 | The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth |  |
237
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
A COLLOQUY WITH THE MUSE.
The muse and myself, the other day,
Held a short colloquy together;
For she sometimes calls, when she comes that way,
Though scarcely a moment she deigns to stay,
And seldom has anything to say,
Save, “how d' ye do—what news to-day!
'T is really charming weather.”
Held a short colloquy together;
For she sometimes calls, when she comes that way,
Though scarcely a moment she deigns to stay,
And seldom has anything to say,
Save, “how d' ye do—what news to-day!
'T is really charming weather.”
She found me alone, in my elbow chair—
One arm has long been broken—
In the attic, George—you well know where,
For once, last summer, I saw you there,
When you kindly offered to pay my fare,
If I'd brush my coat, and with you repair
To breathe a mouthful of country air,
On the heights of green Hoboken.
One arm has long been broken—
In the attic, George—you well know where,
For once, last summer, I saw you there,
When you kindly offered to pay my fare,
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To breathe a mouthful of country air,
On the heights of green Hoboken.
As I said before, her ladyship came,
En dishabille, as usual,
In costume resembling the slipshod dame
Whose Black-book sketches are known to fame.
Her robe was blue, and her hose the same,
Her sandals unlaced, and her gait was lame,
As she entered the room, and pronounced my name
In a manner and tone fiducial.
En dishabille, as usual,
In costume resembling the slipshod dame
Whose Black-book sketches are known to fame.
Her robe was blue, and her hose the same,
Her sandals unlaced, and her gait was lame,
As she entered the room, and pronounced my name
In a manner and tone fiducial.
“Good day t' ye, Reuben—do n't ask me to stay,
For I must hasten home to my toilet;
As I go out with Norna a-shopping to-day,
And Hinda goes with us—besides, I must pay
A visit to Thirza—it 's all in our way,
And then to Ianthe I 've something to say;
Besides, I must call upon Wetmore and Fay,
And then there would be the Old Nick to pay,
If I did n't look in upon Morris too—eigh!
But now, while I think of it—Reuben, do say,
Who is that comical Cox?—I will lay
He is building a fame that will never decay;
And so is my favorite Proteus—nay,
No jealousy, Reuben, but win your own bay,
And never let envy soil it.
For I must hasten home to my toilet;
As I go out with Norna a-shopping to-day,
And Hinda goes with us—besides, I must pay
A visit to Thirza—it 's all in our way,
And then to Ianthe I 've something to say;
Besides, I must call upon Wetmore and Fay,
And then there would be the Old Nick to pay,
If I did n't look in upon Morris too—eigh!
But now, while I think of it—Reuben, do say,
Who is that comical Cox?—I will lay
He is building a fame that will never decay;
And so is my favorite Proteus—nay,
No jealousy, Reuben, but win your own bay,
And never let envy soil it.
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“Hush! do n't interrupt me—there 's tender Estelle,
Everard, Lara, and Alpha, and Inman,
Isidora, or Harriet—with sweet Isabelle,
And hundreds of others, are like to excel,
If they treat me politely. But, Reuben, do tell,
If I don't appear charming in this dishabille?
Say, why the deuce do you grin, man?”
Everard, Lara, and Alpha, and Inman,
Isidora, or Harriet—with sweet Isabelle,
And hundreds of others, are like to excel,
If they treat me politely. But, Reuben, do tell,
If I don't appear charming in this dishabille?
Say, why the deuce do you grin, man?”
“You look,” I replied, “both ugly and old,
In these rascally dishabille dresses;
Why, when you are visiting others, I'm told,
The finest light gossamer vestures infold
That form and those limbs of such exquite mould,
With sandals that sparkle with spangles and gold,
While a chaplet of roses and diamonds untold,
Confine those wandering tresses.
In these rascally dishabille dresses;
Why, when you are visiting others, I'm told,
The finest light gossamer vestures infold
That form and those limbs of such exquite mould,
With sandals that sparkle with spangles and gold,
While a chaplet of roses and diamonds untold,
Confine those wandering tresses.
“When others petition, you make reply,
In numbers of sweetest measure,
But to me you prate, like a chattering pie,
Of shopping, and visits, and a few small fry
Of Mirror contributors—while here, poor I
In silence must wait your leisure!
In numbers of sweetest measure,
But to me you prate, like a chattering pie,
Of shopping, and visits, and a few small fry
Of Mirror contributors—while here, poor I
In silence must wait your leisure!
“Why not on me such favors bestow
As your other votaries win?
Why prattle to me on subjects so low,
In a tuneless, senseless din?”
“Why, then, you must know,”
She said with a smile,
“That, when here below,
I adapt my style
To the company I am in.
As your other votaries win?
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In a tuneless, senseless din?”
“Why, then, you must know,”
She said with a smile,
“That, when here below,
I adapt my style
To the company I am in.
“But, jesting apart, what is it you claim?
I'll grant you the boon, I swear it:
That is, if I'm able—come, give it a name.”
“Then fire me, at once,” I replied, “with the flame
That animates Halleck, and lights him to fame;
To a like dazzling summit direct my aim,
Procure for my numbers an equal acclaim;
Secure me a chaplet as bright—not the same,
And teach me as humbly to wear it.”
I'll grant you the boon, I swear it:
That is, if I'm able—come, give it a name.”
“Then fire me, at once,” I replied, “with the flame
That animates Halleck, and lights him to fame;
To a like dazzling summit direct my aim,
Procure for my numbers an equal acclaim;
Secure me a chaplet as bright—not the same,
And teach me as humbly to wear it.”
She smiling replied, while her head she shook—
“In vain should I bid you take it;
For Apollo, when late, with a shepherd's crook,
He toyed with a maid, by a gurgling brook,
Had concealed his lyre in a private nook,
Which Halleck observed, and slyly took,
And none but Halleck can wake it.”
“In vain should I bid you take it;
For Apollo, when late, with a shepherd's crook,
He toyed with a maid, by a gurgling brook,
Had concealed his lyre in a private nook,
Which Halleck observed, and slyly took,
And none but Halleck can wake it.”
This and the two following poems were, by the author, “addressed to my friend, George P. Morris, Esq.”
241
NAY, ASK ME NOT FOR WIT OR RHYME.
Nay, ask me not for wit or rhyme,
While this blue-devil weather lasts,
The muses shun Columbia's clime
During the equinoctial blasts.
While this blue-devil weather lasts,
The muses shun Columbia's clime
During the equinoctial blasts.
Their native home is most serene,
Where bright and cloudless skies are certain,
A mountain's-top—as you have seen
At Chatham Garden, on the curtain.
Where bright and cloudless skies are certain,
A mountain's-top—as you have seen
At Chatham Garden, on the curtain.
They'll not exchange a scene so fair,
Their verdant walks and rural sweets,
To shiver in this misty air,
And wade along our muddy streets.
Their verdant walks and rural sweets,
To shiver in this misty air,
And wade along our muddy streets.
Then let them still enjoy their revels,
Remote from fiends of every hue,
For though they smile on some poor devils,
They never could abide the blue.
Remote from fiends of every hue,
For though they smile on some poor devils,
They never could abide the blue.
In July last, so hot and dry,
When some expired for want of brandy,
When not a cloud obscured the sky,
And fans were worn by every dandy:
When some expired for want of brandy,
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And fans were worn by every dandy:
Then would they come, and round my taper,
En dishabille, inspire me so,
That, though my sweat bedewed the paper,
I wrote some melting lines, you know.
En dishabille, inspire me so,
That, though my sweat bedewed the paper,
I wrote some melting lines, you know.
But ask me not for wit or rhyme,
While this blue-devil weather lasts,
The muses shun Columbia's clime
During the equinoctial blasts.
While this blue-devil weather lasts,
The muses shun Columbia's clime
During the equinoctial blasts.
FASHIONS.
How fashions change in this inconstant world!
Powder and queues held undisputed sway
When I was young; anon, the hair was curled,
And, after that, the top-knot had its day.
The last, I understand, has given way
To Saunders' plain-cropt crown. So much for men—
The ladies—bless their pretty faces!—may
Recount a thousand changes to our ten.
There were the huge crape cushion, hoop, and stays,
To go no further back;—my mother wore them
Before her marriage;—and, in after days,
I 've heard her wish that fashion might restore them.
Short waists, and long, have had alternate sway,
Since hoops were banished, to the present day.
Powder and queues held undisputed sway
When I was young; anon, the hair was curled,
And, after that, the top-knot had its day.
The last, I understand, has given way
To Saunders' plain-cropt crown. So much for men—
The ladies—bless their pretty faces!—may
Recount a thousand changes to our ten.
There were the huge crape cushion, hoop, and stays,
To go no further back;—my mother wore them
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I 've heard her wish that fashion might restore them.
Short waists, and long, have had alternate sway,
Since hoops were banished, to the present day.
And I have prized them all—for I confess,
'T is my opinion, that the virtuous fair,
While they derive no one new charm from dress,
Impart a charm to every dress they wear.
'T is my opinion, that the virtuous fair,
While they derive no one new charm from dress,
Impart a charm to every dress they wear.
But Fashion's freaks, we know, are not confined
To the habiliments her votaries wear;
She even dictates to the immortal MIND,
And deigns to take beneath her tender care
Celestial genius, fancy, taste, and wit,
And e'en religion, too, must oft submit;
For since great Johnson frowned upon dissenters,
'T is the established church that Fashion enters;
And were each pun a diamond, she 'd not take one,
Because the doctor had not wit to make one;
Just as the fox condemned the grapes as sour,
Because he found them not within his power.
To the habiliments her votaries wear;
She even dictates to the immortal MIND,
And deigns to take beneath her tender care
Celestial genius, fancy, taste, and wit,
And e'en religion, too, must oft submit;
For since great Johnson frowned upon dissenters,
'T is the established church that Fashion enters;
And were each pun a diamond, she 'd not take one,
Because the doctor had not wit to make one;
Just as the fox condemned the grapes as sour,
Because he found them not within his power.
Mark but the movements of the goddess, through
A few short years: Moore's Lyrics were in fashion,
Till Byron's vision burst upon the view,
Scattering, from demon wings, a storm of passion.
Then fashion taught her votaries to adore
The idol which tempestuous clouds environ,
And left the sweet elysian fields of Moore,
To wander o'er the Upas realms of Byron,
With bones of human victims covered o'er,
Or to the snow-capt mountain trembling soar,
Where huge volcanoes vomit quenchless flame,
Fierce as his soul, and brilliant as his fame.
A few short years: Moore's Lyrics were in fashion,
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Scattering, from demon wings, a storm of passion.
Then fashion taught her votaries to adore
The idol which tempestuous clouds environ,
And left the sweet elysian fields of Moore,
To wander o'er the Upas realms of Byron,
With bones of human victims covered o'er,
Or to the snow-capt mountain trembling soar,
Where huge volcanoes vomit quenchless flame,
Fierce as his soul, and brilliant as his fame.
Scott was, awhile, the star of the ascendant,
(If Scott wrote Waverley and Kenilworth),
And dazzled with a glory as resplendent
As ever beamed upon the moral earth
Since Shakespeare lived, whose magic pen
Explored the very souls of men:
Like his, for painting character and passion,
The muse of Waverley was long in fashion.
(If Scott wrote Waverley and Kenilworth),
And dazzled with a glory as resplendent
As ever beamed upon the moral earth
Since Shakespeare lived, whose magic pen
Explored the very souls of men:
Like his, for painting character and passion,
The muse of Waverley was long in fashion.
With all such changes in proud Albion's clime,
Allowing, say a month, for transportation,
Their humble parasites have here kept time,
In dress and morals, taste and conversation.
'T is true, our wondrous spirit of invention
Has added to the stock of information,
And there are some improvements I could mention,
That add new lustre to our reputation.
Allowing, say a month, for transportation,
Their humble parasites have here kept time,
In dress and morals, taste and conversation.
'T is true, our wondrous spirit of invention
Has added to the stock of information,
And there are some improvements I could mention,
That add new lustre to our reputation.
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Awhile ago, and Greece was all the rage,
That is, we felt enraged against the Turks,
And every daily paper had a page
Filled up entirely with their bloody works—
With battles, massacres, heroic deeds,
And self-devotedness of patriot men,
And cruelties at which the bosom bleeds,
When memory calls the picture back again.
Wives, mothers, maids, compelled to slay themselves,
Or yield to these infernal turbaned elves.
That is, we felt enraged against the Turks,
And every daily paper had a page
Filled up entirely with their bloody works—
With battles, massacres, heroic deeds,
And self-devotedness of patriot men,
And cruelties at which the bosom bleeds,
When memory calls the picture back again.
Wives, mothers, maids, compelled to slay themselves,
Or yield to these infernal turbaned elves.
One general burst of honest indignation
Was heard throughout the land; our public halls
Echoed to strains of lofty declamation,
Or sweeter strains of fiddles—for our balls,
And every other pastime, were intended
To aid the cause which Grecian arms defended.
To save their sisters from such cruel foes,
Our patriot ladies danced with ceaseless ardor,
As some say masses for the sake of those
Whose destiny below is somewhat harder.
Whole families were doomed to starve for weeks,
(Who had no banker whom to draw for cash on),
For splendid dresses worn to aid the Greeks!
But, recollect, the Greeks were then in fashion.
Was heard throughout the land; our public halls
Echoed to strains of lofty declamation,
Or sweeter strains of fiddles—for our balls,
And every other pastime, were intended
To aid the cause which Grecian arms defended.
To save their sisters from such cruel foes,
Our patriot ladies danced with ceaseless ardor,
As some say masses for the sake of those
Whose destiny below is somewhat harder.
Whole families were doomed to starve for weeks,
(Who had no banker whom to draw for cash on),
For splendid dresses worn to aid the Greeks!
But, recollect, the Greeks were then in fashion.
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Fayette, who helped to make Columbia free,
The man whom free-born millions now revere,
Great Lafayette, the friend of Liberty,
Has been in fashion more than half a year;
And will be so for centuries, no doubt,
For millions yet unborn shall shout his name,
And seek the dangerous path he singled out
To reach the summit of immortal fame.
The man whom free-born millions now revere,
Great Lafayette, the friend of Liberty,
Has been in fashion more than half a year;
And will be so for centuries, no doubt,
For millions yet unborn shall shout his name,
And seek the dangerous path he singled out
To reach the summit of immortal fame.
Canals are much in vogue at present, though
'T was once the fashion to oppose them;
From Maine to Georgia now, they 're all the go,
And half her real wealth Columbia owes them.
E'en Darien, whose adamantine throne
Still dares two kindred oceans to divide,
Is doomed to see its empire overthrown,
And commerce o'er its ruins proudly ride.
'T was once the fashion to oppose them;
From Maine to Georgia now, they 're all the go,
And half her real wealth Columbia owes them.
E'en Darien, whose adamantine throne
Still dares two kindred oceans to divide,
Is doomed to see its empire overthrown,
And commerce o'er its ruins proudly ride.
But there 's one fashion I must not forget
On this occasion—one that's worth commending,
And justly venerated, you'll admit,
For its antiquity;—'t is that of sending
To some one we esteem on New Year's day
A short, familiar, tributary lay,
Such as I now address to you,
Deficient both in sentiment and passion,
But ending with kind wishes, warm and true—
Accept it, George—for I must be in fashion.
On this occasion—one that's worth commending,
And justly venerated, you'll admit,
For its antiquity;—'t is that of sending
To some one we esteem on New Year's day
A short, familiar, tributary lay,
Such as I now address to you,
Deficient both in sentiment and passion,
But ending with kind wishes, warm and true—
Accept it, George—for I must be in fashion.
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May every bliss that Heaven can give be yours,
While the brief term of human life endures;
Domestic joys, a moderate share of wealth,
Contented mind, vivacity, and health;
Friends that are faithful, able, and refined,
Children obedient—consort true and kind;
The will and means the child of want to save,
And thus secure a fund beyond the grave.
If these be yours, there can not be a fear
But you will hail with joy the infant year.
While the brief term of human life endures;
Domestic joys, a moderate share of wealth,
Contented mind, vivacity, and health;
Friends that are faithful, able, and refined,
Children obedient—consort true and kind;
The will and means the child of want to save,
And thus secure a fund beyond the grave.
If these be yours, there can not be a fear
But you will hail with joy the infant year.
AN ODE,
FOR THE GRAND CANAL CELEBRATION, NOV. 4, 1825.
'Tis done, 'tis done!—The mighty chain
Which joins bright Erie to the Main,
For ages, shall perpetuate
The glory of our native state.
Which joins bright Erie to the Main,
For ages, shall perpetuate
The glory of our native state.
'T is done!—Proud Art o'er Nature has prevailed!
Genius and perseverance have succeeded!
Though selfish Prejudice assailed,
And honest Prudence pleaded.
Genius and perseverance have succeeded!
Though selfish Prejudice assailed,
And honest Prudence pleaded.
'T is done!—The monarch of the briny tide,
Whose giant arm encircles earth,
To virgin Erie is allied,
A bright-eyed nymph of mountain birth.
Whose giant arm encircles earth,
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A bright-eyed nymph of mountain birth.
To-day, the sire of Ocean takes
A sylvan maiden to his arms,
The goddess of the crystal lakes,
In all her native charms!
A sylvan maiden to his arms,
The goddess of the crystal lakes,
In all her native charms!
She comes! attended by a sparkling train;
The Naiads of the West her nuptials grace;
She meets the sceptred father of the main,
And in his heaving bosom hides her virgin face
Rising from their watery cells,
Tritons sport upon the tide,
And gayly blow their trumpet-shells,
In honor of the bride.
Sea-nymphs leave their coral caves,
Deep beneath the ocean waves,
Where they string, with tasteful care
Pearls upon their sea-green hair.
The Naiads of the West her nuptials grace;
She meets the sceptred father of the main,
And in his heaving bosom hides her virgin face
Rising from their watery cells,
Tritons sport upon the tide,
And gayly blow their trumpet-shells,
In honor of the bride.
Sea-nymphs leave their coral caves,
Deep beneath the ocean waves,
Where they string, with tasteful care
Pearls upon their sea-green hair.
Thetis' virgin train advances,
Mingling in the bridal dances;
Jove, himself, with raptured eye,
Throws his forkéd thunders by,
And bids Apollo seize his golden lyre,
A strain of joy to wake;
Mingling in the bridal dances;
Jove, himself, with raptured eye,
Throws his forkéd thunders by,
And bids Apollo seize his golden lyre,
A strain of joy to wake;
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While Fame proclaims that Ocean's sire
Is wedded to the goddess of the lake.
The smiling god of song obeys,
And heaven re-echoes with his sounding lays.
Is wedded to the goddess of the lake.
The smiling god of song obeys,
And heaven re-echoes with his sounding lays.
All hail to the Art which unshackles the soul!
And fires it with love of glory!
And causes the victor, who reaches the goal,
To live in deathless story!
And fires it with love of glory!
And causes the victor, who reaches the goal,
To live in deathless story!
“Which teaches young Genius to rise from earth,
On Fancy's airy pinion,
To assert the claims of its heavenly birth,
And seize on its blest dominion.
On Fancy's airy pinion,
To assert the claims of its heavenly birth,
And seize on its blest dominion.
“The Art which the banner of Truth unfurled,
When darkness veiled each nation,
And prompted Columbus to seek a new world
On the unexplored map of creation.
When darkness veiled each nation,
And prompted Columbus to seek a new world
On the unexplored map of creation.
“Which lighted the path of the pilgrim band,
Who braved the storms of ocean,
To seek, in a wild and distant land,
The freedom of pure devotion.
Who braved the storms of ocean,
To seek, in a wild and distant land,
The freedom of pure devotion.
“Which kindled, on Freedom's shrine, a flame
That will glow through future ages,
And cover with glory and endless fame
Columbia's immortal sages.
That will glow through future ages,
And cover with glory and endless fame
Columbia's immortal sages.
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“The Art which enabled her Franklin to prove,
And solve each mystic wonder!
To arrest the forked shafts of Jove,
And play with his bolts of thunder.
And solve each mystic wonder!
To arrest the forked shafts of Jove,
And play with his bolts of thunder.
“The Art, which enables her sons to aspire,
Beyond all the wonders in story;
For an unshackled PRESS is the pillar of fire
Which lights them to Freedom and Glory.
Beyond all the wonders in story;
For an unshackled PRESS is the pillar of fire
Which lights them to Freedom and Glory.
“'T is this which called forth the immortal decree,
And gave the great work its first motion;
'T is done! by the hands of the brave and free,
And Erie is linked to the Ocean.
And gave the great work its first motion;
'T is done! by the hands of the brave and free,
And Erie is linked to the Ocean.
“Then hail to the Art which unshackles the soul,
And fires it with love of glory,
And causes the victor who reaches the goal,
To live in deathless story.”
And fires it with love of glory,
And causes the victor who reaches the goal,
To live in deathless story.”
Such strains—if earthly strains may be
Compared to his who tunes a heavenly lyre—
Are warbled by the bright-haired deity,
While listening orbs admire.
Compared to his who tunes a heavenly lyre—
Are warbled by the bright-haired deity,
While listening orbs admire.
Such strains shall unborn millions yet awake,
While, with her golden trumpet, smiling Fame
Proclaims the union of the main and lake,
And on her scroll emblazons Clinton's name.
While, with her golden trumpet, smiling Fame
Proclaims the union of the main and lake,
And on her scroll emblazons Clinton's name.
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THE GRAND CANAL.
While millions awaken to Freedom the chorus,
In wreathing for valor the blood-sprinkled bay,
The new brilliant era which opens before us,
Demands the rich tribute of gratitude's lay;
For ours is a boast unexampled in story,
Unequalled in splendor, unrivalled in grace,
A conquest that gains us a permanent glory,
The triumph of science o'er matter and space!
For realms that were dreary, are now smiling cheery,
Since Hudson and Erie like sisters embrace.
In wreathing for valor the blood-sprinkled bay,
The new brilliant era which opens before us,
Demands the rich tribute of gratitude's lay;
For ours is a boast unexampled in story,
Unequalled in splendor, unrivalled in grace,
A conquest that gains us a permanent glory,
The triumph of science o'er matter and space!
For realms that were dreary, are now smiling cheery,
Since Hudson and Erie like sisters embrace.
From heroes whose wisdom and chivalrous bearing
Secured us the rights which no power can repeal,
Have spirits descended as brilliantly daring,
To fix on the charter Eternity's seal.
Behold them consummate the giant conception,
Unwearied in honor's beneficent race,
While nature submits to the daring surreption,
And envy and ignorance shrink in disgrace.
For realms that were dreary, are now smiling cheery,
Since Hudson and Erie like sisters embrace.
Secured us the rights which no power can repeal,
Have spirits descended as brilliantly daring,
To fix on the charter Eternity's seal.
Behold them consummate the giant conception,
Unwearied in honor's beneficent race,
While nature submits to the daring surreption,
And envy and ignorance shrink in disgrace.
For realms that were dreary, are now smiling cheery,
Since Hudson and Erie like sisters embrace.
252
The nymphs of our rivers, our lakes, and our fountains,
Are now by the monarch of ocean caressed;
While spurning the barriers of forests and mountains,
Bold Commerce enriches the wilds of the West.
Then hail to the sages, whose wisdom and labors
Conceived and perfected the brilliant design;
Converting the remotest strangers to neighbors,
By weaving a ligament nought can disjoin;
For regions once dreary, are now smiling cheery,
Since Hudson and Erie like their waters combine.
Are now by the monarch of ocean caressed;
While spurning the barriers of forests and mountains,
Bold Commerce enriches the wilds of the West.
Then hail to the sages, whose wisdom and labors
Conceived and perfected the brilliant design;
Converting the remotest strangers to neighbors,
By weaving a ligament nought can disjoin;
For regions once dreary, are now smiling cheery,
Since Hudson and Erie like their waters combine.
And long, thus devoted to festival pleasure,
This day shall be sacred to genius and worth,
For millions unborn shall rejoice at a measure,
Which renders our country the pride of the earth.
No sectional feelings now mar our communion,
Affection and interest are reckless of space,
The national good is the bond of our union,
Which ages shall brighten but never deface.
For realms that were dreary, are now smiling cheery,
Since Hudson and Erie like sisters embrace.
This day shall be sacred to genius and worth,
For millions unborn shall rejoice at a measure,
Which renders our country the pride of the earth.
No sectional feelings now mar our communion,
Affection and interest are reckless of space,
The national good is the bond of our union,
Which ages shall brighten but never deface.
For realms that were dreary, are now smiling cheery,
Since Hudson and Erie like sisters embrace.
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DURANT'S ADDRESS.
ON ASCENDING WITH A BALLOON FROM CASTLE GARDEN.
“I'm for the air”—'t is sweet to fly
On silken pinions, towards the sky,
To leave a world of strife and wo
With all its follies far below;
While bending, Godlike, from my car,
Responsive to the loud huzza!
With Freedom's flag of various hue,
I wave the wondering crowds adieu!
On silken pinions, towards the sky,
To leave a world of strife and wo
With all its follies far below;
While bending, Godlike, from my car,
Responsive to the loud huzza!
With Freedom's flag of various hue,
I wave the wondering crowds adieu!
“I'm for the air”—'t is sweet to rise
Above the proud, the great, the wise;
'T is pleasant to look down and see
Admiring thousands gaze at me!
'T is transport o'er their heads to soar,
Who downward looked on me before;
Ambition's bliss must be complete,
With all the world beneath its feet!
Above the proud, the great, the wise;
'T is pleasant to look down and see
Admiring thousands gaze at me!
'T is transport o'er their heads to soar,
Who downward looked on me before;
Ambition's bliss must be complete,
With all the world beneath its feet!
“I'm for the air”—where science hath
Opened a bright effulgent path;
And though my car, this time, must sail
Obedient to the passing gale,
Have patience, and no distant day,
Shall see me steer another way;
Across the current shape my course,
Or, like the eagle, stem its force.
Opened a bright effulgent path;
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Obedient to the passing gale,
Have patience, and no distant day,
Shall see me steer another way;
Across the current shape my course,
Or, like the eagle, stem its force.
“I'm for the air”—ye sons of earth,
With spirits of ethereal birth;
Could thanks in real blessings fall,
I'd pour a deluge on you all.
But fare you well! I mount—I fly!
This, Science, is thy victory!
Hail to a scene sublimely grand!
Hail!—hail Columbia! happy land!
With spirits of ethereal birth;
Could thanks in real blessings fall,
I'd pour a deluge on you all.
But fare you well! I mount—I fly!
This, Science, is thy victory!
Hail to a scene sublimely grand!
Hail!—hail Columbia! happy land!
THE ÆRONAUT'S ADDRESS.
Good-bye to you, people of earth,
I am soaring to regions above you;
But much that I know of your worth,
Will ever induce me to love you.
Perhaps I may touch at the moon,
To give your respects as I pass, sirs,
And learn if the spheres are in tune,
Or if they are lighted with gas, sirs.
I am soaring to regions above you;
But much that I know of your worth,
Will ever induce me to love you.
Perhaps I may touch at the moon,
To give your respects as I pass, sirs,
And learn if the spheres are in tune,
Or if they are lighted with gas, sirs.
255
I will measure those mystical things
That encircle the spherule of Saturn,
With Jupiter's belts and his rings,
And draw out a chart for a pattern.
Then take my departure for Mars,
Perhaps I'll look down upon Venus;
Then mount to the galaxy stars,
And leave all the planets between us.
That encircle the spherule of Saturn,
With Jupiter's belts and his rings,
And draw out a chart for a pattern.
Then take my departure for Mars,
Perhaps I'll look down upon Venus;
Then mount to the galaxy stars,
And leave all the planets between us.
The light, milky-way I will trace,
Then, while I am travelling from it,
Through unexplored regions of space,
I'll seize on the tail of a comet.
The zodiac circle I'll run,
Examine the twelve constellations,
Then count all the spots on the sun,
And extinguish the north corruscations.
Then, while I am travelling from it,
Through unexplored regions of space,
I'll seize on the tail of a comet.
The zodiac circle I'll run,
Examine the twelve constellations,
Then count all the spots on the sun,
And extinguish the north corruscations.
I then shall descend to the earth,
And visit the chief of the Tartars,
Ascertain what his turban is worth,
And the cost of his favorite's garters.
At China, I think I'll take tea,
At India some fruit I'll regale on,
And then over mountain and sea,
To Africa fearlessly sail on.
And visit the chief of the Tartars,
Ascertain what his turban is worth,
And the cost of his favorite's garters.
At China, I think I'll take tea,
At India some fruit I'll regale on,
And then over mountain and sea,
To Africa fearlessly sail on.
I'll visit the French at Algiers,
Where the lily now flourishes solus,
And wipe away Portugal's tears,
By giving Don Miguel a bolus.
While Ferdinand vainly bewails
The loss of his Mexican mines, sirs,
I will call upon Charles at Versailles,
To taste of his venison and wines, sirs.
Where the lily now flourishes solus,
256
By giving Don Miguel a bolus.
While Ferdinand vainly bewails
The loss of his Mexican mines, sirs,
I will call upon Charles at Versailles,
To taste of his venison and wines, sirs.
With William the Fourth I will waste
No language of sycophant flattery,
But cross the Atlantic in haste,
And safely return to the battery.
Then, huzza! for the sons of the West,
The country of freedom and honor,
A home for the brave and opprest,
May blessings be lavished upon her.
No language of sycophant flattery,
But cross the Atlantic in haste,
And safely return to the battery.
Then, huzza! for the sons of the West,
The country of freedom and honor,
A home for the brave and opprest,
May blessings be lavished upon her.
AN ÆRONAUT'S FAREWELL.
A brief farewell to one and all,
I can no more delay,
This huge distended silken ball,
Must bear me hence away.
And while I fearlessly soar afar,
Through trackless fields of blue,
Columbia's banner o'er my car,
Shall wave my brief adieu.
I can no more delay,
This huge distended silken ball,
Must bear me hence away.
And while I fearlessly soar afar,
Through trackless fields of blue,
Columbia's banner o'er my car,
Shall wave my brief adieu.
257
Accept my thanks for favors past,
My hope for more to come,
For this short flight is not my last,
If I get safely home.
Your favor is my polar star,
My heart will point to you,
As from my little wicker ear
I wave you all adieu.
My hope for more to come,
For this short flight is not my last,
If I get safely home.
Your favor is my polar star,
My heart will point to you,
As from my little wicker ear
I wave you all adieu.
My chariot waits—and yet awhile
I fondly linger nigh,
To catch another cheering smile
From Beauty's sparkling eye.
A thousand thanks—my buoyant heart,
Expands with transport new—
Now—now I'm ready to depart,
The cord is cut—adieu!
I fondly linger nigh,
To catch another cheering smile
From Beauty's sparkling eye.
A thousand thanks—my buoyant heart,
Expands with transport new—
Now—now I'm ready to depart,
The cord is cut—adieu!
NEWSPAPERS.
A PARAPHRASE ON PART OF COWPER'S TASK.
'T is pleasant, through the loopholes of retreat,
(So Cowper sang, in strains divinely sweet,)
To peep at such a world; and as it turns,
Survey at ease, the globe and its concerns;
To seem advanced to more than mortal height,
With this vast spherule rolling in your sight;
To view the noisy Babel from a cloud,
Behold the bustle, and not feel the crowd;
To hear the mighty din she sends around,
At a safe distance, where the dying sound
Fall a soft murmur on the uninjured ear,
And thus to scan the whole without a fear.
The sound of war, if such a scene you view,
Loses its terrors ere it reaches you;
And desolation, caused by hostile arms,
Excites your pity, grieves, but not alarms;
Perhaps you mourn the avarice and pride
That render man a cruel fratricide;
And at the echo of those thunders start,
In which he speaks the language of his heart;
Perhaps you wonder as it floats around,
And sigh, but never tremble, at the sound.
(So Cowper sang, in strains divinely sweet,)
To peep at such a world; and as it turns,
Survey at ease, the globe and its concerns;
To seem advanced to more than mortal height,
258
To view the noisy Babel from a cloud,
Behold the bustle, and not feel the crowd;
To hear the mighty din she sends around,
At a safe distance, where the dying sound
Fall a soft murmur on the uninjured ear,
And thus to scan the whole without a fear.
The sound of war, if such a scene you view,
Loses its terrors ere it reaches you;
And desolation, caused by hostile arms,
Excites your pity, grieves, but not alarms;
Perhaps you mourn the avarice and pride
That render man a cruel fratricide;
And at the echo of those thunders start,
In which he speaks the language of his heart;
Perhaps you wonder as it floats around,
And sigh, but never tremble, at the sound.
As roves the bee, when vernal flowers expand,
So roves the traveller from land to land,
Where manners, customs, policy, and scenes,
Pay contributions to the stores he gleans;
Still like the bee, in Summer's blushing prime,
He sucks intelligence from every clime;
And on returning to his native shores,
He thus spreads out his hoarded, honied stores,
And welcomes all—a rich repast for you,
For, as he travelled, you can travel too;
Ascend his topmast, through his piercing eyes
Behold new countries in the distance rise:
With sympathizing feeling, tread his deck,
Or cling, in terror, to the midnight wreck!
With kindred heart, you suffer all his woes,
Share his escapes, his comforts, and repose.
Thus may your fancy the great circuit roam,
While (like a dial's index) safe at home.
So roves the traveller from land to land,
Where manners, customs, policy, and scenes,
Pay contributions to the stores he gleans;
Still like the bee, in Summer's blushing prime,
He sucks intelligence from every clime;
And on returning to his native shores,
He thus spreads out his hoarded, honied stores,
And welcomes all—a rich repast for you,
For, as he travelled, you can travel too;
259
Behold new countries in the distance rise:
With sympathizing feeling, tread his deck,
Or cling, in terror, to the midnight wreck!
With kindred heart, you suffer all his woes,
Share his escapes, his comforts, and repose.
Thus may your fancy the great circuit roam,
While (like a dial's index) safe at home.
THE ZODIAC.
Dear Julia—Philosophers gravely assert
That our beautiful world is a spherule of dirt,
That rolls, in a circuit, through regions of space,
And passes, each year, through the very same place;
That while it turns over, by day or by night,
We scarcely know whether we're standing upright;
But, yet, that our love for it sticks us so fast,
We can not fall off—but adhere to the last.
That our beautiful world is a spherule of dirt,
That rolls, in a circuit, through regions of space,
And passes, each year, through the very same place;
That while it turns over, by day or by night,
We scarcely know whether we're standing upright;
But, yet, that our love for it sticks us so fast,
We can not fall off—but adhere to the last.
The truth of such doctrine I will not dispute,
Because I'm engaged in another pursuit;
Besides, since I first crept about this machine,
Such queer topsy-turvy manœuvres I've seen,
That twenty to one (as the learned have said)
But mortals are, half the time, heels over head.
Yet, still, as a poet, you known, I am bound
To believe that the sun always travels around
The turnpike of heaven, in chariot of fire,
Drawn rapidly onward by steeds that ne'er tire,
Nor stop to refresh, though they pass, as they fly,
The signs of a dozen fine inns, in the sky.
Because I'm engaged in another pursuit;
Besides, since I first crept about this machine,
Such queer topsy-turvy manœuvres I've seen,
260
But mortals are, half the time, heels over head.
Yet, still, as a poet, you known, I am bound
To believe that the sun always travels around
The turnpike of heaven, in chariot of fire,
Drawn rapidly onward by steeds that ne'er tire,
Nor stop to refresh, though they pass, as they fly,
The signs of a dozen fine inns, in the sky.
When last I addressed you, this bright charioteer
Was galloping on in his brilliant career,
The steeds from their nostrils still vomiting flame,
As past the next stage-house they rapidly came.
Poor Phœbus in vain might have thirsted for wine,
For nothing but water appeared on the sign:
So onward he drove in the bright, starry zone,
And left the cold, cheerless Aquarius alone.
Was galloping on in his brilliant career,
The steeds from their nostrils still vomiting flame,
As past the next stage-house they rapidly came.
Poor Phœbus in vain might have thirsted for wine,
For nothing but water appeared on the sign:
So onward he drove in the bright, starry zone,
And left the cold, cheerless Aquarius alone.
The scaly star, Pisces, soon greeted his eye,
His old stopping-place, if the ancients do n't lie,
Who counted this stage as the last on his route,
Its sign is so tempting—a fine salmon trout.
But soon the fierce steeds left it far in the rear,
For another, that promised some mutton, was near;
That Ram which had once a fair rider upon 't,
And let her fall plump in the famed Hellespont;
The crooked-horn Aries, whose rich golden fleece
Was carried by Jason, in triumph, to Greece,
Was the sign that invited the driver to bait,
But nothing, it seems, could induce him to wait;
A crack of his whip, and the mettlesome steeds
Start forward like lightning, while Aries recedes.
His old stopping-place, if the ancients do n't lie,
Who counted this stage as the last on his route,
Its sign is so tempting—a fine salmon trout.
But soon the fierce steeds left it far in the rear,
For another, that promised some mutton, was near;
That Ram which had once a fair rider upon 't,
And let her fall plump in the famed Hellespont;
The crooked-horn Aries, whose rich golden fleece
Was carried by Jason, in triumph, to Greece,
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But nothing, it seems, could induce him to wait;
A crack of his whip, and the mettlesome steeds
Start forward like lightning, while Aries recedes.
But Phœbus, 't is said, when he saw the next sign,
Was almost determined to stop and to dine;
For the golden-horned Bull, which so gallantly bore
The lovely Europa to Crete's happy shore,
Invitingly promised, for hunger's relief,
A fine, smoking sirloin of English roast beef.
Was almost determined to stop and to dine;
For the golden-horned Bull, which so gallantly bore
The lovely Europa to Crete's happy shore,
Invitingly promised, for hunger's relief,
A fine, smoking sirloin of English roast beef.
Apollo, however, regardless of inns,
Drove onward, nor even accosted the Twins,
Those famous Tyndarian brothers, that dwell,
By changes alternate, in heaven or hell;
The comrades of Jason in winning the fleece,
Whose smiles, it is said, lull the tempest to peace,
If sailors sincerely their favors invoke,
To save from the wreck which the billows have broke.
Behind were the Crab and the Lion afar,
As well as the Virgin, Erigone's star;
Astrea's bright balance now glowed on his sight,
It trembled—he threw in a handful of light,
And finding the darkness just equalled the day,
He whipped up his horses, and posted away.
The Scorpion and Centaur he rapidly passed,
And Pan, his old friend, he saluted at last;
For his steeds, at the moment these verses were wrote,
Were galloping up to the sign of the Goat.
In pure, native English, your minstrel would say,
That another New Year is commencing to-day.
Drove onward, nor even accosted the Twins,
Those famous Tyndarian brothers, that dwell,
By changes alternate, in heaven or hell;
The comrades of Jason in winning the fleece,
Whose smiles, it is said, lull the tempest to peace,
If sailors sincerely their favors invoke,
To save from the wreck which the billows have broke.
Behind were the Crab and the Lion afar,
As well as the Virgin, Erigone's star;
Astrea's bright balance now glowed on his sight,
It trembled—he threw in a handful of light,
And finding the darkness just equalled the day,
He whipped up his horses, and posted away.
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And Pan, his old friend, he saluted at last;
For his steeds, at the moment these verses were wrote,
Were galloping up to the sign of the Goat.
In pure, native English, your minstrel would say,
That another New Year is commencing to-day.
Dear, Julia, may blessings attend its return,
While life's little taper continues to burn;
And then, when the last welcome summons you hear,
May you wake to a happy, thrice happy New Year.
While life's little taper continues to burn;
And then, when the last welcome summons you hear,
May you wake to a happy, thrice happy New Year.
THE SEASONS.
Julia—each season of the changeful year,
In every stage of fleeting Time's career,
Comes with a wreath of joy around it thrown,
Some bliss, peculiar to itself alone;
For Heaven, throughout creation's wondrous plan,
Has had but one end—the happiness of man.
In every stage of fleeting Time's career,
Comes with a wreath of joy around it thrown,
Some bliss, peculiar to itself alone;
For Heaven, throughout creation's wondrous plan,
Has had but one end—the happiness of man.
Pregnant with buds and flowers, the Spring appears,
Like a young bride, arrayed in smiles and tears;
Then sweetest odors float on every breeze,
And new-made liveries clothe the sturdy trees;
Each bush and shrub a verdant garb assumes,
The apple blossoms, and the lilac blooms;
A thousand flowerets in the meadow spring,
And feathered choirs their grateful anthems sing;
While valleys, hills, and woods, in rich array,
Hail, with delight the bright return of May.
Like a young bride, arrayed in smiles and tears;
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And new-made liveries clothe the sturdy trees;
Each bush and shrub a verdant garb assumes,
The apple blossoms, and the lilac blooms;
A thousand flowerets in the meadow spring,
And feathered choirs their grateful anthems sing;
While valleys, hills, and woods, in rich array,
Hail, with delight the bright return of May.
Then Summer comes, the noontide of the year,
When the sun gallops in his full career;
She comes—her brows with yellow wheat-ears crowned,
Her laughing face by heat and toil embrowned;
She comes with full and bounteous hand to bring
All that was promised by the hopeful Spring.
'T is then the long-protracted, sultry day,
Perfects the embryon blossoms on each spray;
Bids the young fruit with richest juices teem,
And blush and ripen in the solar beam;
Then scarlet strawberries court the eager taste,
And luscious melons yield a sweet repast;
While nectarious berries of each varied dye,
On every bush and bramble greet the eye.
When the sun gallops in his full career;
She comes—her brows with yellow wheat-ears crowned,
Her laughing face by heat and toil embrowned;
She comes with full and bounteous hand to bring
All that was promised by the hopeful Spring.
'T is then the long-protracted, sultry day,
Perfects the embryon blossoms on each spray;
Bids the young fruit with richest juices teem,
And blush and ripen in the solar beam;
Then scarlet strawberries court the eager taste,
And luscious melons yield a sweet repast;
While nectarious berries of each varied dye,
On every bush and bramble greet the eye.
Next, temperate Autumn comes upon the stage,
The sober mean 'twixt vigorous youth and age;
The evening twilight of the fading year,
When objects all in mellowest tints appear;
When feathered songster cease their tuneful notes,
And liveried groves appear with yellow coats;
The fruit-trees then, with golden burdens bend,
And clustering grapes from shadowy vines impend;
Pomona's treasures lie in heaps around,
Scattered in rich profusion on the ground;
From juicy apples, tortured in the mill,
Sweet streams of grateful beverage distil;
While ponderous wagons every field displays,
Groaning beneath their loads of ripened maize.
The sober mean 'twixt vigorous youth and age;
The evening twilight of the fading year,
264
When feathered songster cease their tuneful notes,
And liveried groves appear with yellow coats;
The fruit-trees then, with golden burdens bend,
And clustering grapes from shadowy vines impend;
Pomona's treasures lie in heaps around,
Scattered in rich profusion on the ground;
From juicy apples, tortured in the mill,
Sweet streams of grateful beverage distil;
While ponderous wagons every field displays,
Groaning beneath their loads of ripened maize.
Winter succeeds, with snow-wreaths on his brow—
Julia, I feel his icy fingers now!
Winter succeeds—the midnight of the year,
And all the fields are barren, cold, and drear;
He binds the streams and lakes in silver chains,
And hoary frost has candied all the plains;
The liveried trees their yellow coats forego,
And shivering stand, in shrouds of frozen snow;
While the chilled sap leaves succorless the shoot,
And shrinks below, to cheer the dying root.
Julia, I feel his icy fingers now!
Winter succeeds—the midnight of the year,
And all the fields are barren, cold, and drear;
He binds the streams and lakes in silver chains,
And hoary frost has candied all the plains;
The liveried trees their yellow coats forego,
And shivering stand, in shrouds of frozen snow;
While the chilled sap leaves succorless the shoot,
And shrinks below, to cheer the dying root.
Nor is stern Winter's icy sceptre swayed
O'er sylvan scenes alone—his shafts invade
Our splendid city, too—and every street
Is rendered cheerless by his pointed sleet;
For every arrow from the centaur's bow,
Is tipped with ice, and feathered, too, with snow.
The Battery, now, each verdant charm has lost,
And e'en the Park is silvered o'er with frost;
Vauxhall and Castle-Garden, late so gay,
Where night gave place to artificial day,
Are now deserted—even Chatham mourns,
And all must droop till gentle Spring returns.
O'er sylvan scenes alone—his shafts invade
Our splendid city, too—and every street
Is rendered cheerless by his pointed sleet;
265
Is tipped with ice, and feathered, too, with snow.
The Battery, now, each verdant charm has lost,
And e'en the Park is silvered o'er with frost;
Vauxhall and Castle-Garden, late so gay,
Where night gave place to artificial day,
Are now deserted—even Chatham mourns,
And all must droop till gentle Spring returns.
But still, amid his tempest's rude alarms,
Still Winter brings his own redeeming charms;
Pleasures to no preceding season known,
Delights peculiar to himself alone.
His gelid breath (a healthful vapor, which
Screws up this living lyre to concert-pitch)
Enriches every fluid, and preserves
An equal tension of the chords and nerves.
Elastic as the air, our spirits soar,
By heat and languor now depressed no more;
While health and vigor wanton through our veins,
And drive each azure demon from the brains.
Still Winter brings his own redeeming charms;
Pleasures to no preceding season known,
Delights peculiar to himself alone.
His gelid breath (a healthful vapor, which
Screws up this living lyre to concert-pitch)
Enriches every fluid, and preserves
An equal tension of the chords and nerves.
Elastic as the air, our spirits soar,
By heat and languor now depressed no more;
While health and vigor wanton through our veins,
And drive each azure demon from the brains.
But that blest space between the day and night,
A winter's evening, give the most delight;
Sacred to friendship, love, and social mirth,
When kindred souls surround the blazing hearth,
Where wine, and wit, and sentiment abound,
And modest jests and repartees go round.
Or if the same domestic, happy group,
Adjourn to hear our new Italian troupe;
Or gaze intensely on the tragic scene,
When Conway, Cooper, Hamblin, Booth, or Kean,
Pours a bright flood of wonder o'er their minds,
And in his train the captive stranger binds;—
Whether they join in laughing with the pit,
At Barnes's humor, or at Hilson's wit;
Tremble at base Iago's cruel hate,
Or mourn for lovely Belvidera's fate;
Or weep, at Chatham, for poor Blanche's grief,
Inflicted by Clan Alpine's desperate chief;
And then, in pleased and breathless silence, hear
The requiem chanted o'er his silent bier;
Or with the brave Fitz-James, admiring view,
Fair Ellen guide her little frail canoe;
Or view the Ethiop, from the Turkish tomb,
Rise like a troubled spirit through the gloom;
Or should they mingle in the mazy dance,
Where hearts bound quick at beauty's tender glance,
'T is still domestic bliss, where'er they roam,
For every place, to kindred hearts, is home.
A winter's evening, give the most delight;
Sacred to friendship, love, and social mirth,
When kindred souls surround the blazing hearth,
Where wine, and wit, and sentiment abound,
And modest jests and repartees go round.
266
Adjourn to hear our new Italian troupe;
Or gaze intensely on the tragic scene,
When Conway, Cooper, Hamblin, Booth, or Kean,
Pours a bright flood of wonder o'er their minds,
And in his train the captive stranger binds;—
Whether they join in laughing with the pit,
At Barnes's humor, or at Hilson's wit;
Tremble at base Iago's cruel hate,
Or mourn for lovely Belvidera's fate;
Or weep, at Chatham, for poor Blanche's grief,
Inflicted by Clan Alpine's desperate chief;
And then, in pleased and breathless silence, hear
The requiem chanted o'er his silent bier;
Or with the brave Fitz-James, admiring view,
Fair Ellen guide her little frail canoe;
Or view the Ethiop, from the Turkish tomb,
Rise like a troubled spirit through the gloom;
Or should they mingle in the mazy dance,
Where hearts bound quick at beauty's tender glance,
'T is still domestic bliss, where'er they roam,
For every place, to kindred hearts, is home.
But Winter's brightest joy, in towns like this,
Is yet unsung—I mean that scene of bliss
To which our annual holydays give birth,
A foretaste of elysium here on earth!
That period to generous hearts so dear,
That little week of joy that shuts the year,
And brings to light the bright auspicious morn,
When all unite to hail a New Year born!
Is yet unsung—I mean that scene of bliss
To which our annual holydays give birth,
267
That period to generous hearts so dear,
That little week of joy that shuts the year,
And brings to light the bright auspicious morn,
When all unite to hail a New Year born!
In all my wanderings through this vale of tears,
From infancy, to manhood's riper years,
Whatever pains assailed, or griefs oppressed,
Christmas and New Year always saw me blest!
A lengthened absence o'er, how pleasant, then,
The friends I dearest love to meet again!
Grasp the warm hand, or share the fond embrace,
And see new smiles lit up in every face!
'T was Christmas eve! the supper board was spread,
The fire blazed high, with logs of hickory fed;
The candles, too, unusual lustre lent,
Candles expressly made for this event.
Old tales were told, the cheerful glass went round,
While peals of laughter made the cot resound,
A thousand welcomes hailed the truant boy,
And swift the moments flew on wings of joy;
Till (as they thought, too soon) the hour of prayer
Bade the young urchins to their beds repair.
But first the stocking, from each little leg,
Must be suspended to a hook or peg,
That Santa Claus, who travels all the night,
Might, in the dark, bestow his favors right;
These rites observed, they take a parting kiss,
And go to dream of morning's promised bliss!
Thus did a week of festive pleasures roll,
Till New Year's happy morning crowned the whole.
From infancy, to manhood's riper years,
Whatever pains assailed, or griefs oppressed,
Christmas and New Year always saw me blest!
A lengthened absence o'er, how pleasant, then,
The friends I dearest love to meet again!
Grasp the warm hand, or share the fond embrace,
And see new smiles lit up in every face!
'T was Christmas eve! the supper board was spread,
The fire blazed high, with logs of hickory fed;
The candles, too, unusual lustre lent,
Candles expressly made for this event.
Old tales were told, the cheerful glass went round,
While peals of laughter made the cot resound,
A thousand welcomes hailed the truant boy,
And swift the moments flew on wings of joy;
Till (as they thought, too soon) the hour of prayer
Bade the young urchins to their beds repair.
But first the stocking, from each little leg,
Must be suspended to a hook or peg,
That Santa Claus, who travels all the night,
Might, in the dark, bestow his favors right;
268
And go to dream of morning's promised bliss!
Thus did a week of festive pleasures roll,
Till New Year's happy morning crowned the whole.
But though long past are days and joys so dear,
Others as sweet still crown each fleeting year;
E'en brighter pleasures, now, 't is mine to prove,
In Julia's friendship, and my Lydia's love.
While our gay prattlers, innocent as young,
Re-act the drama here so coldly sung,
Accept this token of my pure regard,
The Seasons, sung by an immortal bard,
The peerless Thompson; hear his rural strains,
And you'll forget that blustering winter reigns;
Accept this tribute of a heart sincere,
And be you happy many a future year.
Others as sweet still crown each fleeting year;
E'en brighter pleasures, now, 't is mine to prove,
In Julia's friendship, and my Lydia's love.
While our gay prattlers, innocent as young,
Re-act the drama here so coldly sung,
Accept this token of my pure regard,
The Seasons, sung by an immortal bard,
The peerless Thompson; hear his rural strains,
And you'll forget that blustering winter reigns;
Accept this tribute of a heart sincere,
And be you happy many a future year.
269
THE FIREMAN,
SPOKEN BY MRS. DUFF, FOR THE FIREMEN'S BENEFIT, JANUARY 24, 1827.
Hoarse wintry blasts a solemn requiem sung
To the departed day—upon whose bier
The velvet pall of midnight had been flung,
And nature mourned through one wide hemisphere.
Silence and darkness held their cheerless sway,
Save in the haunts of riotous excess;
And half the world in dreamy slumbers lay,
Lost in the maze of sweet forgetfulness.
To the departed day—upon whose bier
The velvet pall of midnight had been flung,
And nature mourned through one wide hemisphere.
Silence and darkness held their cheerless sway,
Save in the haunts of riotous excess;
And half the world in dreamy slumbers lay,
Lost in the maze of sweet forgetfulness.
When lo! upon the startled ear
There broke a sound, so dread and drear,
As, like a sudden peal of thunder,
Burst the bands of sleep asunder,
And filled a thousand throbbing hearts with fear.
Hark! the faithful watchman's cry
Speaks a conflagration nigh!
See! you glow upon the sky
Confirms the fearful tale!
The deep-mouthed bells, with rapid tone,
Combine to make the tidings known;
Affrighted silence now has flown.
And sound of terror freight the chilly gale!
There broke a sound, so dread and drear,
As, like a sudden peal of thunder,
Burst the bands of sleep asunder,
And filled a thousand throbbing hearts with fear.
Hark! the faithful watchman's cry
Speaks a conflagration nigh!
See! you glow upon the sky
Confirms the fearful tale!
270
Combine to make the tidings known;
Affrighted silence now has flown.
And sound of terror freight the chilly gale!
At the first note of this discordant din,
The gallant Fireman from his slumber starts,
Reckless of toil or danger, if he win
The tributary meed of grateful hearts.
From pavement rough, or frozen ground,
His engine's rattling wheels resound,
And soon, before his eyes,
The lurid flames, with horrid glare,
Mingled with murky vapor, rise
In wreathy folds, upon the air,
And veil the frowning skies!
The gallant Fireman from his slumber starts,
Reckless of toil or danger, if he win
The tributary meed of grateful hearts.
From pavement rough, or frozen ground,
His engine's rattling wheels resound,
And soon, before his eyes,
The lurid flames, with horrid glare,
Mingled with murky vapor, rise
In wreathy folds, upon the air,
And veil the frowning skies!
Sudden, a shriek assails his heart!
A female shriek! so piercing wild
As makes his very life-blood start—
“My child!—Almighty God!—My child!”
A female shriek! so piercing wild
As makes his very life-blood start—
“My child!—Almighty God!—My child!”
He hears—and 'gainst the tottering wall
The ponderous ladder rears,
While blazing fragments round him fall,
And crackling sounds assail his ears!
His sinewy arm, with one rude crash,
Hurls to the earth the opposing sash,
The ponderous ladder rears,
While blazing fragments round him fall,
And crackling sounds assail his ears!
His sinewy arm, with one rude crash,
Hurls to the earth the opposing sash,
271
And, heedless of the startling din,
Though smoky volumes round him roll,
The mother's shriek has pierced his soul!
See!—See!—He plunges in!
Though smoky volumes round him roll,
The mother's shriek has pierced his soul!
See!—See!—He plunges in!
The admiring crowd, with hopes and fears,
In breathless expectation stand!
When lo! the daring youth appears,
Hailed by a burst of warm, ecstatic cheers,
Bearing the child, triumphant, in his hand!
In breathless expectation stand!
When lo! the daring youth appears,
Hailed by a burst of warm, ecstatic cheers,
Bearing the child, triumphant, in his hand!
NEW YORK.
Hail! happy city! where the arts convene
And busy commerce animates the scene;
Where taste, and elegance, with wealth combine,
To perfect art, in every bright design;
Where splendid mansions that attract the eye,
Can boast, what opulence could never buy,
The generous wish that springs to Virtue's goal,
The liberal mind, the high, aspiring soul;
The freeborn wish that warms the patriot's breast,
The chaste refinements that make beauty blest:
These are the charms that give Industry, here,
A pleasing relish, and a hope sincere;
And while they bid the sighs of anguish cease,
Strew Labor's pillow with the flowers of peace.
And busy commerce animates the scene;
Where taste, and elegance, with wealth combine,
To perfect art, in every bright design;
Where splendid mansions that attract the eye,
Can boast, what opulence could never buy,
The generous wish that springs to Virtue's goal,
The liberal mind, the high, aspiring soul;
The freeborn wish that warms the patriot's breast,
The chaste refinements that make beauty blest:
These are the charms that give Industry, here,
A pleasing relish, and a hope sincere;
And while they bid the sighs of anguish cease,
Strew Labor's pillow with the flowers of peace.
272
When the sad exile, freed from ocean's storm,
First treads our shore, what hopes his bosom warm!
For welcome meets him with an honest smile,
And kind attentions every care beguile.
No dread of tyrants here his peace annoys,
No fears of fetters mar his bosom's joys;
No dark suspicions on his steps attend,
He only needs one, here, to find a friend;
He finds, at once, a refuge and a home,
Nor longer mourns the cause that bade him roam.
First treads our shore, what hopes his bosom warm!
For welcome meets him with an honest smile,
And kind attentions every care beguile.
No dread of tyrants here his peace annoys,
No fears of fetters mar his bosom's joys;
No dark suspicions on his steps attend,
He only needs one, here, to find a friend;
He finds, at once, a refuge and a home,
Nor longer mourns the cause that bade him roam.
Where'er he turns, on every side are traced
The marks of genius, and enlightened taste;
He sees in every portico and dome,
The architectural grace of Greece and Rome;
And finds, in our unrivalled promenades,
Charms that may vie with Athen's classic shades.
That rural scene that skirts the loveliest bay
That ever sparkled in the solar ray;
Where the rude engines of relentless Mars,
Once frowned, in ranks, beneath Columbia's stars,
But which have since for ever yielded place
To fashion, beauty, elegance, and grace—
That lovely scene first greets the wanderer's eye,
And cheats his bosom of a passing sigh,
So like some spots upon his native shore,
By him, perhaps, to be enjoyed no more!
The marks of genius, and enlightened taste;
He sees in every portico and dome,
The architectural grace of Greece and Rome;
And finds, in our unrivalled promenades,
Charms that may vie with Athen's classic shades.
That rural scene that skirts the loveliest bay
That ever sparkled in the solar ray;
Where the rude engines of relentless Mars,
Once frowned, in ranks, beneath Columbia's stars,
But which have since for ever yielded place
To fashion, beauty, elegance, and grace—
That lovely scene first greets the wanderer's eye,
And cheats his bosom of a passing sigh,
So like some spots upon his native shore,
By him, perhaps, to be enjoyed no more!
273
On either hand, a mighty river glides,
Which here, at length, unite and mingle tides,
Like some fond pair, affianced in the skies,
Whose forms, as yet, ne'er met each other's eyes,
When the auspicious fated moment rolls,
They meet—they love—unite, and mingle souls.
Which here, at length, unite and mingle tides,
Like some fond pair, affianced in the skies,
Whose forms, as yet, ne'er met each other's eyes,
When the auspicious fated moment rolls,
They meet—they love—unite, and mingle souls.
Magnific piles, the monuments of art,
And lofty spires, adorn this splendid mart,
Where Piety erects her sacred shrine,
And pays her homage to the power divine;
Where heaven-born “genius wings his eagle flight,
Rich dew-drops shaking from his wings of light;”
Where Science opens wide his boundless store
Of classic sweets and antiquated lore;
Where freedom, virtue, knowledge, all unite
To make the scene an Eden of delight;
While pulpit, press, and bar, are all combined
To mend the heart, and elevate the mind.
And lofty spires, adorn this splendid mart,
Where Piety erects her sacred shrine,
And pays her homage to the power divine;
Where heaven-born “genius wings his eagle flight,
Rich dew-drops shaking from his wings of light;”
Where Science opens wide his boundless store
Of classic sweets and antiquated lore;
Where freedom, virtue, knowledge, all unite
To make the scene an Eden of delight;
While pulpit, press, and bar, are all combined
To mend the heart, and elevate the mind.
Nor do these mighty engines toil alone,
By other hands the seeds of taste are sown.
The Drama opes its bright, instructive scenes;
Its object use—amusement but the means:
For though the muse resort to fiction's aid,
Fiction is here, but truth in masquerade,
And thousands, who her grave entreaties shun,
Are, by her borrowed smiles, allured and won.
By other hands the seeds of taste are sown.
The Drama opes its bright, instructive scenes;
Its object use—amusement but the means:
For though the muse resort to fiction's aid,
Fiction is here, but truth in masquerade,
And thousands, who her grave entreaties shun,
Are, by her borrowed smiles, allured and won.
274
YALE COLLEGE.
Access is mine, the willing gates unfold,
And Yale's assembled sons mine eyes behold;
Our future statesmen, patriots, bards, divines,
For whom bright Fame the fadeless laurel twines,
And here convened, and in each youthful face
Their rising greatness fancy fain would trace.
Say, are not here some souls that restless burn,
On life's great stage to take an active turn;
To rise, the awful pillars of the state,
And rival ancient Tully in debate?
Some who possess a portion of that flame
That gained our Washington immortal fame?
Others, whose philanthropic bosoms glow
To act like Franklin in relieving wo?
Whose philosophic souls his fame inspires
To wield the thunder and direct its fires;
To soar, on Fancy's wing, through trackless space,
View countless orbs and all their movements trace,
Governed by order and unchanging laws,
And in effects behold the eternal cause?
Some glowing with a Homer's living fire,
Designed to “wake to ecstasy the lyre,”
To bid Columbia's future fame arise,
And rear Parnassus under western skies;
Here fix the temple of the tuneful throng,
And rival Albion's boasted sons of song?
Or are not here some destined yet to shine,
With cloudless lustre, in the desk divine;
To wake the soul, and guide its feeble view
To Him who made, and can its form renew;
Recall the wandering wretch, his course restrain,
And gently lead him to the fold again;
Arouse the careless, and support the weak,
And gospel truths with voice unfaltering speak?
And Yale's assembled sons mine eyes behold;
Our future statesmen, patriots, bards, divines,
For whom bright Fame the fadeless laurel twines,
And here convened, and in each youthful face
Their rising greatness fancy fain would trace.
Say, are not here some souls that restless burn,
On life's great stage to take an active turn;
To rise, the awful pillars of the state,
And rival ancient Tully in debate?
Some who possess a portion of that flame
That gained our Washington immortal fame?
Others, whose philanthropic bosoms glow
To act like Franklin in relieving wo?
Whose philosophic souls his fame inspires
To wield the thunder and direct its fires;
To soar, on Fancy's wing, through trackless space,
View countless orbs and all their movements trace,
Governed by order and unchanging laws,
And in effects behold the eternal cause?
Some glowing with a Homer's living fire,
Designed to “wake to ecstasy the lyre,”
275
And rear Parnassus under western skies;
Here fix the temple of the tuneful throng,
And rival Albion's boasted sons of song?
Or are not here some destined yet to shine,
With cloudless lustre, in the desk divine;
To wake the soul, and guide its feeble view
To Him who made, and can its form renew;
Recall the wandering wretch, his course restrain,
And gently lead him to the fold again;
Arouse the careless, and support the weak,
And gospel truths with voice unfaltering speak?
Hail, sons of Genius! youthful sages, hail!
The glory, pride, support, and boast of Yale;
Your country's ornaments aspire to prove,
And grace the spheres in which you're called to move;
So shall your Alma Mater rise in fame,
And deathless honors decorate her name.
And here the muse bewails her hapless bard,
Whose cruel fate such golden prospects marred,
For Hope once whispered to his ardent breast,
“Thy dearest, fondest wish shall be possessed”—
Unfolded to his view the classic page,
And all its treasures promised ripening age;
Showed Learning's flowery path which led to Fame,
Whose distant temple glittered with his name.
Illusive all!—the phantom all believe,
Though still we know her promises deceive;
Chill penury convinced the wretch too late,
Her words were false, and his a hapless fate.
The glory, pride, support, and boast of Yale;
Your country's ornaments aspire to prove,
And grace the spheres in which you're called to move;
So shall your Alma Mater rise in fame,
And deathless honors decorate her name.
And here the muse bewails her hapless bard,
Whose cruel fate such golden prospects marred,
For Hope once whispered to his ardent breast,
“Thy dearest, fondest wish shall be possessed”—
Unfolded to his view the classic page,
And all its treasures promised ripening age;
Showed Learning's flowery path which led to Fame,
276
Illusive all!—the phantom all believe,
Though still we know her promises deceive;
Chill penury convinced the wretch too late,
Her words were false, and his a hapless fate.
TO MRS. MARY WORTHINGTON MORRIS,
(THE AMIABLE AND BELOVED WIFE OF MY MUCH ESTEEMED FRIEND AND BROTHER-POET GEORGE P. MORRIS.)
The seer of old, whose name I bear,
The prophet who anointed Saul,
Predicted many a bright affair
To grace the rising chief withal:
So I, once gazing on a youth,
From boyhood just emerging,
With genius, talent, virtue, truth,
To acts of greatness urging—
Predicted that an angel's hand,
Would lead him to the promised land.
The prophet who anointed Saul,
Predicted many a bright affair
To grace the rising chief withal:
So I, once gazing on a youth,
From boyhood just emerging,
With genius, talent, virtue, truth,
To acts of greatness urging—
Predicted that an angel's hand,
Would lead him to the promised land.
Years rolled away, and Fame was his,
With blessings of the wise and good;
And while o'er Hope's sad obsequies
Thousands as drooping mourners stood,
He smiled in triumph—for success
With liberal hand had crowned him;
And Beauty's smile, with Love's caress,
In silken cords had bound him.
I saw the angel at his side—
'Twas thou—his counsellor and guide.
With blessings of the wise and good;
And while o'er Hope's sad obsequies
Thousands as drooping mourners stood,
277
With liberal hand had crowned him;
And Beauty's smile, with Love's caress,
In silken cords had bound him.
I saw the angel at his side—
'Twas thou—his counsellor and guide.
New York, May 20th, 1833.
MORNING.
The morn, in purple glories bright,Now burst upon the rear of Night,
Who, gathering up his lurid vest,
Is swift retreating towards the west.
All nature wakes from soft repose,
The flowers their dewy breasts unclose,
Where insect tribes their votaries pay,
And sip their nectared sweets away.
The birds commence their matin song,
And streams of music float along:
The herds their grassy couch forsake,
To crop the mead, or taste the lake,
And all commence the infant day,
As toil or pleasure points the way.
278
TO ARTHUR KEENE THE VOCALIST.
The minstrel of Erin, who charmed us before,
Returns from the warm, sunny isles,
Again on the pure air of Freedom to pour
The strain which elicits her smiles.
A freeman must cherish its witchery long,
Though years have been wasted between;
When erst he awakened dear liberty's song,
The thrill of our rapture was keen;
The current of feeling rolled sweetly along,
And its thrill was delightfully keen.
Returns from the warm, sunny isles,
Again on the pure air of Freedom to pour
The strain which elicits her smiles.
A freeman must cherish its witchery long,
Though years have been wasted between;
When erst he awakened dear liberty's song,
The thrill of our rapture was keen;
The current of feeling rolled sweetly along,
And its thrill was delightfully keen.
He comes from the rich spicy isles of the West,
Unrivalled in science and tone,
And warmly is greeted by those who caressed,
When first his enchantments were known.
Again will he waken his magical lyre,
Again cast a spell o'er the scene,
Till hearts long dejected will kindle with fire,
And confess that the rapture is keen.
Oh, his are the tones which can feeling inspire,
And its thrill is delightfully keen .
Unrivalled in science and tone,
And warmly is greeted by those who caressed,
When first his enchantments were known.
Again will he waken his magical lyre,
Again cast a spell o'er the scene,
Till hearts long dejected will kindle with fire,
And confess that the rapture is keen.
Oh, his are the tones which can feeling inspire,
And its thrill is delightfully keen .
279
THREE IMPROMPTUS ON THE ROOM IN WHICH SHAKESPEARE WAS BORN.
Here wast thou born! Immortal Shakespeare! here!
“No matter where!”—thy fame is just as dear
To freemen on the mighty Hudson's side
As where the Avon's crystal waters glide:—
No town, no realm, no hemisphere can claim
A bard like thee, of universal fame!—
As ancient Bethlehem had sure blasphemed,
To claim the glory of a world redeemed!
“No matter where!”—thy fame is just as dear
To freemen on the mighty Hudson's side
As where the Avon's crystal waters glide:—
No town, no realm, no hemisphere can claim
A bard like thee, of universal fame!—
As ancient Bethlehem had sure blasphemed,
To claim the glory of a world redeemed!
This little room the place of Shakespeare's birth!
Of him whose deathless glory fills the earth!
Perish the fiction!—that immortal mind,
By walls nor limits could not be confined:—
'T was born in Heaven, and merely paused awhile,
To take a robe of flesh from Britain's isle.
Of him whose deathless glory fills the earth!
Perish the fiction!—that immortal mind,
By walls nor limits could not be confined:—
'T was born in Heaven, and merely paused awhile,
To take a robe of flesh from Britain's isle.
Born in this room!—that I deny:—
I'd life and honor pawn,
That one like him, who can not die,
Could never have been born!
I'd life and honor pawn,
That one like him, who can not die,
Could never have been born!
280
CRITICS.
Who seeks for spots in Sol, must gazeThrough mediums that obstruct his rays;
So jealous envy's jaundiced eye,
Hides beauties, trivial faults to spy.
We own our work has some defects,
'Tis what each candid mind expects;
But has it marks of taste and talents?
In mercy let that strike the balance.
TO MRS. --- ON HER EMBARKING FOR HAVRE.
Lady, we part—I do not say farewell!
So cold a word my heart will not allow;
'Tis breathed too often when no bosoms swell
With such emotions as oppress me now;
For I remember well when first we met,
And note the years we since have seen depart,
By acts of kindness I can ne'er forget,
Graved deeply on the tablets of my heart.
So cold a word my heart will not allow;
'Tis breathed too often when no bosoms swell
With such emotions as oppress me now;
For I remember well when first we met,
And note the years we since have seen depart,
By acts of kindness I can ne'er forget,
Graved deeply on the tablets of my heart.
281
This monitor ne'er sleeps; but I've another,
Who hourly breathes her grateful prayers for thee;
For kindness to my children—it is their mother,
Whose blessings will attend thee on the sea.
She prays to Him who stilled the boisterous wave
Of Galilee, and hushed the tempest wild;
She prays that His kind providence may save
The widowed mother and her darling child.
Who hourly breathes her grateful prayers for thee;
For kindness to my children—it is their mother,
Whose blessings will attend thee on the sea.
She prays to Him who stilled the boisterous wave
Of Galilee, and hushed the tempest wild;
She prays that His kind providence may save
The widowed mother and her darling child.
Lady, we part—and here thy friends are doomed
To mourn in tears thy absence for awhile;
But not with hopeless grief, for 't is presumed,
A happy meeting yet will light our smile.
Go, then, where love invites thee—Gallia fair,
Land of the vine and sweet perennial flowers;
Thy children's fond embrace awaits thee there;
Receive them, then, and fly again to ours.
To mourn in tears thy absence for awhile;
But not with hopeless grief, for 't is presumed,
A happy meeting yet will light our smile.
Go, then, where love invites thee—Gallia fair,
Land of the vine and sweet perennial flowers;
Thy children's fond embrace awaits thee there;
Receive them, then, and fly again to ours.
No prayers can shield thee from each treach'rous gale,
Or were this trifle blest with magic power,
Thy venturous bark should have a prosperous sail,
While memory wakened every lonely hour—
Recalling thoughts with us again to dwell,
When rough old ocean turbulently raves—
With us who feel, but can not say farewell!
To those we love upon the stormy wave.
Or were this trifle blest with magic power,
Thy venturous bark should have a prosperous sail,
While memory wakened every lonely hour—
Recalling thoughts with us again to dwell,
When rough old ocean turbulently raves—
With us who feel, but can not say farewell!
To those we love upon the stormy wave.
282
TO MY FRIEND, MR. E. PARMLY,
ON THE MORNING OF HIS DEPARTURE FOR EUROPE, JULY 8TH, 1824.
When, on ebon car advancing,
Mellow eve resumes her sway,
While on rippling waters dancing,
Brightly sparkles Cynthia's ray,
Freed from languid day's dominion,
Hearts are light,
Eyes are bright,
Music playing,
Zephyrs straying,
Fan the groves with balmy pinion;
Then will I remember thee,
Wilt thou, then, too, think of me?
Mellow eve resumes her sway,
While on rippling waters dancing,
Brightly sparkles Cynthia's ray,
Freed from languid day's dominion,
Hearts are light,
Eyes are bright,
Music playing,
Zephyrs straying,
Fan the groves with balmy pinion;
Then will I remember thee,
Wilt thou, then, too, think of me?
When through sheets of fleecy vapor,
Glows the zenith's starry dome;
When the glow-worm lights her taper,
To allure her rover home;
While pale Avarice counts his treasure,
Lovers meet,
Moments sweet,
Vows renewing,
Doubts subduing,
'T is the hour of purest pleasure;
Then will I remember thee,
Then bestow one thought on me.
Glows the zenith's starry dome;
When the glow-worm lights her taper,
To allure her rover home;
While pale Avarice counts his treasure,
283
Moments sweet,
Vows renewing,
Doubts subduing,
'T is the hour of purest pleasure;
Then will I remember thee,
Then bestow one thought on me.
TO THEODORE S. FAY,
ON HIS DEPARTURE FOR EUROPE.
The sails are unfurled, and the anchor apeak,
The pilot is now at the wheel,
Adieu! we must lose thee! but words are too weak
To express the emotions we feel!
May fresh western breezes, propitiously fair,
Thy gallant bark safely propel,
While we will invoke, in each soul-breathing prayer,
A blessing upon thee—farewell!
The pilot is now at the wheel,
Adieu! we must lose thee! but words are too weak
To express the emotions we feel!
May fresh western breezes, propitiously fair,
Thy gallant bark safely propel,
While we will invoke, in each soul-breathing prayer,
A blessing upon thee—farewell!
Far, far from thy home, and from liberty's clime,
To the land of the graces you hie,
Where vales of enchantment, and mountains sublime,
Delight and astonish the eye.
Where genius and taste, and the sweetest of arts,
In classical beauty excel;
But ah! wilt thou find such affectionate hearts
As those which now bid thee—farewell!
To the land of the graces you hie,
Where vales of enchantment, and mountains sublime,
Delight and astonish the eye.
284
In classical beauty excel;
But ah! wilt thou find such affectionate hearts
As those which now bid thee—farewell!
Then, music and love, to the light-flitting hours,
The plumage of paradise lend;
And, sporting with beauty in balm-breathing bowers,
Will smilingly welcome our friend.
But ah! can their witcheries ever impart
A joy like the conjugal spell,
Which she, who attends thee, has laid on thy heart?
We know that heart better—farewell!
The plumage of paradise lend;
And, sporting with beauty in balm-breathing bowers,
Will smilingly welcome our friend.
But ah! can their witcheries ever impart
A joy like the conjugal spell,
Which she, who attends thee, has laid on thy heart?
We know that heart better—farewell!
For her, and for thee, we shall blessings invoke,
And if storms on the ocean assail,
May He, who to Galilee's billows once spoke,
Soon silence the voice of the gale.
And roseate health, as she lights up the cheek,
Each care from your hearts shall dispel;
And, oh! when possessed of the blessing you seek,
Return to our bosom—farewell!
And if storms on the ocean assail,
May He, who to Galilee's billows once spoke,
Soon silence the voice of the gale.
And roseate health, as she lights up the cheek,
Each care from your hearts shall dispel;
And, oh! when possessed of the blessing you seek,
Return to our bosom—farewell!
285
THE PAST.
How fleet is time!—the little recent year
Seems like a moment that was scarcely here
Before 't was wasted! Time still onward flies,
Swift as a swallow seems to cleave the skies;
Laughing at those who, indolently blind,
Seized not his forelock—he is bald behind!
Seems like a moment that was scarcely here
Before 't was wasted! Time still onward flies,
Swift as a swallow seems to cleave the skies;
Laughing at those who, indolently blind,
Seized not his forelock—he is bald behind!
The past! what is it but a faded dream
Of promised joys? A bubble on the stream
Which flows unceasing to a shoreless sea,
The boundless ocean of eternity!
Of promised joys? A bubble on the stream
Which flows unceasing to a shoreless sea,
The boundless ocean of eternity!
The past! where is it? In the Eternal mind
It still exists, to all the future joined,
In one vast panorama! Mortal eye
Sees but the present, as it passes by!
It still exists, to all the future joined,
In one vast panorama! Mortal eye
Sees but the present, as it passes by!
The past! why is it that it leaves behind
So sad a legacy to all mankind?
Memory looks back with vain regrets and tears
While lingering o'er the urn of wasted years.
So sad a legacy to all mankind?
Memory looks back with vain regrets and tears
While lingering o'er the urn of wasted years.
The past! how is it that we don't improve
From these instructive pictures as they move?
Precept!—experience!—how can man demur?
“Be wise to-day—'t is madness to defer!”
From these instructive pictures as they move?
Precept!—experience!—how can man demur?
“Be wise to-day—'t is madness to defer!”
286
Thus mourn the humble, with the grave in view—
Thus teach the wise—and what they teach is true.
But hope, sweet hope, illusive hope, still smiles,
Points to the future—flatters and beguiles;
All trust her treacherous promises too far,
The bubble bursts!—and we are—what we are!
Thus teach the wise—and what they teach is true.
But hope, sweet hope, illusive hope, still smiles,
Points to the future—flatters and beguiles;
All trust her treacherous promises too far,
The bubble bursts!—and we are—what we are!
THE MINSTREL'S FAREWELL TO HIS LYRE.
When Fate's stern fiat dooms fond friends to part,
What thrilling pangs pervade the feeling heart!
With ardent glow the proffered hand is pressed,
While the moist eye bespeaks the aching breast;
The final gaze, we, lingering still renew,
Dreading the last, the painful word—Adieu!
What thrilling pangs pervade the feeling heart!
With ardent glow the proffered hand is pressed,
While the moist eye bespeaks the aching breast;
The final gaze, we, lingering still renew,
Dreading the last, the painful word—Adieu!
So I—a bird of passage—wont to rove—
Have oft been doomed to leave the friends I love;
Have oft been fated to endure the smart
Which now afflicts my lacerated heart;
That heart alive to every finer glow,
Enrapturing joy—or ecstacy of wo.
Then, friends of song, attend your Minstrel's lay,
He sings but this, and throws his lyre away.
Have oft been doomed to leave the friends I love;
Have oft been fated to endure the smart
Which now afflicts my lacerated heart;
That heart alive to every finer glow,
Enrapturing joy—or ecstacy of wo.
Then, friends of song, attend your Minstrel's lay,
He sings but this, and throws his lyre away.
287
In life's fair morn, when sunshine warmed the scene,
And fairy hopes danced o'er the laughing green,
His infant Muse essayed the artless strain,
On Charles's bank, or Newton's verdant plain;
Gave him her lyre, and taught his hand to play,
While flattering Echo chanted back the lay.
And fairy hopes danced o'er the laughing green,
His infant Muse essayed the artless strain,
On Charles's bank, or Newton's verdant plain;
Gave him her lyre, and taught his hand to play,
While flattering Echo chanted back the lay.
Pleased like a child, he fondly thought 't was Fame,
Ambition kindled, and he sought the dame;
Unknowing where her lofty temple stood,
He pierced the grotto and explored the wood;
But vain the search, in meadow, vale, or hill,
The air-formed phantom flew, but answered still,
Till tired Experience proved the sylvan scene
Held not the temple of ambition's queen.
Ambition kindled, and he sought the dame;
Unknowing where her lofty temple stood,
He pierced the grotto and explored the wood;
But vain the search, in meadow, vale, or hill,
The air-formed phantom flew, but answered still,
Till tired Experience proved the sylvan scene
Held not the temple of ambition's queen.
With fond regret he left the calm retreat,
Where Nature's charms in sweet disorder meet,
Diversified with meadows, groves, and hills,
And Charles's thousand tributary rills—
Left rustic joys, to court the city's smile,
And woke the strain in Beauty's cause awhile.
He sang of love—a minstrel's sweetest dream,
And sang sincerely—for he felt the theme;
His soul was poured in every amorous tone—
An angel heard, and answered with her own.
Where Nature's charms in sweet disorder meet,
Diversified with meadows, groves, and hills,
And Charles's thousand tributary rills—
Left rustic joys, to court the city's smile,
And woke the strain in Beauty's cause awhile.
He sang of love—a minstrel's sweetest dream,
And sang sincerely—for he felt the theme;
His soul was poured in every amorous tone—
An angel heard, and answered with her own.
288
Columbia called—to arms her veterans sprang,
He felt the impulse, and of glory sang;
Swept o'er the chords, assumed a loftier lay,
And vent'rous dared with bolder hand to play.
He felt the impulse, and of glory sang;
Swept o'er the chords, assumed a loftier lay,
And vent'rous dared with bolder hand to play.
But, ah! his harp no blooming laurel bears,
His humble brow no blushing garland wears;
Unknown, unsought, he must obscurely sigh,
Held from despair but by affection's tie;
By love and penury condemned to know,
Like Leda's sons, alternate bliss and wo.
His humble brow no blushing garland wears;
Unknown, unsought, he must obscurely sigh,
Held from despair but by affection's tie;
By love and penury condemned to know,
Like Leda's sons, alternate bliss and wo.
Then Fame, adieu! no more he courts your charms;
Welcome, Retirement! take him to your arms;
Here, gentle Muse, he gives you back the lyre,
Whose tones could once his youthful bosom fire.
That lyre shall sleep, nor breathe a tone again,
Till scenes celestial claim the glowing strain;
Till realms eternal burst upon the view,
And animate the wondering bard anew.
Till then, farewell! He follows Fame no more!
But spurns the shrine at which he knelt before—
Let Poverty prepare her bitterest draught,
And malice barb his most inveterate shaft—
The troubled dream of life will soon be o'er,
And a bright morning dawn to fade no more.
Welcome, Retirement! take him to your arms;
Here, gentle Muse, he gives you back the lyre,
Whose tones could once his youthful bosom fire.
That lyre shall sleep, nor breathe a tone again,
Till scenes celestial claim the glowing strain;
Till realms eternal burst upon the view,
And animate the wondering bard anew.
Till then, farewell! He follows Fame no more!
But spurns the shrine at which he knelt before—
Let Poverty prepare her bitterest draught,
And malice barb his most inveterate shaft—
The troubled dream of life will soon be o'er,
And a bright morning dawn to fade no more.
| The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth | |