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 | Poems |  |
A careless carol—idly, lightly sung,
Perhaps not worth the singing or repeating;—
But would you check a woman's pen or tongue?—
Ah! teach her first—to keep her heart from beating!
Perhaps not worth the singing or repeating;—
But would you check a woman's pen or tongue?—
Ah! teach her first—to keep her heart from beating!
TO HER BEST FRIEND, The following Pages ARE AFFECTIONATELY AND GRATEFULLY INSCRIBED BY
THE AUTHOR.
20
LOVE'S REPLY.
I'll tell you something chanced to me,
(A quaint and simple story,)
Before I cross'd, with dreaming heart
Old ocean's gloom and glory.
(A quaint and simple story,)
Before I cross'd, with dreaming heart
Old ocean's gloom and glory.
Around me came three graceful girls,
Their farewell whisper breathing,—
Julie,—with light and lovely curls,
Her snowy shoulders wreathing;
Their farewell whisper breathing,—
Julie,—with light and lovely curls,
Her snowy shoulders wreathing;
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And proud Georgine,—with stately mien,
And glance of calm hauteur,
Who moves—a Grace,—and looks—a queen,
All passionless and pure;
And glance of calm hauteur,
Who moves—a Grace,—and looks—a queen,
All passionless and pure;
And Kate, whose low, melodious tone
Is tuned by Truth and Feeling,
Whose shy yet wistful eyes talk on,
When fear her lips is sealing.
Is tuned by Truth and Feeling,
Whose shy yet wistful eyes talk on,
When fear her lips is sealing.
“From what far country shall I write?”
I ask'd, with pride elated,
“From what rare monument of art
Shall be my letters dated?”
I ask'd, with pride elated,
“From what rare monument of art
Shall be my letters dated?”
Julie toss'd back her locks of light,
With girlish grace and glee,—
“To me from glorious Venice write,
Queen-city of the Sea!”
With girlish grace and glee,—
“To me from glorious Venice write,
Queen-city of the Sea!”
“And thou, Georgine?” Her dark eyes flash'd,—
“Ah! date to me your lines
From some proud palace, where the pomp
Of olden Honor shines!”
“Ah! date to me your lines
From some proud palace, where the pomp
Of olden Honor shines!”
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But Kate,—the darling of my soul,
My bright, yet bashful flower,
In whose dear heart some new, pure leaf,
Seems to unfold each hour,—
My bright, yet bashful flower,
In whose dear heart some new, pure leaf,
Seems to unfold each hour,—
Kate turn'd her shy, sweet looks from mine,
Lest I her blush should see,
And said—so only Love could hear—
“Write from your heart to me!”
Lest I her blush should see,
And said—so only Love could hear—
“Write from your heart to me!”
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THE SPIRIT'S VOYAGE.
“When the child was buried, a little canoe with a sail to it, laden with bread-fruit and cocoas, was sent off from the shore with a fair wind, in order, as they said, to bear the spirit of the dead away from the land of the living.”
“They've fill'd with fruit their frail canoe,
With fruit and flowers of brilliant hue,
A blooming freight—but whose the hand
To guide the light thing from the land?
So feathery light,—'twould seem a sin
To trust a fairy's weight within.
The waves are bright,—the skies are fair,—
A balmy blessing is the air,—
Her sail is set,—she glides away!
Where goes the graceful boat to-day?
I hear no voice come o'er the tide;
I see no form the helm beside;
And it might seem a moment's toy,
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And fondly watch its snowy wing,
As if it were a holy thing:—
Why send they forth their boat to be
A plaything for the reckless sea?”
“Oh, stranger! calm or wild the tide,
Their light canoe will safely glide,
And all unscathed by tempest-shock,
By coral-reef or roughest rock,
Ere morn, its white sail will be furl'd
Forever in the spirit-world.
A viewless hand that bark obeys,
A voice unheard the sea-wave sways,
A thing so holy and so fair,
Serene and safe, is smiling there,
That fiercest winds before it falter,
And into harmless zephyrs alter.
Ah! well may they the wanderer mark;
For know,—within that blessed bark,
The spirit of a little child
Is playing on the waters wild!
Behold our chieftain's burial-ground!
We raised to-day another mound.
Behold its lone and hallow'd tree!
So graceful and so fair was she.
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The mourning train have left the shore;
And, hark! those accents sad and wild!
Our island chief laments his child.”
81
A TRIBUTE OF GRATITUDE.
“Know ye the land,” where they welcome the stranger,
With heart as with hand, frank, confiding, sincere;—
Where the lonely, the languid, the sorrowing ranger,
Like a brother, they watch over, cherish, and cheer?
With heart as with hand, frank, confiding, sincere;—
Where the lonely, the languid, the sorrowing ranger,
Like a brother, they watch over, cherish, and cheer?
Where a smile warm and radiant everywhere meets him,
On earth,—in the air,—from the arch o'er his head,—
And the sweetest, and purest, and gayest, that greets him,
From the eyes of its own merry maidens, is shed?
On earth,—in the air,—from the arch o'er his head,—
And the sweetest, and purest, and gayest, that greets him,
From the eyes of its own merry maidens, is shed?
“Know ye the land,” in which nature is never
Without some wild blossom to twine in her hand?—
In the hearts of its children 'tis summer forever,—
The summer of love and joy:—“Know ye the land?”
Without some wild blossom to twine in her hand?—
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The summer of love and joy:—“Know ye the land?”
Where the gifted are met with a sympathy glowing
As that which a diamond yields to the light,
When it sends back the smile of the sunbeam, bestowing
New brilliance and bloom on the messenger bright?
As that which a diamond yields to the light,
When it sends back the smile of the sunbeam, bestowing
New brilliance and bloom on the messenger bright?
That land,—in the eyes, in the souls of whose daughters
Sleep all the rich glory and fire of its skies,
Subdued, as when far in the depth of the waters,
To Heaven its own soften'd image replies?
Sleep all the rich glory and fire of its skies,
Subdued, as when far in the depth of the waters,
To Heaven its own soften'd image replies?
There the bird, on whose bosom a rainbow is changing—
The Nonpareil—plays its soft plumage of blue;
And Beauty,—as matchless,—'mid rare blossoms ranging,
Beams, blushes, and warbles,—a Nonpareil too!
The Nonpareil—plays its soft plumage of blue;
And Beauty,—as matchless,—'mid rare blossoms ranging,
Beams, blushes, and warbles,—a Nonpareil too!
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There the Lory and Oriole glance on gay pinion,
There the regal Magnolia's snow-banners wave:—
'Tis the land of the high-hearted, proud Carolinian,
'Tis the land of the noble,—the bright, and the brave!
There the regal Magnolia's snow-banners wave:—
'Tis the land of the high-hearted, proud Carolinian,
'Tis the land of the noble,—the bright, and the brave!
87
EARL ALBERT'S BIRD.
A SCOTCH SONG.
A gowden cage Earl Albert had,
A peerless bird he kept within it;
A bird o' beauty rare and glad,
But 'twas na robin, finch, or linnet.
A peerless bird he kept within it;
A bird o' beauty rare and glad,
But 'twas na robin, finch, or linnet.
Earl Albert hung his cage wi' flowers,
Wi' gems and silken gauds he deck'd it,
And siller locks upon the doors—
“'Twould fly,” said he, “I maun protect it!”
Wi' gems and silken gauds he deck'd it,
And siller locks upon the doors—
“'Twould fly,” said he, “I maun protect it!”
Earl Albert thought his bird was tame,
Because its sang was saft an' tender,—
And Luti was its winsome name,
And it was robed wi' jewell'd splendor.
Because its sang was saft an' tender,—
And Luti was its winsome name,
And it was robed wi' jewell'd splendor.
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The bonnie bird! its radiant eyes,
Its tones o' luve sae wildly pleading,
The passer-by were more than wise
Gin he could pass unharm'd—unheeding.
Its tones o' luve sae wildly pleading,
The passer-by were more than wise
Gin he could pass unharm'd—unheeding.
And unco weel he luved his pet,
And mickle care he had to guard it,
For oh! its glancing eyes o' jet
Still watch'd the door altho' he'd barr'd it.
And mickle care he had to guard it,
For oh! its glancing eyes o' jet
Still watch'd the door altho' he'd barr'd it.
“Ah! gin you luve me, let me go
And I'll come back!” sae warbled Luti.
“Nay! cauld without the wind doth blow,
Ye're safer in your cage, my beauty.”
And I'll come back!” sae warbled Luti.
“Nay! cauld without the wind doth blow,
Ye're safer in your cage, my beauty.”
Just then a bairn cam tripping nigh,
Wi' Iris wing and gowden quiver,
He waited till the earl went by,
Then cried, “I'll settle that forever!”
Wi' Iris wing and gowden quiver,
He waited till the earl went by,
Then cried, “I'll settle that forever!”
Like lightning sped the sun-tipp'd shaft,
The white breast heaved—the saft wings flutter'd,
While saucy Luve delighted laugh'd—
“She'll soon break prison now,” he mutter'd.
The white breast heaved—the saft wings flutter'd,
While saucy Luve delighted laugh'd—
“She'll soon break prison now,” he mutter'd.
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Earl Albert cam when morning shone,
New dainties for his darling bringing;
The door was wide! the bird was flown!
And thus afar he heard her singing—
New dainties for his darling bringing;
The door was wide! the bird was flown!
And thus afar he heard her singing—
“Oh! gin ye'd ruled by luve alane,
And gin ye'd left me free to fly, sir,
Save by yer leave I had na gane,
But tyrants' bars I break or die, sir!”
And gin ye'd left me free to fly, sir,
Save by yer leave I had na gane,
But tyrants' bars I break or die, sir!”
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“LOVE WILL NOT STAY TO BE WEIGHED.”
A SONG.
The maiden in doubt,
Said to Love with a pout,
“I shall weigh you with Wealth ere I take you!”
“Ah!” said Cupid, “take care!
Little Beauty, beware!
Lest Love should forever forsake you!”
Said to Love with a pout,
“I shall weigh you with Wealth ere I take you!”
“Ah!” said Cupid, “take care!
Little Beauty, beware!
Lest Love should forever forsake you!”
She toss'd back her curls,
Braided lightly with pearls,—
“So saucy, young sir? I defy you!”
Then in one scale she roll'd
Half a million of gold,—
“Come hither, you rogue! let me try you!”
Braided lightly with pearls,—
“So saucy, young sir? I defy you!”
Then in one scale she roll'd
Half a million of gold,—
“Come hither, you rogue! let me try you!”
Love sigh'd and Love smiled,
Love's a singular child;
“Come, come now! jump in!” said the maid;
But she coax'd him in vain;
For he flew from her chain,
Singing—“Love will not stay to be weigh'd!”
Love's a singular child;
“Come, come now! jump in!” said the maid;
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For he flew from her chain,
Singing—“Love will not stay to be weigh'd!”
Then, since my heart's offer
With Wealth's shining coffer
You balance,—remember, fair maid!
It were idle—'twere naught—
It were not worth a thought,
The love that would stay to be weigh'd!
With Wealth's shining coffer
You balance,—remember, fair maid!
It were idle—'twere naught—
It were not worth a thought,
The love that would stay to be weigh'd!
97
ZULEIKA.
FROM THE SPANISH.
A lady in a light caique,
Abdallah's youngest daughter,
With Love's blush-rose upon her cheek,
Look'd o'er the moonlit water.
Abdallah's youngest daughter,
With Love's blush-rose upon her cheek,
Look'd o'er the moonlit water.
Her snow-soft hand in Selim's lay,
Her heart was wildly beating,
But still her dark eyes turn'd away
To watch the shore retreating.
Her heart was wildly beating,
But still her dark eyes turn'd away
To watch the shore retreating.
“Nay, look not there, my trembling dove!”
Young Selim cried in sorrow,—
“My bride to-night, by Allah, love,
I'll bear thee back to-morrow!”
Young Selim cried in sorrow,—
“My bride to-night, by Allah, love,
I'll bear thee back to-morrow!”
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“Too late!” the lady sigh'd, “oh! now,
If thou dost prize Zuleika,
Turn back!—point home thy shallop's prow,
Ere those forsaken seek her!
If thou dost prize Zuleika,
Turn back!—point home thy shallop's prow,
Ere those forsaken seek her!
“When first my lips their light assent
To this light folly falter'd,
Love, only Love, his rainbow lent,
And still it smiles unalter'd.
To this light folly falter'd,
Love, only Love, his rainbow lent,
And still it smiles unalter'd.
“But oh! thro' tears of grief and shame
It glows; turn back, my bravest!
And blessings from Abdallah claim,
For her whose truth thou savest!”
It glows; turn back, my bravest!
And blessings from Abdallah claim,
For her whose truth thou savest!”
Young Selim bent his lightning eyes
Back o'er the wild, blue water,—
With quivering lip he thus replies,
To old Abdallah's daughter:—
Back o'er the wild, blue water,—
With quivering lip he thus replies,
To old Abdallah's daughter:—
“Tis done, Zuleika! lo! we turn,
But never dream of Heaven
So fair to Moslem's eye did burn,
As that which thou hast riven!”
But never dream of Heaven
So fair to Moslem's eye did burn,
As that which thou hast riven!”
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At fierce Abdallah's feet they knelt,
And own'd the vows they'd plighted;
His soften'd heart the story felt,
His hand their hands united.
And own'd the vows they'd plighted;
His soften'd heart the story felt,
His hand their hands united.
And long did Selim bless the hour
That saw his Moorish beauty,
So meekly lay love's passion-flower
Upon the shrine of duty!
That saw his Moorish beauty,
So meekly lay love's passion-flower
Upon the shrine of duty!
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HAPPINESS LOST AND FOUND.
Our cot was in a forest glade,
Where sunbeams stole to mock the shade,
And wild-flowers round the lattice play'd,
By beam and breeze caress'd:
And in our Mary's form and face
Was all the blossom's glowing grace;
A lovely human flower was she;
Nay, more a bird in tireless glee,
The darling of the nest!
She came an orphan to our wild;
But fondly on her kinsman's child
My mother her true welcome smiled,
And so our home was blest.
Where sunbeams stole to mock the shade,
And wild-flowers round the lattice play'd,
By beam and breeze caress'd:
And in our Mary's form and face
Was all the blossom's glowing grace;
A lovely human flower was she;
Nay, more a bird in tireless glee,
The darling of the nest!
She came an orphan to our wild;
But fondly on her kinsman's child
My mother her true welcome smiled,
And so our home was blest.
Yet I, alas! unconscious then
How rich within our woodland glen
Were we, afar from world-worn men,
For gaudier pleasures pined:
For I had seen, in dreams at night,
A being lovely as the light,
With eyes like heaven, of changeful blue,
And hair that gleams of gold stole through,
And lips in dimples shrined.
Her name was Happiness, she said;
And soon by blind Ambition led,
I left our lowly love-warm'd shed,
To seek this maiden kind.
How rich within our woodland glen
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For gaudier pleasures pined:
For I had seen, in dreams at night,
A being lovely as the light,
With eyes like heaven, of changeful blue,
And hair that gleams of gold stole through,
And lips in dimples shrined.
Her name was Happiness, she said;
And soon by blind Ambition led,
I left our lowly love-warm'd shed,
To seek this maiden kind.
I sought her far—I sought her wide—
I sought her in the halls of pride;
Her angel smile was still denied,
Where gems less lovely shone.
I ask'd of Fame her fairest crown:—
With mocking laugh she cast it down.
No spell was in the wreath, tho' fair,
To win the maid with golden hair;
And I was all alone.
I ask'd of Wealth his coffers' key:
He smiled, and flung them wide to me,
The glittering treasure, far and free,
I lavish'd.—Soon 'twas flown.
I sought her in the halls of pride;
Her angel smile was still denied,
Where gems less lovely shone.
I ask'd of Fame her fairest crown:—
With mocking laugh she cast it down.
No spell was in the wreath, tho' fair,
To win the maid with golden hair;
And I was all alone.
I ask'd of Wealth his coffers' key:
He smiled, and flung them wide to me,
The glittering treasure, far and free,
I lavish'd.—Soon 'twas flown.
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It bought me rank;—it bought me power;—
It bought me Pleasure's fleeting flower,
And many a plaything of an hour:
Ah, me! 'twas little worth!
It could not buy that being fair,
The vision with the shining hair;
No! far from me her low sweet lay
Young Joy was warbling all the day,
While I o'er half the earth
Went wandering for her looks of light.
At length I wearied of the sight
Of palace-halls. I dream'd one night
Of her who gave me birth.
It bought me Pleasure's fleeting flower,
And many a plaything of an hour:
Ah, me! 'twas little worth!
It could not buy that being fair,
The vision with the shining hair;
No! far from me her low sweet lay
Young Joy was warbling all the day,
While I o'er half the earth
Went wandering for her looks of light.
At length I wearied of the sight
Of palace-halls. I dream'd one night
Of her who gave me birth.
And coldly on the morrow-morn,
With sorrow in my soul and scorn,
I sought the glen where I was born,—
How holy seem'd the air!
The wild-flower with its early glow
Still lightly laced the lattice low;
Still sang the rill;—the forest trees
Bent as of old beneath the breeze,
And all was free and fair.
The Zephyr with its breath of balm,
The sunshine smiling soft and calm,
Wrought in my very heart a charm,
And made it Summer there.
With sorrow in my soul and scorn,
I sought the glen where I was born,—
How holy seem'd the air!
The wild-flower with its early glow
Still lightly laced the lattice low;
Still sang the rill;—the forest trees
Bent as of old beneath the breeze,
And all was free and fair.
The Zephyr with its breath of balm,
The sunshine smiling soft and calm,
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And made it Summer there.
Some dreamy moments pass'd before
My trembling hand unlatch'd the door,
And I beneath that roof once more
Stood silent with delight.
My mother welcomed back her boy;
My bashful Mary blush'd her joy;
And folding to my heart the prize
That now seem'd dearest in mine eyes,
And loveliest and most bright,
I saw again the vision fair,
The maiden with the radiant hair;
For Joy and I had parted there,
As there we met that night!
My trembling hand unlatch'd the door,
And I beneath that roof once more
Stood silent with delight.
My mother welcomed back her boy;
My bashful Mary blush'd her joy;
And folding to my heart the prize
That now seem'd dearest in mine eyes,
And loveliest and most bright,
I saw again the vision fair,
The maiden with the radiant hair;
For Joy and I had parted there,
As there we met that night!
Ah! many a youth will search like me,
Will roam the land and cross the sea
In quest of Happiness, while she
Sits all the while unseen
Beside the very hearth he leaves,
And there her golden web she weaves,
Perchance array'd in lowly guise,
But still with heaven-illumined eyes,
And frank and smiling mien.
We fondest prize the gem we miss;
We pine for absent friendship's kiss;
We know not, till we lose, the bliss
That dwells at home serene.
Will roam the land and cross the sea
In quest of Happiness, while she
Sits all the while unseen
Beside the very hearth he leaves,
And there her golden web she weaves,
Perchance array'd in lowly guise,
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And frank and smiling mien.
We fondest prize the gem we miss;
We pine for absent friendship's kiss;
We know not, till we lose, the bliss
That dwells at home serene.
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THE BIRTH OF THE CALLITRICHE; OR, WATER-STAR.
“Nothing in them, that doth range,
But must suffer a sea-change
Into something new and strange.”—
Shakspeare.
But must suffer a sea-change
Into something new and strange.”—
Shakspeare.
'Tis night—and the luminous depths of heaven heaven
With urns of fire are lit,
Each borne in a viewless spirit's hand,
Who lightly floats with it.
With urns of fire are lit,
Each borne in a viewless spirit's hand,
Who lightly floats with it.
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And Dian—the queen of that graceful train,
Sails by in her silver shell,
While softly rises the choral strain,
With a rich and joyous swell.
Sails by in her silver shell,
While softly rises the choral strain,
With a rich and joyous swell.
Now, voice by voice they are dying away,
Till all save one are still,
And that sings on with a cadence glad,
Like the gush of a rippling rill.
Till all save one are still,
And that sings on with a cadence glad,
Like the gush of a rippling rill.
It comes from one of the beauteous seven,
The Pleiades pure and bright,
Who keep more fondly than all in heaven,
Unstain'd their urns of light.
The Pleiades pure and bright,
Who keep more fondly than all in heaven,
Unstain'd their urns of light.
She sings, as she bends o'er her burning vase,
And she sees in the wave below
Her beaming smile, and her form of grace,
And her soft hair's golden flow.
And she sees in the wave below
Her beaming smile, and her form of grace,
And her soft hair's golden flow.
But hark! a voice from the waters clear,
And the Pleiad leans to listen,
With a glowing cheek and a charmèd ear,
And eyes that tenderly glisten.
And the Pleiad leans to listen,
With a glowing cheek and a charmèd ear,
And eyes that tenderly glisten.
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“Daughter of light!
I pine, I pine,
By day and night,
For thy smile divine!
I pine, I pine,
By day and night,
For thy smile divine!
“Oh! radiant maid,
My dwelling share!
Our nymphs shall braid
Thy shining hair.
My dwelling share!
Our nymphs shall braid
Thy shining hair.
“And I will keep
Thy star-urn pure,
While thou shalt sleep
In joy secure.
Thy star-urn pure,
While thou shalt sleep
In joy secure.
“Where stately stands
My coral hall,
On golden sands
Thy feet shall fall.
My coral hall,
On golden sands
Thy feet shall fall.
“From rosy shell
Thy rosier lip,
Where dimples dwell,
Shall nectar sip;
Thy rosier lip,
Where dimples dwell,
Shall nectar sip;
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“And the tremulous play
Of purest pearls,
With a pale soft ray
Shall gem thy curls.
Of purest pearls,
With a pale soft ray
Shall gem thy curls.
“Oh, the wave is fair
And mild and blue,
As the azure air
Thou wanderest through!
And mild and blue,
As the azure air
Thou wanderest through!
“Then, loveliest far
Of Atlas' daughters,
Bless with thy star
Our limpid waters!”
Of Atlas' daughters,
Bless with thy star
Our limpid waters!”
Wild and sweet was the lay of love,
Upborne on the balmy air,
And the Pleiad stole from her bower above,
To gaze in the waters fair.
Upborne on the balmy air,
And the Pleiad stole from her bower above,
To gaze in the waters fair.
Ah! fatal gaze! for so fondly smiled
Those eyes from the stream below,
She plunged, and the lamp of her heavenly life
Went out in its vase of snow.
Those eyes from the stream below,
She plunged, and the lamp of her heavenly life
Went out in its vase of snow.
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But light to the element's edge sprang up,
A starry shape in bloom,
A strange wild flower in a fairy cup,
That shone in the water's gloom:
A starry shape in bloom,
A strange wild flower in a fairy cup,
That shone in the water's gloom:
And they say the penitent Pleiad's tears
Still feed that star of the wave,
As of old her smiles in holier spheres
To the Urn their pure light gave.
Still feed that star of the wave,
As of old her smiles in holier spheres
To the Urn their pure light gave.
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THE SUITOR'S REPLY
TO THE MAIDEN WHO WISHED TO RETURN HIS GIFT.
Yes! I implore—upon my knee—
Return the costly gift to me!
Not that!—the gem, whose light I prize
Less than one smile from thy dear eyes!
Return the costly gift to me!
Not that!—the gem, whose light I prize
Less than one smile from thy dear eyes!
You say 'tis all too rich and rare
For lowly maid like you to wear,
I've given you one more costly still—
Return me that, dear! Say you will!
For lowly maid like you to wear,
I've given you one more costly still—
Return me that, dear! Say you will!
Its lustre will outlast the star
That burns before us, pure and far,
Return me that—all gems above!
Yes, Margaret, yes! Return—my love!
That burns before us, pure and far,
Return me that—all gems above!
Yes, Margaret, yes! Return—my love!
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THE CHILD AND ITS ANGEL-PLAYMATE.
“My child! thou droopest like a flower
That trembles 'neath the summer shower,
And day by day, and hour by hour,
More faint thy meek replying
To tender questionings of mine;
A dreamy sorrow, half divine,
Fills those dark eyes, that strangely shine;
My child, my child! thou'rt dying!”
That trembles 'neath the summer shower,
And day by day, and hour by hour,
More faint thy meek replying
To tender questionings of mine;
A dreamy sorrow, half divine,
Fills those dark eyes, that strangely shine;
My child, my child! thou'rt dying!”
“Sweet mother—no: but by my side,
Where'er I go,” the child replied,
“Through all this glorious summer-tide,
Is one you cannot see—
A little child with sunny wings,
And eyes like Heaven;—of holy things,
With earnest voice, it talks and sings—
And softly plays with me!
Where'er I go,” the child replied,
“Through all this glorious summer-tide,
Is one you cannot see—
A little child with sunny wings,
And eyes like Heaven;—of holy things,
With earnest voice, it talks and sings—
And softly plays with me!
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“‘Let us go home!’ it warbles low;
And when I say—‘I dare not so!
My home is here,’ it whispers—‘No!
Fair child! thy home is mine!’
And then, of some far lovelier land
It fondly tells, where many a band
Of blissful children, hand in hand,
With sportive fondness twine.
And when I say—‘I dare not so!
My home is here,’ it whispers—‘No!
Fair child! thy home is mine!’
And then, of some far lovelier land
It fondly tells, where many a band
Of blissful children, hand in hand,
With sportive fondness twine.
“It says they know not how to sigh,
For nothing there can droop and die;
But bloom immortal glads the eye,
And music wondrous sweet
Doth ebb and flow, without alloy,
From lyres of light, while Love and Joy
Time to the tune, their blest employ,
With weariless wingéd feet!
For nothing there can droop and die;
But bloom immortal glads the eye,
And music wondrous sweet
Doth ebb and flow, without alloy,
From lyres of light, while Love and Joy
Time to the tune, their blest employ,
With weariless wingéd feet!
“A purer prayer it teaches me
Than that I idly learn'd of thee;
It softens all my thoughtless glee,
It makes me true and kind.
My angel-playmate! most I fear,
'Twill wave its wings and leave me here!
‘Thou'lt miss me in that holier sphere!
Oh! leave me not behind!’
Than that I idly learn'd of thee;
It softens all my thoughtless glee,
It makes me true and kind.
My angel-playmate! most I fear,
'Twill wave its wings and leave me here!
‘Thou'lt miss me in that holier sphere!
Oh! leave me not behind!’
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“It says this is not life, but death,
A daily waste of mortal breath,
And still its sweet voice summoneth
Me to that other land;
But even while it whispers so,
The flowers around more brightly glow,
And yet—and yet, I pine to go,
And join that joyous band!
A daily waste of mortal breath,
And still its sweet voice summoneth
Me to that other land;
But even while it whispers so,
The flowers around more brightly glow,
And yet—and yet, I pine to go,
And join that joyous band!
“My mother! I'll come often back;
I'll not forget the homeward track,
But oft when Pain and Sorrow rack
Thy frame, I'll hover o'er thee;
I'll sing thee every soothing lay
I learn in heaven;—I'll lead the way
For thee to God;—my wings shall play
In dreams of light before thee!
I'll not forget the homeward track,
But oft when Pain and Sorrow rack
Thy frame, I'll hover o'er thee;
I'll sing thee every soothing lay
I learn in heaven;—I'll lead the way
For thee to God;—my wings shall play
In dreams of light before thee!
“Oh! mother! even now I hear
Melodious murmurs in my ear;
The child—the angel-child is near!
I see its light wings glow!
I see its pure and pleading smile!
It moves beside me all the while,
Its eyes my yearning soul beguile,
Sweet mother! let me go!
Melodious murmurs in my ear;
The child—the angel-child is near!
I see its light wings glow!
I see its pure and pleading smile!
It moves beside me all the while,
Its eyes my yearning soul beguile,
Sweet mother! let me go!
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“Hark to their plaintive spirit-strain!
‘Let us go home!’ again—again
It rises soft—that sad refrain!
My playmate! stay for me!
It clasps my hand! It warbles low—
‘Let us go home!’ I go—I go!
My pinions play—with heavenly glow—
My mother—I am free!”
‘Let us go home!’ again—again
It rises soft—that sad refrain!
My playmate! stay for me!
It clasps my hand! It warbles low—
‘Let us go home!’ I go—I go!
My pinions play—with heavenly glow—
My mother—I am free!”
The fair child lay upon her breast,
As if in its accustom'd rest,
A slumbering dove within its nest.
But well the mother knew
That never more that pure blue eye
To hers would speak the soul's reply;
“She is not dead—she could not die!
My child in heaven! adieu!”
As if in its accustom'd rest,
A slumbering dove within its nest.
But well the mother knew
That never more that pure blue eye
To hers would speak the soul's reply;
“She is not dead—she could not die!
My child in heaven! adieu!”
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A SONG.
Yes! “lower to the level”
Of those who laud thee now!
Go! join the joyous revel,
And pledge the heartless vow!
Go! dim the soul-born beauty
That lights that lofty brow!
Fill, fill the bowl! let burning wine
Drown, in thy soul, Love's dream divine!
Of those who laud thee now!
Go! join the joyous revel,
And pledge the heartless vow!
Go! dim the soul-born beauty
That lights that lofty brow!
Fill, fill the bowl! let burning wine
Drown, in thy soul, Love's dream divine!
Yet when the laugh is lightest,
When wildest goes the jest,
When gleams the goblet brightest,
And proudest heaves thy breast,
And thou art madly pledging
Each gay and jovial guest,—
A ghost shall glide amid the flowers—
The shade of Love's departed hours!
When wildest goes the jest,
When gleams the goblet brightest,
And proudest heaves thy breast,
And thou art madly pledging
Each gay and jovial guest,—
A ghost shall glide amid the flowers—
The shade of Love's departed hours!
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And thou shalt shrink in sadness
From all the splendor there,
And curse the revel's gladness,
And hate the banquet's glare,
And pine, 'mid Passion's madness,
For true Love's purer air,
And feel thou'dst give their wildest glee
For one unsullied sigh from me!
From all the splendor there,
And curse the revel's gladness,
And hate the banquet's glare,
And pine, 'mid Passion's madness,
For true Love's purer air,
And feel thou'dst give their wildest glee
For one unsullied sigh from me!
Yet deem not this my prayer, love,
Ah! no! if I could keep
Thy alter'd heart from care, love,
And charm its griefs to sleep,
Mine only should despair, love,
I—I alone would weep!
I—I alone would mourn the flowers
That fade in Love's deserted bowers!
Ah! no! if I could keep
Thy alter'd heart from care, love,
And charm its griefs to sleep,
Mine only should despair, love,
I—I alone would weep!
I—I alone would mourn the flowers
That fade in Love's deserted bowers!
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THE TRIUMPH OF THE SPIRITUAL OVER THE SENSUAL.
AN ALLEGORY.
Near a being on the verge of manhood,
In a waking vision, I behold
Two fair figures,—one is lowly kneeling,
At his feet, with loosen'd locks of gold,
Down her white, half-veilèd bosom, stealing,
O'er her warm cheek, in soft tresses, roll'd,
Link'd with many a burning gem, revealing
Radiant colors through each silken fold.
In a waking vision, I behold
Two fair figures,—one is lowly kneeling,
At his feet, with loosen'd locks of gold,
Down her white, half-veilèd bosom, stealing,
O'er her warm cheek, in soft tresses, roll'd,
Link'd with many a burning gem, revealing
Radiant colors through each silken fold.
One soft, dimpled hand uplifts a chalice,
Richly chased, and starr'd with rubies rare,
While the other points towards a palace,
Rising like a dream upon the air!
Wild blue eyes, where passion blends with malice,
Red, ripe lips,—Temptation triumphs there!
Or if thence the tried heart proudly rallies,
In her form, voluptuously fair,
Grace, so tenderly alluring, dallies,
With her captive, that he loves the snare.
Loose her gorgeous robe, her feet are bare!—
Thus the charmer sings, with wooing air,—
Richly chased, and starr'd with rubies rare,
While the other points towards a palace,
Rising like a dream upon the air!
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Red, ripe lips,—Temptation triumphs there!
Or if thence the tried heart proudly rallies,
In her form, voluptuously fair,
Grace, so tenderly alluring, dallies,
With her captive, that he loves the snare.
Loose her gorgeous robe, her feet are bare!—
Thus the charmer sings, with wooing air,—
Taste the goblet! beauteous mortal!
Quickly taste, and fly with me!
Yonder gleams the golden portal
Of a mansion made for thee.
There will Pleasure's downy pillow
Woo thee to luxurious rest;
There will Trouble's stormy billow
Never fret thy charmèd breast!
Beauty there shall bless the hours,
Flitting by on balmy wing;
Joy shall bind thy brow with flowers;
Hope of new delights shall sing.
Drain the goblet! beauteous mortal!
Quickly drain! and fly with me!
Yonder gleams the radiant portal
Of the mansion wrought for thee!
From his trance of rapture, wildly waking,
Lo! the lost, infatuated boy,
Flush'd with hope, the fatal chalice taking,
Bends to quaff,—his ruin, in his joy!
Hark! those tones, melodiously breaking
O'er his soul, the sinful spell destroy!
Quickly taste, and fly with me!
Yonder gleams the golden portal
Of a mansion made for thee.
There will Pleasure's downy pillow
Woo thee to luxurious rest;
There will Trouble's stormy billow
Never fret thy charmèd breast!
Beauty there shall bless the hours,
Flitting by on balmy wing;
Joy shall bind thy brow with flowers;
Hope of new delights shall sing.
Drain the goblet! beauteous mortal!
Quickly drain! and fly with me!
Yonder gleams the radiant portal
Of the mansion wrought for thee!
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Lo! the lost, infatuated boy,
Flush'd with hope, the fatal chalice taking,
Bends to quaff,—his ruin, in his joy!
Hark! those tones, melodiously breaking
O'er his soul, the sinful spell destroy!
Turning now, he sees a veilèd vision,
That has stood beside him all the while;
Beauty dawning, with a light elysian,
Through the snowy gauze, as morning's smile
Glows and glistens 'neath her wreathèd mist,
All the lovelier for that shade, I wist.
That has stood beside him all the while;
Beauty dawning, with a light elysian,
Through the snowy gauze, as morning's smile
Glows and glistens 'neath her wreathèd mist,
All the lovelier for that shade, I wist.
Veil'd from head to foot,—her fair arms folding
With a sweet composure on her breast,
And a cross of pearl, serenely holding
In her hand, with tender reverence press'd:
With a sweet composure on her breast,
And a cross of pearl, serenely holding
In her hand, with tender reverence press'd:
One soft-gleaming star, amid the braiding
Of her raven hair, her brow illumes;
Beautiful, exceedingly, the shading
Of the rose, that on her pure cheek blooms!
Of her raven hair, her brow illumes;
Beautiful, exceedingly, the shading
Of the rose, that on her pure cheek blooms!
Like the music-fall of water playing,
Freshly in the burning summer-tide,
With delicious melody, allaying
All his feverish ecstasy and pride—
Freshly in the burning summer-tide,
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All his feverish ecstasy and pride—
Thrilling, low, unutterably sweet,
Came her pure, soft tones, with angel pleading,
While his heart to each clear cadence beat,
Quick, in glad reply, all else unheeding.
Came her pure, soft tones, with angel pleading,
While his heart to each clear cadence beat,
Quick, in glad reply, all else unheeding.
Boy, refrain! the poison, breathing
From the goblet, clouds thy soul!
Lo! the golden serpent, wreathing
Round the brim with glittering roll,
Emblem of the death within,
Know'st thou not it tempts to sin?
From the goblet, clouds thy soul!
Lo! the golden serpent, wreathing
Round the brim with glittering roll,
Emblem of the death within,
Know'st thou not it tempts to sin?
Boy, beware! I may not offer
Joy unearn'd by toil of thine;
Wealth, with lock'd and laden coffer,
Luxury's pillow are not mine.
But if thou, with trust confiding,
High and fervent walk with me,
Holiest comfort—peace abiding,
Thine thro' trials dark, shall be!
Like the mystic steps in air,
That th' Egyptian pupil trod,
Fast as one wish fades, a higher
Shall but lead thee nearer God!
Joy unearn'd by toil of thine;
Wealth, with lock'd and laden coffer,
Luxury's pillow are not mine.
But if thou, with trust confiding,
High and fervent walk with me,
Holiest comfort—peace abiding,
Thine thro' trials dark, shall be!
Like the mystic steps in air,
That th' Egyptian pupil trod,
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Shall but lead thee nearer God!
Boy, be mine! beneath our feet
Desert wastes shall bloom with flowers,
Sorrow's self shall seem most sweet,
While Hope's rainbow lights her showers.
Desert wastes shall bloom with flowers,
Sorrow's self shall seem most sweet,
While Hope's rainbow lights her showers.
Troops of angels, only known
By their choral music-tide,
(Ebb and flow) with softest tone,
Shall beside thee viewless glide!
By their choral music-tide,
(Ebb and flow) with softest tone,
Shall beside thee viewless glide!
Every warbler of the wild-wood
On its voice shall waft thy soul,
Back thro' all the dreams of childhood,
To the Heaven-home whence it stole.
On its voice shall waft thy soul,
Back thro' all the dreams of childhood,
To the Heaven-home whence it stole.
From each blossom Spring shall bring thee
Some sweet lesson thou'lt command,
Even the winding shell shall sing thee
Echoes from the spirit-land!
Some sweet lesson thou'lt command,
Even the winding shell shall sing thee
Echoes from the spirit-land!
Glory waits thee, glad immortal!
Take thy cross and go with me!
Stars shall light the viewless portal
Of the mansion made for thee!
Take thy cross and go with me!
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Of the mansion made for thee!
Softly, with that last word, died away
Voice and vision, from my dreaming sense;
But the youth rose, ere she closed the lay,
And with eyes illumed by thought intense,
Placed his hand in hers, that she should lead him thence.
Voice and vision, from my dreaming sense;
But the youth rose, ere she closed the lay,
And with eyes illumed by thought intense,
Placed his hand in hers, that she should lead him thence.
238
LINES FROM A SCHOOL-GIRL TO A NEW FRIEND.
Will you let me love you, Fanny?
There are very few
In my soul's still temple cherish'd—
May it cherish you?
Many make a fleeting visit,
Wearying ere long—
Far too wild and dreamy is it,
For the worldly throng.
There are very few
In my soul's still temple cherish'd—
May it cherish you?
Many make a fleeting visit,
Wearying ere long—
Far too wild and dreamy is it,
For the worldly throng.
But if you will come and rest
In its dim recesses,
It will give its stranger-guest
Welcome and caresses.
Gentle is the group you'll meet;
Pray do not refuse them;
They will always love you, sweet;
Let me introduce them!
In its dim recesses,
It will give its stranger-guest
Welcome and caresses.
Gentle is the group you'll meet;
Pray do not refuse them;
They will always love you, sweet;
Let me introduce them!
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You will see their faces only—
Angels are drawn so;
And the heart makes angels ever
Of its friends, you know.
One with eyes like starlit clouds,
Beautiful as truth,
In whose face her rich soul smiles
With undying youth.
Angels are drawn so;
And the heart makes angels ever
Of its friends, you know.
One with eyes like starlit clouds,
Beautiful as truth,
In whose face her rich soul smiles
With undying youth.
Then with brown and braided hair,
Head of classic grace,
Brow serene, and tranquil eyes,
Comes a seraph face.
You can see that she has sorrow'd,
From the world apart:
Pure and lovely as her forehead,
So the maiden's heart.
Head of classic grace,
Brow serene, and tranquil eyes,
Comes a seraph face.
You can see that she has sorrow'd,
From the world apart:
Pure and lovely as her forehead,
So the maiden's heart.
Next with glance upraised, inspired,
Music in her eyes,
Soft in grief—in passion fired—
See Julie arise!
On her cheek unearthly bloom;
Round her brow so fair,
Glossy as a raven's plume,
Sweeps her wealth of hair.
Music in her eyes,
Soft in grief—in passion fired—
See Julie arise!
On her cheek unearthly bloom;
Round her brow so fair,
240
Sweeps her wealth of hair.
Next appears my pride and idol,
One, within whose soul
Love and Truth have met in bridal,
Free from earth's control.
Guileless, trusting as a child,
Playful, dauntless, daring,
Full of romance, high and wild,
Ne'er in wo despairing!
One, within whose soul
Love and Truth have met in bridal,
Free from earth's control.
Guileless, trusting as a child,
Playful, dauntless, daring,
Full of romance, high and wild,
Ne'er in wo despairing!
Far apart from all and hidden—
Frowning on them too,
There is one, who came unbidden,
That is—you know who!
Now you'll let me love you, Fanny!
Since you see how few
In my heart's far depths are treasured,
Let it treasure you!
Frowning on them too,
There is one, who came unbidden,
That is—you know who!
Now you'll let me love you, Fanny!
Since you see how few
In my heart's far depths are treasured,
Let it treasure you!
241
HEAVEN IS OVER ALL.
In weary paths, my precious boy,
Your faltering feet must fall;
But bear in mind, where'er you go,
That Heaven is over all!
Your faltering feet must fall;
But bear in mind, where'er you go,
That Heaven is over all!
You're tripping thro' a garden now,
Where childhood loves to play,
And kind hands pull the flowers for you,
And throw the thorns away;
Where childhood loves to play,
And kind hands pull the flowers for you,
And throw the thorns away;
And softly falls the tender light—
The breeze—'tis joy to breathe it!
And if, perchance, a shower descends,
New blossoms wake beneath it;
The breeze—'tis joy to breathe it!
And if, perchance, a shower descends,
New blossoms wake beneath it;
But by and by you'll leave your bower,
And “go your ways” alone,
With but a chance companion, love,
Across your pathway thrown;
And “go your ways” alone,
With but a chance companion, love,
Across your pathway thrown;
242
And sometimes in the desert bare,
Grief's bitter tears must fall;
But bear in mind, my boy, e'en there,
That Heaven is over all!
Grief's bitter tears must fall;
But bear in mind, my boy, e'en there,
That Heaven is over all!
And sometimes over flinty rocks
Your tender feet must stray;
And sometimes in a tangled wood
You'll almost lose your way;
Your tender feet must stray;
And sometimes in a tangled wood
You'll almost lose your way;
And oft you'll sigh for Childhood's home,
When gloomy scenes appal,—
Oh! bear in mind, where'er you roam,
That Heaven is over all!
When gloomy scenes appal,—
Oh! bear in mind, where'er you roam,
That Heaven is over all!
Be sure a sunbeam, thro' that wood,
Will light you on your way;
Be sure, within that solitude,
Some living fount will play.
Will light you on your way;
Be sure, within that solitude,
Some living fount will play.
And tho' the flinty rock should fret
Full long your weary feet,
There's moss upon its bosom yet,
Will make a pillow sweet:
Full long your weary feet,
There's moss upon its bosom yet,
Will make a pillow sweet:
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And now and then a balmy air
Will float with soft perfume,
And lovely blossoms, here and there,
Will bless you with their bloom:
Will float with soft perfume,
And lovely blossoms, here and there,
Will bless you with their bloom:
But if the clouds should hide the sky,
And blinding rain should fall,
Remember, God is always nigh,
And Heaven is over all!
And blinding rain should fall,
Remember, God is always nigh,
And Heaven is over all!
Now—now, while yet in Childhood's bower,
With that wild way in view,
Oh! put your little hand in His,
And He will lead you through!
With that wild way in view,
Oh! put your little hand in His,
And He will lead you through!
For if, with pure and patient heart,
With firm resolve and high,
You tread the path appointed, love,
And pass Temptation by,
With firm resolve and high,
You tread the path appointed, love,
And pass Temptation by,
A fairer home than Childhood's home,
A fonder love than ours,
Await you at your journey's end,
In Heaven's own balmy bowers.
A fonder love than ours,
Await you at your journey's end,
In Heaven's own balmy bowers.
244
Where'er you go—in weal or wo,
Whatever fate befall,
In sunny glade, in forest shade,
A Heaven is over all!
Whatever fate befall,
In sunny glade, in forest shade,
A Heaven is over all!
248
THE HOUR BEFORE THE DUEL.
Too late—too late—ye steal before me,
Fond thoughts of home, of love and joy!
The wings of fate close darkening o'er me—
Oh God! my wife! my boy!
Fond thoughts of home, of love and joy!
The wings of fate close darkening o'er me—
Oh God! my wife! my boy!
My own sweet wife! I see thy face—
Thy pure, young face upraised to mine,
Thy glossy ringlets' waving grace,
Thy blush, thy smile divine!
Thy pure, young face upraised to mine,
Thy glossy ringlets' waving grace,
Thy blush, thy smile divine!
Thy pleading eyes, that droop'd like flowers
Beneath a cloud, when I was cold—
Oh! to win back the wasted hours,
My brief life's lavish'd gold!
Beneath a cloud, when I was cold—
Oh! to win back the wasted hours,
My brief life's lavish'd gold!
My child! my heart's own hope and pride,
My dark-eyed, blooming, glorious boy!
Thou comest—Heaven! in mercy hide
That gaze of thoughtless joy!
My dark-eyed, blooming, glorious boy!
Thou comest—Heaven! in mercy hide
That gaze of thoughtless joy!
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Yes, Honor! 'gainst thine idle name,
A bubble that a breath may break,
To 'scape the knave's or fool's false blame,
Their happiness I stake.
A bubble that a breath may break,
To 'scape the knave's or fool's false blame,
Their happiness I stake.
I yield to thee my hope, my love,
Her life that yet in joy has smiled,
My peace on earth—my bliss above—
Oh God! my wife and child!
Her life that yet in joy has smiled,
My peace on earth—my bliss above—
Oh God! my wife and child!
I'll dream no more! I'll nerve my soul—
Hurrah! the wild—the magic wine!
Fill up—fill high—the glorious bowl!
Drown care in draughts divine!
Hurrah! the wild—the magic wine!
Fill up—fill high—the glorious bowl!
Drown care in draughts divine!
The past—the future! hence, away!
Fears, dreams, and doubts—my spirit's strife—
I dare not think, or feel, or pray—
Oh God! my boy—my wife!
Fears, dreams, and doubts—my spirit's strife—
I dare not think, or feel, or pray—
Oh God! my boy—my wife!
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THE HERO'S GRAVE.
A group of boys in playful strife—
A soldier old and faded,—
The fresh and glowing morn of life,—
The eve serenely shaded.—
A soldier old and faded,—
The fresh and glowing morn of life,—
The eve serenely shaded.—
“Ah! play not there, my children!
I pray you play not there!”
He spoke with tears,—that weary one,—
The man with silver hair.
I pray you play not there!”
He spoke with tears,—that weary one,—
The man with silver hair.
“And why?” the thoughtless children said,—
“The grass is fresher here,
We love upon the mound to tread,
And what have we to fear?”
“The grass is fresher here,
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And what have we to fear?”
“Nay, come away!” he raised his voice,
Wild flash'd his faded eyes,
“Ye sport upon a hallow'd grave,
For there a hero lies!”
Wild flash'd his faded eyes,
“Ye sport upon a hallow'd grave,
For there a hero lies!”
THE END.
| Poems | |