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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 :?. '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 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