 | Poems |  |
A SKETCH FROM LIFE.
Forth from his father's hall a wanderer went,
His steps towards the setting sun were bent;
With heavy heart in smiling looks disguised;
By mother counselled and by sire advised.
A youth he was, and scarcely ever o'er
The threshold of nativity before;
And when each day with retrospective eye
He saw wide distance intervening lie
Between himself and all that he had left,
He felt like one of all but life bereft.
But Hope had lent him one consoling ray,
To cheer his heart while on his lonely way:
Beyond the lakes where then were frontier lands,
An ancient city of the waters stands ;
An elder brother waited for him there,
And watched his progress with the eye of care.
The weary leagues of journey o'er at last,
The voyage done and Erie's billows past,
He heard with joy his brother's welcome voice,
Who took his hand, and bade his heart rejoice.
It did rejoice—no more for home he sighed,
Contented with his brother to abide.
In him the lad a generous helper found,
Whose love was pure, whose good advice was sound.
Then in the “paths of peace” they walked awhile
And Fortune, favoring, seemed on them to smile.
His steps towards the setting sun were bent;
With heavy heart in smiling looks disguised;
By mother counselled and by sire advised.
A youth he was, and scarcely ever o'er
The threshold of nativity before;
And when each day with retrospective eye
He saw wide distance intervening lie
Between himself and all that he had left,
He felt like one of all but life bereft.
But Hope had lent him one consoling ray,
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Beyond the lakes where then were frontier lands,
An ancient city of the waters stands ;
An elder brother waited for him there,
And watched his progress with the eye of care.
The weary leagues of journey o'er at last,
The voyage done and Erie's billows past,
He heard with joy his brother's welcome voice,
Who took his hand, and bade his heart rejoice.
It did rejoice—no more for home he sighed,
Contented with his brother to abide.
In him the lad a generous helper found,
Whose love was pure, whose good advice was sound.
Then in the “paths of peace” they walked awhile
And Fortune, favoring, seemed on them to smile.
How oft we see the Summer sun go down
Amid the gloomy clouds that sullen frown!
So set the sun upon the wanderer's day,
Night hid his light and darkness hid his way!
Throughout the land was heard a frenzied cry—
'T was that of men in mortal agony;
A darkling pestilence sped in the wind,
And Death with all his terrors came behind.
Who that survived those days of awful gloom
Forgets the general flocking to the tomb?
The rich, the poor, the high, the low, the great,
Learned and unlearned, shared an equal fate.
The shafts of death fell thick on every side;
They reached the twain—the elder brother died!
Palsied he fell, and with expiring breath
Bade life adieu, and calmly welcomed death.
The wanderer watched beside his dying bed,
Until at last the parting spirit fled;
Then to his narrow home he saw him borne,
And followed fast behind the hearse to mourn.
A funeral train, too, thronged around his bier
To shed for him the sympathising tear.
The man of God, with solemn, serious air,
To Heaven's high Throne preferred the earnest prayer;
While those around, each with uncovered head,
Bethought them of the virtues of the dead.
He prayed for him who mourned a brother's end,
That God to him would consolation send—
That he might find a friend in yet another,
In One “who sticketh closer than a brother!”
Then laid the dead within the “lap of earth,”
Till the archangel's trump shall call him forth.
Amid the gloomy clouds that sullen frown!
So set the sun upon the wanderer's day,
Night hid his light and darkness hid his way!
Throughout the land was heard a frenzied cry—
'T was that of men in mortal agony;
A darkling pestilence sped in the wind,
And Death with all his terrors came behind.
Who that survived those days of awful gloom
Forgets the general flocking to the tomb?
The rich, the poor, the high, the low, the great,
Learned and unlearned, shared an equal fate.
The shafts of death fell thick on every side;
They reached the twain—the elder brother died!
Palsied he fell, and with expiring breath
Bade life adieu, and calmly welcomed death.
The wanderer watched beside his dying bed,
Until at last the parting spirit fled;
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And followed fast behind the hearse to mourn.
A funeral train, too, thronged around his bier
To shed for him the sympathising tear.
The man of God, with solemn, serious air,
To Heaven's high Throne preferred the earnest prayer;
While those around, each with uncovered head,
Bethought them of the virtues of the dead.
He prayed for him who mourned a brother's end,
That God to him would consolation send—
That he might find a friend in yet another,
In One “who sticketh closer than a brother!”
Then laid the dead within the “lap of earth,”
Till the archangel's trump shall call him forth.
How felt the wanderer when the scene was o'er
He dried his eyes and strove to weep no more.
Far from the busy haunts of man he strayed,
And tuned his lyre on which he sometimes play'd
As eve's grey shadows with the landscape blent,
He woke its strain, and thus his sad lament:
He dried his eyes and strove to weep no more.
Far from the busy haunts of man he strayed,
And tuned his lyre on which he sometimes play'd
As eve's grey shadows with the landscape blent,
He woke its strain, and thus his sad lament:
THE LAMENT.
The weary sun has gone to rest
Upon his watery ocean-bed;
Night comes in sable drapery,
And wide o'er earth her shades are spread,
The cheerful day of light is past,
But not from mourning earth alone—
Alas, upon my saddened heart
The light of life and joy is gone!
Upon his watery ocean-bed;
Night comes in sable drapery,
And wide o'er earth her shades are spread,
The cheerful day of light is past,
But not from mourning earth alone—
Alas, upon my saddened heart
The light of life and joy is gone!
He whom the gods did love is dead!
The muses loved his very name!
Oh, why has Death's untimely shade
Eclipsed the day-star of his fame?
Oh, why is Science called to mourn
The loss of one in manhood's bloom?
On him the glare of knowledge shone
To light his pathway to the tomb!
The muses loved his very name!
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Eclipsed the day-star of his fame?
Oh, why is Science called to mourn
The loss of one in manhood's bloom?
On him the glare of knowledge shone
To light his pathway to the tomb!
Yea, thou art gone, friend of my youth,
Eldest of our fraternal band!
How stern the stroke which left me here
'Mongst strangers in a stranger land!
But Oh! my heart is sick to think
How heavy will the tidings come
To those who all unconscious doat
Upon him, at his distant home!
Eldest of our fraternal band!
How stern the stroke which left me here
'Mongst strangers in a stranger land!
But Oh! my heart is sick to think
How heavy will the tidings come
To those who all unconscious doat
Upon him, at his distant home!
His feet, returned, no more shall tread
The threshold of that vine-clad door!
Around their social evening hearth
They'll see his manly form no more
No more they'll listen to his tales
Of peril on the stormy deep,
For lo! he waketh not again
From this his all-forgetting sleep!
The threshold of that vine-clad door!
Around their social evening hearth
They'll see his manly form no more
No more they'll listen to his tales
Of peril on the stormy deep,
For lo! he waketh not again
From this his all-forgetting sleep!
Yon star that twinkles in the sky—
Thou 'rt witness to my pain of heart!
Thou hear'st my heart-felt, deep-drawn sigh—
Thou see'st the trickling tear-drop start!
Perhaps thou art the blest abode
Of him for whom lament I sing;
Perhaps, well-pleased, he hovers near
To take the offering which I bring.
Thou 'rt witness to my pain of heart!
Thou hear'st my heart-felt, deep-drawn sigh—
Thou see'st the trickling tear-drop start!
Perhaps thou art the blest abode
Of him for whom lament I sing;
Perhaps, well-pleased, he hovers near
To take the offering which I bring.
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Brother, while stars are in the sky—
While suns shall light this earth below—
So long as verdure decks the earth,
And mountains stand, and rivers flow—
While Erie's boisterous billows roll,
And this poor life remains to me,
Brother, within my grateful soul
Shall still abide thy memory!
While suns shall light this earth below—
So long as verdure decks the earth,
And mountains stand, and rivers flow—
While Erie's boisterous billows roll,
And this poor life remains to me,
Brother, within my grateful soul
Shall still abide thy memory!
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