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About Google Book Search Google's mission is to organize the world's information and to make it universally accessible and useful. Google Book Search helps readers discover the world's books while helping authors and publishers reach new audiences. You can search through the full text of this book on the web at |http: //books .google .com/I THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundations BEQUEST OF MRS. HENRY DRAPER 1915 1/ \1 htnit palmtr Impnr mam ■mm"' _ / THE y" DESERTED BRIDE; AND OTHER POEMS. •• • • » • • • •• -•■'-■' BY GEORGE pM.tajtlUS * ^ ■» • • •* • ^ ■* ■» ,« J •» •> JJ'ieW'-'ilork: D. APPLETON & CO. 200 BROADWAY. MDCGGXLIII. US. THE NEW YORK j PUBLIC LIBRARY i B880 1 5 ASTOR, LENOX AND TILDtN FOUNDAIION8 1916 1 Entered according to Act of Congren of the United States of Ameriea, by D. APPLETON k, Co. ^th»<<9ark*e Qflice of the Boathern District of New-Tork. • • • • V • ►• . • ♦ r • 1 • • ••• I •' •• r I* r • . • • •• » • • • • . • ••• « " • • • » • •• • • • . • •» ••• • • • •* •• • • • • « a • • • •• HOPKIMS AND JBMNIM08, PRlMTBESf 111 Foltoo-atnet. TO THEODORE S. FAY, Esq. 8ECBETAR7 OF THE AMEEICAN LEGATION, NEAR THE COUET OF BERLIN, surest 9age0 ABE AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED BT HIS FRIEND, THE AUTHOR. CONTENTS. Psf* THE DESERTED BRIDE. (Dlustrated by J. 6. ChapaUB.) • WOMAN 13 WHEN OTHER FRIENDS ARE ROUND THEE 1ft WE WERE B07S TOGETHER. (lUustratad by J. 6. Chapman ) If THE BACCHANAL. (lUustratad by J. G. Chapman.) JS THE DISMISSED. (Dliutratad by J. G. Chapman.) K THE OONaUEST. (Illoatrated by J. G. Chapman.) 95 JANET McREA 38 LINES AFTER THE MANNER OF THE OLDEN TIME 35 RHYME AND REASON, an APOLoeiri 37 WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE 39 LOVE THEE, DEAREST 41 MY MOTHER'S BIBLE 43 WEARIES MY LOVE OF MY LETTERS 44 NATIONAL ANTHEM 43 I NEVER HAVE BEEN FALSE TO THEE 47 SOSABEL 48 SILENT GRIEF 51 THE SEASONS OF LOVE 59 SOUTHERN REFRAIN.— NEAR THE LAKE 54 W^Ir-A-DAY 55 TM WITH YOU ONCE AGAIN 59 STARLIGHT RECOLLECTIONS 58 MY WOODLAND BRIDE 59 THE DAY IS NOW DAWNING, LOVE 00 THINK OF ME 69 A SCENE AT SEA.... 63 OH WOULD THAT SHE WERE HERE 64 THE CHIEFTAIN'S DAUGHTER 61 THE EVERGREEN 67 WHERE HUDSON'S WAVE «B SHE LOVED HIM 76 TWENTY YEARS AGO 71 LAND HO! 79 THE COT NEAR THE WOOD 74 OPEN THY LATTICE 75 LADY OF ENGLAND 77 PifO OUE PATRIOT SUES 78 OH, THIS LOVE TO THE BEAM OF DEYOTIONm 80 AU REVOIR 81 LOVE, HONOUR AND OBEY 83 BE887 BELL 83 THE EXILE TO HIB BIBTER 85 MY BARK IB OUT UPON THE SEA 86 BALLY 8t. OI^AIR 87 THE BUFTORB 89 THE CARRIER-DOVE 90 WESTERN REFRAIN 98 WILL NOBODY MARRY MEt 94 THE BALL-ROOM BELLE 96 THE MINIATURE 98 THE RETORT 99 LINES TO A POET 100 THE COLONEL lOS I LOVE THE NIGHT 104 THE MAY aUEEN 105 VENETIAN SERENADE 107 THE WHIP-POOR-WILL. (Uluitrated by R. W.Weir.) 109 BONOS AND DUETS FROM THE MAID OF SAXONY 145 THE GENTLE BIRD ON YONDER SPRAY 145 WHEN I BEHOLD THAT LOWERING BROW 146 ALL SHOULD WED FOR LOVE 147 *riS A SOLDIER'S RIGID DUTY 148 THE LAND OF THE HEART 140 LOVE IS NOT A GARDEN FLOWER 150 THE KING, THE PRINCES OF THE COURT 151 THE MIDNIGHT BELL 158 SWAY*D BY SMILES FROM THEE , 153 THE PERFECTION OF REASON 154 THE CROTON ODE 155 ADDRESS FOR THE DUNLAP BENEFIT 159 ADDRESS FOR THE KNOWLES BENEFIT 168 ADDRESS FOR THE PLACIDE BENEFIT 165 NOTES 109 LETTER TO HENRY RUS8EL, eaclouDf " Woodman, ipue that tree." 169 JANET McREA 170 POCAHONTAS 171 SALLY St. CLAIR 172 AH! LOVE IS NOT A GARDEN FLOWER 173 6 THE DESERTED BRIDE SUOOBITIO BT A SCENE IN THE PLAT OF THE HUNCHBACK. BK8PB0TPVLLT INSCRIBED TO JAMES SHERIDAN ENOWLES, ESQ. Wed him ! — Never. — He has lost me ! — Tears ! — Well, let them flow ! —His bride ? No. — The struggle life may cost me ! But he'll find that I have pride ! Love is not an idle flower, Blooms and dies the self-same homr. Title, land, and broad dominion, With himself to me he gave ; Stoop'd to earth his spirit's pinion, And became my willing slave ! Knelt and pray'd until he won me — Looks he coldly now upon me ? Ingrate ! — Never sure was maiden Wrong'd so foul as I. With grief My true breast is overladen — Tears aflbrd me no relief — Every nerve is strain'd and aching. And my very heart is breaking ! 10 Love I him ? — Thus scom'd and slighted — Thrown, like worthless weed, apart — Hopes and feelings sear'd and blighted — Love him ? — Yes, with all my heart ! With a passion superhmnan — Constancy, " thy name is woman." Love nor time nor mood can fashion — Love ? — Idolatry's the word To speak the broadest, deepest passion. Ever woman's heart hath stirr'd ! Vain to still the mind's desires. Which consume like hidden fires ! Wreck'd and wretched, lost and lonely, Crush'd by grief's oppressive weight. With a prayer for Clifford only, I resign me to my fate. Chains that bind the soul I've proven Strong as they were iron-woven. 11 Ficm my A«k «^»^-^ ^'*™' Sad my dwogbts as willows beDding Off die bofdds of die tomb. Witbout CdSytA noc a Kessin? In the wodd is w«A poMessmg- Wealthl— a siiaw within the balance, Opposed to lore, twill strike the beam Kindred— &i«idship— beauty —talents !— All to love as nothing seem ; Weigh love against all else t£^th», As solid gold against a feather. Hope is flown — away disguises — Naught but death relief can give — For the love he little prizes Cannot cease and Julia live ! Soon my thread of life will sever — Clifford, fare thee well — ^for ever ! 12 \ WOMAN. Ah, woman ! — ^in this world of ours, What boon can be compared to thee ? — How slow would drag life's weary hours, Tho' man's proud brow were bound with flowers, And his the wealth of land and sea, If destined to exist alone, And ne'er call woman's heart his own ! My mother ! — At that holy name Within my bosom there's a gush Of feeling which no time can tame, A feeling, which for years of fame, I would not, could not crush ! And sisters ! — ^ye are dear as life, But when I look upon my wife My heart-blood gives a sudden rush, X 13 And all my fond affections blend In mother — sisters — ^wife and friend ! Yes, woman's love is free from guile And pure as bright Aurora's ray ; The heart will melt before her smile, And base-bom passions fade away ! Were I the monarch of the earth. Or master of the swelling sea, I would not estimate their worth, Dear woman, half the price of thee. 14 WHEN OTHER FRIENDS IRE ROUND THEE. When other friends are round thee, And other hearts are thine, When other bays have crown'd thee. More fresh and green than mine, Then think how sad and lonely This doating heart will be. Which while it throbs, throbs only. Beloved one, for thee ! Yet do not think I doubt thee, I know thy truth remains : I would not live without thee. For all the world contains. Thou art the star that guides me Along life's troubled sea ; And whatever fate betides me. This heart still turns to thee. 15 WE WERE BOYS TOGETHER. We were boys bother, And never can foi^ The school-house near the heather, In childhood where we met : Nor the green home, to memory dear, Its sorrows and its joys, Which call'd the transient smile or tear When you and I were hofs. 16 We were youths together, And castles built in air ; Your heart was like a feather, While mine was dash'd with care. To you came wealth with manhood's prime, To me it brought allays Ne'er imaged in the primrose time When you and I were boys. We're old men together ; The friends we loved of yore, With leaves of autumn weather. Are gone for evermore. How bless'd to age the impulse given— The hope time ne'er destroys — Which led our thoughts from earth to heaven. When you and I were boys. 17 THE BACCHANAL. Beside a cottage door Sung Ella at her wheel ; Ruthven rode o'er the moor, Down at her feet to kneel A spotted palfrey gay Came ambling at his side, To bear the maid away As his affianced bride. A hiofh-bom noble he Of stately halls secure ; A low-bom peasant she, Of parentage obscure. How soft the honied words He breathes into her ears ! The melody of birds ! The music of the spheres ! 18 , ' s*>. ,,.^cr \ As from an April sky The rain-clouds flit away, So from the maiden's eye, Vanished the falling spray. Which lingered but awhile Her dimpled cheek upon, Then melted in her smile Like vapour in the sun. The maid is all his own — She trusts his plighted word. And, lightly on the roan. She springs beside her lord. She leaves her father's cot, She turns her from the door — That green and holy spot Which she will see no more ! 20 They hied to foreign lands, That lord and peasant-maid : The church ne'er bless'd their bands, And Ella was betrayed ! Then droop'd that lovely flower, Tom from its parent stem ; Then fled in evil hour, The light from out that gem. They laid her in the ground, And Ella was forgot — Dead was her father found In his deserted cot. But Ruthven — what of him ? He ran their story o'er, And, filling to the brim, He thought of it no more ! 21 THE DISMISSED. **! inppota ihfl wu tight ji njadUif 07 luit, HmUttki DiniriM. The wing of my spirit is broken, My day-star of hope has declined ; For a month not a word have I spoken, That's either polite or refined. My mind's like the sky in bad weather When mist-clouds aiound us are curl'd : And, viewing myself altogether, I'm the veriest wretch in the world. I woQder about like a vagrant, I spend half my time in the street ; My conduct's improper and flagrant, For I quarrel with all that I meet. My dress too is wholly n^lected, My hat I pull over my brow. And I look like a fellow suspected Of wishing to kick up a row. At home I'm an object of horror To boarder and waiter and maid ; But my landlady views me with sorrow, When she thinks of the bill that's unpaid. Abroad my acquaintances flout me, The ladies cry, " Bless us, look there !" And the little boys cluster about me. And sensible citizens stare. One says, " He's a victim to Cupid," Another, "His conduct's too bad," A third, " He is awfully stupid," A fourth, " He is perfectly mad ;" 23 And then I am watch'd like a bandit, My friends with me all are at strife — By heaven, no longer I'll stand it, But quick put an end to my life ! I've thought of the means — yet I shudder At dagger or ratsbane or rope ; At drawing with lancet my blood, or At razor without any soap. Suppose I should fall in a duel. And thus leave the stage with eclat ; , But to die with a bullet is cruel, Besides 'twould be breaking the law. Yet one way remains — ^to the river I'll fly from the goadings of care — But drown? — oh the thought makes me shiver — A terrible death I declare. Ah no ! I'll once more see my Kitty, And parry her cruel disdain^ Beseech her to take me in pity, And never dismiss me again. 24 The burthen'd boughs with pale scouts quiver, The echoing hills tumultuous ring, While across the eddying river Their barks, like foaming war-steeds, spring ! The blood-hounds darken land and water, They come — like buffaloes for slaughter ! See their glittering files advancing, See upon the free winds dancing, Pennon proud and gaudy plume : The strangers come in evil hour, In pomp and panoply and power, To plant a weed where bloom'd a flower, Where sunshine broke to spread a shower. And, while upon our tribes they lower. '*(i Think they our manly hearts will cower, To meet a warrior's doom? Right they forget while strength they feel ; Our blood they drain, our land they steal; And should the vanquished Indian kneel, They spurn him from their sight ! Be set forever in disgrace, The glory of the red-man's race, If from the foe he turns his face, Or safety seeks in flight ! They come ! — up and upon them, braves ! Fight for your altars and your graves ! 'zr 'xne nun ling aeaui-wing'a airows oy, And wind-rows of pale warriora die ! — O ! never has the sun's bright eye Look'd &om his hill-tops in the sky, Upon a field so glorious ! They're gone — again the red-men rally, With dtmce and song the woods resound : The hatchet's buried in the valley ; No foe Drofanes our huntins-CTOuikl ! The green leaves on the blithe boughs quiver, The verdant hills with song-birds ring, While our bark-canoes, the river Skim like sw^Iows on the wing. Mirth pervades the land and water, Free from famine, sword and slaughter ! «*«»««* Let us by this gentle river, Blunt the axe and break the quiver. While, as leaves upon the spray, Peaceful flow our cares away ! «»**»»» Yet, alas ! the hour is brief. Left for either joy or grief. All on earth that we inherit From the hands of the Great Spirit. 30 Wigwam, hill, plain, lake and field, To the white-man must we yield ; For, like smibeams in the waves, We are sinking to our graves ! From this wilderness of wo Like a caravan we go, Leaving all our groves and streams For the far-off land of dreams. There are prairies, waving high. Boundless as the sheeted sky, Where our fathers' spirits roam. And the red-man has a home. Let tradition tell our story As we fade in cloudless glory, 31 As vfl seek the land of rest Beyond the bradws of the west, No eye but oiin may look upon — We ABE THE CHILD&BN OF THE SON ! JANET McREA. ' She heard the fight was over, And won the wreath of fame ! When tidings from her lover, With his good war-steed came. To guard her safely to his tent, The red-men of the woods were sent. They led her where sweet waters gush Under the pine-tree bough ! The tomahawk is raised to crush, — 'Tis buried in her brow ! She sleeps beneath that pine-tcee now ! Her broken-hearted lover In hopeless conflict died ! The fo|rest leaves now cover That soldier and his bride ! The frown of the Great Spirit fell Upon the red-men like a spell ! No more those waters slake their thirst, Shadeless to them that tree ! O'er land and lake they roam accurst, Arid in the clouds thiey see Thy spirit unavenged, McRea ! LINES AFTER THE MANNER OF THE OLDEN TIME. Oh Love ! the mischief thou hast done ! Thou god of pleasure and of pain ! None can escape thee — ^yes, there's one ! — All others wear thy heavy chain ! Thou cause of all my smiles and tears ! Thou blight and bloom of all my years ! Thy throne's the heart, despotic boy ! And there thou reign'st without control ; Thy frown is grief, thy glance is joy, Thy smile the sunbeam of the soul. The buds of spring, the leaves of fall, Thou wearest in thy coronal ! 34 Love maketh glad or maketh sad — Love is a tyrant and a slave ! The bad makes good — ^the good makes bad-r The coward nerves — appals the brave ! — Love glistens in the maiden's eyes, And breathes in kisses, sobs and sighs ! Love bathes him in the morning's dews, Reclines him in the lily's bell — Reposes in the rainbow's hues, And bubbles in the crystal well ; Or hies him to the coral caves. Where sea-nymphs sport beneath the waves. Love vibrates in the wind-harp's tune, With fays and fairies lingers he — Gleams in the ring of the watery moon. Or treads the pebbles of the sea : Love enters " court and camp and grove ;" Oh, everywhere we meet thee. Love ! 35 And everfwheie he wdcome finds — • Through cottage-door or palace-porch liove enters firee as spicy-winds, With purple wings and lighted torch, With trii^ang feet and silvery tongue, And bow and darts behind him slui^ ! He tinkles in the shepherd's bell, And charms the village maiden's ear ; By lattice high he weaves his spell For ladye-fisdr and cavalier. As stmbeams melt the mountain snow, So melt Love's rays the high and low. Then why, ye nymphs Arcadian, why, Since Love is roaming as the air, Why does he not to Lelia fly. And warm that cold and haughty fair ? Scorn rules alcme her swelling heart : She 9ca& at Love and all his art ! Oh, boy^god, Love ! — an aicher thou — Thy utmost skill I fidn would test ; One arrow aim at Lelia now, And let thy target be her breast I Around her heart, oh fling thy chain, Or give me back my own again i RHYME AND REASON. AN APOLOGUE. Two children, in the olden time, In Flora's primrose season, Were bom. The name of one was Rhyme, That of the other Reason ; And both were beautiful and &ir, Pure as the mountain stream and air. As the boys tc^ther grew, Happy fled their hours — Grief or care they^never knew In the Paphian bowers. See them roaming, hand in hand, The pride of all the choral band. 37 ^ti»* ««« SB*"** ■snx» WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE. ' Woodman, spare that tree ! Touch not a single bough ! In youth it shelter'd me. And FU protect it now. 'Twas my forefather's hand That placed it near his cot ; There, woodman, let it stand. Thy axe shall harm it not! That old familiar tree, Whose glory and renown Are spread o'er land and sea, And wouldst thou hack it down ? Woodman, forbear thy stroke ! Cut not its earth-bound ties ; Oh, spare that aged oak. Now towering to the skies ! 99 When but an idle boy I sought its grateftil shade ; In all their gushing joy Here too my sisters played. My mother kiss'd me here ; My father pressed my hand — Forgive this foolish tear, But let that old oak stand ! My heart-strings round thee cling. Close as thy bark, old friend ! Here shall the wild-bird sing, And still thy branches bend. Old tree ! the storm still brave ! And, woodman, leave the spot ; While I've a hand to save, Thy axe shall harm it not. 40 LOVE THEE, DEAREST? Love thee, dearest? — ^Hear me. — ^Never Will my fond vows be foii^t ! May I perish, and forever, When, dear maid, I love thee not ! Then turn not from me, dearest ! — ^Listen ! Banish all thy doubts and fears ! And let thine eyes with transport glisten ! What hast thou to do with tears ? Dry them, dearest ! — Ah, believe me, Love's bright flame is burning still ! Though the hollow world deceive thee, Here's a heart that never will ! Dost thou smile ? — A cloud of sorrow Breaks before Joy's rising sun ! Wilt ihou give thy hand? — ^To-morrow Hymen, dearest, makes us one ! 41 F MT MOTHER'S BIBLE. This book is all that's left me now ! Tears will unbidden start; With fidtering lip and throbbing brow, I press it to my heart. For many generations pass'd, Here in our family tree ; My mother's hands this Bible clasp'd ; She, dying, gave it me. Ah ! well do I remember those TVhose names these records bear : Who round the hearth-stone used to close, After the evening prayer, And speak of what these pages said, In tones my heart would thrill ! l%ough Ihey are with the silent dead, Here are they living still ! 42 My father read diis holy book To brothers, sisters dear; How calm was my poor mother's look, Who lean'd God's word to hear. Her angel face — ^I see it yet ! What vivid memories come ! Again that little group is met Within the halls of home ! Tliou truest Mend man ever knew, Thy constancy I've tried ; When all were fidse I found thee true, My counsellor and guide. The mines of earth no treasures give That could this volume buy : In teaching me the way to live, It taught me how to die. 43 WEARIES MY LOTE OP MY LETTERS ? Wearies my love of my letters ? Does she my silence command? Smiders she Love's golden fetters As though they were woven of sand ? Tires she too of each token Indited with many a sigh? Are all her promises broken? And must I love on till I die? Thinks my dear love that I blame her ' With what was a burden to part? Ah, no ! — ^with affection I'll name her While lingers a pulse in my heart. Although she has clouded with sadness, And blighted the bloom of my years, I love her still, even to madness, And bless her through showers of tears ! 44 My pen I have laid down in sorrow, The songs of my lute I forego, From neither assistance I'll borrow To utter my heart-seated wo ! But peace to her bosom, wherever Her thoughts or her footsteps may stray : Memento of mine again never Will shadow the light of her way ! NATIONAL ANTHEM. Freedom spreads her downy wings Over all created things : Olory to the King of kings, Bend^low to him the knee ! Bring the heart before His throne — Worship Him and Him alone ! — He's the only King we own — And He has made us free I 45 The holieflt spot a smiling son E'er shed its genial rays upon, Is that which gave a Wadungton, The drooping world to cheer ! Sound the clariim-peals of fame ! Te who bear Columbia's name ! — With existence fieedom came^ It is man's birth-right here I Heirs of an immortal sire. Let his deeds your hearts inspire ; Weave the strain and wake the lyre Where your proud altars stand ! Hail with pride and loud hurrahs, Streaming from a thousand spars, Freedom's rainbow-flag of stars ! The symbcd of our land ! 46 I NEVER HAVE BEEN FALSE TO THEE. I NEV£R have been false to thee I The heart I gave thee still is thine ; Though thou hast be^n untrue to me, And I no more may call thee mine ! Tve loved, as woman ever loves, With constant soul in good or ill ; — Thou'st proved as man too often proves, A rover — ^but I love thee still ! Yet think not that my spirit stoops To bind thee captive in my train ! — Love's not a flower, at sunset droops. But smiles when comes her god again ! Thy words, which fall unheeded now. Could once my heart-strings madly thrill ! Love's golden chain and burning vow Are broken — ^but I love thee still ! 47 Once what a heaven of bliss was ours, When love dispell'd the clouds of care, And time went by with birds and flowers, While song and incense fill'd the air ! The past is mine — the present thine — Should thoughts of me thy future fill, Think what a destiny is mine, To lose— but love thee, fidse <me, still ! ROSABEL. I Miss thee from my side, beloved, I miss thee from my side ; And wearily and drearily. Flows Time's resistless tide. The world, and all its fleeting joys. To me are worse than vain. Until I clasp thee to my heart. Beloved one, again. 48 The wildwood of the forest path, We used to thread of yore, With bird and bee have flown with thee, And gone for evermore ! There is no music in the grove. No echo^on the hill ; But melancholy boughs are there, And hush'd the whip-poor-will. I miss thee in the town, beloved, I miss thee in the town ; From mom I grieve till dewy eve Spreads wide its nmntle brown. My spirit's wings, that once could soar In fancy's world of air, Are crush'd and beaten to the ground By life-corroding care. No more I hear thy bird-like voice. Nor see thy winning face ; That once would gleam like morning's beam In mental pride and grace : 49 Q Thy form of matchless symmetry, In sweet perfection cast — It is the star of memory That fades not with the past. I miss thee everywhere, beloved, I miss thee everywhere ; Both night and day wear dull away, And leave me in despair. The banquet-hall, the play, the ball, And childhood's gladsome glee, Have lost their charms for me, beloved, My sold is full of thee t Has Rosabel foigotton me, And love I now in vain ? If that be so, my heart can know On earth no rest again. A sad and weary lot is mine. To love and be forgot, A sad and weary lot, beloved, A sad and weary lot. 50 SILENT GRIEF. Where is now my peace of mind ? Gone, alas ! for evennore : Turn where'er I may, I find Thorns where roses bloom'd before. O'er the green-fields of my soul, Where the springs of joy were found, Now the clouds of sorrow roll. Shading all the prospect round ! Do I merit pangs like these. That have cleft my heart in twain ? Must I, to the very lees. Drain thy bitter chalice, Pain? Silent grief all grief excels ; Life and it together part, Like a restless'worm it dwells Deep within the human heart ! 51 THE SEASONS OF LOVE. The spring-time of love Is both happy and gay, For joy sprinkles blossoms And balm in our way: The sky, earth and ocean In beauty repose, And all the bright future Is couleur de rose. The summer of love Is the bloom of the heart, When hill, grove and valley Their music impart. And the pure glow of heaven Is seen in fond eyes. As lakes show the rainbow That's hung in the skies. 52 The autumn of love Is the season of cheer, Lifejp mild Indian summer, The smile of the year ; Which comes when the golden Ripe harvest is stored. And yields its own blessings — Repose and reward. The winter of love Is the beam that we win. While the storm howls without, From the sunshine within. Love's reign is eternal, The heart is his throne, And he has all seasons Of life for his own. 53 SOUTHERN REFRAIN. Near the lake where droop'd the willow, Long time ago ! Where the rock threw back the billow, Brighter than snow ; Dwelt a maid beloved and cherish'd, By high and low ; But with autumn's leaf she perish'd Long time ago ! Rock and tree and flowing water, Long time ago! Bee and bird and blossom taught her Love's spell to know ! While to my fond words she listen'd Murmuring low. Tenderly her dove-eyes glisten'd Long time ago ! 54 Mingled were our hearts forever ! Long time ago ! Can I now foi^t her? — ^Never ! — No, lost one, no ! To her grave these tears are given, Ever to flow ; She's the star I miss'd from heaven, Long time ago ! WELL-A-DAY. Love comes and goes like a spell ! How, no one knows, nor can tell ! Now here — ^now there— then away ! None dreameth where. — Well-a-day ! Love should be true as the star Seen in the blue sky afar ! Now here — ^now there — ^like the lay Of lutes in th' air ! — ^Well-a-day ! Should love depart, not a tie Binds up the heart 'till we die ! — Now here — ^now there — sad we stray ! Life is all care ! — ^Well-a-day ! 06 I'M WITH YOU ONCE AGAIN. I'm with you once again, my friends- No more my footsteps roam ; Where it began my journey ends, Amid the scenes of home. No other clime has skies so blue, Or streams so broad and clear. And where are hearts so warm and true, As those that meet me here ? Since last, with spirits wild and free, I press'd my native strand, I've wander'd many miles at sea, And many miles on land : Fve seen all nations of the earth. Of every hue and tongue. Which taught me how to prize the worth Of that from which I sprung. 06 In other countries when I heard The music of my own, Oh how my echoing heart has stirr'd And bounded at the tone ; , But when a brother's hand I clasp'd, Beneath a foreign sky, With joy convulsively I gasp'd, Like one about to die ! My native land I turn to you. With blessings and with prayer, Where man is brave and woman true, And free as mountain air. Long may our flag in triumph wave. Against the world combined. And friends a welcome — ^foes a grave. Within our borders find. 57 STAR-LIGHT RECOLLECTIONS. 'TwAs night. — ^In the woodland alone We met with no witnesses by But such as resplendently shone In the blue-tinted vault of the sky : Your head on my bosom was laid, As you said you would ever be mine ; And I promised to love, dearest maid, And worship alone at your shrine. Your love on my heart gently fell As the dew on the flowers at eve, YiThose bosoms with gratitude swell, A blessing to give and receive : And I knew by the glow on your cheek, And the rapture you could not control, No power had langtiage to speak The faith or content of your soul. 56 I love you as none ever loved ; As the steel to the star I am tnie ; And I, dearest maiden, have proved That none ever loved me but you. Till memory loses her power, Or the sands of existence have run, I'll remember the star-lighted hour, That mingled two hearts into one. MY WOODLAND BRIDE. Here upon the mountain side Till now we met together ; Here I won my woodland bride, In flush of summer weather. Green was then the linden bough, This dear retreat that shaded ; Autumn winds are round me now, And the leaves have faded. She whose heart was all my own, In this sununer-bower, With all pleasant things has flown, Sunbeam, bird and flower ! But her memory will stay With me, though we're parted — From the scene I turn away, Almost broken-hearted ! m rHE DAY IS NOW DAWNING, LOVE. WILLIAM. The day is now dawning, love, Fled is the night — I go like the morning, love, Cheerful and bright. Then adieu, dearest Ellen : When evening is near ni visit thy dwelling. For true love is here. ELLEN. Oh, come where the fountain, love, Tranquilly flows ; Beneath the green mountain, love, Seek for repose ; — Here the days of our childhood, In love's golden beam, 'Mong the blue-bells and wildwood, Pass'd on like a dream. WILLIAM. linger awhile, love. ELLEN. 1 must away. WILLIAM. O grant me thy smile, love, 'Tis hope's cheering ray. With evening expect me. ELLEN. To the moment be true, And may angels protect thee — BOTH. Sweet Ellen, adieu ! Dear William, adieu ! 61 THINK OP ME. Oh, think of me, my own beloved, Whatever cares beset thee ; And when thou hast the fidsehood proved, Of those with smiles who met thee : While o'er the sea, think, love, of me. Who never can forget thee ; Let memory trace the trjrsting place. Where I with tears regret thee. Bright as yon star, within my mind, A hand unseen hath set thee ; There hath thine image been enshrined, Since first, dear love, I met thee. So in thy breast, I fain would rest. If, haply, fate would let me. And live or die, wert thou but nigh, To love or to regret me. 68 A SCENE AT SEA. Above our heads the moon and stars Were smiling brightly and serene, Painting the waves with silver bars, And lighting up that ocean-scene : And on our right the lightnings threw Their fiery javelins far and free, While, like a bird with proud wings, flew Our vessel through that foaming sea ! And all above, below, around. Was full of grandeur ! Every sound The winds and waters breathed were such As I had never heard before ! Oh, who can tell the heart how much At such an hour it will adore The Inscrutable First Cause which we Behold in every thing at sea ! 63 OH, WOULD THAT SHE WERE HERE. Oh, would that she were here. These hills and dales among, Where rocal groves are gayly mock'd By Echo's airy tongue : Where jocund Nature smiles In all her boon attire, Amid deep-tangled wiles Of hawthorn and sweet-briar. Oh, would that she were here. That fair and gentle thing. Whose voice is like the melody Breathed by the wind-harp's string. Oh, would that she were here. Where the free waters leap, Shouting in their joyousness Adown the rocky steep : 64 Where rosy zephyr lingers All the live-long day, With health upon his pinions, And gladness in his way. Oh, would that she were here — Sure Eden's groves of palm Were not more redolent of bliss Than these broad fields of balm. Oh, would that she were here, Where glide the pleasant hours, Rife with the song of bee and bird, The perfume of the flowers : Where beams of peace and love. And radiant beauty's glow. Are pictured in the sky above, And in the lake below. Oh, would that she were here — The nymphs of this bright scene. With song and dance and revelry. Would hail the dear one queen. 65 THE CfflEFTAIN'S DAUGHTER." Upon the barren sand, A single captive stood, Around him came with^bow and brand. The red-men of the wood, like him of old, his doom he hears, Rock-bound on ocean's rim : — The chieftain's daughter knelt in tears, And breathed a prayer for him. Above his head in air, The savage war-club swung, The frantic girl, in wild despair. Her arms about him flung. Then shook the warriors of the shade. Like leaves on aspen limb, Subdued by that heroic maid Who breathed a prayer for him. 66 " Unbind him P gasped the chie^ " It is your king's decree !** He kiss'd away her tears of gri^ And set the captiye free. 'Tis ever thus; when, in life's storm, Hope's star to man grows dim, An angel kneels in woman's form, And breathes a prayer for him. THE EVERGREEN. Love cannot be the aloe tree, Whose bloom but once is seen ; Go search the grove, the tree of love Is sure the evergreen : For that's the same, in leaf or frame, 'Neath cold or sunny skies ; You take the groimd its roots have bound, Or it, trtiasfdailted, dies ! 67 That love thus shoots, and finnly roots In woman's heart we see ; Through smiles and tears in after years It grows a fiideless tree. The tree of love, all trees above, For ever may be seen, In summer's bloom or winter's gloom, A hardy evergreen. WHERE HUDSON'S WAVE. Where Hudson's wave o'er silv'ry sands Winds through the hills afar, Old Cronest like a monarch stands, Crown'd with a single star ! And there amid the billowy swells Of rock-barfd, cloud-capt earth, My fair and gentle Ida dwells, A nymph of mountain birth. 68 The snow-flake that the cliff receives, The diamonds of the showers, Spring's tender blossoms, buds and leaves, The sisterhood of flowers, ' Mom's early beam, eve's balmy breeze Her purity define; But Ida's dearer far than these To this fond breast of mine. My heart is on the hills. The shades Of night are on my brow : Te pleasant haunts and silent glades, My soul is with you now ! I bless the star-crown'd highlands where My Ida's footsteps roam — Oh ! for a falcon's wing to bear Me onward to my home. SHE LOYED HIM. She loved him — ^but she heeded not — Her heart had only room for pride : All other feelings were forgot, When she became another's bride. As from a dream she then awoke, To realize her lonely state, And own it was the vow she broke, That made her drear and desolate. She loved him — but the sland'rer came. With words of hate that all believed ; A stain thus rested on his name, But he was wrong'd and she deceived ! Ah ! rash the act that gave her hand, That drove her lover from her side, Who hied him to a distant land. Where, battling for a name, he died ! 70 She loved him — and his memory now Was treasured fiom the world apart : The calm of thought was on her brow, The seeds of death were in her heart. For all the world that thing forlorn I would not, could not be, and live. That casket with its jewel gone, A bride who has no heart to give. TWENTY YEIKS AGO. 'TwAs in the flush of summer time. Some twenty years or more. When Ernest lost his way, and crost The threshold of our door. I'll ne'er forget his locks of jet His brow of Alpine snow, His manly grace of form and face, Somfi twenty years ago. 71 The hand he asked I firedy gave — Mine was a happy lot, In all my pride to be his bride Within my father's cot. The faith he spoke he never broke : His faithful heart I know ; And well I vow I loVe him now As twenty years ago. LAND HO ! Fill high the brimmer ! — the land is in sight, We'll be happy, if never again, boys, to-night ! The cold cheerless ocean in safety we've past. And the wann genial earth glads our vision at last : In the land of the stranger true hearts we shall find To soothe us in absence of those left behind. Then fill high the brimmer ! — ^the land is in sight, We'll be happy, if never again, boys, to-night. T2 Fill high the brimmer — till mom we'll remain, Then part in the hope to meet one day again Round the hearth-stone of home, in the land of our birth, The holiest spot on the face of the earth ! Dear country! our thoughts are as constant to thee As the steel to the star or the stream to the sea ; Then fill high the brimmer ! — the land is in sight, We'll be happy, if never again, boys, to-night. Fill high the brimmer — the wine-sparkles rise Like tears, from the fountain of joy, to the eyes ! May rain-drops that fall from the storm-clouds of care Melt away in the sim-beaming smiles of the fair ! Drink deep to the chime of the nautical bells. To woman, God bless her ! wherever she dwells ! Then fill high the brimmer! — the land is in sight, We'll be happy, if never again, boys, to night. 73 THE COT NEAR THE WOOD. Hard by I've a cottage that stands near the wood, A stream glides in peace at the door, Where all who will tarry, 'tis well understood, Receive hospitality's store. To cheer that the brook and the thicket afford. The stranger we ever invite: Tou're welcome to freely partake at the board, And afterwards rest for the night. » The birds in the morning will sing from the trees And herald the young god of day, Then with him uprising, depart if you please, Well set you refiresh'd on your way : Your coin for our service we sternly reject ; No traffic for gain we pursue, And all the reward that we wish or expect, We take in the good that we do. 74 Mankind are all pilgrims on life's weary road, And many would wander astray In seeking Eternity's silent abode, Did Mercy not point out the way! If all would their duty discharge as they should, To those who are friendless and poor, The world would resemble my cot near the wood, And life the sweet stream at my door. OPEN THY LATTICE, LOVE. Open thy lattice, love — Listen to me ! The cool balmy breeze * Is abroad on the sea ! The moon, like a queen, Roams her realms of blue. And the stars keep their vigils In heaven for you. , Ere mom's gushing light Tips the hills with its ray. Away, o'er the waters, Away and away ! 76 Then open thy lattice, lov^— Listen to me ! While the moon lights the sky, And the breeze curls the sea ! Open thy lattice, love — Listen to me ! In the voyage of life, Love our pilot will be ! He'll sit at the helm Wherever we rove, And steer by the load-star He kindled above ! His gem-girdled shallop Will cut the bright spray, Or skim, like a bird, O'er the waters away ; Then open thy lattice, love — Listen to me. While the moon lights the sky. And the breeze curls the sea ! 76 OUR PATRIOT SIRES. I LOVE the patriot sages. Who, in the day^s of yore, In combat met the foemen, And drove them from our shore ; Who fiimg our banner's starry field, In triimiph to the breeze, And spread broad maps of cities where Once waved the forest trees. — ^Hurrah ! — I love the lofty spirit ImpelPd our sires to rise To found a mighty nation Beneath the western skies. No clime so bright and beautiful As that where sets the sun ; No land so fertile, free and fair As that of Washington. — Hurrah ! — 77 LADY OF ENGLAND. Ladt of England — o'er the seas Thy name was borne on eVry breeze, Till all this sunset clime became Familiar with Victoria's name ! Though seas divide us many a mile, « Yet, for the Queen of that fair isle, From which our &thers sprung, there roves A blessing from thi3 Land of Groves. Our Father-land ! — ^fit theme for song ! When thou art named what memories throng ! Shall England cease our love to claim ? Not while our language is the same ! Scion of kings ! so live and reign. That, when thy nation's swelling strain Is breathed amid our forests green. We too may sing " God save Ae dueen !" 78 OH, THIS LOVE! AFTER THE MANNER OF JESS m'fARLANE. Oh, this love — this love ! I aince the passion slighted ; But hearts that truly love, Must break or be united. Oh, this love ! When first he cam' to woo, I little cared aboot him ; But soon I felt as though I cou'd na' live without him ! Oh, this love ! He brought to me the ring, My hand ask'd o' my mither — I cou'd na' bear the thought That he should tak' anither. Oh, this love! And now, I'm a' his ain. In a' his joys I mingle ; No' for the wealth of warlds, Would I again be single ! Oh, this love ! 79 THE BEAM OF DEYOTION. I NEVER could find a good reason, Why sorrow unbidden should stay, And all the bright joys of life's season, Be driven unheeded away. Our cares would wake no more emotion, Were we to our lot but resign'd Than pebbles flung into the ocean, That leave scarce a ripple behind. The world has a spirit of beauty, Which looks upon all for the best, And while it discharges its duty, To Providence leaves all the rest ; That spirit's the beam of devotion. It lights us through life to its close, And sets like the sun in the ocean. More beautiful far than it rose. 80 AU REVOIR. Love left one day his leafy bower, And roam'd in sportive vein, Where Vanity had built a tower, For Fashion's sparkling train. The mistress to see he requested, Of one who attended the door : " Not home," said the page, who suggested That he'd leave his card. — "uIm revoir." Love next came to a lowly bower — A maid, who knew no guile, Unlike the lady of the tower. Received him with a smile. Since then the cot beams with his brightness. Though often at Vanity's door. Love calls, merely out of politeness, And just leaves his card. — "ilw rcrwV." 81 K « LOVE, HONOUR AND OBEY." When Love in myrtle shades reposed — His bow and darts behind him slmig — As dewy twilight round him closed, Lisette these numbers sung : " Oh, love ! thy sylvan bower Fll fly while I've the power ; Thy primrose way leads maids where they Love, honour and obey !" " Escape," the boy-god said, " is vain !" And shook the diamonds from his wings : " 111 bind thee captive in my train. Fairest of earthly things !" " Go, lovely archer, go ! I freedom's value know : Then hence away, to none I'll say Love, honour and obey !" 82 " Speed, arrow, to thy mark," he cried — Swift as a ray of light it flew ! Love spread his purple pinions wide, And faded from her view ! Joy fiOil'd that maiden's eyes — Twin load-stars from the skies ! — And one bright day, her lips did say " Love, honour and obey !" BESSY BELL. When life looks drear and lonely, love, And pleasant fancies flee. Then will the muses only, love, Bestow a thought on me ! Mine is a harp which pleasure, love. To waken strives in vain. To Joy's entrancing measure, love, It ne'er can thrill again ! Why mock me, Bessy Bell ? 83 Oh do not ask me ever, love, For rapture-woven rhymes ; For vain is each endeavour, love, To sound mirth's play-hell chimes ! Yet still helieve me, dearest love. Though dull my song may be, This heart still doats sincerest, love. And grateful turns to thee ! My once true Bessy Bell ! Those eyes still rest upon me, love ! I feel their magic spell ! With that same look you won me, love, Fair, gentle Bessy Bell ! My doom you've idly spoken, love. You never can be mine ! But though my heart is broken, love. Still, lady, it is thine ! Adieu, &lse Bessy Bell ! 64 THE EXILE TO HIS SISTER. As streams at mom, from seas that glide, Rejoicing on their sparkling way, Will turn again at eventide, To mingle with their kindred spray : E'en so the currents of the soul, Dear sister, wheresoever we rove. Will backward to our country roll, The boundless ocean of our love. Yon northern star, now burning bright. The guide by which the wave-tost steer. Beams not with more devoted light. Than does thy love, my sister dear. From stars above' the streams below Receive the glory they impart ; So, sister, do thy virtues glow ' Within the mirror of my heart. 85 MY BARK IS OUT UPON THE SEA. My bark is out upon the sea — The moon's above ; Her light a presence seems to me Like woman's love. My native land I've left behind — Afar I roam ; In other climes no hearts I'll find Like those at home. Of all yon sister-band of stars But one is true ; She paves my path with silver bars, And beams like you, Whose purity the waves recall In music's flow, As round my bark they rise and &11 In liquid snow. 86 The fresh'ning breeze now swells our sails ! A storm is on ! The weary moon's dim lustre fails — The stars are gone. Not so fades love's eternal light When storm-clouds sweep : I know one heart's with me to-night Upon the deep. SALLY St. CLAIR.<* A BONO OF Marion's men. In the ranks of Marion's band, Through morass and wooded land,. Over beach of yellow sand, Mountain, plain and valley ; A southern maid, in all her pride, March'd gayly at her lover's side. In such disguise That e'en his eyes Did not discover Sally. 87 When rettum'd from midnight trampj Through the forest dark and damp^ On his straw-couch in the^camp In his dreams he'd dally With that devoted, gentle fair, Whose large black eyes and flowing hair, So near him seem, That in his dream, He breathes his love for Sally. Oh what joy that maiden knew. When she found her lover true ! — Suddenly the trumpet hleWj Marion's men to rally ! To ward the death-spear from his side In battle by Santee she died ! Where sings the surge A ceaseless dirge ' Near the lone grave of Sally. 88 THE SUITORS. Wealth sought the bower of Beauty, •Dress'd like a modem beau ; Just then, Love, Health and Duty Took up their hats to go. Wealth such a cordial welcome met, As made the others grieve, So Duty shunn'd the gay coquette. Love, pouting, took French leave — He did— Love, pouting, took French leave. » Old Time, the friend of Duty, Next call'd to see the fair ; He laid his hand on Beauty, And left her in desp^r. Wealth vanished ! — Last went rosy Health- And she was doom'd to prove, That those who Duty slight for Wealth, Can never hope for Love — Ah, no — Can never hope for Love. 89 THE CARRIER-DOVE. While before St. Agnes' shrine Knelt a true knight's lady-love, From the wars of Palestine Came a gentle carrier-dove. Round his neck a silken string Fasten'd words the warrior writ ; At her call he stoop'd his wing, And upon her finger lit. She, like one enchanted, pored O'er the contents of the scroll, For the lady loved her lord With a pure devoted soul. To her heart the dove she drew. While she traced the burning line, Then away the minion flew Back to sainted Palestine. 90 To and fro, from hand to hand Came and went the carrier-dove, Till throughout the holy land War resign'd his sword to Love. Swift the dove on wings of light, Brought the news from Palestine, And the lady her true knight Wedded at St. Agnes' shrine. 91 WESTERN REFRAIN. Droop not, brothers ! As we go, O'er the mountains, Westward ho ! Under boughs of misletoe, Log-huts we'll rear. While herds of deer and buffalo. Furnish the cheer. File o'er the mountains — steady, boys ! For game afar We have our rifles ready, boys ! Aha! Throw care to the winds, Like chaff, boys ! — ^ha ! And join in the laugh, boys — Hah — ^hah — ^hah. 92 Cheer up, brotliers ! As we go, O'er the mountains, Westward ho ! When we've wood and prairie land, Won by our toil. We'll reign like kings in fairy-land, Lords of the soil! Then westward ho ! in l^ons, boys, Fair freedom's star Points to her sunset regions, boys ! Aha! Throw care to the winds. Like chaff, boys, ha ! And join in the laugh, boys — Hah — ^hah — ^hah. 03 WILL NOBODY MARRY ME? Heigh-ho ! for a husband ! — ^Heigh-ho ! There's danger in longer delay ? Shall I never again have a beau 7 Will nobody marry me, pray ? I begin to feel strange, I declare ! With beauty my prospects will fade — I'd give myself up in despair If I thought I should die an old maid. I once cut the beaux in a huff— I thought it a sin and a shame That no one had spirit enough To ask me to alter my name. So I turn'd up my nose at the short, And cast down my eyes at the tall ; But then I just did it in sport. And now I've no lover at all. 04 I These men are the plagues of my life ; 'Tis hard from so many to choose ! Should any one wish for a wife, Could I have the heart to refuse ? I dont know — ^for none have proposed — Oh dear me ! — Fm frightened I vow ! Good gracious ! who ever supposed That I should be single till now ? 96 THE BALL-ROOM BELLE. The moon and all her starry train, Were fading from the morning sky, When home the ball-room belle again Retum'd with throbbing pulse and brain, Flush'd cheek, and tearful eye. The plumes that danced above her brow, The gems that sparkled in her zone, The scarf of gold-wove myrtle bough. Were laid aside — ^they mock'd her now. When desolate and lone. 96 That night how many hearts she won ! The reigning belle, she could not stir But like the planets round the sun Her suitors foUow'd — all but one ! One all the world to her. And she had lost him ! — marvel not That lady's eyes with tears were wet ; Though love by man is soon forgot, It never yet was woman's lot To love and to foi^et. 97 THE MINUTURE. William was holding in his hand The likeness of his wife — Fresh, as if touch'd by fidry wand, With beauty, grace and life. He almost thought it spoke — he gazed Upon the treasure still ; Absorbed, delighted and amazed, He yiew'd the artist's skill. " This picture is yourself, dear Jane, 'Tis drawn to nature true : Fve kiss'd it o'er and o'er again. It is so much like you." " And has it kiss'd you back, my dear !" " Why — no — my love," said he. " Then, William, it is very clear, 'Tis not at all like me /" 96 THE RETORT. Old Birch, who taught the village school, Wedded a maid of homespun habit ; He was stubborn as a mule, And she was playftil as a rabbit Poor Jane had scarce become a wife, Before her husband sought to make her The pink of country-polish'd life. And prim and formal as a quaker. One day the tutor went abroad, And simple Jenny sadly miss'd him ; When he returned, behind her lord She slyly stole and fondly kiss'd him ! The husband's anger rose ! — and red And white his face alternate grew ! "Less freedom, ma'am !" Jane sigh'd and said, " OA, dear ! 1 dicTnt know Hwas you /" ^^ LINES TO A POET. How sweet the cadence of thy lyre ! What melody of words ! They strike a pulse within the heart Like songs of forest birds, Or tinkling of the shepherd's bell Among the mountain herds. Thy mind's a cultured garden, Where Nature's hand has sown The flower-seeds of poesy — And they have freshly grown, Imbued with beauty and perfume To other plants unknown. 100 A bright career's before thee — All tongues pronounce thy praise ; All hearts thy inspiration feel, And will in after days ; For genius breathes in every page Of thy soul-thrilling lays. A nameless grace is round thee — A something, too refined To be described, yet must be felt By all of human kind : An emanation of the soul That cannot be defined. Then blessings on thee, minstrel — Thy faults let others scan : There may be spots upon the sun. Which those may view that can ; I see them not — yet know thee well A POET AND A MAN. 101 THE COLONEL. The colonel ! — such a creature ! I met him at the ball ! Perfect in form and feature, And so divinely tall ! He praised my dimpled cheeks and curls, While whirling through the dance, And match'd me with the dark-^yed girls Of Italy and France ! He said, in accents thrilling, '^ Lovers boundless as the sea ! And I, dear maid, am willing To give up all for thee !" I heard him — ^blush'd — "would ask mamma"- And then my eyes grew dim : He look'd — I said, "mamma — papa — Fd give up all for him !" 103 My governor is rich and old : This well the colonel knew. "Love's wings," he said, 'Svhen fringed with gold, Are beautiftil to view !" « I thought his 'haviour quite the ton Until I saw him stare, When merely told-that-brother-John- Papa-would-make-his-heir ! Next day and the* day after I dress'd for him in vain — Was moved to tears and laughter — He never came again ! But I have heard for widow Dash He bought the bridal ring — And he will wed her for her cash — The ugly, hateful thing ! 108 I LOVE THE NIGHT. I LOVE the night when the moon streams bright On flowers that drink the dew, When cascades shout as the stars peep out, From boundless fields of blue ; But dearer far than moon or star, Or flowers of gaudy hue, Or murmuring trills of mountain rills, I love, I love, love — you ! I love to stray at the close of day, Through groves of linden trees. When gushing notes from song-birds' Are vocal in the breeze. I love the night — the glorious night ! When hearts beat warm and true ; But far above the night, I love, I love, I love, love — you ! 104 THE MAY atEEN. Like flights of singing-birds went by The cheerful hours of girlhood's day, When, in my native bowers, Of simple buds and flowers They wove a crown and hail'd me Queen of May. Like airy sprites the lasses came, Spring's offerings at my feet to lay ; The crystal from the fountain. The green-boughs from the mountcdn They brought to cheer and shade the dueen of May. 105 N Around the May-pole on the green, A fairy ring they tripp'd away ; All merriment and pleasure, . To chords of tuneful measure, They bounded by the happy dueen of May. Though years have pass'd and time has strewn My raven locks with flakes of gray, Fond memory brings the hours Of buds and blossom-showers When in girlhood I was crown'd the dueen of May. 106 VENETIAN SERENADE. Come, come to me, love ! Come love ! — Arise ! And shame the bright stars With the light of thine eyes ; Look out from thy lattice, Oh lady, appear ! A swan on the water. My gondola's near ! Come, come to me, love ! Come, love ! — My bride ! O'er crystal in moonbeams We'll tranquilly glide : In the dip of the oar A melody flows Sweet as the nightingale Sings to the rose. 107 I. * 106 y/ i-i'\r-PDVSi~'N i LL. HK.'Si'ErTKi-l.l.V LV^l'KlJiKJJ TD lIDjri'U.T y.l 31 1I'![.-\J',!., E-S [; , HT wJiV)y^'Q'£> :?. 'iii oiiua^ . MlK- niinnii un»..n.i. atii! r.M>H.™ snij K.iri^.ruu.">|-H3il snivel. Come, come to me, love ! Gome, love ! — The day Brings warder and cloister ! Away then, away ! O haste to thy lover ; Not yon star above Is more true to heaven, Than he to his love ! 108 106 y/ hi yf-p^KDii- y/i ll. Ki;5i'j':rTi''i';,i,v .i>'3I'h.ij5>:]j td ;ii)R';'d."v 2y. y\]i"\.\}]h,K^[^i. "isT t>:ao2i&j!; p. i^ oijiiia^ . " Why dost thou conie at set oCsmi, Those peusive words to say ? Wily wliip poor Will T — Wliat has he done 7 And who is Witl, I pray ? " "Why dost thou come at set of sun. Those pCTisive words to say ? Why whip poor Will 1 — Wliat Ilis Iu' ilonr? And who is Will, I pray 7 1 " If poverty's his crraie, let ndrtli From out his heart be diiveai : That is tlie deadliest sin on eartli, And never is IbigiveD ! "An Will himself 1 — It must be so — I learn it bom fhy moan, For none can feel another's woe As deeply, as his own. " Yet whei-efope strain thy tiny tlii-oat, While other Lirds repose ? What means ttiy melancholy note 1 The mystery distlose. "Still ' wliip-poor-wiU !' — ^Art thou a sprite, From unkuown ref^ons sent. To wander in the gloran of night, Aitd ask for puiiishnt^il ? " Is thiiH- !i couscieiiri' son- liowi Willi tniill —()]■, wliai is wiii'si', IImsI llinii lo ini'i'i writs, duns luiil ilobi. " If this be thy hard fate indeed. Ah well luay'st thou repine: Tho 3ympadiy I give 1 need — ' The poets doom is tliine. ! I " An Thou a lover, Will ? — Hast proved The ftiirpsl can deceive ? Thine is die lot of all who've loved I Since Adam wedded Eve. " Hasi trusted in a friend, and seen No friend was he in need? A common error — men siill lean Upon as frail a reed. " Hast thou in seeking wealth or iame, A crown of bramWes won ? O'er all the emih 'tis just the same With every mother's s«i '- " Hast found the world a Babel wide, Where man to Mammon stoops ? AVhere flouridi anogance and pride, While modest merit droops ? " What, none of Ihese ?— Then, whence thy pain, To guess it who's the skill 1 Pray have the kindness to exjAain Why I should whip poor Will ? " Dost merely ask thy .fnst desert ? Wlial not annther word] — Back to the woods again, unhurt — I will not haim thee, bhxl! " But u-pat ihee kindly — for my nerves, liike tliine, have peiiaiice done; 'Tre.il ever>- man as he dPtierves "VVlio shall 'scape whipping 1' — None. "Farewfll poor Will — not vaUirli This lesson by liiw? given : ' Keep thiiie own counsel, and Tliysrir ;ilonfi lo iieavon !' " r SONGS AND DUETS FROM TUB OPBRA OF THE MAID OF SAXONY. THE MUSIC BT C. E. HORN. THE GENTLE BIRD. The gentle bird on yonder spray, That sings its little life away, The rose-bud bursting into flower. And glitt'ring in the sun and shower. The cherry-blossom on the tree. Are emblematic all of thee. * Yon moon that sways the vassal streams Like thee in modest beauty beams ; So shines the diamond of the mine, And the rock-crystal of the brine : The gems of heaven, earth and sea, Are blended all, dear maid, in thee ! 145 T WHEN I BEHOLD. When I behold that lowering brow Which indicates the mind within, I marvel much that woman's vow A man like that could ever win. Yet, it is said, in rustic bower, (The fable I have often heard,) A serpent has mysterious power To captivate a timid bird. This moral then I sadly trace. That love's a fluttering thing of air : And yonder stands the viper base. Who would my gentle bird ensnare. 'Twas in the shades of Eden's bower, This fascination had its birth, And even there possessed the power To lure the paragon of earth. 146 ALL SHOULD WED FOR LOVE. From my fate there's no retreating, Love commands and I obey : How with joy my heart is beating At the fortunes of to-day. Life is fiU'd with strange romances — Love is blind the poets say : When he comes misought, the chance is Of his own accord he'll stay. Love can ne'er be forced to tarry ; Chain him, he'll the bonds remove ; Pair'd, not match'd, too many marry — All should wed alone for love. Let him on the bridal even. Trim his lamp with constant ray, And the flame will light to heaven, When the world shall fade away. 147 'TIS A SOLDIER'S RIGID DUTY. 'Tis a soldier's rigid duty Orders strictly to obey ; Let not then the smile of beauty Lure us from the camp away. In our country's cause united, Gallantly we'll take the field ; But the victory won, delighted Singly to the fair we yield. Soldiers who have ne'er retreated. Beauty's tear^will sure beguile ; Hearts that armies ne'eitldefeated, Love can conquer with a smile. Who would strive to live in story. Did not woman's hand prepare Amaranthine wreaths of glory, Which the valiant proudly wear. 148 THE LAND OF THE HEART. Sky, stream, moorland and mountain, Tree, cot, spire and dome. Breeze, bird, vineyard and fountain, Kindred, friends, country and home. Home, home, home, home. These are the blessings of home. Hope how fondly I cherish. Dear land, to see thee once more ; Oh, fate ! let me not perish, Far from my own native shore. Home, home, home, home. Saxony, liberty's home. Those who freedom inherit Bow not to tyranny's throne. Then, friends, in a kind spirit. Judge of my love by your own. Home, home, home, home. The land of the heart is our home. 149 LOVE IS NOT A GARDEN FLOWER/ Ah ! love is not a garden flower, That shoots from out the cultured earth ! That needs the sunbeam and the shower Before it wakens into birth : It owns a richer soil and seed, And woman's heart contains them both — Where it will spring, without a weed, Consummate in its growth. These leaves will perish when away From either genial sun or shower ; Not so will wither and decay Celestial Love's perennial flower. 'Tis our companion countless miles. Through weal or wo, in after years ; And though it flourishes in smiles. It blooms as fresh in tears. ISO THE KING, THE PRINCES. The king, the princes of the court, With lords and ladies bright. Will in their dazzling state resort, To this grand fete to-night. The merry hearted and the proud, Will mingle in the glittering crowd, Who glide with fashion's sparkling stream. Where one I love will shine supreme. The cavaliers of Italy, The gay gallants of France, With Spain and England's chivalry Will join the mazy dance. The court of Love, the camp of Mars, Fair Prussian dames, ' earth-treading stars,' To music's strain will float in light. Where one I love will beam to-night. 151 THE MIDNIGHT BELL. Hark ! 'tis the deep-toned midnight hell, That bids a sad and long farewell To the departed hour : How like a dirge its music falls, Within these cold and dreary walls Where stem misfortunes lower. Ah ! vainly through these prison-bars Glide the pale beams of moon and stars, To cheer this lonely tower : From evening's close to dawn of day Hope's star sheds not a single ray To light the solenm hour. Alas ! what pangs must guilt conceal, When innocence like mine can feel So crush'd in such an hour ! I know not whether love be crime, But if it is, in every clime, 'Tis woman's fatal dower ! 152 SWAY'D BY SMILES FROM THEE. Once mild and gentle was my heart ! — My youth from guile was free, Ere falsehood's tongue and slander's dart Had stain'd and woimded me ! And then no threats could daunt my soul ; My haughty spirit spurn'd control Till sway'd by smiles from thee. A wanderer o'er the desert sand, An outcast on the sea, An exile from my native land, What joy had life for me ? Each friend misfortune proved a foe ; I scom'd the high, despised the low, Till swayed by smiles from thee. 153 17 THE PERFECTION OP REASON. That law's the perfection of reason No one in his senses denies, Yet here is a trial for treason Will puzzle the wigs of the wise. The lawyers retain'd in the action On no single point will agree, Though proved to their own satisfaction That tweedle-dum's fiot tweedle-dee ! To settle disputes — in a fury The sword from the scabbard we draw ; But reason appeals to a jury And settles — according to law. Then hey for the woolsack — ^for never Without it can nations be free ; But trial by jury for ever ! And for tyranny — ^fiddle-de-dee ! 154 THE CROTON ODE. SUNO NKAR TBK IPark ibuntatn, BT THB MEMBERS OF THE NEW-TORK SACRED MUSIC SOCIETY, ON THB COHFLETION OF THE CROTON KtODUCT. Celebrated October 14, 1848. WritttH at tk* request of the Corporation of the dtf i^f Ifew- York. THE CROTON ODE. Gushing from this living fountain, Music pours a falling strain, As the Goddess of the Mountain Comes with all her sparkling train. From her grotto-springs advancing Glittering in her feathery spray, Woodland fays beside her dancing, She pursues her winding way. Gently o'er the rippling water. In her coral-shallop bright. Glides the rock-king's dove-eyed daughter, Deck'd in robes of virgin white. Nymphs and naiads, sweetly smiling. Urge her bark with pearly hand, Merrily the sylph beguiling From the nooks of fairy-land. 156 Swimming on the snow-curl'd billow, See the river-spirits fair, Lay their cheeks, as on a pillow. With the foam-beads in their hair. Thus attended, hither wending, . Floats the lovely oread now, Eden's arch of promise bending Over her translucent brow. Hail the wanderer from a far-land ! Bind her flowing tresses up ! Crown her with a fadeless garland. And with crystal brim the cup. From her haunts of deep seclusion. Let Intemperance greet her too. And the heat of his delusion Sprinkle with this mountain dew. Water leaps as if delighted, While her conquered foes retire ! Pale Contagion flies affi*ighted With the baffled demon Fire ! 167 Safety dweUs in her dominions, Health and Beauty with her move, And entwine their circling pinions In a sisterhood of love. Water shouts a glad hosanna ! Bubbles up the earth to bless ! Cheers it like the precious manna In the barren wilderness. Here we wondering gaze, assembled Like the grateful Hebrew band, When the hidden fountain trembled. And obeyed the Prophet's wand. Round the Aqueduct's of story. As the mists of Leth^ throng, Croton's waves, in all their glory, Troop in melody along.^ Ever sparkling, bright and single, Will this rock-ribb'd stream appear, When Posterity shall mingle Like the gather'd waters here. 166 ADDRESS FOR THE BENEFIT OF WILLIAM DUNLAP. SPOKEN BY MRS. SHARPE. What gay assemblage greets my wondering sight ! What scene of splendor — conjiured here to-night ! What voices murmur, and what glances gleam ! Sure 'tis some flattering, unsubstantial dream. The house is crowded — everybody's here, For beauty famous, or to science dear ; Doctors and lawyers, judges, belles and beaux, Poets and painters — and heaven only knows Whom else beside — and, see, gay ladies sit, Lighting with smiles that fearful place, the pit — (A fairy change — ah, pray continue it.) 159 Gray heads are here too, listening to my rhymes, Pull of the spirit of departed times ; Grave men and studious, strangers to my sight, All gather round me on this hrilliant night. And welcome are ye all. Not now ye come To speak some trembling poet's awful doom ; With frowning eyes a " want of mind" to trace In some new actor's inexperienced face, Or e'en us old ones (oh, for shame ! ) to rate " With study — ^good-rin time — ^but — never great :" Not like yon travel'd native, just to say " Folks in this country cannot act a play, They can't 'pon honour !" How the creature starts ! His wit and whiskers came from foreign parts ! Nay, madam, spare your blushes — ^you I mean — There — close beside him — oh, you're full nineteen — You need not shake your flowing locks at me — The man's your sweetheart ? — ^then I'm dumb, you see ; I'll let him off — ^you'll punish him in time, Or I've no skill in the prophecy of rhyme ! A nobler motive fills your bosoms now, To wreathe the laurel round the silver'd brow Of one who merits it — if any can — The artist, author, and the honest man. 160 With equal charms his pen and pencil drew Rich scenes, to nature and to virtue true. Full oft upon these boards hath youth appeared, And oft your smiles his faltering footsteps cheer'd ; But not alone on budding genius smile, Leaving the ripen'd sheaf unowned the while ; To boyish hope not every bounty give, And only youth and beauty bid to live. Will you forget the services long past — Turn the old wax-horse out to die at last, When, his proud strength and noble fleetness o'er, His faithful bosom dares the charge no more ? Ah, no — the sun that loves his beams to shed Roimd every opening floweret's tender head, With smiles as kind his genial radiance throws To cheer the sadness of the &ding rose : Thus he, whose merit claims this dagaling crowd. Points to the past, and has his claims allowed ; Looks brightly forth, his fiuthfid journey done, And rests in triumph — like the setting sun. 161 ADDRESS FOE TBI BENEFIT OP JAMES SHERIDAN KNOWLES. SPOKEN BY MRS. CHAPMAN. Nay ! — Mr. Simpson ! — 'Tis not kind — polite To shut me out, sir ! — I'm in such a fright ! — I cannot speak the lines, I'm sure ! — Oh, fy ! To say I must — well, if I must — I'll try ! From him I turn to these more generous souls. The drama's patrons and the Mends of Knowles. Why what a brilliant galaxy is here ! What stars adorn this mimic hemisphere ! Names that shine brightest on our country's page ! The props of science — literature — the stage ! Above — below — around me — • woman smiles. The fairest floweret of these western wilds — All come to pay the tribute of their praise To the first dramatist of modem days ; And welcome, to the green home of the free, With heart and hand, the bard of liberty ! 162 EQs is a wizard wand. Its potent spell Broke the deep slumber of the patriot Tell ! And placed him on his native hills again, The pride and glory of his fellow men ! The poet speaks — for Rome Virginia bleeds ! Bold Caius Gracchus in the forum pleads ! Alfred — the Great, becaui^e the good and wise — Bids prostrate England burst her bonds and rise ! Sweet Bess, the Beggar's Daughter, beauty's queen, Walks forth the joy and wonder of the scene ! The Hunchback enters — kindly — fond — severe — And last, behold the glorious Wife appear ! These are the bright creations of a mind Glowing with genius, chastened and refined. In all he's written, be this praise his lot, " Not one word, dying, would he wish to blot !" Upon my life 'tis no such easy thing To laud the bard, unless an eagle's wing My muse would take ; and, fixing on the sun Her burning eye, soar as his own has done ! Did you speak, sir ? — What, madam, did he say ? Wrangling ! — for shame ! — before your wedding-day ! Nay, gentle lady, by thine eyes of blue. And vermeil blushes, I did not mean you ! 163 Bless me, what Mends at every glance I see ! Artists and authors — men of high d^;ree; Grave politicians, who have weighed each chance — The next election, and the war with France ; Doctors, just come from — curing half a score. And belles firom — killing twice as many more ; Judges, recorders, aldermen and mayors. Seated, like true republicans, down 9tairs ! All wear a glow of sunshine in their faces Might well become Apollo and the graces, Except one yonder, with a look infernal, Like a blurfd page fiom Fanny Kemble's Journal ! But to my task. The muse, when I b^an. Spoke of the writer — welcome ye the man. Genius, at best, acts but an humble part. Unless obedient to an honest heart. And such a one is his, for whom to-night, These walls are crowded with this cheering sight. Ye love the poet — oft have conn'd him o'er — Knew ye the man, ye'd love him ten times more. Te critics spare him from your tongue and quill, Ye gods applaud him, and ye fops — be still ! 164 ADDRESS rOR THB BENEFIT OF HENRY PLACIDE. SPOKEN BY MRS. HILSON. The music's done. Be quiet, Mr. Durie ! Tour bell and whistle put me in a fury ! Don't ring up yet, sir — I've a word to say Before the curtain rises for the play ! Your pardon, gentlefolks, nor think me bold, Because I thus our worthy prompter scold : 'Twas all feign'd anger. This enlightened age Requires a ruse to bring one on the stage ! Well, here I am, quite dazzled with the sight Presented on this brilliant festal night ! Where'er I turn, whole rows of patrons sit — The house is full — box, gallery and pit ! Who says the New- York public are unkind ? I know them well, and plainly speak my mind - 166 " It is our right," the ancient poet sung — He knew the value of a woman's tongue ! With this I will defend ye — and rehearse Five glorious (ids of yours — in flowing verse ; Each one concluding with a generous deed For Dunlap, Cooper, Woodworth, Knowles, Placide ! 'Twas nobly done, ye patriots and scholars ! Besides — they netted twenty thousand dollars ! " A good round sum," in these degenerate times — " This bank-note world," so called in Halleck's rhymes ; And proof conclusive, you will frankly own. In liberal actions New-Tork stands alone. Though roams he oft 'mong green poetic bowers. The actor's path is seldom strewn with flowers. His is a silent, secret, patient toil ; While others sleep, he bums the midnight oil : — Pores o'er his books — thence'inspiration draws — And wastes his life to merit your applause ! Oh ye, who come the laggard hours to while. And with the laugh-provoking muse to smile, Remember this ! the mirth that cheers you so, Shows but the surface — not the depths below ! Then judge not lightly of the actor's art, Who smiles to please you, with a breaking heart ! 166 Neglect him not in his hill-climbing course, Nor treat him with less kindness than your horse : Up hill indulge him — down the steep descent Spare — and don't ui^e him when his strength is spent ; Impel him briskly o'er the level earth, But in the stable don't forget his worth ! So with the actor — while you work him hard, Be mindful of his claims to your regard. But hold ! — methinks some carping cynic here Will greet my homely image with a sneer. Well — let us see — I would the monster view ; — Man, with umbrageous whiskers, is it you? Ah no — I was mistaken : every brow Beams with benevolence and kindness now ; Beauty and fashion all the circles grace — And scowling Envy here were out of place ! On every side the wise and good appear — The very pillars of the state are here ! There sit the doctors of the legal clan ; There, all the city's rulers, to a man ; Critics and editors, and leam'd m.d.'s, Buzzing, and busy, like a hive of bees ; And there, as if to keep us all in order. Our worthy friends the Mayor and Recorder ! 167 Well, peace be with you ! Friends of native worth, Yours is the power to caU it into birth ; Yours is the genial influence smiles upon The budding flowerets opening to the sun. They all around us court your fostering hand — Bear them with care, in beauty they'll expand — With grateful odours well repay your toil. Equal to those sprung from a foreign soU ; And more Placides bask in your sunshine then, The first of actors, and the best of men. 166 NOTES. ^^^ Janet McRea," —F^ge 33. ^ We seated ourselves in the shade of a large pine-tree ; and drank of a spring that gargled beneath it The Indians gave a groan and turned their faces from the water. They would not drink of the spring nor eat in the shade of the tree ; but retired to a ledge of rocks at no great dis- tance. I ventured to approach them and inquire the cause of their strange conduct One of the Indians said in a deep and solemn tone, • that place is bad for the red-man ; the blood of an innocent woman, not of our enemies, rests upon that spot — she was there murdered. The red-man's word had been pledged for her safety ; but the evil spirit made him forget it She lies buried there. No one avenged her murder, and the Great Spirit was angry. That water will make us more thirsty and that shade will scorch us. The stain of blood is on our hands, and we know not how to wipe it out It still rests upon us, do what we will.' I could get no more from them ; they were silent, even for Indians. It was the death of Miss McRea they alluded to. She was betrothed to a young American by the name of Jones, who had taken sides with the British and become a captain in their service. The lovers, however, had managed to keep up a corres- pondence, and he was informed, after a battle in which he distinguished himself for his bravery, that his inamorata was concealed in a house a few miles from Sandy-Hill. As it was dangerous for him to go to her, he en- gaged a party of confidential Indians to take his horse to her residence and bring her to his tent in safety. He urged her in his letter, not to hesitate a moment in putting herself under their protection ; and the voice of a lover is law to a confiding woman. They proceeded on their journey, and stopped to rest under a large pine-tree near a spring — th« one at which we drank. Here they were met by another party of Indians, also sent by the impatient lover, when a quairel arose about her which terminated in her assassination. One of the Indians pulled the poor girl from her horse and another struck his tomahawk into her forehead— tore off her scalp and gashed her breast They then covered her body with leaves and left her under the huge ptne.tree. One of the Indians made her lover ac- quainted with the facts, and another brought him her scalp. He knew the long brown tresses of Miss McRea, and in defiance of all dangers, flew to the spot to realize the horrid scene. He tore away the thinly-spread leavae— clasped the itill bleeding body in his arms ; and, wimpping it in 160 w hit ekmkf wai about bearing it away« when he was prevented by hie sn- perior oflScen, wbo ordeied the poor girl to be buried on the spot where she had been immolated. After this event a curse seemed to;^est upon the red-man. In every battle their forces were sadly cut np ; the Ameri- cans attacking them most furiously whenever they could get an opportu- nity. The prophets of the Indians had strange auguries ; they saw con- stantly in the clouds, the form of the murdered white woman, invoking the blast to overwhelm them, and directing all the power and fury of the Ameri- cans to exterminate every red-man of the forest, who had committed the hatefnl deed of breaking his faith and staining the tomahawk with the blood of a woman, whose spirit still called for revenge. It was agreed among the Indians in a body to move silently away, and by morning's light not a red-man was to be found near the British troops. Captain Jones, too, was no moie. In the battle he led on his men with that fearlessness and fury that distrsssed minds often do ; but his men grew tired of following him in such periloas attacks, and began to fly. As he returned to rally them he received a ball in his back. Burning with shame, love and frenzy, he tamed and threw himself on the bayonets of the enemy, and at once closed his agonies and expiated his political offence. He was laid by the side of her he had so ardently loved and lamented." — Events of the RevoLutiovu [Extnet cfa Letter to Heary SoMeU.] ^M Woodman^ spare that <ree."— Page 39. Riding out of town a few days since, in company with a friend, who was once the expectant heir of the largest estate in America, but over whose worldly prospects a blight has recently come, he invited me to turn ddwn a little romantic woodland pass, not for from Bloomingdale. •< Your ob- ject 1" inquired L ••Merely to look once more at an old tree planted by my grandfather, near a cottage that was once my father's." *• The place is yours then ?" said L •• No, my poor mother sold it," and I observed a slight quiver of the lip, at the recollection of that circumstance. «* Dear mother !** resnmed my compank)n, ••we passed many happy, happy days, in that M cottage ; but it is nothing to me now — father, mother, sisters, cottage — all are gone ;" and a paleness overspread his fine countenance, and a moisture came to his eyes as he spoke. After a moment's pause, he added, ••Don't think me foolish. I don't know how it is, I never ride oat but I turn down this lane to look at that old tree. I have a thousand recollections about it, and I always greet it as a familiar and well-remembered friend. In the by-gone summer-time it was a friend in- deed. Under its branches I often listoied to the good counsel of my pa- rents and had f«dk gambols with my sisters ! Its leaves are all off now, so 17D you won't see it to advantage, for it is a glorious old fellow in summer ; but I like It full as well in winter time." These words were scarcely utteredf when my companion cried out, <^ There it is ! " Near the tree stood an old man with his coat of!; sharpening an axe. He was the occu- pant of the cottage. •* What are you going to do 1 " asked my friend with great anxiety. " What's that to you 1" was the reply. "You're not going to cut that tree down surely?" "Yes, but I am though," said the woodman. " What for," inquired my companion, almost choked with emo- tion. « What for 1 Why, because I think proper to do so. What for 1 I like that ! Well, I'll tell you what for. This tree makes my dwelling un- healthy ; it stands too near the house ; prevents the moisture from exha- ling, and renders us liable to fever-and-ague." " Who told you that ?" «* Dr. Smith." " Have you any other reason for wishing to cut it down 1" " Yes, 1 am getting old ; the woods are a great way oS, and this tree is of some value to me to bum." He was soon convinced, however, that the story about the fever-and-ague was a mere fiction, for there never had been a case of that disease in the neighbourhood ; and then was asked what the tree was worth for firewood ? " Why, when it is down, about ten dollars." "Suppose I should give you that sum, would you let it stand 1 " " Yes." " You are sure of that ?" " Positive." « Then give me a bond to that efiect." I drew it up ; it was witnessed by his daugh- ter ; the money was paid, and we left the place with an assurance from the young girl, who looked as smiling and beautiful as a Hebe, that the tree should stand as long as she lived. We returned to the road, and pursued our ride. These circumstances made a strong impression upon my mind, and furnished me with the materials for the song I send you. New-York, Febraary 1, 1837. * " The Chieftain's Datighter:'-^FsLge 66. " Every part of the brief but glorious life of Pocahontas is calculated to produce a thrill of admiration, and to reflect the highest honour on her name. The most memorable event of her life is thus recorded. After a long consultation among the Indians, the fate of Captain Smith, who was the leader of the first colony in Virginia, was decided. The conclave re- sumed their silent gravity — two huge stones were placed near the water's edge. Smith was lashed to them, and his head was laid down, as a prepa- ration for beating out his brains with war-clubs. Powhattan raised the fiital instrument, and the savage multitude with their blood-stained wea- pons stood near their king, silently waiting the prisoner's last moment But Smith was not destined thus to perish. Pocahontas, the beloved daughter of the king, rushed forward, fell upon her knees, and with tears 171 and entiealiee pny«d that the victim might he spared. The royal savage rejeeted her rait and conkmanded her to leave Smith to his fate. Grown frantic at the ftilureof her MijiplicationB, Pocahontas threw her arms about Smith, and laid ^ head upon hisi her raven hair falling around his neck and shouldersi declaring she woqld perish with or save him. The Indians gasped for breath, fearing that Powhattan would siaj his child for taking such a deep interest in the fote of one he considered his deadliest foe. But human nature is the same everywhere : the war-club dropped from the monarch's hand— his brow relaxed — his heart softened ; land, as he raised his brave daughter to his bosom, and kissed her forehead, he re- versed his decree, and directed Smith to be set at liberty ! Whether the regard of this glorious girl for Smith ever reached the feeling of love is not known. No favour was ever expected in return. •! ask nothing oi Captain Smith,' said she, in an interview she afterwards had with him in England, • in recompense for what I have done, but the boon of living in his memory.' John Randolph, was a fineal descendant of this noble wo. man, and was wont to pride himself upon the honour of his descent Po- cahontas died in the twenty-second year ai her age." — Sketches of Vtrginia. ^** Sally SL Ctotr."— Page 87. Sally St Clair was a beautiful, dark-eyed, Creole girl. The whole treasury of her love was lavished upon Sergeant Jasper, who on one occasion had the good fortune to save her life. The prospect of their separation ahnost maddened her. To sever her long jetty ringlets from her exquisite head, to dress in male attire, to enrol herself in the corps to which he belonged, and follow his fortunes in the wars, unknown to him, was a resolution no sooner conceived than taken. In the camp she attract- ed no particular attention except on the night before the battle, when she was noticed bending over his couch, like a good and gentle spirit, as if listening tqjuia dreams. The camp was surprised and a fierce conflict ensued. The lovers were side by side in the thickest of the fight ; but, endeavouring to turn away a lance aimed at the heart of Jasper, the poor girl received it in her own, and fell bleeding at his feet After the victory, her name and sex were discovered, and there was not a dry eye in the corps when Sally St. Clair was laid in her grave, near the river Santee, in a green shady nook that looked as if it had been stolen out of Paradise. — Tales of Marion* s Men, '•*Ahl love is naagardenJhwer:'^FsLge 150. The first verse of this song was suggested by a passage in Sheridan Knowles's play of the Hunchback. >r m 3" '«^*-- THE NEW YORK PUBLIC UBRARY RBFBRBNCB DBPARTMBNT This book is under no oiroomsUuioes to be teken from the Building • ^ 1 ■ « • ^ ' r # « - f»riii 4la •1 i t\ V.I / ^ « 'mm^m ■ffMVi