WOOD-NOTES: ) : 3 ee Carolina Carols: A COLLECTION oF NORTH CAROLINA POETRY. COMPILED BY TENELLA. IN TWO VOLUMES. VOLK é RALEIGH: W. Ao RRA LS POMEROY. ; M.DCCC.LIV. : Rn id ha ah Sania ABC a eg EAPO RE ENN SA OEE AE GRA MNT RA EAE yi 58 2 ee a a TO THE HON. DAVID L. SWAIN, LL.D., “ * AND TO THE pear areecte reeset eesti REY. FRANCIS L. HAWKS, D.D., LL.D., Entrrep according to Act of Congress, in the year 1853, in the Clerk’, WHOSE EFFORTS IN FOSTERING AND ADORNING THE LITERATURE 5 Office of the District Court for the District of North Carolina, oy OR EO RNP ONSUREA HAVE REFLEOTED HONOR ON THEIR NATIVE STATE, | © «Chis First Calection OF NORTH OAROLINA POETRY 18 MOST RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED. . seers literate tein itannnnennmen JOHN F. TROW, Prinrer, 49 Ann street, New York, na intaieiddimipenba once nan ead — BREE A OES ‘Te volumes of poetry now presented to the public had their origin in a collection for the compiler’s own use. As it increased, a few friends expressed a wish that it should be rendered as complete as possible and published, that every North Carolinian might have an opportunity of possessing, in a permanent and convenient form, a copy of many pieces that they had probably read and admired, and perhaps for a time preserved from regard for the authors. Hn- couraged by their kind co-operation, the work has been steadily, though slowly, growing until it has reached its present size; though it has been found impossible to obtain many pieces which it was thought could be procured, yet it is hoped that this first at- 1* these « foot-prints of the SSESS Some of Muse” will show that we po “the poets that are sown By Nature; men endowed wi The vision and the faculty divi ghts of the best and = | purest Irving has well remarked that « it is tl gift of poetry to hallow every place in i The learned jurist who can unbend his min to write a May- at day song for children, shows 9 - ness of heart as worthy of praise ag his noble ta and profound learning, which awaken the admir ati of the whole country; and the fe grave divine, who, in PAA ea ai rea A i a aN asa ia ot q PREFACE, 4 his hours of relaxation, can sing of birds and flowers for the instruction of the lambs of his flock, imitates Him who pointed to the lilies of the field, and the hen gathering her brood under her wings to illustrate the most sublime moral teachings, and give point to the most pathetic apostrophe ever uttered. It is from our knowledge of the writers that many pieces in this collection will derive their interest, and though viewed by the severe eye of criticism, they would have been rejected, still it was thought that public expectation would have been disappointed had they been omitted. To the kind friends who have contributed, or who have assisted in collecting pieces for the work, the compiler returns her sincere thanks. To those whose pieces have not been inserted, she would also express her obligations, and say that they were for the most part declined because they did not comport with the design of the work, or because others of a similar nature had been previously received. TENELLA. ss — a 4 | i i . d ° a CONTENTS. : PAGE ~ : TENELLA. To the Poets of North Carolina, ¢ é : 13 Pump W. Arsrow. The Greek’s Vision. 3 : : i Selo Ocean. . ; 4 % A f ; 26 Waker Anperson. An Imitation of Scott’s Coronach, : : Gi382 Lines on Leaving Florida. ; js 34 “Oh! that I had wings like a dove, for then eat I flee 4 away and be at rest.” < Pry a) . s A Paraphrase of a Passage in a Sermon, aon Tate xii, 32. 38 Bi Lines, ; r i $589 * Sonnet—To a Prod on hae ee tad Removal. 40 Sonnet. . 41 To My Mother « on the Ba th- -day of ny Brother, ; agp AD) “Thy will be done.” . : : : 3 44 {} The Sabbath Morning, . : : j . 46 G. Z. Apams. al Stanzas, = : 0 9g 5 5 49 4 Joun Topp Brawn. = j The Death of Saladin. 5 Te cigs vie OL ‘ Decay. . 5 psy ; : : 54 Lawrence Bapanr. Carolina. . : pee 5 : 556 iti ia an en Te AT 10 CONTENTS, + « Rise up, sad soul, Lilly Lane, W. Hirt Brown, The Lion and the Terrapin, Mrs. 8. M, Cuunn, The Silent Multitude of the Dead, The Grave of Rosalie, , i The Dying Year, . To a Bride, Epwarp Cantwett, Upon the Death 0 The Minstrel, . Written under a Picture, , f Two Infants, 3 Wirt J, CrarKn, Lines to a young lady “Hope on hope ever,” TpiAAtore aoragin,— Paraphrase, who said she had never loved. . Dovean Crank. The Rainbow. Mrs. E. A, Dare, To Annie, H. §. Exzeywoop, Marriage of the Sun and Moon, Taz Hon. Winutax Gaston. To Eliza from her Husband, A Dream. . : The Old North State, A May-Day Song. ; Our Mother's Birth-day. N ei Millie dics Web = n eit tae i nga it tee ea ee RS USEC T RET ETTERENTTT SR ES that aad! i 3 “Thrice prayed for, best beloved,” ; CONTENTS. 11 F PAGE Epitaph—On a pet Mocking Bird found dead in its cage, and buried by his grandchildren, Oct. 2d, 1841. 104 ALEXANDER Gaston, The Gathering of the Volunteers, 5 3 - 106 Mrs. Josrru Gates, Sunrise on the Potomac, 1891, i 2 i ee Musings in the Month of May. . 5 5 ge 1 Lines on an Infant who died at the break of day. . 115 Tue Rey. Franos L. Hawks, The Blind Boy. . 117 The Dead Wife. 4 ‘ 6 3 120 To an aged and very cheerful Christian Lady. . «122 A Picture of Life. 128 A Child’s Faith. 125 Pato Hennerson, Memory’s Retrospect. ¢ : 5 5 129 The Anthem of Heaven. . 3 * : 6 a Sweet Mary, Dost thou Remember? . ; ‘ 132 Come, Sing mea Song. . ‘ i ‘ - 184 To the Author of Lucy Alton. 5 * : 135 Bright Rain-drops. 4 . of 186 Ada’s Sad Fate. d 3 5 d 4 137 On receiving a present from a Lady. . : see B)) Lines. ; ; 140 The Flower of Catawba, 4 i : i oe Catawba. E s 3 91 4 3 Lines, 146 93 ; ’ Tux Rey. Henry Harp, i Rest—A Legend. 5 é : . . 149 96 | Tue Rey. Rurvs Hern, : 9 | Spring, 3 a 2 3 : : ee 100 | Impromptu to a Lady. : : : : 104 The Victim of Consumption. : : - 156 108 saint eT Se nT eee NR ETE ON ‘ean : a ae Bee Sears. CERES EI ace : 12 CONTENTS, : a PAGE i “Whatis Lifeg? ° . : , ; : 157% " To Almira, i ‘ A i 1597 * Miss M. A. Hoyr, FS ‘ To Corinna. 161 Waris W. Horney, John ©, Calhoun, : 7 5 . aacl6G i ‘ W () 0 D be N 0 £ iE S ° Napoleon, , ‘ : ; 2 4 168 Tur Hoy, Jaaes Trepetr, Monody on the Death of a Lady. 171 ; TO THE POETS OF NORTH CAROLINA. J. M. Lovesoy, A Day on the Hills, . ; ‘ . , 174 9 ‘ th Carolin On the Death of Mary Lee Steptoe, : ‘ - 199m Come rouse you! ye poets of Nor ay Napoleon. : ‘ 200 } My State is my theme and I seek not a finer, Avcusrvus Fosrrr Lyon. Tsing in its praise, and I bid ye all follow, i, The Death of Moses, : ‘ ; ; - 2024 *Tiih we wake up the salives of Ola Sleepy Hollow. Belshazzav’s Feast. : : : 7 208 Origin of the Night-blooming Cereas, ; Rea ie: Saas: 4 The Smile of her we Love. . 6 % : 220 Come show to his scorners “ Old Rip 18 awaking, A Fragment from a Satirical Ode, : ; pes OVNI A BA ino: Prayers of the Good, ; : : : 223 His sleep like the cloud of the morning is breaking ; Home of my Childhood, 2 ae - STi: t That the years of his slumber; at last have gone by, Uavna Lavtoy., 4 And the rainbow of promise illumines the sky. The Frozen Buiry. (= os ; : : 226 ; : The Frozen Crystal Drop. ; 5 Fi . 928 : ere. : The Wasted Flowers, ‘ ‘ : é 230 His place in the Union is glorious I ween, For he’s one of its Fathers, the good old thirteen. Eten Lroyp, do tnaiac : : ride in his glory, The Warning, , : : A 4 . 233 ae Ah, some of his sons take a P : . Bee BpHIt of the Tanght(, P : ; 230 a And are telling to others his unwritten story. : 2 “thane Cant ea etki eae tance aye show i : WOOD-NOTES. 15 14 WOOD-NotEs, % : ° | T would build for its muse who has slumbered so long— Then will ye be silent, nor add to his fame, , A temple where all may repair with.a song, Let others the de&ds of his greatness proclaim ? | Of the gems and the flowers a garland I'd twine, Oh—ean ye not warble one note in his praise ? 4 To lay as an offering on Poesy’s shrine. One song in his glory, say, can Ye not raise 2 "Tis a labor of love, and I ask for your aid, Come ! rouse ye, and aid them the silence to break ; Come, show to the world that his muse is a That her vot? To gather the flowers that bloom in the shade— wake, To seek for the jewels that half hidden lie, ? 4 ties, tho’ humble, rich incense can fling, To catch up the Wood-Notes that unheeded die. Pare offerings to lay on her altar can bring. Bring gems of the present, bring gems of the past, The spell of the Manitou draws to a close, And let their bright rays o’er the future be cast, For the shriek of the Steam i : . ng disturbs his Tepose, rainbo of I ancy and z 0 esy g e ’ As he dashes m pride oer his 1ron war path Far over the white clouds of labor and steam. Like an arrow that? TENELLA, s sent by a Braye, in his wrath. ae The breath from his nostrils is filling the land, And swift is the stroke of his iron-bound hand; ough sweet, Be all in the Hollow the stranger to greet, But let not the echoes of labor, th show hini that Wood-N, otes are Sung in its bowers, That in its deep shadows there blossom swe That bright gems lie hid in its forest of pines, As well as rich ore in the depth of its mines, * et flowers, PHILIP W. ALSTON. 17 J With mournful visions unopprest ? r , — ‘ Piet ore aa ll ie i ial ek ke é What rudest stranger could have viewed Unawed this holy solitude— _ This spot, by memory hallowed Of by-gone days, for ever fled? What tyrant could have rested here, Philip ddl. Asta If. Nor dropped for hapless Greece a tear ? g Then deeper far must he have felt— The solitary Greek—who knelt With reverence on that sacred ground, THE GREEK’S VISION. To meditate the scene around. ; The silvery moonbeams’ mellow hue From cloudless firmament, the moon O’er the | ite of Delph ; Softened the rude spot to the view ; one site o i elphi shone, Behind, Parnassus’ double height, As on her cliffs wi i T clits with toil opprest Defying still the shades of night, The young Greek laid him down to rest ;— But rested not. For who could sleep Upon that consecrated steep ? High lifted up its sun-lit brow Majestic o’er the cliffs below. The pines which on its sides reclined, Who see unmoved Parnassus’ height, Beas Sighed mournful to the rushing wind— Still with the latest sunbeams bright, 2 ; | _ The sickly, melancholy glow Or stand upon the sacred sod © sickly, melancholy glow, Which o’er the gloom the moonbeams throw,— Where from his temple spoke the god , g y ; _ The distant cataract’s deadened noise, And, by his oracle, of old ; : The moaning breeze’s stilly voice— The coming fate of empires told ; g a . ‘i The sad scene which before him lay, And sink untroubled into rest, Clad in the twilight’s mantle gray ; WS ther RESET”. With here and there a shivered stone,— The only relics that remain, To mark the site of that proud fane Within which erst Apollo dwelt, And trembling kings by proxy knelt — All these in mournful accents speak Of desolation, to the Greek, At intervals his eye he raised To view the Scene; and as he gazed 7 Before his mind the figures flit, To which it erst was consecrate, Fancied, but not viewed the less, The figure of the Pythoness, ° Seemed faint to stand before his sight, ? Half-hidden, half-disclosed in night. _ Her face the lines of passion graving, fo} Her long white hair around her waving o>) The lifted hand, the bloodshot eye== - The smothered shout of ecstasy— As her mind penetrated through Time’s vista Opening to her view, | i { } PHILIP W. ALSTON. 19 And, in the trance of prophecy, The future passed before her eye. But suddenly he starts with fear, As sounds unearthly greet his ear; Now as the lute heard from afar, Now swelling to the trump of war, Now sinking into funeral wail, Now rushing like the stormy gale ; Unable or to stand or flee, Trembling, he sank upon his knee, As voices from the holy ground Arose, and mingled with the sound. “ Awake, Hellenian! sleep’st thou now ? In Morpheus’ mantle wrapped art thou, When Greece aroused is Greece again, And rushes to the battle-plain ? Once more aspiring to be free, She rouses from her lethargy— Casts off the iznominious yoke, Ne’er to be riveted, once broke! Her youths are crowding to her ranks, Shout high, and form the firm phalanx ; hs nina WOOD-NoTEs, The flame that erst illumed the land, That led to death the Spartan band, With Philopcemen that expired, Their renovated souls hath fired -_ And Freedom’s banner Wire on high, O’er spirits that prevail or die, , Greece starts, and buckling on the sword Defies her proud barbarian lord : Wak Wake ! oh, awake—to liberty ! “ Rise, Grecian at th ount; "3 voice. ? ? ( 'Y Cc ry Cc > And at the glorious call rejoice! Alas for her ! Her silent shore To Freedom’s chant resounds no more! A stranger tyrant rules the land Where rests the noble Spartan band: ? And where in death they stil] are free. Their Sepulchre, Thermopyle, : Those seas whose briny waters lave The bones of her departed brave ; Seas with her heroes? blood oft red: Where oft the Persian turned and fled @! roused from sleep not only be, ? PHILIP W. ALSTON. And Greece is now a slave to slaves Of those she conquered on their waves ! But to the upstart Turcoman The work of ruin has begun ; Burst into action Freedom’s cause ; For Greece the keen-edged sabre draws, Which long has rusted in repose, And the eurst yoke from round her throws: Tho’ past are her meridian days, Expired her pristine glory’s blaze, Clotted with rust her battle brand, And foreign tyrants rule the land ; Though Freedom’s banner now is furled, The goddess from her temple hurled, Her former race of heroes dead, And all her gathered glories fled, Some ne’er to be recovered—yet Her sun has not for ever set ;— Restored that glory soon shall be, Like to its pristine brilliancy ; That banner soon be spread, and wave Overa band of warriors brave, Sons, worthy their extinguished sires, Whom Liberty returns and fires ; 21 an i et a ie Mt lea aii Si la ek Before her fleets—those glorious seas ? The Libyan Pirate ravages ! | : ee : E : - " Dra ieee ORGS ares es HOS AN SE 22 WOOD-Norxs, Who at her trumpet-call shall spring And back to life her laurels bring ; The mists which once her sky o’ercast, Her rising sun dispel at last ; That rusted brand leap from its sheath, And brighten in the work of death : And horrible shall be its work ; Dreadful its flashings to the Turk ! I say, who never said in vain, Your country shall be Greece again ! Again a voice from Delphi speaks To promise Liberty to Greeks, a Grecian ! awake ! —rouse from sleep, The sleep of Slavery far more deep, Than stagnant Stygian pool—e’en worse Than all the pangs of Tantalus ! . Degenerate though thy lips to lave Ih servitude’s Lethean wave ; Tho’ sunk so low to bow the knee To stranger lords themsélves not free— Slave tho’ thou art—I Say arise ! Gird, gird thy limbs—thy country cries She wakes to liberty again— Go hie thee to the battle plain! aa a 23 PHILIP W. ALSTON. Say, pin’st thou not for freedom’s dawn, Condemned a slave to roam forlorn, O’er wilds whose every spot displays The mouldering wrecks of happier days— Darest thou, a slave, to tread the sod Where fearless once your fathers trod ? Darest thou, a slave, the spot to eye Where the famed three hundred lie ? Nor fear the presence of a slave, i a Would rouse them from their hallowed grave ? No! to the consecrated spot, i i | Where rest their ashes, go thou not! Each phantom from the tomb would rise And curse thee for thy cowardice ! Call thee dishonor to their race, And drive thee from their resting-place. + “ Warrior, if ever flushed thy cheek At the harsh term, ‘ degenerate Greek’— If e’er thou’st known a patriot’s flame— If e’er, at mention of thy shame, Thow’st felt but one indignant glow Suffuse thy face—I tell thee go! To battle, and redeem thy fame— i ies Rescue from infamy thy name! 24 who never said in vain ;— Go seek it on the battle plain ! I tell thee go! by all the Woes Thy country’s annals can disclose ; By every wound that mangled Greece Ber felt from Othman’s cruel race ; By that band of glorious dead, That once to rescue Hellas bled ? And suffered at Thermopyleo— By yon consecrated sea— By all your torpid soul can move— By all you hate, and all you love; Go! herve your arm in Freedom's cause Give Greece her liberty and laws -—_ ? Leave not the struggle, but with breath— Yield to no conqueror but Death ! ‘ “But if thy coward soul refuse— a such @ cause ¢’en life to lose ; PHILIP W. ALSTON. If thou art callous to the flame That gave thy ancestors their fame— If not the spark thy bosom warms That calls thy countrymen to arms— If rests thy scimitar in peace Whilst for her freedom battles Greece— Go!—in some corner hide your head, Whilst in the cause your brethren bleed— Thro’ lingering years revolving slow, Live on in infamy and woe— Then in some nameless grave be flung, Justly despised—unknown, unsung.” , The voice had ceased; the youth still knelt, And in his heart deep reverence felt, As thoughts that burn successive roll Across his renovated soul. Her from the sacred soil he rose, He swore by all his country’s woes, To listen to the phantom’s call, And with her fortunes stand or fall :— Never to cease the glorious strife, Or yield, if requisite, his life. And after, ere the glorious Sun Its daily journey thrice had run, WOOD-NorkEg, He mingled in the battle’s roar And stained his sword with Turkish gore; Unfaltering still his course pinned . Through each adverse VICISS] ude oS t ? Till, his high part accomplished ae . . . ; Fighting in Freedom’s ranks he fell ? Loud uttering with his latest breath His war-ery, « Liberty or Death !” And many a sympathetic tear Has trickled on his honored bier :— The grateful Grecian bards rehearse His glorious deeds in simple verse i And the delivered Grecian fair With sorrowing bosoms oft repair, "Mid the descending evening gloom, To scatter flowers upon his tomb, - OCEAN, CaM was the sky, and not a fleecy cloud Obscured the face of heaven. The Starry host Gleamed in the azure vault, and the pale moon Her course majestic trailed along the sky PHILIP W. ALSTON. 27 Unshadowed and sublime ; and as she rode Profusely showering her borrowed beams Upon the placid deep, her image fair Danced on its gently undulating bosom. The proud ship glided smoothly with the breeze From the far west that intermittent rushed, Swelled the full sail, and sighing, pass’d away. No distant headland limited the gaze— Far as the straining vision could extend, The mighty ocean stretched his broad expanse— The Heaven and waters met. Sublime the view— Yet, fairer than sublime . . Thus smiled the scene— But ah! how brief the smile! I looked again—twas changed. The rising blast Low murmuring swept along the troubled deep, And massy clouds, scarce visible at first, But fast increasing, from th’ horizon rose, And veiled the lowering sky. Such portents marked The tempest’s swift approach. The wearied watch, As thoughtfully and slow he paced the deck, _ Wrapped in the memory of departed joys, Shook off his dreams, and on the sombre veil Fixed his arrested gaze, as if to pierce _ Its gloomy depths. Nature before was fair— _ The yawning sea disclosed his inmost depths, And ope’d his horrid entrails to ingulf WOOD-NOTES, e Now, changing to terrific : hitherto The scene was marked by awful, silent beauty : But now the thunder muttered from afar— The distant lightning glared—the angry wind Rushed fierce across the billow—and the Ocean Heaved his broad bosom to the passing blast. I looked—again ’twas changed. Deluging rain, The lightning flashes through the impervious gloom— Ruled the tremendous scene—and from his lair Within the dark rolling cloud, with dissonance harsh ? The thunder howled exulting, Fearful below ? The foaming waters dashed with ] Above, awless rage ; the heaps of cloud obscured the sky, And veiled the lustre of the stars. The ship appeared, Her rent sails gleaming white amid the gloom, A small bright speck, amid the fierce encounter Of warring elements, N ature’s every power Seemed in the storm exerted, to destroy The only beings that could feel its rage ; The reeling bark. The blast in vengeance swept And soon the rigging rent—the masts uptorn— PHILIP W. ALSTON. By Its violence attest. Angry lightning Played dreadfully around her ; and the thunder, Straining his awful lungs, with deafening roar, Stunned the shocked brain. A sudden flash disclosed The frail bark slowly rising on a wave, High in the troubled air; another saw Her tremble on its crest; then swiftly sink Into the gulf profound, until again, On an enormous billow’s back upraised, Another bright glare dissipates the gloom, And, by its lurid light, she’s seen to reach The topmost ridge; then dashed the wave Her body from beneath, and down in the abyss Again she headlong plunged. But now, afar, Its bright crest sparkling in the beamless gloom, Appears a ridge of foam. Swiftly it comes Upon the wings of fate; destruction lurks Within its liquid bosom. Nearer and nearer, High-rearing its dark volume towards the heaven, The fatal wave approaches. Now the bark Ts Tifted on its back; slowly she mounts Towards the fatal crest—she reaches it, A moment hesitates, then reeling round, ae ca ail i at oi la Suan i ‘ Ss i al sl a 2 ee PR Saal od Te Wd ee SRT OT a Ey wetiee ters oot i i lt ae tl The storm resounds, and wild winds moan, and flash The lightning’s liquid flames ; and roll the thunders In solitary grandeur—nothing hears, T looked : *twas changed again, No murky cloud Volleyed tremendous the electric cha rge From its dark heaving breast; far, far above Unsullied stretched the cloudless firmament, Bright was the scene, and, for ascending Sol, The hastening morn, with ros The portals of the east, y fingers ope’d Mute was the scene :— No northern blast resounded ; but the Zephyr Skimmed soft the surface of the sleeping sea, Which smiled in tranquil beauty. Faithless Ocean! Such is thy fickle nature : petulant ; Tnconstant, too, as Woman ; for a moment Thou art as lovely,; but, oh! what a change _ Can an-hour’s space effect ! Horrid thou art When thy dark billows Open to the blast— When clouds obscure the ardent atmosphere, PHILIP W. ALSTON. And er thy agitated bosom howls The demon of the Winds—as beauteous, when No wave disturbs the smoothness of thy face, Nor tempests veil the sky. 31 ncn spinnin tah — OS ee ca Ng a gE OC en se a tt ce ee A EN \ Walker Anderson, AN IMITATION OF SCOTT’S CORON ACH. Txov art fallen as the flower That’s freshest and sweetest, Thou hast fled as the hour That's brightest and fleetest ; To our hearts thou wert dearest, Thou hast left them in mourning, And our fond hopes were fairest, But they know no returning, The roar of. the Ocean, Where thy gallant ship boundeth, Tn its wildest commotion, But thy requiem soundeth ; i ARE E aia cae Sr RR WALKER ANDERSON. For that Ocean-storm sweeping Disturbs not thy ashes, _ And unheard in thy sleeping, Its mountain-wave dashes. Thine eye beamed the brightest, For it told thy soul’s gladness, But no more thou delightest, Thou hast left us in sadness, That eye is now beamless, And our full hearts are breaking, For thy slumber is dreamless, And shall know no awaking. O’er the breast of the billow No longer thou sweepest, For cold is that pillow Where in darkness thou sleepest, And life’s fitful beaming Shall return to thee never ; It hath flashed its last gleaming, Tt hath vanished for ever. 33 soi ig Se ee nen te WOOD-NotTEs, ® LINES ON LEAVING FLORIDA. THE sounds of spring are issuing forth From earth around and air above, The gay lark chants his song of mirth, The dove her plaintive lay of love. The amorous breeze, in whispering tone, Sighs on the rose’s balmy breast, The cascade falls with gentlé moan, Then, softly murmuring, sinks to rest. The scents of spring a breathing out From wood and field and lady’s bower, And wild-flowers fling their sweets about, Like fragrant: dew in morning hour. Soft Zephyr "midst their sweetness plays, Then passes by with fragrance rife, As memory brings from by-gone days The sweetest, purest joys of life, The sights of spring are Spreading far Their varied beauties o’er the scene, See how the dogwood blossoms glare, Amidst the deepening forest’s green, WALKER ANDERSON. _ Across the oak the woodbine throws, In bright festoons, her yellow wreath, And brighter still the sweet wild rose Hangs o’er the crystal stream beneath. g y And trict T leave these lovely haunts, These budding woods, these smiling meads, Where all around my path enchants, And every sense so richly feeds ? Yes! beauteous land! I must be gone, Yet no regret demands my stay, For I am wandering here alone, And she T love is far away. In vain for me the morning dew In liquid sweetness clothes the ground ; In yain for me each form and hue Of varied beauty springs around. That smile which, with its loveliness, Could add new lustre e’en to thee, This not here my soul to bless, And all without is naught to me. Then fare thee well! the time may come Of neither need nor wish to fly, i PR FN eee te Ne ny nr PR cee With my beloved beneath thy sky. Then shall a lovelier tint ilume Thy woods and fields and valleys fair, Then richer breathe thy soft perfume, And sweeter music fil] thy air. Wuo would not flee from sin ? From lust’s control and passion’s reign ; And, e’en the silent grave within, Be freed from Satan’s chain, How blissful then to soar And all is purity, “Who would not flee from woe, From cares the tortured bosom feels ? And, e’en the mouldering turf below, Repose from human ills ? arte eee WALKER ANDERSON. How blissful then to wing Our happy flight to worlds above, Where joys unfading ever spring, And all is light and love. _ Who would not flee from death ? Whose withering touch can blast each flower, And in the dark cold grave beneath Defy his further power ? How blissful then to fly Far, far beyond his fatal dart, Where those who love can never die, Where friends may never part. Oh! give me then light wings, That like the bird which seeks her nest, Leaving behind all earthly things, My soul may flee away to rest ! Oh! set me free from sin, From sorrow’s sting, and death’s embrace ! Oh! let my ransomed soul begin Its ceaseless song of praise! 2. sani hin SRI a Sih its al ct a x c , e a a Nemaaxe sensei Pat PRE EER Ce SE arn ee - spite cate oa ca RRO EA Ta)e eR A PNET rg ie ine atc WOOD-NOTES, « A PARAPHRASE OF A PASSAGE IN A SERMON, FROM LUKE xu, 32. “Church of the living God! Flock of of Heaven! In thy fellowship let me live let me die!” Cuurcu of the living God! how blest the hour, Thy hallowed symbol sealed my infant brow ; T, who was lost in sin and guilt before, A child of God, an heir of glory now. In thy blest fellowship, oh! let me live! Worthy that high and holy destiny, Renounce the world and all the world can give, To live for Him who gave his life for me, Flock of the good, kind Shepherd! in thy fold How peaceful resis the heart oppressed with care, For Israel’s God shall all thy wants behold, And safely guard thee from the spoiler’s snare. Within that fold, oh! let my life be led, By thy still waters let my lot be cast, In thy green pastures let my soul be fed, Till all the cares and storms of life are past. Blest family of Him, who reigns in Heaven ! How sweet with thee to look for joys to come, the good Shepherd. Family of the Fat! , in thy pasture let me feed, in thy pos! ee WALKER ANDERSON. To feel the hopes our Father’s word hath given, And humbly wait His voice to call us home : And when that call shall summon me on high To those bright mansions where his face is seen, Within thy bosom let me calmly die, Whilst thy loved prayers are whispered o’er the scene. Church militant of God! Thy banners rear, Fight the good’fight! thy onward march pursue, Finish thy course, keep well the Faith—nor fear What all the powers of earth or hell can do: Oh! may thy glorious Captain lead thee on Till all the world its grateful incense bring— Till every knee shall bow before the throne, And every tongue loud hallelujahs sing. LINES. We read in holy writ of Angels sent, Around the good man’s path to set their watch, Gently to heal the heart with anguish rent, And souls from sin and endless woe to snatch,— Who has not felt when worn with earthly ill, Amid the wants of this world’s wilderness, WOOD-NOTES. * Some soothing balm, from unseen sources steal Around the heart to solace and to bless? And who has not, when lured by sin to stray Aside from virtue’s safe and narrow track, Perceived some form invisible to stay And gently lead his erring footsteps back ? How blest are such! but oh! how more than blest Am I! whose guardian angel stands confessed In all & woman’s tenderness and truth, p With all an angel’s tender power to soothe ; Whose love disarms each pang this world hath given, Whose bright example points the way to Heaven, SONNET TO A FRIEND ON HER MARRIAGE AND REMOVAL. A FLOWER is known bright eastern skies beneath, Which all that lovely land with fragrance fills, And oft the frequent pilgrim kneels to breathe The perfumed air its beauteous leaf distils— Its mellowed breath is flung so richly round, No lapse of time its fragrance can impair, For tho’ remoyed, that flow’ret’s sweets are found, After long years, in freshness lingering there. WALKER ANDERSON. And thus, dear lady! are our hearts imbued So rich with memory’s fondest thoughts of thee, That thro’ long years thine image unsubdued, * The cherished object of our love shall be. Our sweetest flower is gone, but tho’ removed, Its lingering fragrance fills the land it loved. SONNET. Tue moon is up, and from the gladdened sky Pours forth a flood of light on all below, Whilst the blue waves that roll unceasing by, With mellowed rays of burning glory glow— But dazzling in the midst one brighter path Seems leading to a world more blest than this. Tell us, thou peerless Queen, if thine orb hath Within its realms our paradise of bliss? Or does the ransomed soul, forsaking earth Awhile on thy pure peaceful shore alight, Whence casting back all dross of carnal birth, _ Tt wings beyond its unencumbered flight? Beautiful planet! let me soar away, And leave behind this prison-house of clay ! PL REDO LENE RT TNE ANTI NT ENN RS AMIR IAAT eran i 42 WALKER ANDERSON. WOOD-NOTES, To thee we owe life’s fleeting hour, TO MY MOTHER ON THE BIRTH-DAY OF MY And all that life can ever be; BROTHER. Now from the Woodbine’s fragrant bower, The warbling birds their carols sing, While every field and every flower, Shows Nature in the garb of spring. To Him we owe, oh! how much more, He gave us, dearest mother—thee. No time, no change, no joy, no care, Shall mem’ry of thy love remove, No foul ingratitude impair i « The heavenly flame of filial love! Oh no! while life’s brief hour shall last, That Heavenly flame shall cheer its gloom, Thro’ life*t will burn, with life ’t will waste, To thee these smiles of Nature prove * Dearer than all that art has done, Yet dearer to maternal love, Is this the birth-day of thy s : : y y son. F Extinguished only in the tomb. Oh! may this happy day return Thy every joy we'll make more dear, Full many a time to bless thee here, : ; Adding the peace that love imparts, On pleasure’s lightest zephyrs borne; We'll soothe each grief, dry every tear, With sweetest joys your heart to cheer. And blunt misfortune’s keenest darts. And may it too for ever prove And oh! when thou to earth and us, A day of peace without alloy ; While all around thee smiles with love, Angra Shall be for ever more denied, Awhile below we'll weep thy loss— May all within be light and joy. Then calmly slumber by thy side. For Time’s dark tide rolls on with speed, Swiftly life’s fragile bark drives on ; Soon shall youth’s verdant shores recede, To thee a grateful song we raise, Proof of a love that ne’er shall end ; With thee adore, and humbly praise, i Soon age’s sterile rocks be gone. rattan enn eter The orphan’s God, the widow’s friend. WOOD-NOTES. e a) . Care’s darksome storm we yet may brave, Some little while—but ah! “tis vain, For soon we sink in that wild wave, Where death and dark oblivion reign. But shall we fear that wave ? oh, no, A light from Heayen dispels its gloom, A light that cheers us here below, é\nd leads to life beyond the tomb. Guided by love above the skies, We'll sail along life's turbid stream, Sink without fear in death, and rise To bliss perennial and supreme. “THY WILL BE DONE.” aes WHEN o’er its cares my young heart breaks, Teach me to say in humblest frame, My Father gives, my Father takes, Wn Nn ba on WALKER ANDERSON. Thou wilt not break the bruised reed, Thou wilt not crush the withered leaf; Oh! no, my Father, hearts that bleed, Shall find with thee a sure relief. Oh! then let Gilead’s balm be mine, To still each anguished throb I’ve known, And send thy Comforter divine To bid me say “Thy will be done.” And if before me all I love Shall sleep beneath the valley’s clod, Do thou in pitying kindness prove My friend, my father, and my God. And when my falt’ring steps would sink, _ Leave me, oh! leave me not alone, ~ Forgive, if this poor heart should shrink, And bleed to say “ Thy will be done.” Oh! thou who bind’st the broken heart, Who drank a bitterer cup than mine, Some of thy love to me impart, And send submission such as thine. And blessed be my Father’s name, i - Thy God an angel sent to thee, Oh! bid me dry the tears that steal : To soothe when other hope was gone, While mourning o’er the hope that’s flown, } Then oh! my Saviour, come to me, And when I feel, most keenly feel i Hlelpatiosio sayy Tig he Hone) | The rod, still say “Thy will be done.” [ 8 Ee Te WOOD-NOTES. THE SABBATH MORNING. Tae world on thy first dawn, blest day ! In peaceful being stood, Well pleased the Maker did survey, And then pronounced it good. And while my Saviour’s tears and blood For my dark sins atone, Thou, Father, oh! pronounce as good The little else I’ve done. Bright day of peace! thy hallowed light Rose on a world redeemed— Dawned on a Saviow’s glories bright, From the cold grave that beamed. Thus when I slumber, God Supreme, In my last narrow bed, Around the spot let Hope’s bright beam Its balmy radiance shed. Thy holy peaceful dawn, sweet day, When the week’s toil we close, Beams on our fainting frames a ray Of calm and sweet repose. pe taser weirs FE L i ee WALKER ANDERSON. And when, my duty finished here, I sail on Death’s dark ocean, Thou, Lord of light and love, be there, To soothe life’s last emotion. Bright day! our wearied souls to cheer Thy soothing beams were given, Of joy and peace inspirer here, Promise of bliss in Heaven. And when with my last foe I cope, And feel his conquering power, Oh! may that promised, blissful hope, Ilume the peaceful hour. If on fate’s topmost wave I reel, Or on the humblest ride, ty Lord of the Sabbath, oh! be still My guardian and my guide. And when the last dread storm I brave, When all is well nigh o’er, Oh! teach me to defy the wave, Nor fear its wildest roar. - When o’er my foundering bark at last The fatal billows roll, Father ! receive when all is past, My still surviving soul. 48 WOOD-NOTES. Oh! take it, when wild passion’s sway And sin’s stern rule are o’er, ‘When one eternal Sabbath day, Shall dawn to close no more. G. &. Adams. STANZAS. Ou! think not lightly of the heart, ‘ Whose holiest hopes in thee repose 5 Nor shrink thou once to share a part With it, of life’s allotted woes,— For it may be an hour will come, Of feverish need to sting thy breast, = When it shall prove a sunny home, Inviting thee to peaceful rest ! Oh! chase not friendship’s tear away, Too heedless from thy pleading eye-— For where its unseen waters play Affection’s priceless pearl may lie! STP MTR SES 2 ROE ZENER TOIT EAR 8 0 hn) 50 WOOD-NOTES, : Life’s tug and toil may come to thee— The cold neglect, the sneers of pride; And then perchance that tear will be A fountain by the lone way-side ! Oh! think not lightly of the word, Love’s falt’ring lip hath fondly spoken : Jon Tody Brune, It may awake some slumbering chord, * When Pleasure’s heart is well-nigh broken !— Then think not lightly of the heart— The trickling tear—the soft-breathed word ; ‘Thy swecor joys may yetimper THE DEATH OF SALADIN. Than e’er thy youthful bosom stirr’d. *Twas silent o’er Damascus. Dying rays 2 Of golden radiance, from the sinking sun, Halfmerged beneath his glowing nightly couch, Tilumed the gorgeous city. Mosques and tow’rs : ; Caught the last fading splendor, as it passed, ‘And seemed as sheeted in a robe of gold. Silence, unusual for that bustling hour, : m of toil Had thrown o’er all its reins; the hu ae Was hushed; the noisy waves of business stilled. "Twas as if the destroying angel, who ew O’er Pharaoh’s realm, on vengeful errand flew, | , aa 52 WOOD-NOTES. : JOHN TODD BRAME. Or on Sennacherib’s host reigned terror once, \ Hovers in triumph o’er the dying man, Had been abroad, and with his blighting hand “And waves his banners with malignant Joy. Had laid in death’s oblivion all who breathed. {essere Not so; no pestilence that scathing “ walks From neath the covering glared the warlike eye, In darkness,” and no famine had béen there Which oft on Palestine’s embattled plains, With wings of woe to darken all the land. Had darted courage to the sinking troops, “pe ek) And sternly. glancing, bade them “do or die. Its beam is still meridian 5. still undimmed ; See, where yon battlemented palace rears like the sun Tt fades—but fades in glory ; Its head, upraised above surrounding things ! | At dewy eve, sinks to a shining grave, Enter its gates, and pass within its walls, i , “st! Until a chamber, decked with Eastern pomp, Tts latest rays superior to the first ! With regal ornament, salutes thine eye. it 4 a z t a i im 5 sweats Death’s agony 1s on him; clammy Distil and gather on his sunburnt brow, shudder shakes his frame— Death holds his revel there! triumphant sings His oft-sung song of vict’ry, over one While a convulsive 2 ! Nature’s last struggle with her final foe! ‘Twas then that with concent’red energy, ” “Rising superior to the stroke of fate, Who ne’er asked merey—never bent the knee ey Nor cowering yielded to the servile yoke. Jerusalem’s conqueror, Coeur de Lion’s foe, Tn this dread hour, alas! find no strength : : aaah io unciiaron ooh He sate upon his couch and spake— To battle with his last, worst enemy. «Go. take my winding-cheet, within whose folds o, tak =) The potent medicines have failed. The art - Tand the worm must shortly lie together, ‘ And bear it through the streets, where oft I Bae: Tn triumph marched ; and there proclaim that i f Of what I once possessed, is all now left to me- a herald to carry his and to proclaim that Of gray-haired sages is essayed in vain ; And he must die—in vain his boasted power ! In vain his annal’d triumphs! he must die. Th’ impartial monarch of death’s wide domain, “ Who knocks alike at the proudest palaces * In his last moments, he commanded i indi q ascus, And cottage gates,” prepares his venomed darts, , winding-sheet through the str ile of Dam it was all he could now call his own. 54 WOOD-NOTES, e He ceased! the feeble embers had expired— The dying life-lamp had blazed up its last! "Twas all he said : enough to prove that he Had found earth’s promise false—its glory chaff! * DECAY. Decay’s sure mark is branded on whate’er Ts bred on earth. The branching oaks which spread Their shady boughs, decked by the genial spring, Ere frost-bound winter comes, alas! must see Their leafy honors prostrate in the dust! And the strong trunk itself, which oft has braved The lurid lightning’s flash, and firm opposed The mighty sweep of blasting hurricanes, When Time, the great destroyer, marks it out For a new victim, and commands the blow, Must fall and moulder to its native earth. The lovely flower, with many a varied tint, With rich perfume, and nicely chiselled shape, Comes fresh from nature’s band, complete and pure, Buds forth in beauty, blossoms and decays ! And ere the fading autumn has arrived, JOHN TODD BRAME. The stalk is gone, and not a trace remains. This is thy fate, O man! " Thou too art crushed By time’s uvheeding tread, and thou canst not, The image of thy Maker, aught oppose, To check the mighty tide, which bears thee down, And wrecks thy storm-tost bark on death’s drear coast. To-day with strength and vigor thou dost come, | Like the young rose in spring, all fresh and fair, i Thy beauties blushing, and thine honors bright ; MI Inconstant fortune, like the adder, stings 5 4 p oer thy head ; W Adversity’s cold storms swee , : Time, with unpitying arm, adds yet a pang; : i i And last comes fatal death, and “ shuts the scene : | at Thou too must die, and in the tomb’s repose, Unwept, must slumber till that awful morn When the last trump shall wake thy dormant powers, And call thee from the grave, to meet thy God! LAWRENCE BADGER. Thy statesmen and heroes now brighten thy page, Gladd@’ning the student, inspiring the sage; And ever we'll tum us to thee with that love, Which wrong shall but quicken, and trials but prove. Carolina! Carolina! thy spirit be known Where pride would disdain thee or insult be shown, Paturence Hadger. Quick to raise high thy halbert for right, To wield it while justice and truth keep it bright. Then, here’s to the State which no tyrant dare rule! Whose sons have been tutored in liberty’s school ! ~ And long as Time lingers, that land be it blest— CAROLINA. The cradle of Statesmen, the gem of the West! THERE’ sue RE’s a land of the South—“ tis the clime of the sun,” ? And great is the name which her children have won ae Tis the land where oppression and power ne’er came ? RISE UP, SAD SOUL. To sadden O} dd th se children and darken her fame ; Carolina. C 0. i OMT WwW A 4 Va4 lina, Car ; : 5 i a, e bless, NTITHE TIC TO Our hope wh en care: P sine s throng, our pride in success: Risx up, sad soul, and sit no longer x eee nd cherish thine honor wherever we go. Ag On thy thorn-set seat—despair ; Doubt is strong, but faith is stronger, Rise, and brave each carking care: Ere thou risest, contrite kneeling, And ever we’ 7 we'll love thee, come weal or come woe. ? 3 : ee 4 ; No coward or traitor e’er stains thee with shame ? Nor heart to disown thee thy borders can claim; But every heart true, and every ar : ? every arm strong, Faith’s first gentle tones revealing, Prayer’s sweet spirit o'er thee stealing, Shall hand down thy glory to history, and song; ? aan ii a = 2 cam a - TT : - | Dh teams tininndnermeracericcicentmnmnes: 58 WOOD-NOTES. e As thou askest aid to rise From dark earth to cleave the skies, Everlasting Glances casting, To thy home beyond the skies. Rise up, sad soul, shake off the sadness Sinking, settling round thee so ; Reach forth for Faith’s bright beam of gladness, Rise and feel its genial glow: Rise while yet the heart is beating, While the new-born hope ’tis greeting; Death is certain; Life is fleeting, Rise before ’tis sped away, Up! the warm impulse obey : Hope is flying, Time is dying, And they urge thee to obey. Rise up, sad soul, and cut the cable Anchoring thee to sin and doubt; Thou art weak, but God is able ‘Triumphing to bring thee out : Rise, no longer wait the coming Of some fate or fortune roaming ; The past is lost, the future’s looming * Rise up, sad soul, an LAWRENCE BADGER. Up, and oer the present smiles Free from Fate and fortune’s wiles— Smiling, beck’ning, To thy reck’ning, Where there’s no more woes nor wiles. d look to Heaven, Gaze no more upon the ground ; At early morn and dewy even, "Look where light alone is found : And for ever up keep gazing, Ever up thy heart-hopes raising, Praying ever—ever praising Majesty and power above, Whence come light and life and love ; Eyer praising, Ever raising, High thy hopes of heayenly love. Rise up, sad soul, and cease adoring Dreamy days that are no more; Plume thy wing, and let’s be soaring To the Future’s brighter shore + The present all the past is clouding ; Its brightest things in death are shrouding, And objects dark around us crowding, 59 WOOD-NOTES,. Warn us this is not our homne— That fair rest is yet to come. No more grieving, Rising leaving ; Seek we that sweet rest to come. LILLY LANE, « THEY WERE TWINS.” On a mountain, Near a fountain, Where cool crystal waters play, And bright rainbows, hued of Heaven —Iris rayed at morn and even— Arch above within the spray ; Lived a maiden, Lightly laden With a score of happy years: Lived she smiling, full of gladness, Knew no sorrow, knew no sadness, Knew no sin-engendered madness, Knew no sighing—knew no tears, a a we LAWRENCE BADGER. Knew no bitter, burning tears, Drowning hope fomenting fears, In her brightest, happiest, sunniest of years, e and modest beauty I ne’er may see again, . When I knew her, None was truer than the lovely Lilly Lane. Such rar Than that winsome lively lassie, Lived this maiden, Beauty laden, By the fountain and the stream ; Her life that rainbow’s glory, Like Astarte’s in the story, Or a fairy haunted dream. Lived she laughing ; Queenly quafting The sweet waters bright and clear. Pure as dew-drops upon roses, "Neath love’s star when evening closes, Pure as love where truth reposes, Knew no doubt, no flattering fear, Knew no heart corroding fear, Thro’ the changes of the year, As she quaffed life’s limpid waters sweet and clear, ay neath A Asani nts z ini en aetiettetn ichiesemenhaes haere ELT St fig) Be . WOOD-NOTES. - No maiden ever happier on mountain or on plain, Nought distresses, aS Fortune blesses The radiant, laughing, light heart, of lovely Lilly Lane. Knew no danger Till a stranger Tn whose voice was music’s soul, Came and threw a spell around her, In the cottage where he found her, And that spell was Love’s control. Deeply drinking, Little thinking Love’s deep current hid a charm, That might wake to bliss to-morrow, Or might sink the soul in sorrow Crushing, craze the mind with horror ; Or her peace it might alarm, Her innocence alarm, Her purity might harm, As she yielded heart and happiness to Love’s wncertain charm : Drank she deeply, as Love’s lulling in her bosom swelled its While her lover [sean Round and ’bove her Lured the heart, and hope and happiness of lovely Lilly Lane. 63 LAWRENCE BADGER, But awaking, ° ” On the breaking Of Love's spell within her breast, Alas! the lost, Jost maiden! Broken-hearted, weary laden, Felt earth held for her no rest, In her anguish Left to languish, Must she drop away and die. He found her in gladness, He left her in sadness, © With a melancholy madness, Her life a lingering sigh, —An agonizing sigh— But Death—a friend—was nigh, di _ And a serpent-bitten lily did she droop and fade and die, Thus passed away like form of mist along the mornipg m ain, Sinking slowly, Lonely, lowly, Passed away the shadowy form and life and love of Lilly Lane. And another, —Her fond brother— Lies death clasped by her side; When he knew her wrong and e With a deep heart-with’ring terror, ror ee ekieead sad ca asthe cua SS ea —— 64 4 Pe WOOD-NOTES, } . Fr \ WILLIAM HILL BROWN." Did he sicken too—and died! * Keeping his Majesty in durance vile, And the fountain From place to place, he journeyed many a mile; eee mtain Travell’d thro’ Chowan, Halifax and Nash, es Its murm’ring waters lave, . By which he pocketed a deal of cash 5 Near a classic Beach-tree’s weeping Commene’d'a gentleman, and taught to play, i He grew in grace with fortune every day : As Tully eloquent, as Stentor loud, au eae eel j Thus he Harangued the ever wond’ring crowd— le ee eye ail abetting, { e. “Come, gentlemen—behold the sweetest crature Bright wi i : PERSE Se gerbe, That eer was modell’d by the hand of Nature, A spectacle to feast a curious eye on— Where the Ivy dark is creeping O’er the two who now are sleeping pe ° gee Faith, and Love, and truth all blending, Arching heavenward, beaming hope around that grave, Come, gentlemen, walk up and see the Lion ! But such rare : ond. anodest beauty, 72 may-riever. see again, All beasts confess his tyranny complete, Baie Daaeany A And, trembling, crouch for mercy at his feet: Is Death’s booty, d . No animal his peerless power withstood, q Since the grave gloats o’er the early lost, the lovely Lilly Lane. He reign’d the monarch of the Libyan wood. Sole sov’reign of the plain—no odds he begs ‘ Of any beast that walks upon four legs. “Ah!” said a Planter, “in our modern age THE LION AND THE TERRAPIN. seh ieer F ~ ; To see the mightiest Monarch in a cage, EB (Written by Wi11am Hitt Brown, who died in 1795 while reading 4 Is no new thing :—but, by the immortal gods! i Law with Gen’l Davie.) | Tf you declare this Lion asks no odds, ; Bella! Horrida Belia!—Vine. P i An animal I'll bring, shall make him roar, y The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the s{rong.—So, y And bathe that visage with his royal gore: 3 Y A ramep Hibernian, in this curious age, hap’ Make you the way4and behold what follows.” Yi Confined the King of Beasts within a cage: “Done,” said the master, “for a hundred dollars!” 2 scala aii WILLIAM HILL BROWN. 67 a went the Planter for his beast, so keen—— | Rides on the billow’s top, sublime and vast, All wond’ring what the devil he could mean. And scorns, serene, the elemental blast. At length he brought—the lion to oppose, Advancing firm, the Monarch of the plain What seemed “a fiddle that had feet and toes.” * | Lash’d his long tail and rear’d his mighty mane, “Here, boastful wretch, behold the Loggerhead, | Thrust out his princely paw—and, # at one thwack, Extended Terrapin upon his back, Who never from his adversary fled : But, free of pain, and without loss of gore, Sole monarch of the Swamp—he fights his foe, The Carolinian found his legs once more, With certain skill, and conquers at 2 blow. . Laugh’d at the Lion’s strength, and mock’d his frown, Show him the royal Lion, and you'll see And rose the stronger for the knocking down. Twas thus of old—poetic history shows, Alcides fought, and thus Antaeus rose. Hark! from the skies a rattling peal of thunder ! * The Gods and Goddesses look down with wonder, ‘Tis a Land-Turtle with the Lion strives ! They never saw such fighting in their lives. He'll reverence kings like Prince Egalité /” Now for the fight the combatants prepare, Now in the cage, behold the advent’rous pair ! The scales of vict’ry hanging in the skies, Were then discovered by poetic eyes, » Wavering in doubt, unknowing to subside For Carolina’s boast or Afric’s pride. “ Now, let the Carolinian win” —Jove said, Wise Terrapin, beneath his coat of mail, Took in, secure, his head and legs and tail ; ee cia So when the wind blows hard, and thunders roll, And tempests shake the world from pole to pole, Whom Jupiter befriends must then prevail, So smiling Victory turns the dubious scale. Lzo, unknowing whom he had in fight, Stoop’d down his head to take a nearer sight, | While Terrapin, firm, watchful, never sear’d, Directly seized his highness by the beard ; a The cautious sailor sees the verging woe, ? Furs up his sails and drops the yard below, * See “A Tour in the United States,” by one Smith. He tha describes the Terrapin: “Isaw an animal crawl behind a rock. d ® See Homer’s Batrachomuomachia. which I could compare to nothing but a fiddle with feet to it.” WOOD-NOTES, That is, so bit the Lion by the jowl, He could not disengage him for his soul. Close as a lover to his mistress dear, Close as the pillory to a rascal’s ear, Close as a miser to a bag of joes, So close hung Terrapin to Leo’s nose. Soon as the master saw what came to pass, Not Sancho griev’d so loudly for his ass ; Not with more sorrow did the Trojan dames Bewail their Hector dead, and Troy in flames ; Not trembling Frenchmen with more rage and fear, At the last feat, of General Dumourier, At length, to generous pity all inclined With godlike sympathy within his mind, The great Hibernian ey’d the fray as cruel, In tears exclaiming, “O, my baste! my jewel!” Then to the Planter turn’d—“ Ah! dearest honey, Release my Lion, and receive your money.” The subtle hero, liking well the truce, Received his bet and let the lion loose : Then to the mighty conqueror said, “Yes! go— Enjoy your freedom in the vale below: O! may your bed of laurel-leaves be made, And sweet magnolias blossom round your head, Amphibious Victor! Terrapin divine! Yours be the glory, but the wager mine.” ; . Ox mighty city of the dead! what numerous host are here ; | Mis. S. HM. Chum THE SILENT MULTITUDE OF THE DEAD. } 5) And yet all motionless they lie, unmoved by sorrow’s tear, Or by the mourner’s wailing grief who weeping stands This temple filled with pulseless hearts, of lost and buried Tho’ gladsome rays of morning come, to gild the hallowed Unnoticed all their glories shine; the sleepers heed them Tho’ radiant beams of noontide fall with clear effulgent above love. spot, not. light, 4* Yet to that silent multitude ’tis one long dreamless night. oct a aaars 3 70 WOOD-NOTES. The evening sunshine kindly stays to throw its influence there, And twilight’s gentle dews descend to weep the pitying tear ; That hour so full of holy thought, to sweet communion given, When spirits of the loved below, commune with those in Heaven. The beauty of the earth and air, the sky and boundless sea,— The glorious face that Nature wears, all glad and bright and free, : Charms not the sleepers resting here, nor wakes one throb of joy; Oh Death, insatiate conqueror! thou’rt mighty to destroy. The husband here in calmness lies, and resting by his side Is she his heart’s young chosen one, his fond and trusting bride: He cares not that she there reclines in quiet by him now, For Death’s unfeeling touch has chilled that fair and polished brow ; The tender buds of hope and love, that came with morning's bloom, The frosts of Death have blighted now, and laid within the tomb. - The lovely form of youth is here, the beautiful and pure— Alas! O mighty conqueror! thine aim is ever sure. ren Uinta in lope saa ae a 2 1 MRS. 8. M. OHUNN. b Here all unmoved, the Mother’s heart lies pulseless, cold, and still, <9 That heart so constant, warm and pure, so firm thro good and ill; The dirging grief of stricken ones cannot avail them n at pallid brow. ow, Nor cause one ray of tenderness to light th ious morn shall rise: But oh! a new unclouded dawn, a glorious , A morning of celestial birth, a herald from the skies,— When pealing thro’ the trembling air, the trumpet's sound. shall come To wake the silent multitude that slumbers in the tomb. The wicked, ah, their fearful doom, no mighty one to save ; Far better to have slumbered on within the gloomy grave; Not so the faithful and the good, with joy they'll quit the tomb, And tise to life and light again in youth’s redoubled bloom. Then heart shall meet with kindred heart, and anthems loud shall rise, While rapturous notes of harmony shall echo through the skies 3 “All hail, thou great Deliverer ee the ransomed ones shall sing, Pie “Oh grave, where is thy victory? Oh: Death, where is thy sting ?” Sean nda ITE CS ne pee ee anaes 72 WOOD-NOTES. «zlHE GRAVE OF ROSALIE. The following lines were suggested by a visit to the grave of a young lady who died and was buried away from her home. TI came to thy grave, thou gentle one, “Twas here in a stranger land, But I saw that affection’s task was done, By friendship’s kindly hand. The softened rays of the setting sun Shone light on thy place of rest, And I thought of the glorious life begun By thee in the home of the blest. And I thought of thy mother who sadly wept, And grieved that she could not see The sacred spot where her darling slept, Her cherished,Rosalie. But though thy grave is distant here From thy childhood’s happy home, Yet oft shall affection’s silent tear Bedew thy silent tomb. MRS. S. M. CHUNN. And the birds will come at evening hour, \ And warble a plaintive lay, And sing of thee—a cherished flower, So early passed away. The murmuring winds with gentle strain Shall-still thy requiem sigh; “And the flowers will bloom and fade again Where thy mouldering ashes lie. But thy spirit, all free and unconfined, Shall still in rapture rise ; And Heaven shall claim thy immortal mind, A gem within the skies. THE DYING YEAR. Tux dying year! the dying year! how swift the moments fly, We hear it in the murmuring wind that passes sadly by, ‘We see it in the sombre face that weeping Nature wears, "Twill soon be numbered with the past, the long forgotten years. 4 WOOD-NOTES. + The joyous Spring that gladly came in Nature’s fair array, With robes all bright and beautiful, to grace the gladsome day, ; Shone on us with its look of love a few brief passing hours, And then the glorious light of Spring departed like its flowers. The Summer came with golden fruits, with gorgeous flowers and gay, But yet its never wearying hours passed swiftly on their way, Till Autumn witb its noiseless step, its sure but silent tread, Had o’er the hills and valleys round, a deeper lustre shed. Then Winter came with hollow sound, with low and tustling tone It told that Summer's ‘glorious hours, and Autumn’s light had flown: The year that lately on us shone, so fair, so bright and gay, Is passing, passing, swiftly on, departing still away. ' And shall we come with festive song, and music’s gladsome swell To chase the dying year away, and bid it thus farewell ? Are there no buried hopes to lie within the lonely bier That soon will close in sadness round the fast departing year ? dawn, 15 MRS, 8. M. CHUNN. How many vou and buoyant hearts, that gladly hailed its From earthly scenes, and earthly hopes, and earthly cares - are gone ! a tle look, the thrilling tone, the beating heart is stille ae 's cold touch is The voice of sweetest melody by Death’ chilled. But whispers from the spirit-land in accents softly come, dying home ; And tell us of a fairer clime, a never- a land beyond the A clime where seasons never change, tomb, mal ‘Where heavenly streams in glory flow, and flowers etern bloom. Then with the year’s departing lay; O let us raise above, The voice of deep and earnest prayer to Him whose see) is Love 5 : That when our year of Life shall close, a bright and glorious even i q \ Shall herald forth a noble rest prepared for us in Heaven eT ee a 76 WOOD-NOTES. TO A BRIDE. Txou hast come in all thy truthfulness to breathe the mar- riage vow, The light of hope and happiness is resting on thy brow ; The zephyry veil whose silken folds are softly thrown apart, Waves gently by the peaceful throbs of thy young and loving heart. And fondly turn thy speaking eyes, thou young and trusting bride, To him who stands in manhood’s truth and firmness by thy side. The vow is made, the pledge is sealed, the solemn promise given, "Tis finished, sanctioned, here below, and upward ‘borne to Heaven. Oh ! shield her well, thou trusted one, with fond and tender care, And kindly still in after years her joys and sorrows share, Guard with a pure and holy love affection’s sacred flower, ‘Twill bloom with all redoubled light to grace thy Eden: bower. ; = _— = cod > er — == - = = - 77 MRS. 8. M. CHUNN. Light forms of grace, and happy hearts are in the festive throng, And bird-like voices carol forth the melody of song} * The air is filled with sweet perfume, the fragrant breath o flowers, i i er the pass- While music’s gladsome strains are heard to che Pp ing hours. Yes, thou art happy, dearest one—no darkened shadows li, : . . Ps _ To mar thy spirit’s truthfulness, or dim thy kindling eye; Not ever thus the light of hope will span thy youthful brow, Nor will the sun of happiness, shine smilingly as now. But oh! when clouds and shadows fall, may Heaven with pitying eye, oe Send Mercy’s welcome angel down to calm the heaving sigh; May bright-winged Seraphs guard unseen thy home of youthful love, And may thy union here so blest, be sweeter far above. _ Then calmly go, beloved one, rejoicing on thy way, Sweet memories of thy loveliness, will ever with us stay. Our spirits oft will hold with thee communion fond and a And gild with light the parting hour that heard each fon adieu. 4 h 1 4 | A THE MINSTREL. « Binst ist die Liebe.” EDWARD CANTWELL. Wuo goes so late, through wind and night, Grows Cantwell. With joyous face and beaming eye, i His step so firm, his heart so light? i] Means he with light guitar love’s fate to try? h, youthful bard, trust not the fair, UPON THE DEATH OF T " Ah, y ' , eee Their hearts are ever false and vain: : \ Trust not thine eyes; turn not thine ear: Heed not their song: wake not thy strain, For woman’s heart will triumph in thy pain. Tr lifeless now, the narrow tomb Enwrap their forms in Earth, Weep not, Mother; ’tis the womb Whence fairer life takes birth. Away false Doubt, the youth replies, — Weep not, that in early hour Damp not thus, my soul with sorrow, The night shades o’er us fall, From every leaf and dewy flow’r True Love from thee for ever flies ;— Thy gloomy Past, shall know no morrow, The angels whisp’ring call. Nor hearts like mine, thy griefs shall borrow. } 1 ; | } } : ; i : : : : | Two rovers from the spirit land, : But for = moment given, The bard thus spoke, before he woke the os | Heard then, the summons of the band, pee Cnn ay . $) . And wing’d their way to Heaven. ; To call new Blessings | OI EC ET LE | aman A ire ap eee east gay Aaa Pa ic Su oe waa watt 80 WOOD-NOTES,. When first he reached this earth from heaven, While joined in her, all Grace, seem’d brighter even. Now on the winds his sighings rise, Beneath the lattice sings the Boy, And upward turns his tender eyes, Rise sweetest hopes, and welcome joy, While thus Love’s songs the gentle hours employ. But pleads the fond minstrel in vain To her heart cold and unfeeling, As that blue lake on It’ly’s laine Its own waters self congealing, Sinks in the grave, its own waves die sealing, Now colder blows the midnight blast, Hoarse peal the bells in sullen toll, The driven snow falls round him fast, And fly the hopes that filled his soul, Like the dark clouds that swiftly o’er him roll. Through the tall and quaint old trees, Down sheds the light a mellowed gleam, Like silv’ry moonlit seas ;— EDWARD CANTWELL. Like a diamond’s glitt’ring beam, The snow-hung branches, round him shining seem. Two starry tears, in silence fall, Congealed they fasten on the string, That woke so oft Love’s sweetest call. No more for thee, shall lovers sing : The tones are hushed that told their suff’ring. WRITTEN UNDER A PICTURE. A sotEMn scene, where trees are bending O’er the waters deep below :-— A lonely bird to Heaven ascending Through the golden Eyening-glow,! * And dark one half the mirror-water, And bright beside the other seems, Thus Joy, and Grief sin’s elder daughter Share, each one half; life’s dreams. Go show thy soul that bird uprising Full through the upper air Symbolic ; to thy sense apprising, Thy true home is ever near. — 81 — ea gical tN en Ie Fah WILLIAM J. CLARKE. I gaze on thee, and o’er me streams _, One of my own bright youthful dreams, A tale of Greece, I’ve often thought With deep romantic int’rest fraught. os *Neath verdant arches of a grove GA linw 4. Clarke Where Art with Nature’s beauties strove, By crystal fount whose limpid wave A sweet refreshing coolness gave, 4 i | | There stood a form of perfect mould, “The brightest thought of Poet’s mind, . Where living stone the story told, i Anp thou hast never loved? ne’er felt ; And manly beauty was defined. That soft suffusion o’er thee steal, LINES TO A YOUNG LADY WHO SAID SHE HAD NEVER LOVED. : Here often came a maid so fair Which causes sternest hearts to melt, Ag all deanriptiomaehanplets ; ? oe And proudest knees to kneel! If you would know her beauty rare, Go lady—view your looking-class. And thou hast never felt that power Which makes the human heart confess, She gazed upon that classic face, That often in one little hour That faultless form, where manly grace We live an age of happiness ? And beauty in each member spoke, And in her breast feeli ke. Thy form is fair, a fitting shrine Saas reas Where sympathies so soft may dwell, Her heart weighed down with tenderness, And yet the passion so divine - She quite forgot the lifeless stone Doth ne’er within thy bosom swell ! 84 WOOD-NOTES. WILLIAM J. CLARKE. With sweet return could never bless But many a heart beats proud and high, A heart so loving as her own. When thy bright eye is on it thrown, And many a voice doth sadly ery, 3 Oh! pure and holy love was this . “Fair one! thy heart is made of stone !” ' The Grecian maiden felt, Her gentle sigh, her burning kiss, Bright may be the sky above thee, a a F’en heart of stone should melt. Thy life a rainbow span of bliss, But for him, who'll truly love thee, But still in changeless beauty stood Thy own sweet smile is happiness. Her soul’s divinity, as tho’ The gentle maiden bright and good, Sweet homage paid him by her woe. «HOPE ON HOPE EVER.” “On star of Hope! for ever shed, Thy bright influence round my head, Still let me hail thee from afar» And claim thee for my guiding star.” They sought the maiden, and they found Her lifeless at the statue’s feet, Be thou an anchor to my soul, When waves of sorrow wildly roll Let not time or place dissever From mem’ry “Hope on Hope ever.” An angel spoke, and Heaven heard With loud applause the cheering word : Be strong in faith, in truth, in all That’s great and good, let naught appal 5 Her twining arms his knees around, Her eyes upraised his gaze to meet. Her saddened smile did seem to say, My life for thee I give away! I pardon crave, O lady fair And rich in woman’s loveliness, That with a statue I compare One formed some noble heart to bless. sri ne senna: separa case WOOD-NOTES, t Thy spirit’s zeal or quail the eye That’s fixed on lofty destiny. Walk firm and proud, and still “hope on,” Until thy high reward is won. “Hope on,” till monument beside, Time’s all engulfing stream, in pride Thou art, or brightly beaming gem In History’s proud diadem. Hope on !—the minstrel’s eye is dim, There is no hope, no joy for him, No friendly ear shall hear his moan, A pilgrim on his way—alone. Tpirduore acracuy. “THRICE PRAYED FOR, BEST BELOVED.” Ox! the heart is a free and a governless thing ! Hence strangely and madly it often will cling To a glance of the eye, and a smile of the cheek, Till fettered in chains it vainly may seek To break, and in gladness once more to possess Its wide roving freedom, its bright joyousness. And Love is a pure and a hallowed flame, No dangers can daunt, and no tortures can tame, " WILLIAM J. CLARKE. 87 Else would it not. soar with pinion unfurled, O’er all the distinctions of men of the world, Not caring for wealth, and titles, and name, : But seeking for heart, and pureness of flame. Then blame me not, lady, that flushed is my brow, That warm are the words I speak to thee now, Suspicion may sneer at and madly defame An innocent love and a guileless flame, But earth hath no passion, nor is there above, A knowledge of aught more holy than love. PARAPHRASE. “ And Ruth said, Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go: and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. “ Where thou diest, will Idie, and there will I be buried: the Lord dv so to me, and more also, if aught but death part thee and me.”’—Ruth, lst chap. 16th and 17th verses. “ ENTREAT me not,” nor say to me, go seek a better fate, I could not turn and go away and leave thee desolate, Our sorrowing hearts and kindred woe strong fellowship doth join, And where thou goest I will go, and with thee will sojourn. Thy people will I call mine own, thy God my God shall be, And where thou diest I will die, and find a grave with thee ; a 88 WOOD-NOTES. Then listen, Mother, to my words, the Lord my witness be, That naught but death shall ever break my spirit’s constancy. In company we'll heave the sigh, and drop the bitter tear, And in community of woe will find a comforter. : Dougan Clark. Then tempt me not, nor say to me, go seek a better fate, Earth hath no joy, my life no sweet, thou’lt not participate. ea THE RAINBOW. . Ou! saw ye the rainbow encircling the sky, As the voice of the thunder went bellowing by ? Did ye mark the mild hues of its beautiful light When the clouds hovered round like the angel of night ? Oh! welcome to me is its gay arching form, As it sits ’mid the blackness, the crown of the storm, Tis the sign of the promise dispelling the gloom, Like a bright ray of hope at the gate of the tomb. As I look on its brightness, I think of the day When the Ark on the mountain of Ararat lay, And the Patriarch’s sons from that pinnacle seat Looked down on the desolate world at their feet. Ah, me! what destruction was spread o’er the path Where Jehovah had emptied his vials of wrath, cre renter OLA TEN ATLL NNT ES TIE TERT IIE MT EE ROT i hes SA al a Ia oe ae aie Sis ea east ci eal & é ibs tases copra net aap ae 90 WOOD-NOTES. Where the deluge of waters had rolled its full tide, And swept from the mountains, the children of pride. The mighty were fallen, the judgment had come, The temples had vanished, the idols ‘were dumb, And the silence of death gave a gloom of despair, To the raven’s lone ery, as she banqueted there. And then came a sound like the voice of a psalm, The words of the Father, IT AM, and I AM, “Behold it is finished, the trial is o’er, The cup of my vengeance, I’'ll empty no more. The seed-time, and harvest and rain shall not cease Till on earth is established, my kingdom of Peace, And now for a sign that ye truly may know; Behold I have set in the cloud, my bright BOW.” That pledge painted now on the Heavens I hail, As a covenant’s token that never will fail, And it seems as its radiance enraptures the sight, ' A symbol of love, from the Palace of Light. And Oh! to the Christian how sweet is the thought, That a covenant new by the Saviour is wrought, And that Mercy to purge from the sin and the dross, Bids us fly to the rainbow that hangs o’er the Cross. Mrs. & BA. Dare. TO ANNIE. I vo not wish thee here, Annie, Yet sometimes when I see A group of lovely children, Annie, I can but think of thee. A year has passed away, Annie, Since I kissed thy pale, cold face, And they laid thee in the grave, dear, Thy last sad sleeping place. I’m standing in the door, Annie, And the scene is green and fair, But the dearest feature in it Is the green hill where you are. f By 92 WOOD-NOTES. Why think I of your body, dear, Fast passing into clay, - When I know your angel spirit Is bright in heaven’s array ? I'm often now quite sick, Annie ;” Perhaps it mayn’t be long Before I too, my daughter, Shall join your blessed throng. And if I knew ’twere right, Annie, I'd ask thee, breathe a prayer, To thy King and Lord and Saviour, To let me enter there: To give to me his Spirit, Annie, Of constant, fervent prayer, To seek that kingdom daily, Annie, Where I feel my treasures are. Now my heart is something lighter Since my thoughts I’ve tried to tell ; I go to earth’s stern duties— _My angel child, farewell ! aaa: eae MARRIAGE OF THE SUN AND MOON. The following beautiful allegory, describing an annular eclipse, was written by the late H. S. Ellenwood, of this State, many years ago, for our paper, and was subsequently copied into almost every journal of the Union. The gifted author is. no more, but this chaste and beautful effort of his pen deserves to be perpetuated.—Raleigh Register. Do you know that a wedding has happen’d on high, “And who were the parties united ? Twas the Sun and the Moon! in the halls of the sky They were joined, and our continent witness’d the tie, No continent else was invited. Their courtship was tedious, for seldom they met Téte-a-tdte while long centuries glided, But the warmth of his love she could hardly forget, For, tho’ distant afar, he could smile on her yet, Save when Zarth the fond couple divided. 5* 94 : WOOD-NOTES, But why so prolix the courtship? and why So long was postponed their connection ? That the bridegroom was anxious *twere vain to deny, Since the heat of his passion pervaded the sky ; But the bride was renown’d for reflection. Besides, ’tis reported their friends were all vexed ; The match was deemed somehow unequal ; And when bid to the wedding, each made some pretext To decline, till the lovers, worn out and perplex’d, Were compell’d to elope in the sequel. Mars and Jupiter never such business could bear, So they haughtily kept themselves from it ; Herschel dwelt at such distance he could not be there ; Saturn sent, with reluctance, his Ring to the fair, By the hands of a trustworthy Comet. Only one dim, pale Planet, of planets the least, Condescended the nuptials to honor; And that seemed like skulking away to the East: Some assert it was Mercury acting as priest, Some Venus a-peeping—shame on her! Earth in silence rejoiced as the bridegroom and bride In their mutual embraces would linger ae ge Whilst careering through regions of light at his side She displayed the bright Ring not “a world too wide 2 For a conjugal pledge on her finger. Henceforth shall these orbs, to all husbands and wives, Shine as patterns of duty respected ; All her splendor and glory from him she derives, And She shows to the world the kindness He gives Is faithfully prized and reflected. H. S. ELLENWOOD. 95 The Bon. William Gaston, The following poems from the pen of Judge Gaston, were none . of them intended for publication, and with the exception of “The Old North State,” appear now forthe first time in print ; they were principally written when he ‘was a very young man, or for the amusement of children, whom he had asingular facility in attaching to him. The May-day Song was composed for the scholars of an Infant School, and sung by them at one of their fétes. Many who then “encircled their heads with fresh chaplets of flowers,” have passed away like the writer; but the rest, now no longer children, will doubtless gladly recall the innocent enjoyment of that day, which was so kindly promoted: and shared by him. It is for their benefit that the May-day song is inserted. TO ELIZA FROM HER HUSBAND. Tue ardent lay which passion pours, Or, Elegy’s subduing flow, As now elate the lover soars, Now sinks desponding full of woe, er THE HON. WILLIAM GASTON. Is not the strain that courts thine ear ; Such ill befits a Husband’s muse, But placid Love, and Faith sincere Their spirit thro’ his verse diffuse. The tricks. of phrase—Poetic art! May veil the frauds of guileful youth But here a plighted, faithful heart Pours forth its tale of simplest truth. There is no tie the soul to bind, No charm its best affections move, But makes this heart for ever thine, Thine—in devoted holy love. Tt has no joy, it knows no fear,— & forms no scheme of future bliss, But thy loved image mingles there To cheer, inspire, or check excess— It never dares to breathe a sigh, In humble orisons to Heaven, But thy remembrance still is nigh— For thee the pious vow is given. If toils disgust, or cares molest, The hope of thine approving smiles, Hushes each anxious thought to rest, And Labor of fatigue beguiles. GS ae oad SO NESS IE ER a 98 WOOD-NOTES. Thy praise is fame—thy beaming eye “ Glistening with affection’s dew,” Sorrow repels—forbids the sigh, Or bids it heave to rapture true. Let Misers hoard their ill-got pelf, Let proud men dream of church and state ; The struggles of this world of self, The contests of the rich and great— Concern not us—to Heaven resigned We'll ask defence from temporal harms, Strive Virtue, Peace, and Grace to find, And have a world within our arms! A DREAM. Miss N. G., on the eve of August 15th, 1802, gave me her glove, which she desired me to bind around my brow when I went to sleep, and enjoined me to communicate to her what dreams it might oceasion, ‘The next morning Isent her the following verses :—W. G. To ui whom reason cannot bless, Indulgent Fancy oft is kind ; Who ne’er awake knows happiness Some transient joy in sleep may find. iti si gees ee . THE HON. WILLIAM GASTON. To court sleep’s gentle, balmy power, Forget the cares by Loye inspired, To snatch from misery one short hour I to my couch last night retired. Soon to my fancy horrid scenes Of torments, crimes, and dreadful woes, Appeared, in wild distracted dreams, That in disorder endless rose. At length, sweet Venus to me came, A wreath of myrtle in her hand, I knew her by her lovely mien ; Her smile expressive, arch, yet bland. “Yield not, my son, she gently said, Thy mind to bleak inert despair, Think not thou court’st in vain the maid Whom I have formed divinely fair. “Tye seen thy woes, I know thy love, Those woes haye moved my pitying mind, Thy love which naught could tempt to rove, Has taught e’en Cupid to be kind. “To end thy pain, to erown thy joy The god of Love does now consent, ft OI ee ase reer: AN eae Pe ee A ce tare Spe tet nee ate tel re sh sh A eS ORES NATTA TEE 100 WOOD-NOTES. Doubt not—for see the powerful boy To thee this gracious gift has sent.” The wreath upon my brow she bound, The emblem of successful love 8 Starting with joy—alas! I found The wreath was naught but Nancy’s glove ! THE OLD NORTH STATE, Carorrna! Carolina! Heayen’s blessings attend her, While we live we will cherish, protect and defend her, Tho’ the scorner may sneer at, and witlinos defame her, y ig ) Yet our hearts swell with gladness whenever we name her. Hurrah! Hurrah! The Old North State for ever, Huwrah! Hurrah! The good Old North State. Tho’ she envies not others their merited glory, Say, whose name stands higher in Liberty’s story ? Tho’ too true to herself to crouch to oppression, Who can yield to just rule a more loyal submission ? Hurrah, &. Plain and artless her sons, but whose door opens faster, To the knock of the stranger, or tale of disaster ? 4 i i a THE HON. WILLIAM GASTON. 101 How like to the rudeness of their dear native mountains, With rich ore in their bosoms, and life in their fountains. Hurrah, &e. And her daughters, the queen of the forest resembling, So graceful, so constant, to gentlest breath trembling ; True light-wood at heart, let the match be applied them ! How they kindle in flame! oh, none know but who’ve tried them. Hurrah, &e. ‘. Then let all who love us, love the land that we live in, As happy a region as on this side of Heaven ! Where plenty and freedom, love and peace smile before us: Raise aloud! raise together, the heart-thrilling chorus— Hurrah! Hurrah! The Old North State for ever, Hurrah ! Hurrah! The good Old North State. A MAY-DAY SONG. Ar—“ Come, Haste to the Wedding.” Wage encircled our heads with fresh chaplets of flowers, Our spirits are bounding, our hearts light and gay— With mirth and with song, then we'll gladden the hours Which flit but too swiftly on this happy day— ET eee a ee | { poh, ee eee a ene Ne ON er ante LT ES aT OTE OT NIN ws —. ae 9 banat 330 nates erin tear A eA a ie gereevenelersnnte 102 WOOD-NorTEs, 2 Enthroned our young queen In high state is seen, All radiant in smiles like Love's blooming boy, Come here and see Our fair Queen of May On this jocund day Bids all share of a pleasure that never can cloy, Come, then, and see Artless felicity, : Which Truth and Tnnocence freely enjoy. If old folks should look grave at our frolics and pranks, We beg them remember that once they were young; So smooth down your brows, join our jests and our cranks, And chorus our lays tho’ artlessly sung— With our Queen we invite you And will try to delight you, " q ; 03 THE HON. WILLIAM GASTON. 1 Tf you'll join in a sport that knows no alloy, Come now and see Perfect felicity Which Truth and Innocence fully enjoy. OUR MOTHER'S BIRTH-DAY, Written for his nieces to sing to their mother on the morning of her birth-day. Is ruts your birth-day, dearest Mother, Is this your birth-day, dearest Mother ? Oh, happy may it prove to you, And happy may be every other! For us you’ve watched, for us you've toiled, And you have loved us best of any ; May our returns for all your cares Be grateful hearts and blessings many. Is this your birth-day, dearest Mother, Is this your birth-day, dearest Mother ? Oh, happy may it prove to you, Na happy may be every other! —— < 104 WOOD-NOTES, e Time as it flies on rapid wing Some pain inflicts, some joy is stealing, For every ill it brings on you, Our eager love shall find a healing. Is this your birth-day, dearest Mother, Js this your birth-day, dearest Mother ? d Oh, happy may it prove to you, [ And happy may be every other! Of human bliss, of human woe, A mingled lot to you is given, Each duty done, each trial oer, You'll find a rich reward in Heayen! On a pet Mocking Bird found dead in its cage, and buried by his grandchildren, Oct. 2d, 1841. Beyzaru this turf by pious love interred, Rest, the remains of a poor Mocking Bird. The tenderest cares could not avail to save The cherished playmate from an early grave ; Mute now the tongue that late was wont to cheer With varied warbling every listening ear, eee pee THE HON. WILLIAM GASTON. - 105 And stiff that form which with its agile grace, Called up bright smiles on each admiring face. Such is the fate of all that live below, All must submit to Life’s terrific foe. Like this loved bird we who lament his death, Must feebly heave ere long our latest breath ; But not like him shall we then wholly die, Mortal, yet heirs of Immortality, When the last trump shall call, we'll spring above To realms of Peace and Joy, and endless love. i ( ALEXANDER GASTON, 107 No forceful mandate calls them out; No despot bids them go; They obey the freeman’s impulse But to strike the freeman’s blow. ’ They are gathering, they are gathering Like Autumn’s lowering cloud, © | To scatter in their fearful path Alexander Gaston, | The foeman’s hireling crowd. . Right to devoted Mexico, . The vengeful tempest rolls, To paralyze their energies, THE GATHERING OF THE VOLUNTEERS, q Strike terror to their souls. ; Our glorious Eagle heralds them, THEY are gathering, they are gathering From the cabin and the hall, The rifle leayes its bracket, The raven screams on high, i He scents the feast of carnage ; From his pathway in the sky. And the steed must quit his stall’; E | The country sends its thousands And the city pours its throng, To resent their Country’s insult, The gaunt wolves gather after them, Ss And follow in their track, Maia ios A Soa A aaa asad They howl their nightly serenade Around the bivouac. To ayenge their Country’s wrong. The soldier, though but yesterday : They are gathering, they are gathering : : He left the courtly hall, ty From mountain and from plain, | a Resolved in heart, of purpose high, a And beauty’s eye enthrall ; 4 A bold and fearless train, j 1S Where luxury did enervate 108 WOOD-NOTES, ° Forgetful of his downy couch Now flings himself to rest,’ Weary and overpowered, On Earth’s hard but fragrant breast, _ Careless he moves amid these scenes, Undaunted hastens on, To face the battle’s fiery front Where glory may be won. And hearts will breathe*a prayer for him, Bright. eyes will overflow, But wrapt in glory’s fevered dream He recks not of their woe, See by his side the mountaineer— Nay, stranger, never start ! A tear may glisten in his eye, A sigh relieve his heart ; The Cabin by the greenwood © Where his children are at play, Their dame in sorrow too, perchance, And he their Sire away: | These thoughts will overcome him Like a summer-cloud, and throw A tinge of sorrow o’er his face, And shade his manly brow; ALEXANDER GASTON. But see, with firmer step he treads, And in his nervous hand, The ponderous rifle quivers Like some lithe and fragile wand. His feelings quelled, himself once more Firm as the granite rock, ° Woe to the swarthy Spaniard now That midst the battle’s shock, Shall meet that arm’s resistless sweep ; Woe to the Indian scout Attracts that eye’s unerring aim, Amidst the rabble rout. They are gathering, they are gathering, They near the guarded camp, “| b We can see their column’s close advance, We can hear their squadron’s tramp. The sentry’s challenge answers $ They are a mingled host, And fill with gladsome jubilee Their brothers at the post. Now fling abroad the banner, Give it proudly to the gale, Let it flaunt from every hill-top, Let it float from every dale— 6 109 110 WOOD-NOTES, ; Nor furl it until planted, On their cities’ battered walls, And our weary steeds are stabled ‘7 Tn Montezuma’s halls, Mrs. Joseph Gales, SUNRISE ON THE POTOMAC, 1821. Surinkive from Ether’s kindling ray Night’s lesser glories fade away ; The bright horizon’s golden glow Beams on the waking world below, And Earth and Ocean feel the power Of this sweet renovating hour. Bathed in the dews of sable night, Earth’s gayest florets spring to light; ° While bush and brier, hill and vale, & Fling varied fragrance on the gale, a fees . eer 7 og te arconty oe a Sa le ee Ne a eis aah it ath SS i la aS As gliding o’er the liquid way, The distant landscape I survey, Glittering beneath the solar ray. But pert within this narrow space, > q The outlines merely can I trace, PAGER PT LTRS PME TS TT I OT PE a TT ET 112 WOOD-NOTES, Yet Fancy paints the distant view, As sweet, as beauteous, and as new.— Advancing still, we leave behind These bright creations of the mind. "Tis thus in life,—Hope’s gentle beam Allures us thro’ its feverish dream, And still her sweetest flowers are shed Upon the path we wish to tread, While youthful fancy leads the hours To sunny banks and leafy bowers— But Eve comes on in « mantle gray,” And Faney’s visions fade away, Reality’s dark fog appears, And shrouds in mist declining years, But as life’s sun shall fade from view, May flowers of sweeter scent and hue, Their holy influence round me shed, And Truth’s pure light be o’er me spread. MUSINGS IN THE MONTH OF MAY. Conn, blue ey’d May, the fairest of thy race, Unveil the blushing beauties of thy face, Fly, fly from winter’s cheerless, boisterous reign, And melt with sunny smiles his icy chain ! ane ep MRS. JOSEPH GALES, Cloudless in azure fields the orb of day Rolls his bright car thro’ the ethereal way ; While verdant lawn and dew-bespangled rose, And every soft and fragrant flower that blows, Hails thee, sweet May! The tuneful throng At thy approach trill the melodious song ; Nature shines forth in renovated grace, And “ Nature’s God” in all his works we trace ! Oh ! lives there one so heartless and so cold, As all unmoved thy beauties to behold ? Who dares to look with an unthankful eye On the vast wonders of the earth and sky ? The smallest atoms of creative skill Are fashioned to obey his will; All, all derive from God’s protecting love The power to be, to swim, to fly, to move! The mammoth Elephant of eastern climes— The Whale—Leyiathan of other times— The soaring Eagle, drinking beams of light— The tiny Humming-bird in airy flight— The smallest insect in the solar beam— The darting minnows of the sparkling stream— The ephemeral insect of an hour— Proclaim aloud creative power! Forbear my Muse—the strain no higher raise, eee eet? “ For silence is thy least injurious praise! 113 perenne wae 114 WOOD-NOTES, On lower notes I touch the trembling strings, Dear are the recollections Maia brings. With thee, fair daughter of the vernal skies, Long vanished days of pain and joy arise ; Thy velvet carpet, Nature’s favorite hue, To trans-atlantic shores transports my view; The antique castle, hard by Trent’s fair stream, The woods, the meads, appear in Faney’s dream; All that I loved in life's bewitching prime, All that adorned that favored, happy clime, The haze of distance marks with tints sublime! Oh, can I e’er forget the light-winged hours, When life’s young path was strewed with choicest | flowers, ' And summer’s blessings nursed by warmer rays, Hung pleasure’s chaplets on the smiling days ?— Days of delight! still cherished in my mind, From passing clouds and sadden’d hours refined. Autumn cari next, “a web of mingled yarn,” 4 Blessings to cheer, and chastenings to warn : Three seasons bright! their varied flowers T’] twine, And bind the wreath with winter’s sombre vine, From life’s past scenes extracting moral sweet, Till wearied Nature seeks her last retreat ; Oh! when the fevered heat of life shall cease, May its last scenes be joy, and hope, and peace, i 115 MRS. JOSEPH GALES. LINES ON AN INFANT WHO DIED AT THE BREAK OF DAY. “Tet me go, for the day breaketh.’”—Genesis, 3lst chap. 26th verse. “Ter me go! the day now breaketh,” Let me wing my happy flight, Soon the sleep that ne’er awaketh, - ‘Will with me be endless light. “Let me go,” from scenes of sorrow, Scenes of human guilt and woe, Ere the sun shall rise to-morrow, Brighter beams for me shall glow. “Tet me go,” to worlds of glory, Where a bright and cloudless sky, Veils from earth the blissful story, When a spirit soars on high. “Let me go!” the day is breaking, Angels beckon me above, Parents, kindred, a2 forsaking, For the joys of heavenly love. “Let me‘go!” the blaze of morning, Soon will gild this lower scene, 116 WOOD-NOTES, Brilliant gems my path adorning, All on earth looks dark and mean. “Let me go!” for worldly pleasures, Would but bind my soul in chains; Let me go where richer treasures, Peace, and Love, for ever reigns. “Let me go,” where seraphs kneeling, Veil their faces and adore— Tasting joys beyond revealing, . Hymning praises evermore! “Tet me go!” the sun has risen, Heavenly glories shine around, - Now I leave my earthly prison, Now I touch Emanuel’s ground. God, my Father, calls me home, “ Jesus, Master,” lo, I come ! ee 4 ‘ & . The Heb. Francis F. Hawks. THE BLIND BOY. Ir was a blessed summer day :— ; The flowers bloomed, the air was mild, The little birds poured forth their lay, And every thing in nature smil’d. In pleasant thought I wander’d on, Beneath the deep wood’s ample shade, Till suddenly I came upon Two children who had thither stray’d. Just at an aged beach tree’s foot, A little boy and girl reclined :— His hand in hers she kindly put, ‘And then I saw the boy was blind. 6* | a i * | i | i I 118 WOOD-NorEs, The children knew not I was near. b A tree concealed me from their view. ut all they said, I well could hear, And I could see all they might do “ Dear Mary,” said the poor blind boy. “That little bird sings very long: Say—do you see him in his joy. And is he pretty as his song » “ k Yes, Edward, yes,” replied the maid: * 3 : “T see the bird on yonder tree,” he poor boy sighed, and gently said a E Sister, I wish that I could see (73 Th e flowers you say are very fair, A ‘i : nd bright green leaves are on the trees . pretty birds are singing there ; age, : ow beautiful for one who sees ! “ AY? et I the fragrant flowers can smell ? A nd I can feel the green leaf’s shade nd I can hear the notes that swell From those dear birds that God has d. made. ( 1 ‘So, sister, God to me is kind ? Tho’ sight, alas! he has not given : THE REY. FRANCIS L. HAWES. But tell me :—are there any blind, Among the children up in Heaven ?” “No, dearest Edward, there all see; But why ask me a thing so odd 2” “Oh, Mary, he’s so good to me, T thought I’d like to look at God.” Ere long, disease his hand had laid On that dear boy, so meek, so mild: His widowtd mother wept and pray’d, That God would spare her sightless child. He felt her warm tears on his face, And said, “ Oh, never weep for me, I'm going to a bright, bright place, Where Mary says, I God shall see. « And you'll come there, dear Mary, too; But, mother, when you get up there Dear mother, tell your child ’tis you ; You know I never saw you here.” He spake no more, but sweetly smil’d— _ And when the final blow was given, God took above that poor blind ebild, And open’d first his eyes jn Heaven. ——— , “| : | 120 WOOD-NoTES. ; THE DEAD WIFE, "T8 all too true !—I saw thee die, Upon this bosom bore thy oe In love’s last kiss caught thy last sigh ; And now I feel that thou art ene I linger-yet around thy clay. ? I utter here my bursting groan ; ? They have not borne thee yet away ? And left me with my grief alone, Death sits on thee like gentle sleep ? The calm repose of breathing life ; But o’er that mockery T weep . For thee, my loved, my lost, my wife! I weep o’er blighted hopes of youth Each fond endearment of the si Thy tenderness, thy trust, thy truth ’ Thy love that lingered to the last For mem’ry will that scene retain : ? When bending o’er thy dying face. Thy feeble arm essay’d in vain _ To fold me in a last embrace Sm oe THE REY. FRANCIS L. HAWKS. Yon sun is shining bright and high, The summer winds are floating free, All nature smiles—but I, but [:— Ah! nature wears no smile forme. + There’s not a flower around me blows, There’s not a bird above me sings, But sadness o’er my head it throws, And bitter recollection brings. The sunlit flower, the summer breeze, And all this breathing world I see ;— Oh, where is she who smil’d on these, Then turned in love to smile on me 2 Let my tired spirit answer where ! Let my crushed spirit trembling bow :— In Heaven, in Heaven! T'll find her there ; I know why I am smitten now. And now I would not dare to break The quiet of her tranquil rest ; Sleep on, till God shall bid thee wake, Sleep on, my beautiful, my blest! er ES eT 121 WOOD-NoTEs, 123 THE REY. FRANCIS L. HAWKS. Ah, thou hast sought mid sorrow’s tears, TO AN AGED ANT D VE aa ee CHRISTIAN Thy solace from the lips of truth ; 2 ; And thus it is that four-score years Crush not the cheerful heart of Youth. ‘ ti ‘ : ‘i ADY | T may not think that thou Hast trayell’d o’er life’s weary And Foads ae ; never felt thy spirit bow So be it still !—-for bright and fair, His love I read on thy life’s page ; it And Time! thy hand lay gently there, ma . y Ne think these aged eyes = Spoil not this beautiful old age. Beneath affliction’s heavy load Have ne’er € ne'er been wet with Sorrow’s tears : Doubtless thy heart has told in sighs : ? The tale of human hopes and fears And yet th y cheerful spiri The freshness of it ae A PICTURE OF LIFE. or its golden prim Aged 2 3 e, ge decks thy brow with silver wreaths, cophere is a bright and dark side to every thing in life, It is wise to look for d.?? the former: it may always be foun B ut thy young heart still laughs at Time Life’s 5 5 sympathies with thee are bright, Trou gentle brook, by thy sweet side, The cu trent of thy love stil] flows, Z With lingering steps I love to stray, And hear the ripple of thy tide Make music on its joyous way. And silvery clouds of living light, Hang round thy sunset?s golden close, So have I seen in other lands ? _Chafed by the pebbly bed below, T see thee now in bubbles foam ; ‘And now I mark thy wavelets flow, Tn glassy smoothness gliding home. Some ancient fane catch Sweeter gra race, Of mellow’d richness from the hand : Ss Of Time, which yet could not deface 4 : ~ anaemia mT et natin Vcc le aphin ahenn inet leeieeee sums eerie tea 124 WOOD-NoTEs, Now thou art lost in yonder dell Wh i . ose matted foliage hides from sight, arkness there awhile to dwell The i n laughing leap once more to light: N W y i T Ic} ce) th bright suriace takes the b am, 7 x i (2) throw it back to yonder om 5 ? And now acai a now again thou hid’st thy stream nd all unseen thy waters run Thus light and shade alternate pla Upon thy current flowing i ; : And musing on thy changeful = A moral hast thou taught to ee T ey e brook is life.—The pebbly bed, * 3 fs 9 . he trials that keep pure the stream : e bubbles—airy hopes that fled ? Like visi © visions of a vanish’d dream The leafy darkness of the dell Is sorrow’s cloud of faithless fears’; The sunny light,—the joys that seal When Heaven hath kissed away a tears But, gentle brook, the pebbly bed I see is not thy changeless lot, ? THE REV. FRANCIS L. HAWES. Nor bubbling foam, nor darkness dread : But many a sweet and sunny spot. So trials sore, and hopes delayed, And sorrow’s cloud, are not the whole That God on earth, for man, has made, For there is sunlight for the soul. a _ Nor light, nor shade, we changeless see, The stream runs dark, and now tis bright— In light—then let me grateful be ; In darkness—patient, wait for light. ie a A CHILD'S FAITH. T xnew a widow, very poor, Who four small children had ; The oldest was but six years old—: / A gentle, modest lad. And very hard this widow toiled To feed her children four; An honest pride the woman felt, Though she was very poor 126 WOOD-NorEs, To labor she would leave her home— For children must be fed; And glad was she when she could buy A shilling’s worth of bread. And this was all the children had On any day to eat; They drank their water, ate their bread, But never tasted meat, One day when Snow was falling fast, And Piercing was the air, I thought that I would g0 and see ~ How these poor children were, ; Ere long I reached their cheerless home; "Twas searched by every breeze ; When going in, the eldest child T saw upon its knees, I paused to listen to the boy— He never raised his head; But still went on and said—« Give us This day our daily bread.” T waited till the child was done, Still listening as he prayed— JE REV. FRANCIS I HAW. 127 KS. TE . NCI And when he rose, I asked him why id? The Lord’s Prayer he had said ? ; . pene! a n “ Why, sir,” said he, “ this morning, whe b) ? Mother went away, : She wept because she said she ha No bread for us to-day. rve She said, we children now must starve, “She said, Our father being dead; And then I told her not to cry, For I could get some bread. “¢ Our Father, sir, the prayer aa Which made me think that he, As we have got no father here, Would our kind Father be. ‘And then you know the prayer, sir, too, “ n Asks God for bread each day ; So in the corner, sir, I went, ray.” And that’s what made me p ; es I quickly left that wretched room, And went with fleeting feet ; And very soon was pack again, t. With food enough to ea WOOD-Norzs, e eT thought God heard me,” T answered with a nod— I could not speak, but much I thought * Of that child’s faith in God, said the boy; Philo Pendersan. MEMORY’S RETROSPECT. I sroop upon the borders of the ae : And watched the shadows ea oe e day’s beams before their pinions g And saw m. on high, wi Ww. Ww sky} Fly swiftly down along the western sky 5 y A ivering wings bear upon their pale and quivering wings, nd bear ke Joys such as I can never know again : 7 y “7 ‘ er the dark mysterious future brings, Whate’ It cannot be so Pp wr free from pain. yu e, so red back, In mem’ry then I sadly wandered - Along the checkered stream of li . its barren, storm- And strewed along i marks of sorro O) I saw the I Ww and of strife j | = A § at war tenn 3 ("ai wat « WOOD-NOTES M ood any a goodly wreck of hope was theré ? Galenniats 2 . Pp pad Tulns of youth’s fitful dreams - Posing: tranquilly with quiet air, ? Ben i eath the light of mem’ry’s hallowing beams Ith ought of her, the beautiful, the bright, 2 The fair ie fairest flower that eer was wet with tear, e ny, 7 : nghtest star that ever shed its light : ? Aer toss the gloom of life's long weary years. Beneath the stars that there their vigils keep Tr 2 watched the evening ‘come on dusky wi ; wing: oe en standing on the borders of the day 2 elt that life had nothing more to bring fob] Of fon joy like that which time then bore away. aN ata a rnYLO: HENDERSON. 131 The sun, moon, and earth, and stars were not there, To catch the grand strains of that heavenly air; But on, ever on, thro’ dim chaos and night, They bent their grand, solemn, and measureless flight. ‘When God by his word, spoke in being the earth, Those strains echoed back, sung in Heaven its birth, And sun, moon, and stars beneath Jehovah’s glance, Tn beautiful order wheeled into the dance. And now, where the farthest bright tremulous star, On the horizon’s verge drives its silvery car, The strains of that anthem are re-echoed back, As that star to their music pursues its bright track. The sky-piercing mountain, the shadowy vale, The cloud that unfurls its white vapory sail, The flower that blooms by the cataract’s roar, And ocean along its lone desolate shore, Adoringly feel and respond to those tones ; And the proud heart of man their sweet influence owns, When they swell on the wings of the dark tempest’s might, Or breathe thro? the calm of the weeping twilight. To their music in time the wide universe sweeps, In its grand stately march thro’ unlimited deeps ; = aR REN TEED RTT SIRT 133 132 5 : . WOOD-NOTES, PHILO HENDERSON. From whose scented branches the bird and the bee, Commingled their songs with the hues of our dream. Sweet Mary, dost thou rerhember ? From the loveliest star to which Chaldean’s prayed To the insect that winds his small horn in the shade When the A ; rchangel’s trump, with its loud pealing strain, Dost thou remember, sweet Mary, the tale, Which trembling I breathed in thy listening ear ; As the blossoms, like snow, swept down the sweet gale, : iS Wi i g hall ake their long sleepers from mountain and plain The strains of that hymn, will swell higher and higher, ? And blend with the roar of 'Time’s funeral pyre. You sighed a reply, ’twixt a smile and a tear. Then onw : ard, sublime: » sublimely ‘unanswered once more,’ Sweet Mary, dost thou remember ? Thro’ the di edim starless sky they will sweep as of yore a We little-thought then, as we sat by the brook, While the shadows of evening warned us away, That we never more together should look On the wild blossoms blent with the waters at play. Thy hand clasped in mine, sweet trembler. ‘And for ever bend down their long measureless flight, folie A Thro’ the dim rayle i less zoeioUs of chaos and night, Many, many years after, I passed by the tree, SWEET MARY, DO : ST THO : ca eR: And stood on the bank of the beautiful stream, The tree was decayed, and complainingly Dosr thou rememb er, mae ae ee fe A The streamlet crept on, unillum’d by a beam. ; : n by the brook-sid Thy sweet voice poured forth love’s innocent i : preiemene me While musing we watch ched the glad waters glide. & Our hearts though once wedded, have felt sorrow’s chill, Sweet Mary, d : ; ¥, dost thou remember? Like dead leafless trees they stand, naked alone, Their blossoms are gone—and affection’s glad rill Flows not with the sweet and melodious tone Dost thou remember, sweet Mary, the tree ? Tt breathed in days we yemember. The white-blossomed tree that stood by the stream ? | 135 oi ennai ) PHILO HENDERSON. : Then sing a song of the golden times, . y hear’ happily, : When our hearts beat hap | ‘seater And we spent the hours in love and rhymes d tree. Coms, sing me a song of love and youth, 2 andi icdth thie greene When the heart was pure and free; And the soul looked thro’ the eye in truth, And the lips talked earnestly. CY ALTON. Let it be a tale of other days, TO THE AUTHOR OF LU In the years for ever gone; , ing dew Over which the light of mem’ry’s rays * Tuy holy thoughts, like eve’s ae itary flower. Is so softly, sweetly thrown. Upon some sweet a sine: : aa ee Fell on my heart, awaking soa 2 oer . in . When first thy sweet and heavenly face By their deep magic, and enchan i Like’a star rose o’er my soul, ; i . Caine F laden with pertume, And thy witching smile and winning grace, And ike the ee mi First began their soft control. Tp fits RCE Playing ’mid flowery gardens all in bloom, j som’s trembling strings. Those good old times, how bright they seem, They swept across my Noe Thro’ the gathering mists of years + : reoion dost thou dwell ¢ How fondly oft of them we dream, In what enchanted regi young or old? : ing heart or Tn this cold, dark vale of tears. And is thy glowing De ell From which such bright and heavenly dreamings swell, Dearer to me are the memories Into a tale so beautifully told. ai ~ "Of the haleyon days of youth, : 2 y Hast thou e’er felt the aching of the Than the world with all its wealth and is die ? ei When its most cherished hopes and prospects With its want of love and truth. RT STR PART ETIOM ; i} ii a i 1 4 136 : WOOD-NOTES. And felt the tear of hopeless sorrow start, As the dull hours on leaden wings went by? Th 4 , € question’s vain, for thou art fair and young, : No cloud has ever rested on thy brow; : ? ‘om age and woe, such dreamings never sprung, ? From youth and love such musings only flow. BRIGHT RAIN-DROPS, Bricur rain-drops fell on a lonely spot o] Wher : i storms had left their blackened trace y smiling sunbeams long forgot, : A sad, most melancholy place. T f e fair flowers sprung on fragile stems, fe ng soft Elysian perfumes TOse 5 hile bright birds caroll’d choral hymns, ? As Sweet as ever song-land knows Thus on a heart forgotten, lone ? - Sweet maiden, let thy lovine words 5 Fall soothingly, and with a tone Like song of happy summer birds, PHILO HENDERSON. Then thoughts of soft and golden hue, Will c’er it fly on airy wings, And hopes fall on it soft as dew Which twilight from her mantle flings. Me And the far future will display A long array of prospects bright, Like roses at the dawn of day, Wet with the dews of vanished night. From blushing morn till dewy. eve, The golden-footed hours will run, ‘And all night long my fancy weave Dreams of a happy life begun. ADA’S SAD FATE. On the green banks ‘of Catawba, Once there lived a beauteous maiden, Stainless as the flower at sunset With the dews of evening laden. Gentle as the west-wind blowing, Was her soul’s unearthly feeling, Softer than the streamlet flowing Came her words that soul revealing. a as 139 pe WOOD-NOTES. . 5 High the breathings of her spirit, In the radiance brightly beaming, Of that land it would inherit When it ceased its earthly dreaming. On the green banks of Catawba, Died that rare and radiant maiden, When the evil days came on her, And her heart with grief o’erladen. Died the Victim of delusion - Words, that ne’er were true believing, Words that filled her soul with anguish, While her breaking heart deceiving. Though her heart was blighted, broken, Calmly passed away that maiden, Dying, leaving ne’er a token, Telling how her heart was laden. On the green banks of Catawba, Never more will sit the maiden, Gazing on the laughing water, With the leaves of autumn laden. Neyer more will sunlit billow Glance in gladness down before her, For she sleeps beneath the willow, And the flowers are springing o’er her. Neyer more will sounds ON RECEIVIN PHILO HENDERSON. Sadly gorrowing, wand’ring lonely, Mourns for her my soul despairing, And my heart that loved her only, rave’s repairing. Ever to her grave’s repairing, of gladness. 1 Yer me, * Pour their musie sweetly o’er me, But for ever strains of sadness Tell me of her mournful story. G A PRESENT FROM A LADY. A wav-worn pilgrim dying lay Far from the haunts of men, Where he had fallen on his way, i sin. O’ercome with woe and Fast gathering was the gloomy me O’er the dim wilderness, When down an angel bent its flight, The pilgrim lone-to pless. The gentle murmur of its wings, Breathed on his pallid brow, Soft as the soothing whisperings Of some pure streamlet’s flow- — 140 ‘ WOOD-NOTES, - He tw ah PHILO HENDERSON. 141 rned his dim and olazi azi ; On its angelic face geet 7 Her heart was broken, and the sombre shade . And there he met « sweet Of silent sorrow dimmed her soft blue eye, eet reply— He yet should win the ee And in their graves her young sweet hopes were laid, race, : But ah! they left a pang that would not die. The pilgrim’s h eart the His eye regained its ioe ae Ofttimes a sweet and solitary strain His fears and weakness res tin fi Of murmuring music, or a whispered sound, im thr ; And boldly braved the night Ee Would thrill along the quick electrie chain, pee ae ' ‘With which her sad and broken heart was bound. nd on him beamed al. 5 The 4 ° : oe ee Roy, angel’s smile divine, Then tearfully she’d steal away alone, In solemn shadows of the dying day, Until at last before him lay Remembering each deep magic tone, The holy, lo , jong-sought shrine, That stole her warm and guileless heart away. «Long years of sorrow and of suffering rolled Heavy and slowly o'er her aching breast, Bil : | LINES. . ‘And sullenly each weary hour tolled it How sad y falls th “mourfal memory The funeral knell of some fond hope that blest. i Of some ome dear one, loved long dim years ago ) Whose warm h eart th 9 > ; en beat high and joyously, To her the past was like a troubled dream, With forms of Hope and phantoms of despair, But n > . Fe Ow alas lies moulderin cold and low ! o wan g 4 : While from the future came I ee recall the melancholy tale Of one I knew in life’s gay, smiling sprin No flower of love or hope was blooming there. When earth seem’d beautiful as Eden’s val 2 pai : aba a Sipe Me hcao ein a ° Still, o’er ies face a holy light yor P ay, golden wing, Tn some immortal land it had its birth ; 7* 143 142 WOOD-NOTES. PHILO HENDERSON. Smiles like the last gleam of an autumn day, Told that her soul’s pure thoughts were far from earth. THE FLOWER OF © ATAWBA. Slowly she faded like a lovely star, : Down in a fair romantic vale, When the bright moon comes stealing up thy sky, Where willows weep, and to the gale Or some sweet flower that frosts of winter mar, 7 Their sighing branches fling, Which weeping bends i in loneliness to die. WN peerless flower unfolds its leaves, f 2 When eve her mystic mantle weaves, T'was on a summer eve, a gentle eve, And twilight waves its wing. Such as with rapture fills the dreamy soul, That doth with deep immortal longings grieve, And long bright sunny years have flown, That it can never reach its hope’s far goal. ° * Over its sweet head, and each one strewn, On its pure leaves fresh bloom ; Her spirit trembled o’er its suffering clay, And many a soft and balmy breeze And brightly beaming thro’ the shades of ica : From off Catawba’s flowery leas Did o’er her face in heavenly beauty play, ‘ = Has breathed on it perfume. And grow more lovely till her latest breath. ; : ; . ad nev er since that golden morn, Long, dreary years have passed since she Ww hen earliest flowers of Time were born, Lay where the evening’s golden sunbeams fell, *Neath Eden’s cloudless sky, And with a smile that fluttered mournfully, ; Has evening shed its weeping dew, Broathed with her soft and dying voice—farewell, Oy stars looked from their homes of blue, F. On one with it could vie. She calmly sleeps now by a murmuring stream, For that sweet flower, the silver wave And near her grave, from others stands apart, jan’s grave, That weeps beneath the Ind And echoes still his song; . A flower that weeps beneath the moon’s pale beam, The mournful emblem of her broken heart. ET TN aR RATIOS ROLE Te SRT ape ane 145 144 WOOD-NOTES. : as; : ; PHILO HENDERSON. $ it sweeps onward to the sea, : 5 . Pours strains of plaintive fisted From thy cool springs amid the mountains, Tts wind : Till thou fallest in the sea, ’ winding shores along. , : Thou seest not by thy sunny fountains A flower that blooms so beauteously. To it was, at its n atal . ea Sing sadly, for thy weeping waters By her who reiens i elons 1 ney 4 . : gns in Flore’s bower, No more will bear on their bright wave, The fairest of thy peerless daughters, Immortal beauty gi Y given ; For she slumbers in the grave. And when from off its native shore, _ It greets the evening star no more,— ? Where Eden’s Bs sunn "Twill fad xe ee IONS, Ah! cold and silent, calmly sleeping— eless ; oom in Heaven. Sleeping in the voiceless grave, . And gloomy cypress branches weeping, Weeping, o’er her, sighing, wave} While the pale, melancholy moonlight, Trembling on thy tearful stream, At the still hour of solemn midnight CATAWBA Jn her breast wakes not a dream. Frow gently on, thou noble river, Murmur sweetly on tiakiie By Eden's river, fair, undying, Blooms thy sweet, lost flower now, Thy fairest daughter has for ever Left thee, to return no more And when thou flowest by the bower And sinless angels o’er it flying, To its gentle beauty bow 3 . And on thy bosom, noble river, From its fadeless bower on high, With thy gently flowing stream. That flower will sweetly look for ever : With its blue and tender eye. Where she used to sit and dream ? Sing softly, for thy faded flower " ? 146 WOOD-NOTES. PHILO HENDERSON. 147 Such mournful, melancholy thoughts as these, Rolled o’er my soul at midnight’s solemn hour, When moaning winds were sighing thro’ the trees, and stars were sheddin g round their power. LINES, EHIND the y ‘ 7 B slowl swelling hills of Time, The Stars of Hop @ Se g 0 Will vie ill they again my life’s horizon climb, slow, Sad, mournful, solemn, melancholy, The gloomy hours on dusky wings, go by: Or must wander darkly to the tomb ? d me sorrow’s turbid waters flow, Am I the child of a resistless fate Bea ea : 4 : And o’er me adverse winds blow shrill and high. Driven by its hand afar from’ heaven ? ~ Can T retr: 1 etrace my steps, or is’t too late ? Can I repent, be pure, and be forgiven ? Sweet friend, think not that T am what I seem, Lost to all sense of honor and of shame, The wi € wise men of the e avopihel slien aie | Do not of me ee harshly, strictly deem, A glorious, an immortal truth ct Y But let forgiveness take the place of blame. ? Breathed from 5 the li Ss is ps of one, the all sublime, The mariner upon a stormy sea, _ and waves wage elemental war, “The seared, the br . sue @ broken-hearted may be healed.” When winds That trut : Hails with delight. with speechless ecstasy. ruth shines down thro’ the far shadow ails wl 2 ’ ) And falls like dew up 8 peace The trembling beam of some pale distant star. «hts on my blighted h Li : i is eart, ighting its gloom and banishing its fear D ee And bidding all its phant Se The lowly captive, m his grated cell, g an ee cubis depart, By all despised, neglected and forgot, Gleaming beneath its sweet, tr: : : "Neath the glad sunbeam feels his sad heart swell, » anscendent light, ‘ That lovely sunbeam half relieves his lot. Far down the vale of coming years appear who has won the shrine, Forms, which can never k now bi : a change or blight, The weary: pilgrim, and patiently, pes xed on truth ho 0 Towa Ho fis 10p 4 5) pes t my heart most dear, Wee : : ae 148 WOOD-NOTES. Feels in his heart a heavenly glow divine, A ray, a beam of Immortality. But—I would hail a smile of thine, With rapture wild, such as they never knew, Tho’ the whole world against my heart combine, It will not quail if only thou be true. The Bev. Henry Hardie. REST—A LEGEND. Ty Feast was o'er, The tribes had come and gone. a ae heard The camel's tender tread, the asses tramp 5 And heavily the brazen city-gates Upon their pivots tured, as ae to pass The homeward caravan of Israelites. The glancing rays of a declining sun Stole o'er Jerusalem, and tinged her me Her palaces, and domes with golden as How queenly fair, and beautiful she sat + The emblem of the City of the Lord: The Salem of Melchisedek of old: Her nation’s idol, glory, joy and hope. oe OT LIEN ERT ee 150 WOOD-NOTES, But faintly does the heart reflect The image of a smiling, shining world. On Israel’s brow a boding shadow hung. The feast was o'er. Within the temple court Sat Rabbi Judah, bent with hoary age. ; In reverend honored state around him stood The six great pillars of the Jewish law. Each in his turn, the learned Fathers spoke Of Rest—Rest for the weary soul. : _ One said abundant wealth Was rest ; with massy coffers clogged with gold, And cattle sporting on a thousand hills ; And then to live and die without a sin. Another said That sweetest Rest was found in world-wide fame. A third, that Rest was power With wise and wholesome laws to rule a State. Another said that Rest Was in a cheerful hearth and happy home. Another said that Rest Was in old age of power, and wealth and fame, Surrounded by one’s seed and children’s seed. Another said that all were vain Without obedience to the Ritual law, To strictly keep each jot of its commands. Then Rabbi Judah rose: ° ‘THE REY. HENRY HARDIE. His temple furrowed like an ancient wall : With here and there a scanty withered lock: . His cheek was gaunt; his piercing eye was sunk ; But flashed like eyes of earlier, younger days ; The tallest of the seven: his trembling frame He eae upon his bending mace. Each ear Was now unstopped, and anxiously they leaned, To hear the Patriarch speak ; to catch the words That from the aged Father’s lips should fall. “ Well have ye spoken, brothers wise. Yet still, That we find rest, another thing is meet. He only will sécure it who, to all Shall add a strict, unswerved obedience To the tradition by the elders given.” Within the court, Upon its checkered flag-stones, sat a boy Of twelve brief years, unknown and unobserved. With lilies in his lap he boyish Looe 7 His round clear eye was calm : his air ue meek, His fair and unshorn locks his shoulders hid, And on his cheek played smiling innocence. As the prolonged debate rose high, amazed, He dropped his lilies on his lap and looked med Upon the seers, with countenance that bea Intelligence, and holiness, and truth. id: With voice angelic, words that flowed, he sa’ eh 152 WOOD-NOTES. “ Nay, fathers, he and only he, finds rest, Who loves his brother as himself—loves God With all his heart, and mind, and strength, and soul : Far greater this than fame, or power, or wealth, Happier than a happy home: happy e’en Without a home, or where to lay the head. Better than honored age, he’s to himself A law : above tradition of the Fathers.” The Rabbi were amazed, Aghast and wild They gazed each in his brother's face, With trembling joints and livid lips, they said, “When the Messiah comes, will’he disclose A greater truth than this fair boy has taught ?” And with one voice and joyful heart they kneeled, Like captive prisoners thrust from darkest night Into the glorious mid-day light of truth, “And thanked their great Jehovah that old men Are not always the wise, But glory be To God on high, on earth good will and peace To men: out of the mouths of suckling babes Most marvelously God’s praise is perfected. The Beb. Rufus Heflin. flin, were f the Rev. Mr. Heflin, : oems from the pen 0: eae Piel hae Be gas quite a youth, before he ies Ge Ae de thou ate of becoming a minister. It is to be ee Deut wostio cu ‘ ces prevented him from cultivating 6 eave: * Conscious Glee ee xbibit. In a letter to a wee ; meee oT Rave of i inati reponderates 1n an u ial stile se ui a avian a poetry. I beli ede bed ai so passion- = sae ais ted to usefulness in the ae oe se es ental abet ately f sf at pales that I felt my only safety o 0) “hence,” SPRING. } ri “Sic transit gloria mundi. Oxp Winter is dead, is dead, And left young Spring his heir, Who mourns for his sire ’tis said, And sprinkles with flowers his bier. He has stationed a choir of pirds To sing o'er the old man’s tomb, 154 WOOD-NOTEL, Whose music, if formed into words, - Would fill every heart with gloom. Behold! these sweet flowers, they sing, They are bright as the starry isles, And as lovely as is the wing That wafts us Elysian smiles ! But frail as he that is gone, Like him they must soon decay, And when by the tempest strewn, Will wither as soon away. Honors surround him dead, Which living he could not win, And now his spirit has fled, Green laurels bloom for him. And thou, Ambition’s slave, Whose hope is earthly fame, Thine heir may strew thy grave With wreaths thou could’st not gain. All earthly hopes decay, The brightest bloom to die ; Like flowers they strew the way To dread eternity. THE REV. RUFUS HEFLIN. IMPROMPTU TO A LADY. Ox! lovely as the sparkling light On flashing waters playing, And gentle as the dreams of Bent Through childhood’s fancy straying, And sweet as is the summer dew, On violet beds descending, Are thoughts of those that once we knew, With mem’ry’s visions blending. Then when the holy silentnight, Its charm o’er thee is flinging, When loved ones beam upon thy sight, And silent tones are singing ; Let but one thought of me intrude, When mem’ry thus is stealing Her charms from time and solitude, And absent forms revealing. 156 5 WOOD-NOTES, THE VICTIM OF CONSUMPTION, Suz is fading,—she is fading, Like a rainbow from on high, When he who gave its hues their shading, Recalls those hues beyond the sky. And eyes that never wept with sorrow. ? Tears of anguish now are weeping ; For ere the sun comes forth to-morrow ? She will be for ever sleeping ! She is dying !—she is dying ! Like some wild tone across the sea, Which softly to the night-winds sighing, Dissolves in its own melody. Oh list ! her harp-strings feebly sounding, Wake music’s wildest, sweetest spell :— Like notes from echo far rebounding, ? Melts on the ear her last “ Farewell.” Those joys which early childhood knew. 2 Seem gently stealing o’er her, And mem’ry brings the enchanted view, Of other days before her, THE REV. RUFUS HEFLIN. “Oh! once I bloomed in loveliness, And pleasure smiled around me, Oh! once I met the fond caress Of him whose magic bound me. “ They tell me now that I shall never ’ Look on those I love sincerest, They say that death. divides. forever, From all that life holds dearest. But oh! some spirit whispers, saying, I shall with kindred spirits dwell,— Then welcome Death, no more delaying, My harp attunes my last ‘Farewell. ” ue WHAT IS LIFE?” Ox! strive not for glory, It lasts but a day, The honored in story Must vanish away. As mist on the mountain, So the spirit of man Returns to the fountain . From which it began. 157 | sisal 8 a W9POD-NOTES, Oh! seek not for treasure, For wealth is in vain, Follow not pleasure : *Twill lead thee to pain. The snow-flakes descending Upon the deep sea, With its dark waters blending, Are symbols of thee. The thoughts we hold dearest, The pledges we gave Of love the sincerest, Must sink in the grave. The ties must be broken That friendship has twined, No vestige or token Shall they leave behind. The brightest, the purest, Must haste to decay, All things we love dearest Must “ vanish away.” Our joys flee from us, Like phantoms at night, THE REV. RUFUS HEFLIN. They smile once upon us, And then take their flight. But as tones of music Still ring on the ear, When the loved one that made it, Ts cold on the bier,— Or as flowers when withered, Yield sweeter perfume, Than when they are gathered In freshness and bloom,— So surely in Heaven, Shall mem’ry remain, And the joys here given, Be felt there again. TO ALMIRA. Lone years have passed since we have met, And joy and sorrow have been mine, Long, long it’s been, but even yet, : I often think of “ Auld Lang Syne. 159 160 WOOD-NOTES. T’ve mingled in the glittering throng, The child of passion and of song, But yet in all I’ve felt or known, My first fond love was still thine own. Long years have passed ; and Love and Fame Have twined bright wreaths around my brow ; But yet in bower or hall, thy name Is often heard—I hear it now! And when my heart to music set, Hath breathed those notes we ne’er forget, Tts sweetest, holiest melody Speaks but in memory of thee. Long years haye passed; and thou and I May never meet on earth again ; But we have loyed, and memory Reserves the bliss without the pain. A mystery of light and gloom, Like moonbeams o’er a marble tomb, Still shrouds the past in doubt, but thou Wert brightest then, art brightest now. lah a ee ENR reneeens Miss M. J. Hoye. TO CORINNA. For thee, Corinna, child of light, I bid my Fancy take her flight, On raptured wing away,—away To regions where she loves to play. Oh, could she mount on eagle’s wing, Aside the dusky vapor fling, And with the eagle’s steady gaze, Approach the sun’s resplendent blaze, The Poet’s sun—whose light o’erwhelms The Poct in his native realms ; And could she lay a daring hand Upon that bright orb’s fiery band, Unelasp its zone of quenchless blaze, And snatch away some glowing rays, How would she hurry back again, To throw a halo round my pen, ——— EMT RRS Sa aT a 162 ¥ é HES SOMES MISS M. A. HOYE. aa anne my promised song, Yes—never did the morning ray, = 3 e belong Paint fairer scenes for tropic day, mi = far distant sphere of fire, Than Fancy in her picture wrought, To which she never may aspire | To animate thy dawning thought. Life’s picture seemed a rich parterre, Embellished walks, and shady bowers, Bright sparkling fountains too were there, But she must take a lowlier flight, Catch but the fainter beams of light, Hover about the earth, and glean And Spring-time’s ever-blooming flowers— The beauties of the softer scene ; ‘And such a sky !—the tints of Heaven, Rove idly through the groves and bowers, To gather up the scattered flowers ; Go where the sparkling fountains play. ? Which paint the robes of Summer even, Might almost be ashamed to vie, With those rich tints of Fancy’s sky. And strive to catch the sunlit spray. ? Then came the azure downward bent, Seek diamond, pearl or glittering toy— Must I my Fancy thus employ ? The soft. sea-green assistance lent, And thus—for what? that T niay be To blend the pure ethereal blue, With mellowed shades of amber hue 5 The purple clouds so lightly rolled, Upon a sea of burnished gold : A slight, a fading offering. KER * * * * * * PS While ever tending to the skies, Thou’st coursed the child’s gay vista thro’, The fumes of incense seemed to rise, The bright goal comes in nearer view— And youthful eye ne’er strained to see From newly opening flowers of love, And form a cloud of sweets above ; And on that cloud by incense made, The radiant bow of Hope was laid. Such was the scene that first addressed Its pleasures to thy throbbing breast,— A brighter goal than thine could be For partial Fortune did her best, And then to Fancy left the rest! And was not Fancy’s pencil such As might produce the finest touch ? IESE RT erie Te PRS erie TES © tone la ios NR RO RTT 164 WOOD-NorEs. Such was the scene-that sped thee on, © qa that brief course thro’ which ‘thou ’st gone, And such the scene is yet, but grows Still brighter at the Vista’s close— But there’s another Scene, and true,” Which lies beyond Illusion’s view ; Tis well Illusion interposes, And with a cautious hand unfolds The curtained mist she gently: holds, ' And part: by “part the scene discloses, For ah! it is a scene of strife, The real scene of busy life ! Oh welcome to the mortal’s breast, The brightly soothing, cheating guest, Who with-her magic veil conceals The sober facts that life reveals ! But how can mortals ever find The path that Heaven has well defined, * If they so wilfully be blind ? How can they act the wiser part While they hug: phantoms to ‘their heart ? The innocence of childhood brings Such beautiful imaginings ! Such sweet, such tender thoughts as seem The raptures of an angel’s dream ! MISS M. A. HOYE. ‘Oh, innocence of youth! alas! That it like all things fair must pass So soon away—a dewy gem, A flower unfolding on its stem, Is not more pure, is not more sweet, Than Youth's first thought—or yet more fleet. Oh! thou hast been a happy child ! On none has fortune ever smiled More kindly than she smiled on thee, No happy child could happier be! Thy home was one that well might bless Life’s early years with happiness ; Thy parents smiled—their smile was such As morning beams, that kindly touch The bosom of the early flowers, And bid them wake to joyous hours. Oh blest with every thing wert thou !— But childhood’s time is gone—and now What was so very bright, must seem _ The lingerings of a long past dream ! Dream sweetly on, Time cannot cheat The mem’ry of a bliss so sweet, Dream on, and let the hallowed past Its purifying influence cast ; Dream 6n, until thy dreamings be The visions of Eternity. g* 165 e ’ a WILLIAM W. HOLDEN. It guides them till the morning’s wings Shed sunlight o’er the earth ‘again. 7 What if that cross its front should veil, And darkly sink in night’s embrace 4 Nor other stars, nor sun could fill Milliam owt. Holden. : Or share its wondrous dwelling-place. Star of the South! twas thus with thee! u To thee all eyes and hearts were turned ; As round thy path, from plain to sea, JOHN C. CALHOUN. The glory of thy greatness burned. Millions were drawn to thee, and bound, By mind’s high mastery ; millions hailed In thee a guide-star, and ne’er found A ray in thee that waned or failed. Tux voyager on the Southern main . . ! Views with rapt awe the hallowed sion . . n Which nightly flames “ beyond the line ;” A ? Nor deems the labor all in vain, Which brings hi : | gs him to that long-sought shrine. Fis’d as that sign which hangs in Heaven; a ’ Firm as the earth it shines upon; Pure as the snow by light winds driven, Wert thou, Columbia’s honor’d son ! The various tribes, in field, by flood . . . b Walk in its light when day is done; *‘T5 . . : And hail it in its high abode, Best reflex of the absen t sun: No night’s embrace for thee! nor pall But such as mortal hand hath wrought : In all their devious wanderings ou” Tuou LIvEsT STIL in mind—in all From dewy eye, thro’ midni cht’s reer eas That breathes, or speaks, or lives in thought. ESE PE ST TAD OT . a: ee TRL PTS ANTI OE TER 168 ‘ be woo-yorns, : : gee ee eels WILLIAM W. HOLDEN. ar of the S a aa ee ai + rs Here in ee net ap ener Amid the Augustan halls ire flung ; at weeps thy loss; ? ; Who! hidden thou secure SEE The trophies of the battle-god.» Serene, refi ; ' Et a shy from earthly dr Oss, The scene has changed. Whose warrior form ernal, and intensely clear ! : a ent : : On Gallia’s throne all shivered now 2 Whose eye that lightens *mid the storm, As round him peer and peasant bow ? "Tis his, unroyal king of France,— NAPOLEON. : No lineal right has placed him there, Hark ! : cee K! on the winds a thrilling wail ! The sport of fame—the thing of chance— A wail moe Te ot Paw war, The fearful and the fierce in war! Where ensigns flash on every gale, . And waft a wondrous battle-star. Behold again !—The embattled lines In phalanx deep rush madly by; The allied sabre waves and shines, Who: : : se wail was that? Since Carthage’s son, “ Napoleon, yield, or proudly die!” No Alpine hill hath heard such tones, Whose banner that b eneath the sun ? “T yield ? Napoleon yield to slaves ? Whos y e star o’er Europe’s trembling thrones ? Aes e \ No, sooner let the sun wax pale! "Tis his, the foster-child of Pres ‘S : ; P And : ee Their blood shall dye the earth and waves, now the rending shock hath ¢ ; : aeAGh Italia b : O88, Before this strong right arm shall fail ! 1a bows beneath his glance His banner floats 0% s oa's o'er storied Rome. Tt came—that earthquake shock—it came, Proudly his mighty name is one And thrones lay low beneath his sway, ; O'er Tiber’s hills, while far and broad And men grew pale before the flame That flashed along his sabre’s way: 170 . WOOD-NOTES, J The seene hath changed to change no more. Whose grave that rests unmarbled here ? ‘ Unhonored on this sounding shore? Unwept thro’ each revolving year ? "Tis his,—the eagle-eyed—the braye ! His star of blood hath left the sky ; Hon. James Aredell, They bore him o’er the yielding wave, The b d And placed him on this rock—to die. He sleeps! the fitful flame of life y.* Hath perished on Helena’s isle ; MONODY ON THE DEATH OF A LADY. Nor clarion loud or battle-strife, ir, the beautiful Re-echo to his name the while :— Anp she is gone! the soft, the fair, the } The lovely scion of a noble BLOC Nemes Gone in the pride and prime of youth, ees All the world holds good, or joyous, or coat es ee Was promised to her hope ; when the deep afte But round him rolls the ocean-tide, Fit emblem of his restless pride ; And o’er him shines each star to tell How high he aimed—how low he fell. Of a doting husband, the tenderness unutterable | Of maternal Jove, the smiles and prattle oe } Her infant babes, all wooed her, but in rau to life. | Alas! not wealth, nor rank, nor far surpassing these, Pure and devoted piety, virtue in her bee robes, { ! A mind embellished and enriched with choicest gems, | 4 d woes, A heart that felt so keenly others’ joys a0 ’ * Mrs. Badger, daughter of Col. Polk. a i 173 | THE HON. JAMES IREDELL. 172 WOOD-NOTES. e Humility of soul and faith unshaken in a Saviow’s love, Nor the charm of sweetly captivating manne ‘ mae RE ac hago: Upheld and stayed her in the hours of anguish. Not one, nor all of these, could stay The hand of stern, remorseless Death ! ” : ) The closing scene is past—here stop my muse: ; The grief of many, many fond and mourning friends, The feelings of the husband, of the widow’d mother ‘ +» sorrows ! Let me not essay. Sacred be their sorrows - "Tis but as yesterday, I saw her in her early dawn, Beaming and beauteous as the morning star, Shedding her radiance on this worldly scene ; Her cheek flushed with the roseate hues of health, 8 8 oftened counter Hu we kness will lament, whil yet e ’ ‘par ts man a. e@ W know 1? “ We sorrow not as those who have no hope.’ Of those which spoke the ardor of her warrior sire; Mortal vision no longer scans her course ; Her smiles diffusing joy on many a social throng, [ed. Bat to eye of faiths etded by the word of promise, I saw her admiring and admired, delighting and delight : aa Rea es Again I saw her, when in blushing modesty Views her a seraph in celestial glory: She stood the woo’d and won, the cherished bride Of him, whose name is high on Carolina’s rolls, Eloquent and wise, and worthy of her virgin love. Happy pair! yet oh! how short the period of your bliss ! Again I marked her as the youthful matron, Watching with fond delight her infant’s gambols, Tracing the father’s face in every feature of her child; Absorbed, enwrapt in that which only can be told In one short but yet expressive phrase— a qothet's love.” : , And yet again I saw her, when the spoiler came ! When fell disease attacked her frame ; when death, “As if loth to snatch so bright a flower from earth, Seemed still to linger o’er his victim, And I knew how conscious innocence and piety sincere, J. M. LOVEJOY. Opening the golden gates, she meets us here, With blushing brows beneath the arches blue: And ever as we look are flowing through The everlasting vaults, as they unfold, Her Eastern treasures, gems of every hue; The purple disappears, and now behold . The Orient jeweled Morn in robes of dawning gold. I. UW. Lovejoy, Star after star hath left—the moon looks pale— Departing all the guests of night are seen ; The owl sails by, but lost along the vale, A DAY ON THE HILLS, Just where the wood throws back a dusky screen, i | Again flies out, where morning streams nese The opening trees, hard by the roofless mill. No bird yet sings amid the air serene, And from the thorn hath flown the whip-poor-will : The ever restless brook is heard—all else is still. DEDICATED TO JAMES 1, FOSTER, ESQ., OF ALBANY, N. Y. My lyre! this day demands of thee a song, Whose tones should soar all heavenward, like a fleak Of flame from off the altar—roll along ing i d he Thy chords for ever when my heart shall seek The morning is the hour of thought, an Its kindred ashes. But the soul is weak : Who walks her early paths, will often find To seize upon infinity, and so Himself alone with God—her purity So flow along the heart and brace the mind, That as she doth into his being wind, The soul will mount with her, the blue domain, Nature as thou hast taught me, I may speak, And from my spirit let thine image go, Tho’ it shall fade away when I am cold and low. Pass o’er the shining towers, and tneoa es) ; With angel feet roam o’er the heavenly plain, Pluck life’s unfading flowers and truth immortal gain. Night steals away—the lord of day draws near To light the world. Aurora is in view, * ag 5| 7 a aa ESTP OR I ES anette EE Naan rte, ids ae 176 ; - WOOD-NOTES.: The mocking-birds begin the morning’s song, In murmurs soft and sweet, as flows the rill; Now like a holy chant, it rolls along Through ancient vaulted woods, increasing till All up and down the scale, the anthems trill; The lord of song; in his green gallery sings, While o’er the vale, and up the dusky hill, From her resounding rock the Echo flings Thro’ all her silver pipes the joy that round her rings. The dawn expands, and now the rolling: sea Pours o’er the morning star its waves of light, That lingering long, and twinkling seemed to be . A diamond’s point, uniting day and night, The trees, half gilt, that soar the pasture’s height, Come down to hide the vale with shadows deep, ‘And shut the dreamy farm-house from the sight, Where now and then, the playful breezes creep, To shake the drowsy elms, that ever murmuring keep. Oh, lovely Morning! lovely as the soul . Of beauty’s eye! how sweet thy dawning ray Unveils thy face, till thy full glories roll Along the blue; the roses all at play Upon thy shining bosom; thou dost lay Thy ruby twinkling fingers on the dews, J. M. LOVEJOY. Profusely fling thy gorgeous gems away, While flower and shrub give back to thee thy hues, And glow with light and life, thy presence doth infuse. But half uprisen, appears the glorious sun ; The liquid streams o’er yon smooth hill-top flow, Chasing the shadow, down the dark side run, Have passed the horse, and reached the vale below, Round which the river makes a silver bow: The water-lilies shake their starry gold ; Only their modest green the alders show; _ But there the blackbirds morning converse hold, Hark! how with winged words their fiery hearts unfold. The spirit-stirring sun ascends his throne, And bids the world arouse itself once more ; Back, from his flaming front, the clouds have flown, ? And now man, bird, and insect pass before His beaming countenance. The old woods roar To Nature’s echoing footsteps—how she flings _ Her glowing eye to heaven—away doth soar To meet exultant Morning, where she springs, With hope upon her brow and:splendor on her wings. +, drest. The earth comes forth, in robes of grandeur, drest, Worthy to be the day-god’s bridal queen ; ‘ J. M. LOVEJOY. L78 WOOD-NOL.3, The dew, upon her dark green velvet vest, The noisy geese, in merry concert go, That looks as if a shower of gems had been. To view their snowy robes where waters gleam; . The deep blue sky, the far-off village sheen, Their glossy bosoms on the surface glow, The graceful spires that soar like shafts of light, And thro’ the parted reeds like lilies seem. And Summer fruit-trees blushing o’er the green, The stooping alders break the sunny beam, Display themselves, so beautiful and bright, As if to see below, the fragments play, The whole enchantment seems to the beholder’s sight. And shake the landscape mirrored n the stream, : For there the landscape doth itself display— Oh Sun! with wondrous power thou dost reflect, : Green fields, and upland slopes, and hill-tops far away. Him who thy palace laid on central space, ~ Upreared its towering front, its chambers decked . The country rolls its voice thro’ sounding skies, With rubies, life and beauty’s dwelling-place ; And pote forth niall femora anes) Made planets for thy footstool, and did grace Farmers pass by, and girls whose glancing eyes, With streams of circling stars, thy shining zone— : From rustling curls and white sun-bonnets look ; Drew his eternal lightning round thy face, And children who from Morn her blushes took,. And sent thee forth to rule in heaven alone, Théty fie Gist eee micaemenoeud tite With Darkness for thy slave, the Universe thy throne. When she first came to gild the lawn and brook, And round her brow a rosy wreath did wear, ‘ King of the winds! thy spirit fans my brow, And softly flows thy music—thou dost sift 2 At times, the sweets of flowers about, as now, Before the rising sun shook back the dusky air. Their life of health and virtue glides away Tn pleasant shades, and fields where beauty glows ; And lightly bear the burdens of the day, That thro’ the vale of Peace so calmly flows : And when they sink into their last repose, They sleep beneath the grass and sunny flowers, Then clothe thyself with darkness,—tempests lift Thy flaming locks,—behind thee forests drift,— Before thee roars the whirlwind ;—but again To plaintive tones of grief thy thunders shift, And wandering thro’ the deep thou dost complain, As if'thou hadst lost Heaven, so mournful is thy strain. J A ct cecaerecritoesiahn nt naming: iin itn al ik ni . 180 : WOOD-NOTES. . Where the eternal hill its shadow throws. What tho’ no monumental -marble towers: rw Where ruin, glory, wealth, ambition’s tale, devours? Ah! who would not prefer to meet thee, Death, Far from the city’s tumult, where the bills Of birds are ever tuneful, and the breath Of cooling winds the oak with music fills. There is a solemn sadness on the hills, When gazing on the grave below their feet ; And brooks for ever make, with tinkling tills A melancholy murmur, yet how sweet, Passing the sacred spot where kindred ashes meét'! Ambition, glory, grandeur, take your seats, Where massy rocks invite; behold the trance Of dreamy lakes, the broad, bright waving sheets Of grain, leaves twinkle, flashing cascades dance, And flocks and herds along the plain advance, The cottage high, the vale that shines between ; While Peace looks up with her enticing glance, And smiling, asks, if ye would change the sheen, That gilds the dome of power, for her abode serene. Love here prevails—hath made his empire’ great ; The gay young violets bridal garments wear ; Up in whose modest face the bright-eyed pebble looks. Rely) -J. M. LOVEJOY. Those huge old vines full many a year did wait, Patiently climbed the rock to meet in air: The leaves are whispering secrets every where, And daisies peeping out from grassy nooks, With eyes of love at one another stare ; The lily sees him in the shining brooks, The earth lifts up her countenance to God, Beholds his love all boundless o’er the skies, Flowing away, where comets never trod; On, on thro’ chaos where new systems rise, And join the elder worlds. All vainly flies The dart of Death—he strews his ashes gray, On which Love only casts his glowing eyes— They spring to shapes of beauty, form the gay Bright robes that Life makes up, and Summer wears to-day. The withered leaf, the whirlwind drives through space, Assumes a new existence,—it may be A flower that shall the brow of beauty grace, _ Or smile amid the desert. And shall we No more the glorious face of Nature see, When Death darkens the eye ?—the voice of God Proclaims to man his immortality, By means of crushed decay, that gems the sod With hues transformed from dust that hoary Winter trod. 9 182 WOOD-NOTES, | e Immortal soul! were thine but mortal powers, Content, thou wouldst but worship dark decay, And mingling with her mould spring up in flowers, And drink the evening dew as doth thy clay. How sad thy thoughts that wander off to play, Beyond the star-built heavens, come back to thee! In search of some bright region far away ; They lose themselves in that infinity, Wherein the finite sinks as pebbles in the sea. But Nature! thou hast naught to match the soul 5 She takes thee up and binds thee to her breast— Ranges thro’ all thy bounds with vast control To find some sweet nepenthe for unrest— Doth with thy secret powers her strength invest, And having formed new worlds to sate desire, _ Sinks like a bird back to her narrow nest— Draws round her weary thoughts those wings of fire, While Hope again awakes the music of her lyre. Before that glittering scythe the daisies fall— The hills roll back—the hawk sweeps down the skies— The peacock screams along the garden wall, O’er which the girl to him she loves replies, Who half in doubt watches her beaming eyes; There is a blushing rose-bud in her hair— ESR ETT ison orate J. M. LOVEJOY. He sees her snowy bosom fall and rise, And what cares he, though her white arms are bare ! The flowers that climb the wall he thinks not half so fair. The clouds have left the hills to play between The silvery-vaulted blue, and crested corn, That stands like ranks of war of stately mien— Ten thousand waving plumes the field adorn, Flashing with gems shook down before the morn, When Night drew o’er the world her starry wing. The herds that wind their hollow sounding horn, Climb up the hills where beds of clover spring, And ever busy bees their humdrum music sing. Yon busy town sends up the hum of men ; The sounds of clattering hammers reach the ear, With hollow clapping boards, and now and then Amid the din the watch-dog’s bay you hear. The bell-strokes roll away serene and clear, And ratiling chariot-wheels that do the work Of satin-slippered feet, gaily appear Before the shops, to which the officious clerk Welcomes the rustling silk with many a bow and smirk. Here in the broad green country let me look At pleasant hills and vales—the cottage gay 184 oe as UCEB: J. M. LOVEJOY. With creeping vines, that stands beside the brook ; Here let me live, and give myself to God, . Where’er the mistress moves the fowls alway Companioned with his Spirit, and when He Recalls my life, place me beneath the sod That skirts the brook, where flowers come up to see Each other’s pleasant faces, and the bee Thro’ the long day works in the bright sunshine: There let me rest alone, my God, with Thee! Flock round her shining tunic, and the jay With all his might sings in the apple-tree ; While round their gourd-built domes the martins play, A happy group ;—and Plenty smiles to see SS Her golden harvest wave, her lambs bound o’er the lea. a he stars, the universe are thine ; MW The stage horn sounds,—and mounts the weary heel e he sun, the . " seen ti cee Yr r, wilt thou hear this $ 2 | That steep, tall road, it climbs year after year ; eat Father, wi BO Above its blasted pines the vultures wheel, ee “ps Crossing the waste, light-footed bounds the deer; his is the land of Poesy, for here : i j Green slopes, dark glens, and mountains fill the soul, Beyond a single mountain doth appear, And brooks and rills that shine, then disappear ceca nee se ate SE aang 2 Pee ae meniestiidinn PT = = SSS | Piercing the haughty clouds to reach a elime ; Pe Cecros ctrl s, whi unny paths to = Where dwells serenity, that calm and clear, n glades, where sunny p ing pines—the far-off cataract’s roll, And beautiful as thoughts that shine thro’ time, Tall sounding pines ’ And groves that end in forests dark and deep 5 The cliff where stands the wolf—the grassy knoll The country suits deyotion.. Ancient rocks Crowning the meadow, bright with flowers that peep Far in the silent deep, sits on his brows sublime. Tower up from sacred groves—the aged oak Into melodious streams, that by farm-houses creep. Stands like a priest of Heaven, with hoary locks— The sounding earth rolls off the silyery stroke Hh Hh) | - Sweet Poesy! brightest of heavenly things! Of bell-tongued brooks, as when they first awoke How seldom dost thou deign to visit men! The woods and passing angels stopped to hear ; Homer and Milton—Shakespeare swept thy strings, The flowers look up unstained by city smoke; Each with such power that Time astonished then, No hordes of iron-hearted men appear, | Ever despaired of matching such; but when ~ But Nature, full of God, bids Truth and Peace draw near. Nature on Bailey’s mind exhausted thought, | ———— ee a TC I 186 ; WOOD-NOTES, J, M. LOVEJOY. To her high-priesthood summoned him, again [ The rosy*mists have formed the Thunder’s car, ~ His lips declared her oracles, and wrought Who darts from cloud to cloud his bolts about. In fire along his page, the lessons she had taught. The distant hills to one another ae ; The thirsty earth drinks up the bubbling rain; He comes upon the soul like shadowy Night, a “Broken, the clouds roll back like battle’s rout, With all her stars high blazing on her brow ;— And blue-eyed Heavens are bending down again . Then soars away to Heaven on wings of light, To kiss the cool-lipped flowers and pearl-curved waving Opens the golden gates—her treasures flow grain. ~ In rivers o’er the skies—the orbs do bow Down to him, as a god passing the shore . Still Nature, seated on her mountain throne, Of time, and all created being, now Girded with storm ard lightning, seems to be The threshold of Eternity—before ; Struggling with her deep passions there alone: i a te; i | ; | en) a i) ‘| 1 el H + iin ; ‘hs b} q ae. i| { 1 jp 4 i i j a A i | ; tiie \] 1 5 i | Him spirits rise, and on his mind new visions pour. Great God! I lowly bow my soul te Thee— An awe comes o'er the spirit when I see His passions brighter glow like rising day, Thy chariot rolling onward, and behold Till rushing thro’ his heart with wild delight, Thy shadow pass that ee, They rise into abstraction’s mood, to play While Pisgah, Sinai, Horeb’s scenes take hold With God’s all-boundless power and being bright. So deeply on the heart, their visions half unfold. Oh, how they leave oblivion in their flight! ‘ Storm Death’s cold heart—nay, conquer him, while he q Oh! that the soul when she is wrapped in night, Beholds his shafts on fire by lightning light 5 © And shaken by her passions, could resign His muse to immortality, where she So soon the tempest—clothe herself with ree Flames down on Time’s black gulflike sunrise on the sea. As-doth the earth, whose beauties now entwine Their garlands round her brow, as if no mine ny 4 i : : i s; and meanwhile The sun mounts to his noon; the loeusts jar Had burst above in blackness ; é ‘ uld shine The chambers of the oaks, where they rush out; , So brightly beam to heaven, that they wo ¥ . , | | | . 188 WOOD-NOTES. Into its very courts, and thus beguile The angels out, to see how sweetly she can smile. But who can picture Nature when arrayed As she is here, in robes so wondrous fair, j Tripping along the hill and sunny glade, With bright blue eye, sweet smile and golden hair? The glory of her countenance doth bear An everlasting beauty, as if she Did think it most becoming her to wear Her brightest looks, because she loves to see Her favors most bestowed where dwell the brave and free. The rocks are Freedom’s towers, the hills her home, And when they stand on Time’s far future shore, She still shall see her children o’er them roam, And up their rolling clouds her eagle soar; Strong as Olympian Jove’s, whose thunder bore The old Titanie gods to earth, shall rest Her feet upon these mountains evermore— Black, tall, and grand, with plumes the lightnings crest Their heads, and with their darts her swift right hand inyest. Jn these green hills our brave forefathers sleep, The men of mighty deeds—a noble band, J. M. LOVEJOY. When driven from their homes they crossed the deep, Founded a state that grew so strong and grand, That in their day, its shadow did expand, _ And climb the tyrant’s throne. Did History bind Their glory round her brow, until her hand Weary with search, on record failed to find Minds tempered with such power to benefit their kind? And while they sleep, she tells their deeds sublime, The everlasting base on which shall spring New empires like their own, till every clime » Shall bless the breeze that bears their eagle’s wing. And tongues of every language learn to sing Freedom’s sweet song—far thro’ the varied zones Of Asia’s dark dominions, it shall ring, Gladdening benighted nations, till its tones Startle their sleeping gods, and shake barbarian thrones. My country, oh my country! how thy star Towers above all empires and on high, Tn silence, like the morning, glows afar Beyond the sea, to blind oppression’s eye ; Shining into the gloom where vassals lie, That they may file their chains for ages worn. Its ever flashing lightning followed by The thunder shake of nations that is borne ! From state to state, like waves on ocean tempest torn > g* 189 190 ; WOOD-NOTES. Immortal Patriots wrought thy wondrous fame : The grandeur of all genius, bows before Thy Washington. His spirit-stirring name Is Liberty’s proud watchword evermore. Let not Destruction’s monument rise o’er The sacred spot, that marks the Hero’s grave: The world knows where he sleeps, beside the shore Of dark Potomac; where the nations have Embalmed the dust of him, the glorious, good and brave. He stood before his country Ocean’s rock ; Year after year the sea of tyranny, From Europe rolled. His breast received the shock, Beat back the waves. Upstart! so despots ye Deemed him, ye thought to crush. Behold how he Swept down your power like cobwebs, while your wrath Became to him a plaything. Earth shall see No more his like, nor in her annals hath An eye beamed out like his, along her shining path. N ight’s shadowy fect draw near—the glorious sun Hastens his shining steeds, to end the day, That by the blinded stars, haxe nearly run The course which bears the universe away. Those elms that time hath clad in garments gray Stoop o’er the village lawn with sober mien, That every thing reflects her countenance serene. rns e oe J. M. LOVEJOY. On which the laughing children are at play— While ever and anon, crossing the green, Pair forms of dark-haired girls unbonneted are seen. Back to the lowing herds, the woods resound— Climbing the tinkling hills, the sheep-bell rings :— From yonder farm-house gate, the children bound— it Up to their Father's arms the youngest springs. How sweet the hour when thoughtful evening bring Him to his happy home, his labor's o’er, HY He envies not the proud estate of kings ; The smiling wife is standing in the door— i | And now the dog leaps out and gambols on before. i : | Kind Nature well repays his faithful toil Tn grains of lusty growth and pastures rare. Abounding fruits spring gladly from the soil, To meet salubrious suns and genial air— HH Religion lights his path, for every where, as He sees her turrets rise amid the green Dark foliage of the hills, and look so fair Out o’er the ploomy meadows spread between, . —— } Hit The old school-house looks proudly o’er the lawn, ui As if she knew that Poverty there wrought en i Tea ¢ | | ii mei 192 WOOD-NOTES. Those mighty minds, that from her threshold gone, Do as a sword the battle, handle thought; Have from her page, such inspiration caught As ploughs men’s souls and sets the heart on flame— Stirs up the hair like wind; and is it naught That from such walls, full many a lowly name Becomes the highest star along the steeps of fame? Who does not see when Winter walks the street, And costly wool and fur are crowding there, The pale, neglected boy with naked feet, Begging to work for bread? but every where Repulsed, he shivers back to his despair : Proud genius shows her blushes, while she keeps Trying to hide her limbs, ragged and bare, Shakes from her eye of fire, the tear that creeps Up from the depths where her eternal thunder sleeps. ’ The old school-house stands up for that poor boy— Tells him he is a giant whose command May sway the fate of empires,—fills with joy His mighty eye and bids his mind expand : Tells him that though in darkness, he shall stand On fame’s bright towering summit, that renown Is not of college patch-work, but the grand, Immortal work of genius that tears down The deepest walls of fate, however dark they frown. J. M. LOVEJOY. Let lofty domes, where strength and grandeur meet, Bow their tall heads and do her reverence ; they Must sink to dust, centred her iron feet Deep as Eternity, shall stand for aye 5 ’ Before her power, the roots of thrones give way Till shuddering monarchs read upon the wall, The “mene mene tekel” and the gray, Cold wings of dumb oblivion o’er them fall, Save when from their dark deeds, history removes the pall. — ane RTS = But now the day hath flown on winged hours— The last, still blushing in that twilight sea, Hath sown the scattered clouds with rosy flowers, And hung the heavens with purple drapery : Colors, to suit all pencils so agree, As if the one from out the other grew ; Fringing the hills the crimson seems to be, Sea Pe ced OTA OD pe ET Se I ET nn ee But near that hawk appears the loveliest hue, Just where the ruby gold plays with the silvery blue. Where rose that chimney, now a mouldering heap, The thoughtful evening fires were wont to glow On bright and happy faces. Flowers did creep Up shining cottage windows long ago; Peace lived within the walls, nor cared to know Whether with wealth or poverty she staid ; e 1 pice ak WOOD-NOTES. J. M. LOVEJOY. Those walls have disappeared, and thistles grow’ Round earth the choirs who sing on wea thrones, Up thro’ the hearth round which the children played, And thro’ the heavenly courts their voices send ; And all but God forget where anxious parents prayed. Where every twinkle doth its quaver blend, Tn one eternal anthem. How ye sweep The village smoke ascends to meet the gloom, The golden lyres, and o’er your harp strings bend! But burdened with the dew is earthward rolled, Hymning His praise who doth your safety keep, And leans its weary weight upon the broom, And guides with love supreme your footsteps thro’ the That dots the distant waste with sheets of gold. deep. The sleepy flowers their heavy eyelids fold ; And now is heard the cricket's drowsy horn, __ Our earth appears a diamond's point to you, While fire-flies rise like diamonds from the mould,— : And twinkles on the blue of far-off space, Those floating gems the meadow-grounds adorn ; Like gems that morning flings upon the dew, Again the whip-poor-will sings in the gray hawthorn, | Or that ‘which doth a lady’s finger grace. On it ye gaze, and wonder if a race 4 AG star appear, how silently they stole Of beings like your own may o’er it teem ? : ) Thro’ curtains drawn apart by still twilight— Do mountains dark and tall rise o'er its face? i Up steeps of blue their soundless chariots roll ; Tf yound its orb the deeps of ocean stream ? i Far thro’ the boundless realms of ancient Night. Whether it hath old woods that in the sunshine dream ? i { They now pervade as far, twinkle as bright . y And keen, as when they sprang from Nature’s mine, q One after one, the cheerful lights go out, ; | t And clustered round her brow ; no ages blight That glimmer on the landscape here and there, . vai Their glory, for its elements combine 2 The hymn is sung, the household kneels about : 4 The lovely, pure, and grand, the eternal and divine. The word of God, and breathe the evening praye!. i | Silence, as if afraid leans on the air— ) | Ye shine in Nature's temple, while your tones 4 He thinks he hears the feet of stealthy foes, ) Fill its blue vaults with music, and extend But Heaven protects jts children every where, : il : J. M. LOVEJOY. 196 WOOD-NOTES, ‘ ilvery- 1 softly down And bids sweet sleep their eyes in quiet close, Her silvery-footed beams steal softly Till laughing morn looks in and shakes them from re- On that old shadowy church in ruin gray, ee In which our early fathers used to pray— | They bowed themselves in lowly gratitude, While loaded gun and sabre round them lay, For oft the dark-browed savage did intrude, And shake the Sabbath morn with yells of battle rude. The Bible is our guardian, day and night, Stronger than battle’s front, or sceptred kings : Its bold bright truth invests the soul with light As with a garment, gives it eagles’ wings— The far-off landscape closes on the sight, To Poesy the brighest jewel brings Save where the distant farm-house meets the eye, That twinkles on her brow; her sweetest tone How quietly streams out the lingering light! Of everlasting music from it springs— And pleasant sounds the brook that passes by : A diamond cut from God’s eternal throne, You just can see the sheep that near it lie,— Beyond no sound is heard upon the hill, But the last beam of day hath left the sky,— Darkness doth all the land with shadow fill, And bids the anxious heart a little while be still. | It shines beyond the grave to spirit worlds unknown. Immortal Night moves onward. Far away, i The owl hoots on the hills, the wild fox yells. Hard by the road the wagoners delay— ; ~ The hollow woods resound their horses’ bells. Now, Night, black giantess ! beneath thy robes Anon the merry laugh rings thro’ the dells ; The world lies down to sleep : the moon her horn i a ihe stormy youth swears by his sweetheart’s eye, Hangs on thy skirts, the splendor rolling globes _ e Points out the star in which her beauty dwells, Of fire, are gems on thy proud bosom worn ; From out thy womb the sun and spheres were born; The shadow of Infinity art thou, . God flashed upon thy face creation’s morn As Time beheld thee then, so doth he now, Nor hath he dimmed one star that blazes on thy brow. And looks down thro’ the leaves from yonder sky ; The old man smokes his pipe, and thinks of days gone by. ¥ . The moon now leaning o’er the hill-tops brown, With woods and lonesome brooks is there at play, A ancora, nt tenis added 4 . 1 | \y 1] | 198 3 WOOD-NOTES. And fling back on Night’s face, her glory stream for Gazing on Night, the soul draws near to God ; She thinks she sees His footprints on the sky, The stars beam where His glorious feet have trod : Oh Earth, how bright they shine into thine eye! Here like some huge, dark monster thou dost lie, Drinking in light, thou givest not one beam, Heart, thought, soul, God all round thee rushing by. Up from the dust, have done thy shadowy dream, stream. Break up ye stars, become a noisy throng ! Like thunder-sounding seas, and fling o’er earth, Such music as the angels hear, along Her old dark hills, pour down as at your birth, The morning song she heard, when ye went forth From out your ruby halls to meet the sun : I hear some mother singing round the hearth, Her child to sleep. Ye spheres, have ye not one Young orb, o’er which, like hers, your voice may sweetly run? Oh thou art mighty, Night, when Nature’s face Puts on thy shining thoughts; she seems to me, So still that I can hear thy footsteps, trace Thy form along the deep, where mystery | | | J. M, LOVEJOY. Spreads out thy pale dominions. Let me be Companion of thy solitude. How thought Rushing along the soul, cries victory ! Unto her failing strength, when she hath caught That spirit all divine, into thy being wrought. ON THE DEATH OF MARY LEE STEPTOE. Tum day wore on, the hours were sad, The gloomy lightning fell ; I knew the time approaching near, When we must say farewell. The moon came up, the early dew Felt cold to the sleepy flowers, A smile past o’er her lips, she went To brighter worlds than ours. They parted on her silent brow The hair of Mary Lee, As she did when a little girl, And used to climb my knee. The thoughtful stars looked coldly in, From their eternal towers, As if they envied her that world, Brighter than theirs or ours. | | | a] 4 i 4 | | \ I a See aE Te = —— a a 4 ° J. M. LOVEJOY. 200 WOOD-NOTES. : The ancient Monarchies, that leant The sun looks on her grave and claims 2 Eternity his On Time, while he so proudly told ' own ; Their glory ; rushing headlong went, Year after year shall he shine there, When on the world his battles rolled. And rule in Heaven alone; But he must fall in ashes yet, i ij a +3 8 at 4 ; +t Ray i J fia ia * ‘2 His lofty elements of mind ‘th all hi : SS Seized on the heart, men’s souls stood still, For time is only thine, oh sun! ; : ; ity i Suffered his energies to bind Eternity is ours. geile Their powers, and shape them to his will. Soldiers to-day, to-morrow rose Up mighty generals—old renown i And valor vainly did oppose NAPOLEON. | The storm that swept their bulwarks down. B i orn of the Revolution, he Over blasted thrones his eagles flew,— Harnessed its furies to his car, The smoke of war went rolling back, While from the ashes empires grew And shed their splendor on his track. And on his breast bid tyranny Commence the thunder march of war. He met old Europe—and his gaze, The here-gods of ancient time, Like the pale Gorgon’s, changed to stone Bete iehadon eo mmon things ? Her hosts—kings fled—; eae ee eainate blaze He stood above the world sublime, Thro’ shuddering heaven, his victories shone. His playmate War—his playthings—Kings. Destruction’s steeds, War—Anarchy, That strode so blindly o’er the land, Curbed by the bits of Destiny, Were hurricanes rein’d by his hand. AUGUSTUS FOSTER LYDE. He had been still the changeless friend of God, Had held communion with Him face to face, Had been commissioned in His mighty name, | _ Had ruled till now, a king in Israel. . ay Far o’er the sea, in golden+majesty, | ~ 'The western sun is sinking to his rest ; Augustus Fostec Wyde, And the bright gleamings of his fading glory 3 Are lingering on the hills of Palestine. Far, far away where Pisgah’s mountain tops ¥ \ Are piled in still ascending clifis to Heaven, The following poems are from the pen of the Rey. Avausrus Fos- | 4 That sunset light is resting on them still, rer Lypx, a deacon in the Protestant Episcopal Church, who was Seba hh ste ss j } While Nebo lifts his kingly head above, born in Wilmington, N. C., and died in Philadelphia in 1834, ab the early age of twenty-one. They are selected from a volume i 5 So that the sinking sun, before he die, . called “Buds of Spring,” which was published afew years after his . May crown it with his richest, brightest blessing. death. Faintly, upon his pale and sunken cheek, i es aan tila a The noiseless evening wind breathed tremulously ; Hz had grown old in serving Israel’s God, » ' ang x aoe fue srmaeiisineavered. brow, The favorédServanbiorahe bord’ of Haste The mellow eyening light is resting now. ‘Whose richest love had ever rested on him, His eye undimmed,—with all its brightness still,— More pure, more bright, than the last farewell gleam Is tumed to Heaven in looks of penitence ; Of yon departing sun ;—a holy man! His folded hands are resting on his breast ; From that dread hour, when, first on Horeb’s top a His heaving bosom swells with strong emotion,— He gazed upon the bush that burned unhurt, With prayers for pardon and eternal rest. 5 . ! Down to this hour of deep solemnity, Peace to thy soul! thy sin has been forgiven ! See _ - sien aor s a cere ata TOT ee WOOD-NOTES. For, o’er that sunken cheek so wan, so pale, Hath passed the delicate flush of hope and joy ; That tearful eye, so full of penitence, Is beaming with a brightness not its own ; And on that lip that trembled with deep sorrow, Is resting now a smile ‘as beautiful As that which: childhood wears in dreams of Heaven. Oh ye, who tread the dazzling courts of God, Or plume your wings amid His holy light! Say, whether from the face of worshipper, Cherub, or seraph, or archangel bright, There ever beams more of the light of Heaven, Than rests upon the visage of this man! Slowly, as from some lonely mountain top, The sunlight fades in quiet loveliness— From his calm brow that holy radiance went! Before his mind the visions of the past Came in the splendor which at first they wore ; The glorious workings of Jehovah’s power, His mighty miracles, his wondrous signs, Were wrought again in his imaginings. He stood upon the shore of the deep sea, And stretched his hand above its angry waters, ~ And the dark billows parted here and there, To make a pathway for the ransomed ones. AUGUSTUS FOSTER LYDE. 205 Lo! the proud host of Egypt’s prouder king Is madly treading the same frightful path! “Stretch out thy hand once more above the sea!” A moment more ;—and the returning deep Lets loose the crested billows of its wrath; The mighty waters sweep as proudly on, As if no thousands lay in death beneath them. He stood upon the mount ;—and round its top Clouds and thick darkness gathered ; now and then ‘The dazzling flashes of the angry lightning - Pierced the thick darkness, and the deep thunder Uttered its ‘awful voice. On that dread spot He stood, and talked with God. He stood in the still cleft of Horeb’s mount ; And the great glory of J ehovah’s presence * Passed in its awful majesty before him, While the Lord God proclaimed His holy name, Gracious and merciful,—long suffering, The God that pardoneth sin,—the God of Love. The famished host of Israel lay around ; And the chill hand of Death rested alike On the helmed warrior and his lisping child ; The frantic Mother wildly gazed on it, 10 WOOD-NOTES. And pressed it to her cold, cold breast, and wept, While the stern Sire raised his eyes to Heaven, And whispered with his latest strength a prayer. That prayer is heard :—for lo! the voice of God, “ Go smite the rock, that they may drink and live!” He stood and smote the rock,—but disbelieved. Oh, name it not! it was a grievous sin ; It robbed him of his fondest earthly hope ; And o’er it hath been shed full many atear, And o’er it hath been breathed full many a prayer, And He, who loves so well to pardon sin, Hath wiped it from the book of His remembrance. Softly, upon the beautiful earth beneath, Lay the calm glory of an eastern twilight, And o’er that hour, which always seems so holy, Was shed a most unusual sacredness. The sun had sunk behind the distant deep; The evening wind was sleeping on its wings ; And, far away,—as far as eye could reach,— The land of promise lay outstretched before him, And its ten thousand hills and woods and streams, Were quiet as when first creation woke. A few bright clouds stood forth against the sky, ~ Lingering to gaze upon a scene so holy. As saints that in their musings visit Heaven, AUGUSTUS FOSTER LYDE. 207 Return more full of light, and love, and joy, So this soft light, reflected from the sky, Seemed far more beautiful than first it was. It lay upon the camp of Israel ; And, as the gleamings of the burnished arms, And the rich hangings of the purple tents, With their embroidered standards drooping o’er them, Fell on the enraptured eye, you well might dream, Tt was the host which once on heavenly plains Rested,—when Satan and his impious crew, Daring to battle with the Omnipotent God, Were vanquished by the glittering hosts of heaven. _“My people and the people of my God!” And the deep fountains of his soul broke forth, With all their countless streams of love and joy,— “My people and the people of my God, The blessing of the God of Israel, The blessing of your fathers’ God be with you.” The latest sound of that departing blessing Hath sunk to silence ;—all is hushed again. Upon the peaceful summit of that mount He sat him down, and leaned his aged head Against the rock, and clasped his withered hands. One look towards the tents of Israel ;— One earnest, fervent prayer for them and him ;— One struggling sigh ;—and Moses was not! E 208 WOOD-NOTES. Man hath not reared a princely monument, And carved thereon the record of his greatness, But God himself—the High and Holy One,— Hath writ within the volume of His truth, “ He was a servant of the Lord.” BELSHAZZAR’S FEAST. Sap, sad was the breathing of holiest fire, That swept its low moan o’er the prophet’s waked lyre ; And mournful the echoes that floated along, The dirge of the dead, the wild requiem of song. Oh, Babylon! Babylon! woe be to thee! The pride of the earth and the queen of the sea! For the sin of thy people the word has been given, The lament of the prophet,—the mandate of Heaven ! And ages on ages returnless have flown, Since the doom of thy pride and thy splendor was known: ? But he who hath gazed on thy ruins ean tell, That the words of the prophet are answered too well ! Green, green o’er thy towers the wild ivy is creeping, And silent beside thee the waters are sleeping, AUGUSTUS FOSTER LYDE. 209 Save when touched by the wing of the bat in his flight, Gone forth on his errand of silence by night! Cold, cold o’er thy ruins the night wind’s low moan! "Tis the sigh o’er the days of thy pride that have gone, The voice of the dead,—where the living are still,— Borne forth from their charnel, all voiceless and chill! Peace, peace to the dust of the brave where they sleep ! Their slumbers be peaceful, their quiet be deep ! Let spring bring her chaplets and flowerets most fair, And strew them, and weave them in loveliness there! In Babel ’tis a festal night :— On Babel’s towers the lamps are bright ; There in their brilliancy they shine, Like gems upon an ebon shrine, And meteor-like are glaring high, To light the darkness of the sky, Heaven’s darkest, deepest, blackest gloom, Still as Creation’s voiceless tomb. Not even a lisping breath of air Wakes from its infant slumbers there ! A noiseless, starless, breathless sky, - Hushed into deep expectancy ! But still on earth there is a ery Of wakeful mirth and revelry ; 210 WOOD-NOTES. For Babel keeps her festal night, And all her lamps of holy light Are flashing, in one ceaseless gleam, Across Euphrates’ wayeless stream. Flash on! ye holy fires, flash on! Your brilliant life is nearly gone ; There is a meaning in the sky, Dark prelude of your destiny ! Home of the lightning and the storm! Strange semblance of Jznoyan’s form ! There és a meaning in the shape Your shadowy forms will sometimes take ; As ’twere the marks which feelings trace, In hurried outline on the face Of the still future ;—all that’s given, To show frail man the will of Heaven. The moon-lit cloud, so bright, so fair, Gives hopes of joy and gladness near ; The scattered mist that hurries by In fitful passage o’er the sky, Foretells the tears that pass away, Remembered but with yesterday ; _ But the dark sky of angry frown, That hangs in blackening stillness down, Py ater is manner pena AUGUSTUS FOSTER LYDE. Tells of the deepest saddest woe, That mortal man may taste or know. And Babel’s king was on his throne, And Babel’s princes round him shone; And Babel’s youth and beauty all ” r Are gathered in that glittering hall : Young Hope and Love are beaming now From every fair and noble brow, Where pomp and pageant move along, To the rich melody of song ; The clanging horn, the melting flute, And sweetly pensive, plaintive lute, Wake the hushed echoes of that pile, ‘And swell along each vaulted aisle, Then touching on some softer strain, Sink to their holy rest again. Circassia’s lovely ones are there, And Arab maid of raven hair, That floats, in playful tresses, down A neck of loveliest, richest brown, With laughing eyes that brightly flash, Beneath the long and dark eye-lash, Like India’s pearls in ocean-cave, That sparkle thro’ the sleeping wave ;— SS ¢ 212 WOOD-NOTES. AUGUSTUS FOSTER LYDE. All, that is beautiful and fair, Is gathered in full splendor there. Say ! is there poison in that cup, a ee That all the joy is withered up, “Bring forth,” the monarch said, “ bring forth Those golden cups of sacred worth, Which my own father’s victor hand Bore from Judea’s captive land. Yes! even from that hallowed place, The holiest shrine of holiness, Where all their boasted glories dwelt, And Judah’s bigot prophet knelt, He with his arm these trophies won, To swell the pomp of Babylon. But Belus’ shrine shall share the spoil, He gathered there ’mid blood and toil, And Chaldea’s king,—his monarch son,— Boast the proud name his father won.” He spoke : and bright, before his throne, Those cups of sacred usage shone ; And Babel’s lords and princes all, Who graced that nightly festival, Filled up those golden goblets high, And drank, in their idolatry, Mid boasts of war, and shouts of sin, To Babel’s god, and Babel’s king. Which, in its laughing echo, burst From every lightsome tongue at first ? Has all that sparkling gladness gone, And left you joyless and alone ? The quivering lip,—the lifeless eye, Gazing in ghastly vacancy,— The livid cheek,—the gathered brow,— All, all are cold and voiceless now. Jehovah’s presence hath been here! And left His awful signet there. Read—tead it there poor mortal man— Read if thou ‘dare, read if thou can ! Assyria’s honors crown the man, Who well those mystic words shall scan, And all the pride, that monarchs wed, Be settled on his princely head ! Gaze on! gaze on! one withering look, Like that the great Archangel took, When on the angry bounds he stood, That beetled o’er the fiery flood, And paused—aceursed there of Heaven, All unrepentant, unforgiven ! - And every eye is fixed intent, On Judah’s holy prophet bent; 10* { | | | | | | § 4 | : ; 3 § He Ti HW Vas anal ier 214 WOOD-NOTES. His cheek is pale, and o’er his brow A holy calm is stealing now ; His aged hands together pressed, Are folded gently on his breast; And, pure as streams that angels sip, A prayer is quivering on his lip; His robe as spotless as the prayer In holy accents quivering there. _ That kingly crowd! he heeds them not,— They are alike unseen, forgot ; He seems within the bounds of Heaven, To pray that they may be forgiven. The struggle’s past ; ’tis all in vain, He may not ask that boon again. The lamps are flickering pale and wan, Where life and joy alike have flown, And that widé hall is hushed in peace, A frightful hush of breath lecenbess “Thy doom is fixed ! thy course is run ! Thy kingly honors all are won! To-morrow’s sun shall never rise, To shed its splendor on thine eyes ; But, ere the midnight hour has fled, Thou shalt be numbered with the dead ! 2a {ayo renees fin TT i AUGUSTUS FOSTER LYDE. 215 Read on that burning wall and see Those characters of mystery,— Read,—ay, and learn when ’tis too late, Jehovah’s will,—Belshazzar’s fate ! Thou! who in an unguarded hour, Did’st brave thy Maker’s matchless power, His holy vessels didst profane, Blaspheme His temple and His name, Thou! who didst dare Jehovah’s might, Go,—grapple with Him now,—to-night,— The sceptre from thy hand is passed, Of Chaldee’s monarchs, thou the last ! The Mede and Persian share thy throne,— The ancient honors of thy crown; And even now their legions come, To bear thee to thy long, long home! Farewell !—a sad farewell for thee ! my 4 A parting for—Eternity es But hark! whence comes that echoing shout, That daring, deadly, fiendish ery, The death-knell to our cherished hopes, The long, loud shout of victory ? Ten thousand mighty legions rush,— Like ocean’s fountains, as they gush Te I Hi Hil WOOD-NOTES. In billowy deluge o’er the earth, To drown its gladsome peals of mirth,— And many nations come from far, To swell the angry tide of war; Ten thousand Persian’s throng the wall, Ten thousand tongues for mercy call, Ten thousand brave men in their wrath Have strewed their conqueror’s bloody path. “ Arm ! on this sacred spot we'll stand, And battle with them hand to hand; Beneath these age-worn towers we'll close With Babylon’s accursed foes : Full well I know to-morrow’s sun Shall see my life and glories won, So let it be; but this proud crown, The mighty dead have handed down, Was given untouched, undimmed to me, And still untouched, undimmed shall be,—’ ‘ Belshazzar’s Feast,’ our battle ery, We fight—we conquer—but to die; A daring, hopeless, friendless few, To king and country ever true!” They fought before that palace gate, In the dread certainty of fate ; AUGUSTUS FOSTER LYDE. No hope of conquest hovered o’er Those banners steeped in Persian gore ; But frantic rage and wild despair, Are gathered in one conflict there. Behind them is the olden shrine, Those turbaned warriors deem divine ; Before them is their monarch king, The conqueror of the conquering ; Above them is the angry Heaven ; seal aiblelta aah ati Beneath, the slaves their wrath has riven ; And “ Onward! onward !” is the cry, Of those who fight and those who die ; ‘i But countless legions onward throng, ‘Mid the red flush of war along, And those brave men sink, one by one, Where all their mightiest deeds were done. Within that shrine so redly wet, One noble arm is struggling yet. Beside that altar pile he stands, And battles with the hireling bands, The minion host that round him press,, Tn all their bloody eagerness,— A noble stag at well-fought bay,— A tiger plundered of his prey,— ; / 218 WOOD-NOTES. : i} AUGUSTUS FOSTER LYDE. '« He piles their mangled bodies high, a} One sin had passed his holy: breast, An offering to his Deity. . And robbed it of its wonted rest. _ He fought beside that altar well, . And fighting nobly, nobly fell. ; He looked to Heaven,—but Heaven was dim,— Tts music had no charms for him ; - Rich sounds thro’ its bright courts were stealing, Belzhazzar’s warlike funeral knell ! eh hushed,—his heart unfeeling. 7s harp was re $ i _ As, from the shrine her foes have won, ‘ Burst the last shouts of Babylon ! Hark to the thousand shonts that swell, He knelt,—and in a burning prayer, o Poured his whole soul in sorrowing there ; He raised his tearful eyes to Heaven, — He wept,—and prayed,—and was forgiven. ORIGIN OF THE NIGHT-BLOOMING CEREUS. And where (as angels’ legends tell), Those tears of deep repentance fell, Lone—long ago—ere poets sung, Amid the perfume of that bower, While Heaven was bright and earth was young, There sprang this nightly blooming flower. When man was pure, and angels’ eyes Gazed on the sweets of Paradise,— And still, on each returning year, ’Twas then—within a jasmine bower, : | The night he shed that sorrowing tear, A seraph paused at evening hour, |). It spreads its beauteous leaves to Heaven, To listen as it swelled along, | The emblem of a sin forgiven. To Heaven and earth’s commingled song. He knelt to worship,—but his tongue Refused to breathe that seraph song ; 220 WOOD-NOTES, THE: SMILE OF HER WE LOVE. TO J. G——. Tnuere’s a rain drop that rests on the rose-leaf at even, And bends it in beauty to silence and rest, And a sunbeam of crimson has gilded that rain-drop, With the last ray of glory that comes from the west. There’s a bird in the east, that has stolen from Heayen Its name and its plumage; so beauteous and bright, That it seems, as it floats on its silvery wing, A messenger-bird from the “islands of light.” ' There’s a ripple that comes to the listening beach, To whisper its story with tremulous motion, When the chime of the vespers steals soft o’er the wave, And moonlight is sleeping in peace on the ocean. But sweeter and brighter than all is the smile, That plays on the lip of her whom we love, For the visions it brings, like our dreamings of Heaven, Haye won all their tints from the regions above. apart TT en ne ee Eire ene IC mee ET fan Be mt va Dascas es sr AUGUSTUS FOSTER LYDE, 221 There’s many a moment of anguish and sorrow, And tears that, alas! we may never forget ; But, ’mid the sighs of to-day, and the tears of to-morrow, That smile,—oh that smile! it will go with us yet. A FRAGMENT FROM A SATIRICAL ODE. “Si natura negat, facit indignatio versum.”—Juv. Suame! shame !—are these the men who are called to stand The first and foremost in a happy land ? Can learning find no kind reception here, No friend to aid her, and no voice to cheer ? Are there so few, who care to plead her cause, And give us learning while they give us laws? Stay injured goddess! yet one moment stay, Nor bear the blessings, which thou bring’st, away ! Yet, if thou find no welcome on our shore, Go; go, where thou art loved and valued more. Poor soulless wretch ! whom nature never meant To grasp the greatness of a government ! Go, see what other lands have dared to do, And as you wonder, learn to practise too ; aac N COM PERNA AECL A AEN A TAME APE T 4 i | Hi 222 WOOD-NOTES. Pause for a moment ina sister state, And learn, it is her Harvard makes her great ; Then go to England’s favored clime and gaze On the proud pomp of learning’s palaces. Her Cambridge and her Oxford! there they stand, The proudest boast and glory of the land, ' Arches on arches piled, that point to Heaven, The richest presents that her kings have given, The brightest, fairest gems that sparkle now, Among the brilliants of her jewelled brow ; All that a people’s gratitude can give Back for dleBlesings under which they live, The tribute of her children far and near, All in its rich profusion gathered here! Kind genius of my country, come! oh come! And shed one blessing more on this our home! Grant us to feel, with still expanding mind, That Learning’s foe can ne’er be Freedom’s friend, That, when in after times the hand of Fame Shall wreath green chaplets round each honored name,—— Theirs may the brightest and most honored be, Who were the friends of Learning and of thee ! en pp AUGUSTUS FOSTER LYDE. PRAYERS OF THE GOOD. Ye stars! that blaze so bright on Nature’s crown, Lamps hung in chaos by a hand divine ! Ye sentinels that walk your stated rounds, Your mighty rounds, on Nature’s still confine ! Say ! are those clouds so beauteous and so bright, That float along in mystic beauty there, The prayers of good men wafted calmly on, To gain an answer from the God of Prayer ! HOME OF MY CHILDHOOD. | “ He gave to memory all he had,—a tear ; He gained from Heaven, ‘twas all lie wished, a friend.”—Gray. Far o’er the billows,—far away, My heart, my hopes, my wishes stray 5 By night,—by day,—bright visions come, To tell me of an absent home. Home of my childhood! though I rove Far,—far from those whom most T love, 224 WOOD-NOTES, My tearful eye shall ever be Fixed gazingly alone on thee! Friends of my youth! who loved to share The sorrows of a falling tear, Back to that sunny home ye’ve gone, And left me friendless and alone! Alone! alone! not one whose breast May pillow all my care to rest! And, when this bosom beats so high > May calm it with one kindly sigh! Grandsire! on whose trembling knee Tye prattled oft an infant’s glee, Whose glistening eye so often smiled Upon thy fondled, favored child,— Thou, who would’st bend thine aged head, And weep above my feverish bed,— . Thou in whose kind and throbbing heart Theld the fondest—dearest part,—— Oh! if to happy souls ’tis given, To wander from the joys of Heayen, Then bring a blessing with thee now, And lay it on this beating brow! - Bien charac Pec. AOI IIE IER RE LT ARID NE AUGUSTUS FOSTER LYDE. 225 That sunny beach !—that sloping shore! Where I have seen the ocean pour Tts legioned billows, to uptear The bounds its Maker planted there ! Ye winds! whose wings so soon shall reach The quiet of that moaning beach ! Tell it, the boy remembers yet, He never—never can forget. Home of my childhood! could I stand Once more upon thy sea-washed strand, Nor wealth, nor fame, nor joy, nor pain, Should tear me from that spot again. Far o’er the billows, far away, To thee wy heart's best wishes stray +— Tloved thee much,—I loved too well ; Farewell to thee! farewell! farewell! Beer rine met xe le ee eA aC NE ERIE APO LI AEN IST. RCE Bg iA NE MEWS ph i : LAURA LINTON. 2217 : The brightest one of that lovely band Knelt low to the Queen and kissed her hand, “ A boon, great Queen, wilt thou leave me here, To dance but one night in the moonbeams clear?” A shade of doubt dimmed the Queen’s bright eye, i}. She paused as in sorrow, to frame reply : «“ Ah, simple child, too late thou may’st find That splendor and fame oft leave peace behind.” Laura Pinton, How happy was she in those diamond halls, 4 With no sound around save the icicles’ fall ; THE FROZEN FAIRY. She spread with delight her rainbow wings, And a wild ery of joy thro’ the forest rings. “A band of fairies making a flying tour by moonlight, came But soon a chill o’er her heart there came, suddenly upon the borders of a northern forest. The full moon oe aii No warmth from Aurora’s brilliant flame,— shining brilliantly upon the woods, festooned with icicles, made the seene of dazzling splendor. ‘The fairies gazed in mute wonder, for And the snow spirits came with their chilling breath, never had they beheld aught so glorious.” } And all was as still and cold as death. A Farry Queen with her elfin train 2 “ Sisters, sweet sisters, come take me home, Made a flying trip to cold winter’s reign; I faint in this bright but cheerless zone ; With wild delight, as they roamed along, My feeble wings can no longer soar, Their tiny voices were raised in song. ] O come to me, loved ones, ere life is oer.” *Mid the glitt’ring halls they winged their way, Frail, beautiful one, thou wast never made Illumed by the parting beams of day ; For this cold, this dazzling, chilly glade ; They perched on an ice-clad branch of spray, In thine own sunny clime of light and love Or rode on a snow-flake, away, away. Thy wings would unfurl and soar above. ESN Bere cS AO ATMO NF a A EEN Ce ABN E LED st — -— a ie gp min ioae 228 WOOD-NOTES. ij LAURA LINTON. But it seemed as an adamant frozen there, Brora ee * “Gifted, yet humble one,” sigh not to roam From the simple delight of thy own lowly home: That bright rain-drop in the chilly air, _ Hope not to find in a loftier sphere, he Bogeenin aed his lor ies The peace and content which await thee here. j C mol isnt : eae forth 2 sf a rth: Ah! many have sought, mid the world’s cold glare, ; are ace e baie goin ? To rest their warm hopes and affections there ; Of the torn celly non : : And too late have they found that tho’ fair and bright, Mat ranbow tres tyacrdly decked The dream of fame ends in death and night. Mhleny breees sept o'er, ; Tts frozen heart was touched and warmed, Westie Sane i} And it was cold no more. ‘ . Tt melted beneath that genial ray, THE FROZEN CRYSTAL DROP. And up toward Heaven it floated away. “Thou hast seen sometimes a bright erystal drop, which smiling- Methought it was an emblem meet ly mirrored the light of heaven, change into asharp-pointed erystal Of many a grief-worn heart, of ice. And why? Because a bitter_north-wind passed over it. This embittered drop is a petrified tear, the child of bitter sorrow.” Whom care, and sorrow, and neglect, } e ane —WMiss Bremer. i Has caused to mourn apart. Poor, frozen heart! iis genial springs Seem chilled for ever there . No warmth, no light, no joy, no love, See T saw a frozen erystal drop, Bright sparkling in the air, © The cold north-wind had o’er it passed, But-wai and cola espair! “And held it trembling there.” h O, how deep the Hlochatoe that lonely one, Cold, bright, and chilly, the crystal hung 4 Away from the beams of love’s warm sun, Upon a leafless spray, "Tt mirrored all the day’s bright gleams, E | Be thou that sun of melting beam, And looked as fair as they: And bright and kindly ray, } Ali eee eee eee eee Eee eS : i Bs 7 ai 3 230 WOOD-NOTES, : And smile upon that icy chill, And melt that frost away. Speak gently to that stricken one, Sweet words of hope and love, Whisper of peace, and joy, and Heaven, And raise his thoughts above ; And a holy calm and peace will be given, To cheer thee in thy path to Heaven: THE WASTED FLOWERS. “On the velvet bank of a river sata rosy child. Her lap was filled with flowers, and she flung them to the sparkling tide till every bud and blossom had disappeared. Then seeing her loss, she sprang to her feet, and bursting into tears, called aloud to the stream, ‘Bring back my flowers!? ” I saw a lovely child at play Among the spring-time flowers; A rippling stream sped at her feet That mirrored all the bowers. She threw her garlands on the stream, And as they neared the sea, “© bring me back my flowers,” she said, “O bring them back to me.” athitheLnmccinin icons ‘em nesta Sa etme nd eee pri LAURA LINTON. I met her next a lovely girl, Of bright and joyous mien ; And as she tossed her stately head She seemed a fairy queen. A noble youth was at her feet ; And as with altered tone She answered to his loving words, He felt she was his owa. But soon a shade was on her brow— A gloom upon her heart; Her step was languid, and her voice Like an Aiolian harp. « Where are the flowers of my youth, My early visions fair? Where, oh beloyed, where art thou ‘And echo answered— where!” Q” A fair young mother next I saw, With all a mother’s pride; She watched a lovely babe at play, With the flowers at her side. “ Here is my treasure, surely here My weary heart may rest; This cherished flower I need not fear With thorns will pierce my breast.” 231 232 WOOD-NOTES. When next I passed, the babe was pale— Its flute-like voice was hushed— Its bright eye closed—its angel form Soon to return to dust. The mother raised her tearless eye, But murmured forth no prayer ; “My child, my child!” was all she said, “Where is my flower—where?” Lone one, on earth ’tis ever thus, Fond ties were made to sever; We scarce can clasp the fleeting dream Ere it is gone for ever. Child—maiden—mother—reft of all, Where are your flowers—where ? Raise but to Heaven your broken heart, And seek for treasures there. es sreerennmaess anni 4 \ SLES Gee eae eee Ellen Mlowd. THE WARNING. ‘A youne child lies on its sleepless couch, With wildly fluttering breath ; His sweet young face, so thin and pale, Is lit by the touch of death. List ! what a solemn, awful sound, Breaks on the midnight gloom, The dogs, the dogs! are howling there, Their yells break on the still night air, Into the silent room ! Howl on, for death’s angel is hovering nigh, Howl on, for the young and the beautiful die. The old nurse shakes her silvery head, When she hears the mournful sound, I> 234 WOOD-NOTES. * And quaking with an awful dread, She tearfully glances round. The mother clasps her darling boy, To her wildly thrilling heart : “ Great God!” she cries, “ wilt thou destroy My only hope, my only joy, Must we for ever part ?” But still those dogs with unearthly ery, Howl on, for the young and the lovely must die. A change comes o’er his lovely face, Relentless death is there ; Pale, pale, and silent there he lies, His hands are clasped in prayer. But still that solemn boding sound Comes faintly to his ear; He heeds it not;—for all around, With peace, and love, and joy abound, His young heart knows no fear. Howl on,—for death’s angel is passing on, Howl on,—for that gentle soul is gone ! Died cannes een Acti. ne ne ELLEN LLOYD. THE SPIRIT OF THE LAUGH. Founded on a Swedish legend in one of Miss Bremer’s works. Far in the cold and dreary North, Lies a land’ of boundless snow, That none but the savage mountain wolf, And the screaming owlet know. Save here and there in the desert wild, Beneath some sheltering rock, A hunter’s cheerless cot is seen: ? The dreary waste to mock. Tn those boundless fields of trackless snow, A spirit wanders free, In robes of pure and silvery white, ‘ \ She glides o’er the frozen lea. Lovely but pale is her spotless cheek, if And cold as the Parian stone, As she slowly glides o’er the dreary waste, And utters her thrilling moan. Long she’s been seeking her early love, Seeking, alas, in vain; For far in other climes he roved, ‘And sank ‘neath the roaring main. ee enna astnnedl a aaa: WOOD-NOTES. ELLEN LLOYD. s And oftentimes in the still cold night, Till faint and weary the wanderer lone, She crosses the trayeller’s path, - Reaches some cottage door, As she slowly wanders up and down, When sadly and slowly it dies away, And laughs with a horrible laugh. Until it is heard no more. Or singing some wild, unearthly strain, That spirits only know, . era et * i Which makes the echoes start again, i is From their homes in the mountain snow. The traveller raises his drooping head, And starts in terror to see A spirit so white in the dusky night, Come vliding o’er the lea. But soon as he sees her she glides away, END OF VOL. I. And vanishes from his path, And naught remains of that spirit white,” But that wild unearthly laugh. And high above the roaring wind, A In the pine tree’s shivering branch, Or the dismal howl of the mountain wolf— Or the thundering avalanche— That wild and mournful spirit-laugh Rings out on the midnight air, As calling to some sister sprite, That the loved and lost is there, ae Tae it Wa {PIE i secoayony hip eta ne ~ hip APNE PSR CORN Rte OSE ET, TE OTs OPS ee ee eee en eae * a i i