaplets for the tomb. 
 
STANZAS FOR MUSIC. 
 
 Now while the star of love is bright, 
 Now while the air is hushed in night, 
 Come where the roses breathe in sleep, 
 Ere morning wake to bid them weep, 
 While Beauty folds them to her breast, 
 And bids them lie in gentle rest, 
 With sweet content. 
 
 Here would 1 sit, and watch those eyes, 
 Blue as the summer morning skies, 
 Then, on this wildly throbbing breast, 
 While every pulse my love confest, 
 Fain would 1 see thine eyelids close, 
 Locked in the fetters of the rose, 
 With sweet content. 
 
TO AN INFANT, 
 
 SLEEPING IN A GARDEN. 
 
 SLEEP on, sweet babe ! the flowers that wake 
 Around thee are not half so fair ; 
 
 Thy dimpling smiles unconscious break, 
 Like sunlight on the vernal air. 
 
 Sleep on ! no dreams of care are thine, 
 No anxious thoughts that may not rest ; 
 
 For angel arms around thee twine, 
 To make thy infant slumbers blest. 
 
 Perchance her spirit hovers near, 
 
 Whose name thy infant beauty bears, 
 
 To guard thine eyelids from the tear 
 That every child of sorrow shares. 
 
 Oh ! may thy life like her s endure, 
 
 Unsullied to its spotless close ; 
 And bend to earth as calm and pure 
 
 As ever bowed the summer rose. 
 
WILT THOU GO FAR AWAY? 
 
 WILT thou go far away from this dark world with me, 
 To an isle of our own, in a warm sunny sea, 
 Where summer lives on, in a soft genial clime, 
 And breathes the rich fragrance of orange and lime 1 
 
 Wilt thou go with me, love ! where the halcyon hours 
 Are noiseless as angels, that move among flowers, 
 Where care may not come to disturb our repose, 
 As the calm tide of pleasure unsulliedly flows 1 
 
 The music that comes on the citron-gale s wing 
 Shall wake thee at morn, and new happiness bring, 
 And evening shall find thee, with innocence gay, 
 Living over in dreams all the joys of the day. 
 
 The bark is unmoored that shall bear us away, 
 And the fresh blowing breeze only chides our delay ; 
 Then haste, ere the summer of youth, has gone by, 
 To our island of love with its warm sunny sky ! 
 
ANNE BOLEYN. 
 
 I WEEP while gazing on thy modest face, 
 Thou pictured history of woman s love ! 
 Joy spreads his burning pinions on thy cheek, 
 Shaming its whiteness ; and thine eyes are full 
 Of conscious beauty, as they undulate. 
 Yet all thy beauty, poor deluded girl ! 
 Served but to light thy ruin. Is there not, 
 Kind Heaven ! some secret talisman of hearts 
 Whereby to find a resting-place for love ? 
 Unhappy maiden ! let thy story teach 
 The beautiful and young, that while their path 
 Softens with roses, danger may be there ; 
 That love may watch the bubbles of the stream, 
 But never trust his image on the wave. 
 
STANZAS. 
 
 AND canst thou not accord that heart 
 
 In unison with mine, 
 Whose language thou alone hast heard, 
 
 Thou only canst divine? 
 And wilt thou not revoke thy cold 
 
 And merciless decree, 
 Nor yield one solitary thought, 
 To plead my wrongs to theel 
 
 I found thee yet a modest flower, 
 
 An infant of the spring, 
 Unheeded, in the rosy crowd 
 
 Of beauty, blossoming ; 
 And little didst thou think, how clear 
 
 Thy spirit round me shone, 
 To light the inward joy of hope 
 
 My tongue could never own. 
 
 J saw thee in the gay saloon 
 Of fashion s glittering mart, 
 24 
 
284 STANZAS. 
 
 Where Mammon buys what Love deplores, 
 Where Nature yields to Art; 
 
 And thou wast so unlike the herd, 
 My kindling heart despised, 
 
 I could not choose but yield that heart, 
 Though Love were sacrificed. 
 
 The smile which hung upon thy lips, 
 
 In transport with their tone, 
 The music of thy thoughts, that breathed 
 
 A magic theirs alone ; 
 The look that spake a soul so pure, 
 
 So innocent and gay, 
 Have passed, like other golden gleams 
 
 Of Happiness, away. 
 
 My life has been a dream of light, 
 
 Of loveliness and love ; 
 While serpents coiled beneath my path, 
 
 And roses bloomed above ; 
 And yet a wicked whisper comes, 
 
 Like madness, to my brain, 
 And bids me dream as I have dreamt, 
 
 And never wake again. 
 
SPIRIT OF LOVE. 
 
 SPIRIT of Love ! away, away, 
 
 On the rosy wings of the blushing day ; 
 
 I ve a dream of bliss for you to bear 
 
 To a blue-eyed beauty with chestnut hair. 
 
 You ll know my girl when you see her smile, 
 For her eloquent mouth breathes joy the while, 
 And her dimpling cheek puts on a hue, 
 To quicken the pulses that madden you. 
 
 II sleep be still on her modest eyes, 
 With their lashes that fall like the evening skies, 
 If you hear her sigh, or her lips should spread, 
 To show the pearls in their coral bed ; 
 
 Whisper in music, as soft and clear 
 As spirits in slumber are wont to hear, 
 My dream of love, which you shall hold 
 In the warm embrace of your angel fold. 
 
286 SPIRIT OF LOVE. 
 
 Then bring me back, ere the twilight die, 
 My dream again through the glowing sky, 
 That my heart may cherish the sighs that went 
 From the bosom of one so innocent. 
 
THE BAYA. 
 
 THE Indian bird, that steals away 
 
 The broach unguarded beauty wears, 
 When round her sparkling fountains play, 
 
 And bulbuls chant their cares ; 
 
 Bold messenger of love ! he dares 
 What others only dare in dreams ; 
 
 Oh would that I were such as he, 
 
 On light wings full of liberty 
 To skim the mountain streams. 
 
 I d choose some kind and gentle maid, 
 To love as youthful poets love 
 
 Warm as a sunbeam without shade, 
 And guileless as a dove : 
 To be her angel-guard above, 
 
 And guide her steps where er she went ; 
 To sing to her when slumber fell, 
 In notes to trouble Philomel, 
 
 So melancholy blent. 
 
 24* 
 
288 THE BAYA. 
 
 And when she died I d watch her grave, 
 And teach the violets to grow, 
 
 The willow over her should wave, 
 And softest shadows throw. 
 Just such a grave 1 chance to know, 
 
 Where oft 1 bend in tearless grief ; 
 
 But though the earliest flowers are there, 
 The rudest hand would never dare 
 
 To rob them of a leaf. 
 
 Dear bird of love ! thy life is fraught 
 With pleasant care and blissful pain ; 
 
 Perchance some spotless soul, that sought 
 To roam the earth again ; 
 Some heart that owned a mortal chain 
 
 So strong it could not break above ; 
 And back is sent in pity here, 
 To live an hour without a tear, 
 
 In innocence and love ! 
 
ODE, 
 
 WRITTEN FOR THE TENTH ANNUAL FAIR OF THE AMERICAN 
 INSTITUTE. 
 
 1. 
 
 When the banner of freedom first waved to the breeze, 
 And the stars and the stripes were to Liberty given, 
 When the thunder of war died away on the seas, 
 And the olive-bough bloomed where the deluge had driven, 
 Columbia awoke, 
 Disenthralled from her yoke, 
 
 Her brows bound with leaves from her own mountain oak, 
 And called on her children to wake once again, 
 Their altars to rear and their rights to maintain. 
 
 II. 
 
 From the dark rolling wave, at the joyous command, 
 
 First Commerce emerged with her white wings extended ; 
 
 She wreathed the old flag of our own fatherland, 
 Intertwined with the banner that Freedom defended. 
 
290 ODE. 
 
 While our eagle, that clung 
 
 To the crags with her young, 
 
 Screamed aloud, and aside her red thunderbolt flung, 
 As the flag of St. George and our banner of stars, 
 Wove a baldric of peace for the temples of Mars. 
 
 111. 
 
 Arrayed in the garb of her own native skies, 
 
 Next, Science came down, with a rainbow around her ; 
 While the pride of a mother beamed forth from her eyes, 
 As she gazed on a son who had sought and had found her. 
 Twas Fulton, whose eye 
 Saw his mother on high, 
 And drew down the glory that never shall die : 
 For as long as the sun in his splendour is seen, 
 His name shall endure, and his laurels be green. 
 
 IV. 
 
 From their trance of delight, as the vision passed by, 
 The Arts sprang to life with a thrill of devotion ; 
 They caught every hue as it broke from the sky, 
 And went up again through the mist of the ocean ; 
 While the Iris that spanned 
 Sea and air, sky and land, 
 United the North and the South in a band 
 And ne er may a son of Columbia be found 
 To sever the tie which her Genius has bound ! 
 
ODE. 
 
 291 
 
 V. 
 
 With a sheaf by her side, and her hand on the plough 
 
 With the furrows before, and with plenty attending, 
 Next Ceres appeared, as she smiles on us now, 
 Her fruits and her wine cups to Labour extending ; 
 While the Arts gather round, 
 And fair Science was crowned, 
 
 And the Harvest-home song rent the air with its sound : 
 " Thus ever may Science and Art, hand in hand, 
 Bear the emblems of Peace and of Hope to the land." 
 
 VI. 
 
 We have met to rejoice let us link heart with heart, 
 
 In the festival hour which our Genius has given ; 
 And here let us vow, ere we rise to depart, 
 By the spirits that bend from their circles in heaven, 
 That true to our trust, 
 As our fathers were first, 
 
 When they poured out their life-blood like rain on the dust, 
 We will rally around the old Liberty tree, 
 While its limbs yield a staff for the flag of the free. 
 
THE DELUGE. 
 
 "The fountains of the great deep were broken up." 
 
 THERE was a change in nature ; winter came 
 With an unwonted coldness spring returned ; 
 But not with her returned the voice of birds, 
 Nor the bland air, nor the green, dropping herb 
 The rose nor violet, nor the genial glow 
 That crimsons o er the bounding veins of youth : 
 But rather strange vicissitudes appeared 
 Of heat and cold unusual till the plague 
 Spotted the ghastly cheek of frighted man. 
 Men thought, but dared not speak 
 
 At length there came 
 
 Through Leo, blazing, the high-fevered sun, 
 Drying the cisterns where the rain distilled, 
 Till the poor tearless herbage drooped and died. 
 Then came the fear of death distracting thoughts 
 Strange prophecies of voices in the air, 
 And smothered shrieks, as though of drowning men - 
 
THE DELUGE. 293 
 
 When, lo ! a comet, gleaming from the north, 
 Lighted the glazing stare of maniac eyes. 
 Day dawned, and night succeeded it was there 
 Like to the flaming sword, o er Eden erst 
 Extended, lest the impure should venture heaven. 
 Day dawned, and night succeeded still it came, 
 Fiercer and redder, till its fiery hair 
 Veiled half the face of heaven ; and not obscured, 
 Though the pale moon gave her reluctant wealth, 
 And the stars showered their prodigal gifts of light, 
 To calm men s apprehensions. Still it came, 
 Till even the sky of morning doffed its teints, 
 And sickened at the harbinger of wo : 
 Still on it came on, to its perihelion. 
 
 Oh, hope ! where now has fled thy spreading smile I 
 Where are the iron nerves, and mailed hearts, 
 The eye that never quailed, the blanchless cheek ? 
 Man then encountered man, and muttering, passed. 
 Girls, with disordered locks, ran to and fro, 
 Wringing their bloodless hands while mothers left 
 Their famished babes, and children left their parents, 
 Who rent their garments, and, blaspheming loud, 
 Tore the dry hair from off their fevered brows. 
 Some groped about for graves, and drowned themselves : 
 Strange fear ! that hurries man to drug with death 
 The horror that must wake immortally ! 
 
294 THE DELUGE. 
 
 It came the waters rose and still it came, 
 And still the waters rose ; till o er the vales 
 One angry waste appeared ; the mountain tops 
 Were covered with live creatures, faint with fears. 
 And now with louder, more continued sound, 
 Than the storm-thunder, the huge crust of earth 
 Cracked and heaved upward ; from her sulphurous caves 
 The subterranean waters, bellowing forth, 
 Rose like another world, and whelmed the old. 
 God s counter-fiat spake one awful shriek, 
 From all the millions of Earth s sinful mould 
 Went up to Heaven, and with it went the sea 
 And every living thing. Earth trembled then : 
 Out rushed her central fires, which, suddenly 
 Quenched by the world of waters, sent on high 
 Unfathomable clouds, primeval rocks 
 Were split asunder and the marbled beds 
 Drunk in the mingled lava ; beasts and birds, 
 Forests, and towers, and palaces together 
 Rushed to promiscuous ruin ; the great deep 
 Threw up his giants on the flinty rocks, 
 And mixed their skeletons with all the tribes 
 That crawled upon his sands ; the icy North 
 Oped his fanged jaws to grasp the tropic beast, 
 And prisoned it forever. 
 
 Where was now 
 
THE DELUGE. 295 
 
 Thy beauty, Nature 1 where thy hills and vales, 
 
 Thy sunny uplands, sprinkled o er with flocks 1 
 
 Where the soft rippling brooks, the meadow-flowers, 
 
 The voice, the smile of woman, the loud laugh 
 
 That rang above the banquet? all were gone ! 
 
 Buried in water hopelessly destroyed ! 
 
 For o er them hung the stifling canopy, 
 
 Where Death sat throned, crammed with the rotting dead, 
 
 Yet longing for more food while at his side, 
 
 Sin languished that her votaries were no more ! 
 
 25 
 
LOVE UNCHANGEABLE. 
 
 YES ! still I love thee : Time, who sets 
 
 His signet on my brow, 
 And dims my sunken eye, forgets 
 
 The heart he could not bow ; 
 Where love, that cannot perish, grows 
 For one, alas ! that little knows 
 
 How love may sometimes last ; 
 
 Like sunshine wasting in the skies, 
 
 When clouds are overcast. 
 
 The dew-drop hanging o er the rose, 
 
 Within its robe of light, 
 Can never touch a leaf that blows, 
 
 Though seeming to the sight ; 
 And yet it still will linger there, 
 Like hopeless love without despair, 
 
 A snow-drop in the sun ! 
 A moment finely exquisite, 
 
 Alas ! but only one. 
 
LOVE UNCHANGEABLE. 297 
 
 I would not have thy married heart 
 
 Think momently of me, 
 Nor would I tear the cords apart, 
 
 That bind me so to thee ; 
 No ! while my thoughts seem pure and mild, 
 Like dew upon the roses wild, 
 
 I would not have thee know, 
 The stream that seems to thee so still, 
 
 Has such a tide below ! 
 
 .Enough ! that in delicious dreams, 
 
 I see thee and forget 
 Enough, that when the morning beams, 
 
 I feel my eyelids wet ! 
 Yet, could I hope, when Time shall fall 
 The darkness, for creation s pall, 
 
 To meet thee, and to love, 
 1 would not shrink from aught below, 
 
 Nor ask for more above. 
 
MORAL BEAUTY. 
 
 Tis not alone in the flush of morn, 
 In the cowslip-bell or the blossom thorn, 
 In noon s high hour, or twilight s hush, 
 In the shadowy stream, or the roses blush, 
 Or in aught that bountiful Nature gives, 
 That the delicate Spirit of Beauty lives. 
 
 Oh no ! it lives, and breathes, and lies, 
 In a home more pure than the morning skies ; 
 In the innocent heart it loves to dwell, 
 When it comes with a sigh or a tear to tell 
 Sweet visions that flow from a fount of love, 
 To mingle with all that is pure above. 
 
 It dwells with the one whose pitying eye 
 
 Looks out on the world in charity ; 
 
 Whose generous hand delights to heal 
 
 The wounds that suffering mourners feel, 
 
 Without a wish or a hope or thought 
 
 That light should shine on the deeds it wrought. 
 
MORAL BEAUTY. 299 
 
 It dwells in the heart that naught inspire?, 
 But manly feelings, and high desires ; 
 Where nothing can come like a selfish dream, 
 When visions of glory around it gleam, 
 Proud visions that show to the gifted mind, 
 The boundless sphere of the human kind. 
 
 Sweet Spirit of Beauty ! my dreams are thine, 
 But 1 lose thee not when the day-beams shine ; 
 Thy image is still to my constant gaze, 
 At midnight hour or noontide blaze ; 
 And none but one with a heart unsold, 
 Can know the bliss which thy lovers hold, 
 
 25* 
 
TO GENEVIEVE. 
 
 WHENE ER the lightsome dance, and mad ning glare 
 Of Fashion s gay assemblage, shall allure 
 Thy gentle wishes, that are always pure, 
 
 And lead thee to eclipse the brightest there ; 
 
 Amidst the siren smiles that flatterers wear, 
 
 Remember then, 1 know thou lt not forget, 
 The lesson which I taught thee when we met, 
 
 Where the still moonlight as a carpet lay, 
 For airy forms to move on when the dews 
 
 Hung tremulously bright, like that array 
 Of planetary glories, that diffuse 
 
 Rays from their countless sources ever bright, 
 
 Gemming the ebon coronal of night ; 
 For I would have thee feel, that Nature s charms 
 
 Can lull thy restless thoughts, that thou canst draw 
 
 From her exhaustless fountain, evermore, 
 
 High thoughts to shield thee from the wild alarms 
 
TO GENEVIEVE. 301 
 
 And mad distractions of a world like this ; 
 That, should thy heart aspire to present bliss, 
 
 The thought were vain for pleasure, like a shade, 
 Will fly before thee, and elude thy hold ; 
 That, Nature s charms alone are manifold, 
 
 In all the simple guilelessness displayed 
 Of vestal innocence that she can mould 
 
 Thy passions so, that they shall be thy aid. 
 Thus shall thy days in happiness grow old, 
 
 Thy soul high towering in its flight sublime ; 
 And should thy joys on earth grow dark and cold, 
 
 Thy heart may find a rest above the cares of time 1 
 
STANZAS FOR MUSIC. 
 
 THE dews that tremble on the flowers, 
 
 When moonlight drops its silvery veil, 
 Are only tears of tristful hours, 
 
 That weep to leave the nightingale. 
 Then, while the light-winged hours are weeping, 
 
 Shall beauty close her eyes, 
 When Love, within her bosom sleeping, 
 
 Can only dream of ecstacies 1 
 
 Oh ! Mary, yield to music s power, 
 
 And listen to thy lover s prayer, 
 The fragrance of the woodbine bower 
 
 Is waiting to receive us there ; 
 And shall we live, while life is fleeting, 
 
 Without one hour of love, 
 When swelling hearts with rapture meeting, 
 
 May wing their vows of truth above 1 
 
 But if thy faith, so warmly plighted, 
 Be changed for one less truly thine, 
 
STANZAS. 303 
 
 If Love must see his chaplet blighted, 
 
 And Hope desert her favoured shrine ; 
 Let not the sigh of sorrow wake thee, 
 
 Thy lover s grief to tell, 
 Whose breaking heart could ne er forsake thee 
 
 Whose tongue could never say, farewell ! 
 
LINES, 
 
 Written off Point Judith Light-House. 
 
 THE skies have roJled their clouds away, 
 
 To drink the summer s cooler breeze, 
 Evening weighs down the eye of day, 
 Chiding the idling twilight ray, 
 
 Among the silent trees ; 
 And look above ! how darkly blue 
 
 The arch of night, with one lone cloud, 
 Parting for stars to glimmer through ! 
 
 The waves are calm, the wind is still, 
 While the full moon, in glory proud, 
 
 Rides like Aurora o er the hill ! 
 Alas ! that aught of grief should lower, 
 
 To cloud the bliss of such an hour. 
 
 Where yon pale spire is dimly seen, 
 Robed in a misty veil of light, 
 
LINES. 
 
 Glancing its beacon-rays between 
 
 The blended hues of day and night ; 
 1 marked a sea-bird leave her bed, 
 
 To light her pathway through the skies ; 
 Lured by the dazzling form she fled, 
 
 And fluttering round, in wild surprise, 
 Dashed madly at the vision fair, 
 
 Then shrieked, and poured her spirit there. 
 
 Oh, what a glowing image this, 
 
 Of man s inconstancy below, 
 Too restless here to heed the bliss 
 
 He might with calm contentment know : 
 But like the sea-bird charmed away 
 By Hope s destructive meteor ray, 
 
 He soars above the halcyon wave 
 Of sweet content and hails afar, 
 
 Some brighter form his passions crave ; 
 But finds, alas ! the glittering star 
 
 That lured him to a fairer day, 
 The death-light of a fevered brain ; 
 
 And feels, too late, that Hope decay, 
 Which blighted, never blooms again ! 
 
GULNARE. 
 
 DAUGHTER of Beauty Gulnare ! 
 
 Queen of the delicate graces, 
 Whose smile is a minstrel to charm away care, 
 
 And lighten wherever it traces, 
 Health to thy cheek, where the mantle of morn 
 Flushes with rosiest teints to adorn. 
 
 Long may the zone that entwines 
 
 Purity, mildness, affection, 
 Shed the same lustre as constantly shines 
 
 To hallow a woman s perfection ; 
 And long may the smile that illumines thy brow, 
 Live on as it lives in its loveliness now ! 
 
 The lily may die on thy cheek, 
 With freshness no longer adorning ; 
 
 The rose that envelopes its whiteness may seek 
 To take back her mantle of morning ; 
 
GULNARE. 
 
 Yet still will Love s tenderness beam from thine eye, 
 And ask for that homage no heart can deny. 
 
 Thy dark hair may blanch where it bends 
 
 Over eyes of cerulean hue, 
 That melt with the softness the Summer-moon lends, 
 
 To mellow her pathway of blue ; 
 Yet still will 1 love thee, and sweetly repose 
 On the bosom where true love with constancy grows. 
 
SONG, 
 
 WRITTEN FOR AN ANNUAL CELEBRATION OF THE MASSACHU 
 SETTS CHARITABLE MECHANIC ASSOCIATION. 
 
 Oh, welcome the moment, when life s troubled dreams 
 
 Give way to the rapture of soul ; 
 When true-hearts are met where Benevolence beams, 
 
 And nothing but Love can control : 
 When the joys that we feel, with the cares that have flown, 
 
 So mingle their sunshine and shade, 
 That Fancy can bask in a blaze of her own, 
 
 And worship what Genius hath made. 
 
 We have met once again, and long may we share 
 
 The union of Friendship and Love, 
 While our hearts burn as one, through the midnight of care, 
 
 As the galaxy brightens above. 
 Here, then, let us throw off the mantle of wo, 
 
 And drink to the present and past ; 
 Let a bumper go round, and our glasses o erflow, 
 
 Till happiness crown us at last. 
 
SONG. 309 
 
 Should anguish and sorrow o ershadow our way, 
 
 And Hope s phantom beauty beguile ; 
 While Charity lends us her generous ray, 
 
 We will live in the light of her smile. 
 Thus, while darkness envelopes our cold wintry skies, 
 
 And clouds hang their tempests between, 
 The Aurora commands her own Iris to rise, 
 
 And hallow the desolate scene. 
 
I VE LISTENED AT EVE. 
 
 I VE listened at eve, by a tranquil lake, 
 To the sweetest song that love could wake, 
 When the moon shone down through the blue serene, 
 To silver the leaves of the woodland green. 
 
 I ve listened at morn, when the west wind came, 
 
 To cool the roses s blush of shame, 
 
 When the nightingale s voice through the tangled trees, 
 
 Gladdened the bosom with ecstacies. 
 
 But ah ! when I heard thy eloquent lay, 
 It drove every charm of their music away ; 
 And 1 thought some spirit had left the spheres, 
 To soothe our sorrows, and dry our tears. 
 
 Thy lay was like the ^Eolian lyre s, 
 When an angel breathes o er its silken wires ; 
 For memory slept with the rising strain, 
 In a dream of bliss till it ceased again. 
 
FLORA. 
 
 WHEN Flora, in her earliest days, 
 Taught her young buds to blossom round ; 
 
 She bade them freshen, as the rays 
 Of morning glittering o er the ground. 
 
 She chose the loveliest that grew, 
 And placed them at Apollo s shrine, 
 
 For they were fresh and budding new, 
 And worthy of the power divine. 
 
 Apollo pleased with such a boon, 
 Attuned his lyre to passion s strain, 
 
 And taught young echo, at the tune, 
 To wing her airy flight again. 
 
 But Venus saw what Love had done, 
 And, jealous of her Flora s power, 
 
 Transformed her e er another sun, 
 To beauty s passion-stricken flower. 
 26* 
 
312 FLORA. 
 
 When morning came, Apollo s rays 
 Flew quickly where they loved to rest, 
 
 But soon he found their cheering blaze 
 Was beaming on a lily s breast. 
 
 And where her smile once played alone, 
 And taught the god of light to smile, 
 
 A dew-drop glistened, while his song 
 By her unheeded was the while. 
 
 And now at summer time, e er morn 
 Breaks beauteous in the glowing sky, 
 
 The brilliant queen looks down upon 
 Her lily bending tearfully. 
 
 But ever flies as light appears, 
 Ashamed to meet the god of day, 
 
 Who always looks her into tears, 
 Until she weeps herself away I 
 
AN INSCRIPTION. 
 
 WHENE ER tumultuous thought is still, 
 And Peace resumes her wonted reign, 
 
 And Meditation lulls the mind 
 To quietude again ; 
 
 Whene er thy wearied thought shall soar, 
 Far, far above this world of wo, 
 
 While mild imagination wreathes 
 For thee her seraph bow 
 
 When each harmonious page recalls 
 
 Some friend who left a record there, 
 Some heart that often winged to thee 
 An echo of its prayer 
 
 May this, if chance should lead thine eye 
 Its long forgotten lines to see, 
 
 Awake a momentary thought 
 Of friendship and of me. 
 
ART THOU HAPPY, LOVELY LADY! 
 
 ART thou happy, lovely lady, 
 
 In the splendour round thee thrown, 
 
 Can the jewels that array thee, 
 Bring the peace which must have flown ? 
 
 By the vows which thou hast spoken, 
 
 By the faith which thou hast broken, 
 
 1 ask of thee no token, 
 
 That thy heart is sad and lone. 
 
 There was one that loved thee, Mary ! 
 
 There was one that fondly kept 
 A hope which could not vary, 
 
 Till in agony it slept 
 He loved thee, dearly loved thee, 
 And thought his passion moved thee, 
 But disappointment proved thee, 
 
 What love has often wept. 
 
TO ELLEN. 
 
 WHEN thine eye is bright with joy, 
 When thy cheek s pure mantle tells 
 
 How glad the heart within thee, 
 While the tide of pleasure swells, 
 
 1 would not have thee turn aside 
 To think of pain and sorrow, 
 
 And in thy happy moments think 
 Of agony to-morrow. 
 
 Life s sunny path is full of flowers, 
 But thorns are scattered there, 
 
 Then cautiously pursue thy way, 
 And while secure, beware. 
 
 The garb that Wisdom dresses in, 
 
 Looks darkly to the young, 
 But time will show how brightly glow 
 
 The jewels round her hung. 
 
316 TO ELLEN. 
 
 Drink thy fill from Pleasure s fountain, 
 
 In innocence and bliss, 
 That other days may yield thee 
 
 All the happiness of this. 
 
 And long in this tumultuous world, 
 May tearless smiles attend thee, 
 
 And angels guard thy gentle heart, 
 And Providence befriend thee. 
 
WRITTEN IN THE PROSPECT OF DEATH. 
 
 THERE S one 1 love, as childhood loves 
 
 The flower that blossoms to the eye ; 
 But I have that within that moves, 
 
 And e er has moved like destiny. 
 
 Few days will pass, and I shall lie, 
 
 Perhaps without a stone to tell, 
 That I have lived, that all must die, 
 
 And bid this lovely world farewell. 
 
 Perchance a few may shed a tear, 
 
 From terror of their own sad lot * 
 But that which moulders on the bier, 
 
 Is reckless that it is forgot. 
 
 The eye whose look was friendship s voice, 
 The hand whose pressure made me thrill, 
 
 The smile which made my heart rejoice, 
 Shall live when that sad heart is still. 
 
 The long, rank grass shall deck my grave, 
 And idle feet profane the ground, 
 
PROSPECT OF DEATH. 
 
 As o er the thoughtless and the brave, 
 Earth echoes back her funeral sound. 
 
 The sun will spread his yellow beams, 
 Regardless of my dying day, 
 
 As though an insect of the streams 
 Had perished in his scorching ray. 
 
 And men shall fill the place I fill, 
 And think of death as I now think, 
 
 And tread with careless footsteps, still 
 Regardless of destruction s brink. 
 
 From dust to dust, till ruin sinks 
 
 This mighty globe, shall man go on, 
 
 Still adding to creation s links, 
 The same corruption which begun. 
 
 The soul may sleep in endless night, 
 Or wake, as infants wake, to life ; 
 
 Another sun to yield its light, 
 Another world with sorrow rife. 
 
 An everlasting death is ours, 
 
 From youth to age, one dull decay ; 
 
 A shadow moving among flowers, 
 The sepulchre of yesterday ! 
 
CORRESPONDENCES. 
 
 Nor perchance 
 
 If I were not thus taught should I the more 
 Suffer my genial spirits to decay. WORDSWORTH. 
 
 THE Bird of Paradise, with wings 
 Of cherub beauty, never sings 
 
 In sorrow nor in mirth, 
 Till death comes o er him like a cloud : 
 And then, as if he spurned the proud 
 Destroyer, mounts and sings aloud, 
 And lifeless, in his golden shroud, 
 
 Falls mightily to earth. 
 Like him, twere well, if life could pass 
 Unheard amidst the senseless mass, 
 
 That feel no joy but hate ; 
 A living pestilence, that flings 
 Its poison breath o er purer things 
 
 To blight and desolate. 
 
 The tree upon the ocean side, 
 Grown up before the blast, 
 27 
 
320 CORRESPONDENCES. 
 
 Without one leaf to face the tide, 
 
 Clings firmly to the last ; 
 And though the storm cannot uptear, 
 
 But strips the trunk of branches there, 
 And makes it yield to time ; 
 
 Its southern branches greener grow, 
 And woo the sunbeams as they flow 
 
 From out a milder clime : 
 
 Oh, when is Nature ever mute 
 
 To happiness or wo! 
 Her images may always suit 
 
 Whatever fate we know. 
 1 read in happy things that move, 
 
 Our hearts were only made to love ; 
 And midst the torrent s burst, 
 
 The rock that lifts its reckless power, 
 Proclaims that Faith in trial s hour, 
 
 Which still may bear the worst. 
 
DREAMS. 
 
 OH, many and beautiful dreams are mine, 
 Thanks to the gentle spirit that brings 
 
 In dewy sleep, such light to shine, 
 As only shines from her angel wings : 
 
 Visions of love ! too pure for earth, 
 
 With voices that come from the quiet sky, 
 
 And music that tells of its seraph birth, 
 Filling my bosom with ecstacy. 
 
 Sometimes, I m led by her gentle hand, 
 Through gardens, and groves, and delicious vales, 
 
 Where silvery streamlets thread the land, 
 And ripe fruit swings in the fragrant gales ; 
 
 There, beautiful forms are ever seen, 
 
 So happy, there s nothing so joyous here; 
 
 Bounding away over lawns of green, 
 Like lambs in the flush of the vernal year. 
 
322 DREAMS. 
 
 At times 1 bend o er a river s brink, 
 
 Where the waters move like a mass of light, 
 
 And I scoop it up in my hand to drink, 
 
 When it gives to my vision intenser sight : 
 
 Then millions of unknown flowers upspring, 
 Loading the air with their spicy breath, 
 
 Each flower the type of some living thing, 
 That glows with beauty, and knows no death. 
 
 Sometimes I m led by her angel-hand, 
 
 Through an aura that chills like the death of love, 
 And I climb the clouds in the skies above, 
 
 And look below on the sea and land : 
 
 The clouds 1 climb are like hills of snow, 
 Huge mountain-piles o er which I roam, 
 
 And I gaze on a silver sea below, 
 Where the waves leap up in their lustrous foam : 
 
 And then the skies, like a dome of ice, 
 Crackle and fall in a crystal shower, 
 
 And 1 seem to wake midst a vine-clad bower, 
 With my angel-guide in a paradise. 
 
ODE, 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. 
 
 OH morning-bright Apollo ! when thy car 
 
 Bore thee away from where the huntress weeping, 
 Poured her chaste tears o er Latmus, while lay sleeping 
 
 Endymion veiled in glory like a star, 
 And left the marbled Athens to awake, 
 
 As from the sleep of death, in grief to feel 
 The chill that even Phidias could not wake, 
 
 The wounds that breathing Genius could not heal. 
 Oh morning-bright Apollo ! when thy bow 
 
 Smote with its shaft the Python that upsprung 
 From Superstition s stagnant pool below, 
 
 Where Ignorance lay brooding with her young ; 
 Where fell thy brighter beams ; whose heaven-strung lyre 
 Rekindled to their touch with spirit-burning fire ? 
 
 II. 
 
 Thou, Albion ! o er thy snowy hills, 
 Keceivd st the flood that rolled along, 
 
324 ODE. 
 
 One ocean, from a thousand rills 
 
 Of tributary song ! 
 Thy well of English undefiled, 
 
 Immortal Chaucer ! swelled the stream, 
 
 Where rolling on, the poet s dream 
 Upon its current smiled ; i 
 
 Reflecting back a monument in Alpine grandeur piled. 
 
 III. 
 
 Then Spenser caught the inspiring lay, 
 
 And roamed with wild romance awhile ; 
 He held the prism to a ray, 
 
 And made the day-beam smile : 
 Wake, Albion ! for a brighter day 
 
 Is breaking o er thine isle ; 
 Melpomene has seized the lyre, 
 
 And gathered from all bards her own, 
 Ford, Marston, Jonson, Fletcher, lit the fire, 
 
 Around the vestal throne. 
 But there was one who stood alone, 
 
 Supreme in power, whose magic wand 
 Swept time away, and gazed beyond ! 
 
 Before whose feet the passions knelt 
 Obedient, as his humour dealt. 
 Immortal Shakspeare ! it was thine 
 
 In one resistless bolt to throw 
 
ODE. 325 
 
 The lightnings of the human mind, 
 
 That flash for weal or wo ; 
 To rouse the dead on Lethe s wharf, 
 
 Arch-angel of the human kind ! 
 To bear with thee the immortal mind, 
 
 Among the golden stars to roam, 
 Where choiring with the cherubim, 
 
 The spirit finds its home. 
 High-priest of nature ! it was thine, 
 To burst the fetters that confine 
 
 Ambition s heaving wings ! 
 Rent by the lightning of thy power, 
 They fretted on the earth an hour, 
 Then mounted higher and still higher, 
 The Theban Eagle and his lyre, 
 
 With thunder in its strings. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Oh Albion ! it were vain to try, 
 A record of thy great to give ; 
 
 Throned on their immortality, 
 In glory let them live ! 
 
 For Milton, it may well suffice, 
 
 To live in his own Paradise. 
 
 But Scotia ! why dost thou 
 
 Rise through the mountain mist, in form 
 The rainbow of a summer storm, 
 
326 ODE. 
 
 With smiles upon thy brow 1 
 And who is he thou lead st along, 
 
 In russet brown, of careless air 1 
 Tis Caledonia s child of song 
 
 Burns, with his lyre is there ! 
 Where crowds of highland maids appear, 
 With every one a smile and tear. 
 
 V. 
 
 But there is one, around whose brow 
 
 A dazzling glory streams afar 
 Throned as immortal spirits are, 
 
 A seraph even now : 
 His head encircled with a crown, 
 
 Brighter than mortal ever wore, 
 The bard that first outstript renown, 
 
 And ever kept before ! 
 See, see, he strikes the golden lyre, 
 There s magic in his look of fire 
 Forgotten ages rise at his command, 
 Around him crowd a long-forgotten band : 
 
 Strike yet again the strings ! 
 
 Lo ! clad in steel the feudal kings, 
 
 Each pibroch note to battle brings, 
 
 And " Marmion " is the cry ! 
 Far flash the mingled battle brands, 
 Red falchions streaming in their hands, 
 
ODE. 327 
 
 Midst screams of death and loud commands, 
 And shouts of victory ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 But now the lyre, whose strings could tell 
 
 The tales that sorrow loved so well, 
 Is dead with it has died the border theme ; 
 
 While Scotland mourns on every hill, 
 
 In every glen, by every rill 
 More vocal than Sicilian streams, 
 When Dorian music died with Bion s heavenly dreams. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Harp of the north, farewell ! 
 Enchantress of the magic shell, 
 Whose notes rang wildly from Hellvelyn s height, 
 And woke the echoes of Benlomond sleeping, 
 With every muse of Scotland round thee, weeping, 
 A long, a last, good night ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Well, Scotia, may st thou wail ! 
 
 Strike yet a louder string, 
 For funeral music rises o er the gale, 
 
 From Albion, on the wing, 
 And Erin s lyre is hushed 
 
 To all but sorrowing. 
 
328 ODE. 
 
 The rose and thistle blend their dewy tears, 
 With the green shamrock s, while from far away, 
 Britannia s genius o er her snow-cliffs, hears 
 Columbia s funeral lay, 
 
 IX, 
 
 Harp of the north, farewell I no more shall rise 
 The music of thy rich, harmonious numbers ; 
 The soul that gave thee life, has sought its skies, 
 The bard who took thee from the willow, slumbers. 
 Henceforth, in grief let Ettric s shepherd wear thee, 
 
 Or else, with cypress wreathed for future years, 
 Back to the willows let the minstrel bear thee, 
 
 And mix his parting farewell with our tears.. 
 
THE POET. 
 
 A POET S heart is always young-, 
 
 And flows with love s unceasing streams ; 
 Oh, many are the lays unsung, 
 
 Yet treasured with his dreams ! 
 
 The spirits of a thousand flowers, 
 The loved, the lost, his heart enshrine; 
 
 The memory of blessed hours, 
 And impulses divine. 
 
 Like water in a crystal urn, 
 
 Sealed up forever, as a gem, 
 That feels the sunbeams while they burn, 
 
 But never yields to them ; 
 
 His heart may fire his fevered brain 
 May kindle with concentrate power, 
 
 But kind affections still remain 
 To gild his darkest hour. 
 
330 THE POET. 
 
 The world may chide the heartless sneer, 
 
 And coldly pass the Poet by, 
 Who only sheds a sorrowing tear 
 
 O er man s humanity. 
 
 From broken hearts and silent grief, 
 
 From all unutterable scorn, 
 He draws the balm of sweet relief, 
 
 For sufferers yet unborn. 
 
 His lyre is strung with shattered strings, 
 The heart-strings of the silent dead, 
 
 Where memory hovers with her wings, 
 Where grief is canopied. 
 
 And yet his heart is always young, 
 And flows with love s unceasing streams ; 
 
 Oh, many are the lays unsung, 
 And treasured with his dreams ! 
 
MOZART S REQUIEM. 
 
 THE tongue of the vigilant clock tolled une, 
 
 In a deep and hollow tone, 
 The shrouded moon looked out upon 
 A cold, dark region, more cheerless and dun, 
 
 By the lurid light that shone. 
 
 Mozart now rose from a restless bed, 
 
 And his heart was sick with care, 
 Though long had he wooingly sought to wed 
 Sweet sleep twas in vain, for the coy maid fled, 
 
 Though he followed her everywhere. 
 
 He knelt to the God of his worship then, 
 
 And breathed a fervent prayer ; 
 Twas balm to his soul, and he rose again 
 With a strengthened spirit, but started when 
 
 He marked a stranger there. 
 
 He was tall, the stranger who gazed on him, 
 Wrapped high in a sable shroud ; 
 
 28 
 
32 MOZART S REQUIEM. 
 
 His cheek was pale, and his eye was dim, 
 And the melodist trembled in every limb, 
 The while his heart beat loud. 
 
 " Mozart ! there is one whose errand 1 bear, 
 
 That cannot be known to thee ; 
 He grieves for a friend, and would have thee prepare 
 A requiem blending a mournful air, 
 
 With the richest harmony." 
 
 " I ll furnish the requiem," Mozart cried, 
 " When this moon has waned away !" 
 The stranger bowed, and no word replied, 
 But fled like the shade on a mountain side, 
 When the sun withdraws his ray. 
 
 Mozart grew pale as the vision fled, 
 
 And his heart beat fast with fear ; 
 He knew twas a messenger sent from the dead, 
 To warn him that soon he must make his bed, 
 
 In the darksome sepulchre. 
 
 He knew that the days of his life were told, 
 
 And his spirit was faint within ; 
 The blood through his bosom lapsed slowly and cold, 
 While the lamp of life could barely hold 
 
 The flame that was flickering. 
 
MOZART S REQUIEM. 333 
 
 Yet he went to his task with a cheerful zeal, 
 
 While his days and nights were one ; 
 He spake not, he moved not, but only to kneel, 
 With the holy prayer: "Oh God ! I feel 
 
 Tis best thy will be done !" 
 
 He gazed on his loved one who cherished him well, 
 
 And weepingly hung o er him : 
 " This music will chime with my funeral knell, 
 And my spirit shall float with the passing bell, 
 
 On the notes of my Requiem !" 
 
 The cold moon waned on that cheerless day 
 
 The stranger appeared once more : 
 Mozart had finished the requiem lay, 
 But ere the last notes had died away, 
 
 His spirit had gone before ! 
 
ODE, 
 
 SUNG AT THE CELEBRATION OF LAYING THE CORNER STONE 
 OF BUNKER HILL MONUMENT, CHARLESTOWN, MASS. 
 
 LET Freedom s banner swell with patriot pride, 
 While glory s iron heralds proclaim along the shore, 
 
 The Day when Albion crimsoned Charles s tide, 
 And Bunker shook beneath the battle s roar : 
 How majestic the spirit that rode upon her thunder, 
 Whose bolts indignant broke oppression s chain asunder ! 
 When first a yeoman band, 
 The bulwark of the land, 
 Like monarch oaks withstood 
 The dark contending flood, 
 
 And bought with blood a freeman s rights, our heritage to be. 
 Huzza ! huzza ! huzza ! huzza ! huzza ! 
 Our Genius gave the mandate, declaring we were free, 
 Huzza ! huzza ! huzza ! huzza ! huzza ! 
 And Independence sealed the high decree. 
 
ODE. 
 
 Arise ! arise ! ye patriot spirits rise ! 
 And hail the glorious morn, when your star of freedom rose; 
 
 When Bunker hurled her lightning, like the skies, 
 And poured a flaming torrent on her foes ; 
 When our sires, our gallant sires, their dearest birthright 
 
 shielded, 
 
 And wrote our magna-carta in the sacred blood they yielded ; 
 Whose monument shall stand 
 In Alpine glory, grand ; 
 Where our mountain bird shall soar, 
 When around the tempests roar, 
 Their lifted pile s gigantic strength, exultingly to see. 
 Huzza ! huzza ! &c. &c. &c. 
 
 Should hostile legions darken round the land, 
 Your rock-encompassed shore presuming to invade ; 
 Thy towering temple, Liberty ! would stand, 
 To blast thy fell oppressors with its shade : 
 In grandeur unrivalled, the pillared dome ascending, 
 Shall strengthen on from age to age, our fathers fame extend- 
 
 ing; 
 
 While round thee, fanes decay, 
 Exempt from ruin s sway, 
 Thy stately front sublime, 
 Shall stand the proof of time, 
 
 And midst its beating storms, secure, unshaken ever be ! 
 Huzza ! Huzza ! &c. &c. &c. 
 28* 
 
J336 ODE. 
 
 Arise ! Arise ! ye patriot-spirits, rise ! 
 
 The Jubilee of glory demands a nation s song ; 
 Triumphant music, wake, with glad surprise, 
 
 Till echo every rapturous strain prolong : 
 Let the clarion of Fame, from shore to shore, be sounded, 
 And io Pseans ring, through Heaven s high arch, unbounded ! 
 Let the trumpet proudly swell ; 
 Wake, wake the inspiring shell ! 
 While the rosy cup goes round, 
 With ruby nectar crowned, 
 And we drink to them who nursed with blood our drooping 
 
 freedom tree ! 
 Huzza! huzza! &c. &c. &c. 
 
ODE, 
 
 WRITTEN FOR THE FOURTH OF JULY, 1828. 
 At the request of the Typographical Association of Baltimore. 
 
 LET the voice of the Nation go forth ! 
 
 Let the roar of your cannon proclaim 
 From the East and the West, from the South and the North, 
 
 The pride of Columbia s name ! 
 The chain of Oppression was yours, 
 
 And Tyranny marked you her slaves 
 But O ! while an oak in the forest endures, 
 
 Or a pine on the mountain-top waves, 
 The birth-day of Freedom shall ring round the land, 
 And millions of hearts shall for Liberty stand. 
 
 Let the trumpet awake with its breath, 
 
 Where the star-spangled banner unfurled 
 
 Tis the voice that once summoned your fathers to death, 
 When the lightnings of vengeance were hurled : 
 
338 ODE. 
 
 O ne er let the war-cry, that burst 
 
 From the brave, when they rushed to the fight, 
 Die away on the shore, where the thunderbolt first 
 
 Broke the cloud of our Liberty s light 
 When the Throne of Oppression was rent by the blast, 
 As the hurricane-uproar of victory past. 
 
 Remember that ages unborn, 
 
 Will look through the vista of time 
 And the spirit that welcomes this glorious morn, 
 
 Shall never be tarnished with crime ! 
 While Commerce has wings for the sea, 
 
 While Wealth opens channels for trade ; 
 While the heart of our country beats nobly and free, 
 
 Not a star of its glory shall fade : 
 Then swear to be just, while a true heart remains 
 To gaze on the giant that broke from his chains ! 
 
 Ye are free ! let your gratitude rise 
 
 Ye are great! be ye true to your trust ; 
 Your greatness descended alone from the skies, 
 
 Whence, the strength of your Liberty must ! 
 Then swear by your patriot sires, 
 
 By the blood that was spilt for this day, 
 That ne er while your hearts burn with Liberty s fires, 
 
 Will you barter your birthright away ! 
 That WASHINGTON S spirit may witness the deed, 
 And smile that his children were fit to be freed. 
 
DESPAIR. 
 
 AWAY, thou shadowy form of air, 
 False siren Hope ! whose wanton smile 
 Lights to uncertain joy, awhile, 
 That the black midnight of the soul, 
 May work intenser dole ; 
 But come, Despair ! 
 From thy dark infinite of wo, 
 Where brood the fiends of hell 
 Where tortured wretches yell 
 In misery below ; 
 
 Where, racked in bloodless agony, the heart 
 Crusts with remorse, and feels the dart 
 Corroding in its festered bed, 
 
 With the twice damning thought, that self the death- 
 bolt sped ! 
 
 Spirit ! whose light is death, 
 Whose shroud-like wings, outspread, 
 O ercanopy my struggling dreams 
 With harrowing dread, 
 
340 DESPAIR. 
 
 When vampyres banquet on ray breath, 
 
 Or when the night-hag frights me into screams 
 
 While with her lank and sinewy arms, 
 
 She hugs me, till her working charms 
 
 Dry up the brain, and bid the life-blood stay ! 
 
 Thou, who bestrid st the whirlwind of the soul, 
 
 And fright st away 
 
 Thought from her dwelling place, and dost control 
 
 The passion of existence come to me, 
 
 And find a welcome everlastingly. 
 
 Bared to the blasting storm, 
 
 1 see thy haggard form, 
 
 With locks, where knotting adders twine, 
 
 While muttering fiends whisper the tardy lashes, 
 
 Thy tearless eyeballs redd ning with the flame, 
 
 That left thy heart in ashes. 
 
 I see thee, and 1 know thee to be mine ! 
 
 My soul shall course with thee through the sulph rous air, 
 
 And light upon the avalanche on high, 
 
 Waiting the wind s command ; 
 
 And thou shalt near me stand, 
 
 And chain me with the horrors of thine eye 
 
 I ll float with thee upon the stagnant main, 
 
 When death looks famished at me, and again 
 
 Court the volcano s wrath 
 
 Where lies the rotting path 
 
DESPAIR. 341 
 
 Of pestilence, or desolation wild 
 
 Where earthquakes split the mountains, and o erthrow 
 
 What centuries have piled 
 
 Spirit, I ll go ! wherever havoc dare, 
 
 And dream a life-in-death of endless agony. 
 
THE DIVISION OF THE EARTH. 
 
 FROM THE GERMAN OF SCHILLER. 
 
 " TAKE ye the world!" said Love, from his" high heaven, 
 Addressing man ; " and let it be your own, 
 
 " A never-ending patrimony given ; 
 "Divide it now, as brothers do, alone." 
 
 All hands, forthwith, were busy in providing, 
 The young and old strove eagerly for gain ; 
 
 The husbandmen, the fertile fields dividing, 
 The nobleman, the forest and the plain. 
 
 The merchant crammed his storehouse to the ridges, 
 The abbot chose the most delicious wine, 
 
 The king shut up the highways and the bridges, 
 And said : "A tithe of every thing is mine !" 
 
 Long after the division was completed, 
 Far wandering the poet then applied ; 
 
 Alas ! no chance his anxious wishes greeted, 
 For not a thing remained unoccupied. 
 
THE DIVISION OF THE EARTH. 343 
 
 "Ah, wo is me ! am I then of al] living, 
 
 Thy most devoted son, bereft alone !" 
 Thus wailing, Echo took what grief was giving, 
 
 And wafted it to Jove s celestial throne. 
 
 If thou within the land of dreams hast tarried," 
 
 Said Jove, thou never shouldst complain to me ; 
 
 Where wast thou when the chances were all carried V 
 "1 was," replied the luckless bard, "with thee !" 
 
 " My vision then was bathing in thy beauty, 
 Mine ear was drinking music from the spheres ; 
 
 Forgive the mind thy light has led from duty, 
 And blinded to all sublunary fears !" 
 
 " What can be done 1 " said Jove : "the world is given, 
 Its wealth and pleasures flow no more from me ; 
 
 But if thou wilt reside with me in heaven, 
 Whene er thou com st twill open still to thee !" 
 
 THE END. 
 
 29 
 
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