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 | [Poems by Rowson in] A memoir of Mrs. Susanna Rowson |  |
75
In Vain is the Verdure of Spring.
I.
Restrained from the sight of my dear,No object with pleasure I see;
Though thousands around me appear,
The world's but a desert to me.
II.
In vain is the verdure of spring,The trees look so blooming and gay;
The birds as they whistle and sing
Delight not when William's away.
III.
Reclined by a soft murmuring stream,I weeping disburthen my care;
I tell to the rocks my sad theme
Whose echo soothes not my despair.
76
IV.
Ye streams that soft murmuring flow,Convey to my love every tear;
Ye rocks that resound with my woe,
Repeat my complaints in his ear.
115
[His mistress gone, poor little Bill]
I.
His mistress gone, poor little Bill,His wings in pensive sadness hung;
His soft, melodious voice was still,
Unless these mournful notes he sung.
II.
“Ah, mistress mine, where art thou gone?Return, return,” he plaintive cried;
Thus many an hour he made his moan
Till sick of hope deferred, he died.
III.
Poor bird, with thee I sympathize;Such pangs the feeling bosom proves,
That wrung with anguish hourly dies
When absent from the friend it loves.
Home.
I.
While round the globe the wandererWith wearied steps may roam;
Through every stage, in every clime
Each thought still points to home.
116
II.
Each dear domestic scene is still,By partial fancy drest,
And e'en the Greenland savage thinks
His barren soil the best.
III.
So wheresoe'er henceforth by fate,This frame of mine may be,
Each thought, each wish will fondly dwell,
America, with thee.
149
Acrostic (to the same).
Have you not seen the eastern sky
Adorned with streaks of burnished gold,
Now breaking gorgeous to the eye,
Now with a sable cloud enrolled.
And ere the sun could dart his burning ray,
How vapors dank, obscured the face of day?
So joy oft gilds life's early scene,
When, ere fair reason's sun has power,
A sombre cloud will intervene,
Nor pleasure gild the prospect more.
Adorned with streaks of burnished gold,
Now breaking gorgeous to the eye,
Now with a sable cloud enrolled.
And ere the sun could dart his burning ray,
How vapors dank, obscured the face of day?
150
When, ere fair reason's sun has power,
A sombre cloud will intervene,
Nor pleasure gild the prospect more.
Dear Hannah, may your morn as brightly shine,
And your meridian be
From those dank vapors free
Which overshadowed mine.
And your meridian be
From those dank vapors free
Which overshadowed mine.
[Fair as the lily of the vale]
I.
Fair as the lily of the vale,As sweet, as fragrant and as frail,
The unoffending maid
Just oped her beauties to the day,
But ere 'twas noon she drooped away,
Born just to bloom and fade.
II.
If there's a heaven beyond the sky.Where unpolluted spirits fly,
Her's surely found the road.
On seraph's wings pursued its way,
Left its frail tenement of clay,
And sought its parent God,
162
[Be wreaths of glory for the hero's name]
Recitative.
Be wreaths of glory for the hero's name;
August his deeds and sacred be his fame;
But flowers of rich perfume shall deck the grave
Of him who lived to succor and to save.
And Cassia's blossoms twine with Sharon's rose
Where our dear brother's relics now repose.
August his deeds and sacred be his fame;
But flowers of rich perfume shall deck the grave
Of him who lived to succor and to save.
And Cassia's blossoms twine with Sharon's rose
Where our dear brother's relics now repose.
Air.
I.
Thy Memory, O Warren, will ever be dear,Whilst any the sense of thy virtue retains,
Fraternal affection with gratitude's tear,
Shall blend on the marble that shrouds thy remains.
For bright as the arch that through heaven extends,
Was the genius that flashed from thy luminous mind,
And soft as the dew on the dry earth descends,
Was the pity that led thee to succor mankind.
II.
How sweet was the voice that instructed our youth!What wisdom, what science that voice could impart,
How bright was that face where the radiance of truth,
Beamed over each feature, direct from the heart!
163
[When Sol is eclipsed we his presence deplore]
For sad is the hour, dark, sombre the cloud,—
Warren's voice will be heard and his face seen no more.
III.
Then build the fair cenotaph, true to each block,That raises the column his fame to record,
And O! may that column of time bear the shock;
Upright as his actions, and firm as his word.
But where is the man on this sublunar ball,
The jewels of honor so worthy to wear?
Since our brother obeyed the Great Architect's call,
And the bright gem of Hope is bedimmed with a tear.
Who shall, sweet Hope, on thee rely,
Who lift the full confiding eye,
Who, resting on thy promise, die,
If not the just?
Freed from a world of care and pain,
His body shall in rest remain,
Till the Great Master's voice again,
Shall animate his dust.
Full Chorus.
See Religion's sacred ray
Chase the cloud of grief away,
While welcomed by the eternal eye
Our Warren's spirit mounts the sky.
164
The Wedding Supper. [Matt. 22.]
I.
The marriage supper was prepared;The king invited many a guest;
Nor Jew, nor Pagan was forbade
To enter and partake the feast.
II.
The king provided wedding robesWhich all who asked, might have to wear.
The hour arrived; the supper served,
But no invited guest was there.
III.
“Go,” said the king, “through streets and lanes,And see who wants refreshment most.
Bid them come in; I should be grieved
If this my wedding feast were lost.
IV.
“Press them to come; they need not mindHow mean and poor their garments are,
I shall for all who willing come
A spotless wedding robe prepare.”
V.
Now from all parts, the sick, the lame,Dressed in new garments thronged the board,
Bounteous their fare and light their hearts;
Gracious their condescending Lord.
165
VI.
But one there was who full of self,Too proud the Prince's robe to wear,
Thought his own garments good enough:
“Friend,” said the prince, “how camest thou here?
VII.
“Didst thou not know that every guestShould in a wedding garment shine?
Thou mightst have had one hadst thou asked
Without the least expense of thine.”
VIII.
Aghast he stood, for he had thoughtBy outward garments decked with pride
From the king's penetrating eye,
His inward filth and rags to hide.
IX.
“Go, bear him forth!” O! gracious Lord,Thy sentence dare I not repeat,
I feel like him I want the robe
When at the board I take my seat.
X.
Naked, a beggar here I come,To crave admission to thy feast;
Clothe me in thy own righteousness
And I shall be a welcome guest.
166
The Mighty Lord.
I.
Who that beholds the billows riseIn foaming mountains to the skies,
Or marks the ship in safety brave
Their fury and surmount the wave,
Or views them late in terrors drest,
Sinking in murmurs soft to rest,
And doubts but there's a mighty Lord
Who rules the ocean by his word!
II.
Ah! who can see the glorious sunHis daily race of splendor run;
Or trace the planets in their spheres,
In which they've rolled for thousand years;
See man, chief wonder of the whole
With power of speech and reasoning soul;
And doubt but there's a mighty Lord
Who rules creation by his word!
III.
Who that observeth genial spring,Its yearly wreaths and blossoms bring,
Or summer bland with tempered heat,
Laden with sheaves of golden wheat;
Or gather in rich autumn's spoil
Of corn and fruit and wine and oil,
And doubt but there's a mighty Lord
Who feeds his creatures by his word!
167
IV.
Yes! mighty Lord, thou God alone,Who in the person of thy son,
'Twixt wrath divine in mercy stood,
And ransomed sinners with thy blood,
Ah! who can know such boundless love,
And not thy faithful servant prove,
Or feel they want such wondrous grace
But in the dust must hide their face?
[Strike, strike the chord, raise, raise the strain]
I.
Strike, strike the chord, raise, raise the strain,Let joy reecho round each plain,
Your banners be unfurled;
Hail, hail the day, when deathless fame
Gave to Columbia rank and name
Amid the astonished world.
The muses match their lyres sublime,
To publish Jove's decree,
Columbia to the end of time,
Shall flourish great and free.
II.
Hail, hail the day when hand in hand,Patriots and heroes, glorious band,
168
Freedom to purchase, or to die,
While Jove's own bird with flaming eye
Perched on their chieftain's brow.
Bellona's martial clarions sound,
To publish Jove's decree,
Columbia shall to-day be crowned,
A nation great and free.
III.
Hark, hark, the woodlands catch the strain,Pan and his sylvans beat the plain,
In wild, fantastic round,
While from the rustic grots and bowers,
The virgin train fling odorous flowers,
And cheerful rebecks sound.
Chaste Dian's nymphs with tuneful horn,
Reecho Jove's decree.
A nation has this day been born:
Columbia, great and free.
IV.
O'er her primeval martyrs' graveLet freedom's banners proudly wave:
Immortal be their names.
Sound, sound the charge, let cannon roar
From hill to hill, from shore to shore,
To celebrate their fame.
Old Neptune bids his tritons sound
Jove's mandate o'er the sea;
Columbia must e'en here be crowned
Victorious, great and free.
171
Charity.
Recitative.
Touch the soft chord, the tuneful notes prolong,To Heaven-born Charity we raise the song.
Oh! white-robed seraph, quit the realms above,
Led by thy sisters, Faith and Heavenly Love.
Teach us such aid and comfort to impart,
As soothes the suffering, heals the broken heart;
172
Like incense at the hour of sacrifice.
Air.
I.
The brightest of gems is humanity's tear,The heart's purest offering is brotherly love,
And the hand which dispenses its benefits here,
Lays up a rich treasure in mansions above.
II.
Sarepta's lorn widow, though famine was near,Yet shared with the prophet her last poor regale,
For she trusted the voice of the heaven-taught seer,
That her oil should not waste, that her meal should not fail.
III.
The poor widow's mite in the treasury cast,Was more than high gifts from the Pharisee's hoard,
She cast it in cheerfully, though 'twas her last,
And obtained, blessed meed, the applause of her Lord.
173
Recitative.
For he hath said whose word unchanged remains,Who for my sake shall set the prisoner free,
Who clothes the naked, soothes the sufferer's pains,
At my right hand eternal life obtains;
For what was done for them was done for me.
Air.
I.
Ye daughters of affluence open your stores,'Tis the widow entreats; 'tis the orphan implores.
The husband, the father lies cold in the grave;
But your pity may comfort, your charity save.
II.
And when the storm rages, the piercing wind blows;And when on your pillows you seek for repose;
The angel of mercy that reigns in your breast
With sweet recollection shall lull you to rest.
174
Hail! hail! sweet cherub Charity,
Thou first of virtues, hail!
For thou canst blend in misery's cup,
The balmy, cheering cordial, Hope,
When other comforts fail.
Thou first of virtues, hail!
For thou canst blend in misery's cup,
The balmy, cheering cordial, Hope,
When other comforts fail.
And thou, meek-eyed Humility
Instruct us all to own
Our noblest efforts weak must be,
And we're deficient when the best is done.
Instruct us all to own
Our noblest efforts weak must be,
And we're deficient when the best is done.
Full Chorus.
Great God of love and light and day
We humbly here our offering lay,
Before the footstool of thy throne.
All that we have, O Lord is thine,
And should we all to thee resign
We only render back thy own.
To soothe and mitigate distress
O make us ever free.
And may our hearts in holiness,
The glory give to thee.
175
[When the cloud has passed away]
I.
When the cloud has passed awayThe sacred bow adorns the sky;
And rich on every flower and spray,
Hang sparkling gems of varied dye.
II.
Then gazing on the blue serene,The soul elated soars above,
Beholds the Author in the scene,
Soothed into peace and holy love.
III.
Dying, fading in the west,Lost is the sun's declining beam;
While from the east in splendor drest,
The moon pours radiance on the stream.
IV.
And gentle zephyrs, sportive, light,Just sighing, whisp'ring, through the grove,
Put each unhallowed thought to flight,
And soothe to peace and holy love.
176
Child of Mortality.
[By Susanna Rowson. Set to music by John Bray.]
I.
Child of mortality, whence dost thou come?From the dark womb of earth
I first derived my birth,
And when the word goes forth,
That is my home.
177
II.
Child of a transient day, there shalt thou rest?No! when this dream is o'er,
Then the freed soul will soar
To where sorrow comes no more;
Realms of the blest.
III.
Heir of eternity, teach me the road.Trust a Redeemer's love;
Faith by obedience prove;
And share in courts above
Christ's own abode.
IV.
There in etherial plains,Join the angelic strains;
Jesus forever reigns;
Glory to God.
191
To Miss Rebecca Cordis Haswell.
I.
Rebecca, my loved one, the last of thy race,Thy father still lives in his sister's fond heart;
Though long past the time, yet can memory trace
The hour when necessity urged us to part.
II.
He sobbed as he rested his head on my shoulder,And said: “To thy heart be my infant babes dear;
And my wife, if I never again should behold her,
Transfer thy affection, dear Susan, to her.”
III.
I ne'er have forgotten the vow I then gave thee,My first, dearest brother, protector and friend;
And though 'twas thy fate that no power could save thee;
My love for thy orphans can ne'er know an end.
IV.
Though my life's feeble taper, its last flicker throwing,On thy offspring, just rising, gleams fitfully round,
My heart's latest beat its kind wishes bestowing,
On them and on theirs, shall expend its last bound.
192
V.
My dear loved Rebecca, when looking around me,I see desolation extending its wing;
Nor father, nor mother, nor brothers surround me,
Time seems to have taken from death its last sting.
VI.
For even the son I adopted and cherished,Whose grateful affection was balm to my breast,
In the bloom and the beauty of manhood has perished,
And lies on the margin of waters at rest.
VII.
But thou art still spared; my dear Mary remains;And a long valued friend to my heart is restored,
And Hope's buoyant pinion its vigor retains;
Whilst I look on my treasure; exult in the hoard.
VIII.
O grant, gracious Heaven, I may not be leftForsaken and lonely and useless to lie;
Of friend and connections and daughters bereft;
Unpitied to suffer, unheeded to die.
IX.
May one gentle bosom support me when dying,May one gentle eye shed a tear on my shrine;
Rebecca, I feel when my soul shall be flying,
Perhaps the kind tear; the last care may be thine.”
| [Poems by Rowson in] A memoir of Mrs. Susanna Rowson | |