richardmurray

The Freeman's Complaint , a late response to the Slave's complaint https://www.deviantart.com/hddeviant/art/1208702353 Share your favorite juneteenth art in the comments.

The good news is that these authors will have a readership get old with them and they can utilzie the aging readerbase into other books

First work published in the usa by a black person in 1865 , circa after the thirteenth amendment, by the only person to publish poetry while enslaved in the history of the U.S.A. is attributed to George M Horton. He published three works while planned four in total, to my knowledge through Wikipedia. The Hope of Liberty (1829) This was Horton's first true attempt to buy his freedom. Most of the poems in the collection were themed around antislavery either indirect or directly. One was a thank you poem towards his publisher. Three previously published poems of were reworked and put into other poems in the collection. The editorial "Explanation" that opens The Hope of Freedom speaks of Horton's desire to emigrate to the new colony of Liberia; the collection was published so as to encourage donations. TEXT The Hope of Liberty. Containing a Number of Poetical Pieces. Raleigh: J. Gales & Son, 1829. https://docsouth.unc.edu/southlit/horton/menu.html The Museum (never published) Professor William Green of UNC-Chapel Hill, was editing the manuscript but the collection as a whole as never published. Many poems instead were published elsewhere or in his following collections. Poetical Works (1845) Published in Raleigh, North Carolina, this collection consisted of 45 poems, none directly about being enslaved or slavery in general. The reason for this was Horton expressed he was no longer inspired to write about slavery. Also due to North Carolina being more actively pro-slavery nearing the Civil War, Horton believed a collection similar to his first would not be published. TEXT The poetical works of George M. Horton : the colored bard of North-Carolina : to which is prefixed The life of the author by Horton, George Moses, 1798?-ca. 1880; Heartt, Dennis, 1783-1870 Publication date 1845 https://archive.org/details/poeticalworksofg00hort/page/24/mode/2up The Naked Genius: The Colored Bard of North-Carolina (1865) Horton wrote 132 poems between the years 1820 - 1865 which were compiled into this collection. Forty-three poems were reprinted from previous collections or those already published in newspapers, in large, the theme of the collection was to thank his sponsors and those helping to give him his freedom, including President Lincoln and Union Army Generals. Horton hoped this collection would set him apart from the title of Slave Poet and give him distinction from his poetry. As well as further prove the capability of Black men. TEXT I wasn't able to find. If anyone finds it, do tell. MY POEM in honor to George M Horton The Freeman's Complaint , a late response to the Slave's complaint Forever! was wrote by my forebear long ago a dreamy exaltation, to know to reach where our ancestors sew before unwanted immigrant woe However! I ponder unsure from where I lo no shackles , white heritage tow to embrace the easy Aquilow forlease my black blood 's coveto However! time give far more than the past can kno Black moderns have freedom to grow to other plus our old blood's mow Forever! is not for most one ro However! I can see a wisdom's cando my forebears want stars unsow to accept failed plans but trow and be past vowfree to any pro Nowever! I wish all skinkin good fortuno even if path's differ in glow or I doubt success while a said tow Now to happiness , Forever! so from Richard Murray NOTES: To my poem "forever" meaning for eternally "exaltation" meaning a rising "to know" meaning toward knowing "immigrant" meaning one who moved permanently away "however" meaning how eternally "ponder" meaning to think "unsure" meaning not safe "lo" meaning to look "heritage" meaning that which is carried "Aquilow" cognate meaning Aquila latin for eagle and low, ala low eagle, a referral to the USA "forelease" cognate meaning fore- before lease to loosen , to loosen before "coveto" meaning to a little while potent covet , covet meaning extreme passionate desire, -o postfix meaning smaller in size while same in value "kno" meaning know "modern" meaning of the now, the time of this publication "mow" meaning thing to be cut down "ro" meaning road "cando" meaning illumination, light from, short of candor [said can-dough] "stars" meaning descendents "unsow" meaning not sow, sow meaning put in a place, [ say sow like sew] "trow" meaning have belief or faith in "vowfree" meaning free of vows, vow is a verbal pledge, an attestation, "pro" meaning toward , a way forward "nowever" meaning now eternally "skinkin" meaning kin of the skin , phenotype "fortuno' meaning good fortune, in particular good luck or good fortune, fortune can be negative LAST LINES first line from the last line of The Hope Of Liberty, page 10 , THE SLAVE'S COMPLAINT.[ Forever! ] HOPE OF LIBERTY TEXT version THE HOPE OF LIBERTY. CONTAINING A NUMBER OF POETICAL PIECES. BY GEORGE M. HORTON. RALEIGH: Printed by J. Gales & Son. 1829. Page 3 EXPLANATION. GEORGE, who is the author of the following Poetical effusions, is a Slave, the property of Mr. James Horton, of Chatham County, North-Carolina. He has been in the habit, some years past, of producing Poetical Pieces, sometimes on suggested subjects, to such persons as would write them while he dictated. Several compositions of his have already appeared in the Raleigh Register. Some have made their way into the Boston newspapers, and have evoked expressions of approbation and surprise. Many persons have now become much interested in the promotion of his prospects, some of whom are elevated in office and literary attainments. They are solicitous that efforts at length be made to obtain by subscription, a sum sufficient for his emancipation, upon the condition of his going in the vessel which shall first afterwards sail for Liberia. It is his earnest and only wish to become a member of that Colony, to enjoy its privileges, and apply his industry and mental abilities to the promotion of its prospects and his own. It is upon these terms alone, that the efforts of those who befriend his views are intended to have a final effect. To put to trial the plan here urged in his behalf, the paper now exhibited is published. Several of his productions are contained in the succeeding pages. Many more might have been added, which would have swelled into a larger size. They would doubtless be interesting to many, but it is hoped that the specimens here inserted will be sufficient to accomplish the object of the publication. Expense will thus be avoided, and the money better employed in enlarging the sum applicable for his emancipation.--It is proposed, that in every town or vicinity where contributions are made, they may be put into the Page 4 hands of some person, who will humanely consent to receive them, and give notice to Mr. Weston R. Gales, in Raleigh, of the amount collected. As soon as it is ascertained that the collections will accomplish the object, it is expected that they will be transmitted without delay to Mr. Weston R. Gales. But should they ultimately prove insufficient, they will be returned to subscribers. None will imagine it possible that pieces produced as these have been, should be free from blemish in composition or taste. The author is now 32 years of age, and has always laboured in the field on his master's farm, promiscuously with the few others which Mr. Horton owns, in circumstances of the greatest possible simplicity. His master says he knew nothing of his poetry, but as he heard of it from others. GEORGE knows how to read, and is now learning to write. All his pieces are written down by others; and his reading, which is done at night, and at the usual intervals allowed to slaves, has been much employed on poetry, such as he could procure, this being the species of composition most interesting to him. It is thought best to print his productions without correction, that the mind of the reader may be in no uncertainty as to the originality and genuineness of every part. We shall conclude this account of GEORGE, with an assurance that he has been ever a faithful, honest and industrious slave. That his heart has felt deeply and sensitively in this lowest possible condition of human nature, will easily be believed, and is impressively confirmed by one of his stanzas, Come, melting Pity, from afar, And break this vast enormous bar Between a wretch and thee; Purchase a few short days of time, And bid a vassal soar sublime, On wings of Liberty. Raleigh;July 2, 1829. Page 5 PRAISE OF CREATION. Creation fires my tongue! Nature thy anthems raise; And spread the universal song Of thy Creator's praise! Heaven's chief delight was Man Before Creation's birth-- Ordained with joy to lead the van, And reign the lord of earth. When Sin was quite unknown, And all the woes it brought, He hailed the morn without a groan Or one corroding thought. When each revolving wheel Assumed its sphere sublime, Submissive Earth then heard the peal, And struck the march of time. The march in Heaven begun, And splendor filled the skies, When Wisdom bade the morning Sun With joy from chaos rise. The angels heard the tune Throughout creation ring: They seized their golden harps as soon And touched on every string. When time and space were young, And music rolled along-- The morning stars together sung, And Heaven was drown'd in song. Ye towering eagles soar, And fan Creation's blaze, And ye terrific lion's roar, To your Creator's praise. Responsive thunders roll, Loud acclamations sound, Page 6 And show your Maker's vast control O'er all the worlds around. Stupendous mountains smoke, And lift your summits high, To him who all your terrors woke, Dark'ning the sapphire sky. Now let my muse descend, To view the march below-- Ye subterraneous worlds attend And bid your chorus flow. Ye vast volcanoes yell, Whence fiery cliffs are hurled; And all ye liquid oceans swell Beneath the solid world. Ye cataracts combine, Nor let the pæan cease-- The universal concert join, Thou dismal precipice. But halt my feeble tongue, My weary muse delays: But, oh my soul, still float along Upon the flood of praise! ON THE SILENCE OF A YOUNG LADY, ON ACCOUNT OF THE IMAGINARY FLIGHT OF HER SUITOR. Oh, heartless dove! mount in the skies, Spread thy soft wing upon the gale, Or on thy sacred pinions rise, Nor brood with silence in the vale. Breathe on the air thy plaintive note, Which oft has filled the lonesome grove, And Iet thy melting ditty float-- The dirge of long lamented love. Coo softly to the silent ear, And make the floods of grief to roll; And cause by love the sleeping tear, To wake with sorrow from the soul Page 7 Is it the loss of pleasures past Which makes thee droop thy sounding wing? Does winter's rough, inclement blast Forbid thy tragic voice to sing? Is it because the Fragrant breeze Along the sky forbears to flow-- Nor whispers low amidst the trees, Whilst all the vallies frown below? Why should a frown thy soul alarm, And tear thy pleasures from thy breast? Or veil the smiles of every charm, And rob thee of thy peaceful rest. Perhaps thy sleeping love may wake, And hear thy penitential tone; And suffer not thy heart to break, Nor let a princess grieve alone. Perhaps his pity may return, With equal feeling from the heart, And breast with breast together burn, Never--no, never more to part. Never, till death's resistless blow, Whose call the dearest must obey-- In twain together then may go, And thus together dwell for aye. Say to the suitor, Come away, Nor break the knot which love has tied-- Nor to the world thy trust betray, And fly forever from thy bride. THE LOVER'S FAREWELL. And wilt thou, love, my soul display, And all my secret thoughts betray? I strove but could not hold thee fast, My heart flies off with thee at last. The favorite daughter of the dawn, On love's mild breeze will soon be gone: I strove but could not cease to love, Nor from my heart the weight remove. And wilt thou, love, my soul beguile, And gull thy fav'rite with a smile? Nay, soft affection answers, nay, And beauty wings my heart away. Page 8 I steal on tiptoe from these bowers, All spangled with a thousand flowers; I sigh, yet leave them all behind, To gain the object of my mind. And wilt thou, love, command my soul, And waft me with a light controul?-- Adieu to all the blooms of May, Farewell--I fly with love away! I leave my parents here behind, And all my friends--to love resigned-- 'Tis grief to go, but death to stay: Farewell--I'm gone with love away! ON LIBERTY AND SLAVERY. Alas! and am I born for this, To wear this slavish chain? Deprived of all created bliss, Through hardship, toil and pain! How long have I in bondage lain, And languished to be free! Alas! and must I still complain-- Deprived of liberty. Oh, Heaven! and is there no relief This side the silent grave-- To soothe the pain--to quell the grief And anguish of a slave? Come Liberty, thou cheerful sound, Roll through my ravished ears! Come, let my grief in joys be drowned, And drive away my fears. Say unto foul oppression, Cease: Ye tyrants rage no more, And let the joyful trump of peace, Now bid the vassal soar. Soar on the pinions of that dove Which long has cooed for thee, And breathed her notes from Afric's grove, The sound of Liberty. Oh, Liberty! thou golden prize, So often sought by blood-- We crave thy sacred sun to rise, The gift of nature's God: Page 9 Bid Slavery hide her haggard face, And barbarism fly: I scorn to see the sad disgrace In which enslaved I lie. Dear Liberty! upon thy breast, I languish to respire; And like the Swan unto her nest, I'd to thy smiles retire. Oh, blest asylum--heavenly balm! Unto thy boughs I flee-- And in thy shades the storm shall calm, With songs of Liberty! TO ELIZA. Eliza, tell thy lover why Or what induced thee to deceive me? Fare thee well--away I fly-- I shun the lass who thus will grieve me. Eliza, still thou art my song, Although by force I may forsake thee; Fare thee well, for I was wrong To woo thee while another take thee. Eliza, pause and think a while-- Sweet lass! I shall forget thee never: Fare thee well! although I smile, I grieve to give thee up forever. Eliza, I shall think of thee-- My heart shall ever twine about thee; Fare thee well--but think of me, Compell'd to live and die without thee. "Fare thee well!--and if forever, Still forever fare thee well!" LOVE. Whilst tracing thy visage I sink in emotion, For no other damsel so wond'rous I see; Thy looks are so pleasing, thy charms so amazing, I think of no other, my true-love, but thee. With heart-burning rapture I gaze on thy beauty, And fly like a bird to the boughs of a tree; Thy looks are so pleasing, thy charms so amazing, I fancy no other, my true-love, but thee. Page 10 Thus oft in the valley I think, and I wonder Why cannot a maid with her lover agree? Thy looks are so pleasing, thy charms so amazing, I pine for no other, my true-love, but thee. I'd fly from thy frowns with a heart full of sorrow-- Return, pretty damsel, and smile thou on me; By every endeavor, I'll try thee forever, And languish until I am fancied by thee. ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT. Blest Babe! it at length has withdrawn, The Seraphs have rock'd it to sleep; Away with an angelic smile it has gone, And left a sad parent to weep! It soars from the ocean of pain, On breezes of precious perfume; O be not discouraged when death is but gain-- The triumph of life from the tomb. With pleasure I thought it my own, And smil'd on its infantile charms; But some mystic bird, like an eagle, came down, And snatch'd it away from my arms. Blest Babe, it ascends into Heaven, It mounts with delight at the call; And flies to the bosom from whence it was given, The Parent and Patron of all. THE SLAVE'S COMPLAINT. Am I sadly cast aside, On misfortune's rugged tide? Will the world my pains deride Forever? Must I dwell in Slavery's night, And all pleasure take its flight, Far beyond my feeble sight, Forever? Worst of all, must Hope grow dim, And withhold her cheering beam? Rather let me sleep and dream Forever? Something still my heart surveys, Groping through this dreary maze; Is it Hope?--then burn and blaze Forever? Page 11 Leave me not a wretch confined, Altogether lame and blind-- Unto gross despair consigned, Forever! Heaven! in whom can I confide? Canst thou not for all provide? Condescend to be my guide Forever: And when this transient life shall end, Oh, may some kind eternal friend Bid me from servitude ascend, Forever! ON THE TRUTH OF THE SAVIOUR. E'en John the Baptist did not know Who Christ the Lord could be, And bade his own disciples go The strange event to see. They said, Art thou the one of whom 'Twas written long before? Is there another still to come, Who will all things restore? This is enough, without a name-- Go, tell him what is done; Behold the feeble, weak and lame, With strength rise up and run. This is enough--the blind now see, The dumb Hosannas sing; Devils far from his presence flee, As shades from morning's wing. See the distress'd, all bath'd in tears, Prostrate before him fall; Immanuel speaks, and Lazarus hears-- The dead obeys his call. This is enough--the fig-tree dies, And withers at his frown; Nature her God must recognize, And drop her flowery crown. At his command the fish increase, And loaves of barley swell-- Ye hungry eat, and hold your peace, And find a remnant still. Page 12 At his command the water blushed, And all was turned to wine, And in redundance flowed afresh, And owned its God divine. Behold the storms at his rebuke, All calm upon the sea-- How can we for another look, When none can work as he? This is enough--it must be God, From whom the plagues are driven; At whose command the mountains nod, And all the Host of Heaven! ON SPRING. Hail, thou auspicious vernal dawn! Ye birds, proclaim the winter's gone, Ye warbling minstrels sing; Pour forth your tribute as ye rise, And thus salute the fragrant skies The pleasing smiles of Spring. Coo sweetly, oh thou harmless Dove, And bid thy mate no longer rove, In cold, hybernal vales; Let music rise from every tongue, Whilst winter flies before the song, Which floats on gentle gales. Ye frozen streams dissolve and flow Along the valley, sweet and slow; Divested fields be gay: Ye drooping forests bloom on high, And raise your branches to the sky, And thus your charms display. Thou world of heat--thou vital source, The torpid insects feel thy force, Which all with life supplies; Gardens and orchards richly bloom, And send a gale of sweet perfume, To invite them as they rise. Near where the crystal waters glide, The male of birds escorts his bride, And twitters on the spray; He mounts upon his active wing, To hail the bounty of the Spring, The lavish pomp of May. Page 13 Inspiring month of youthful Love, How oft we in the peaceful grove, Survey the flowery plume; Or sit beneath the sylvan shade, Where branches wave above the head, And smile on every bloom. Exalted month, when thou art gone, May Virtue then begin the dawn Of an eternal Spring? May raptures kindle on my tongue, And start a new, eternal song, Which ne'er shall cease to ring! ON SUMMER. Esteville fire begins to burn; The auburn fields of harvest rise; The torrid flames again return, And thunders roll along the skies. Perspiring Cancer lifts his head, And roars terrific from on high; Whose voice the timid creatures dread, From which they strive with awe to fly. The night-hawk ventures from his cell, And starts his note in evening air; He feels the heat his bosom swell, Which drives away the gloom of fear. Thou noisy insect, start thy drum; Rise lamp-like bugs to light the train; And bid sweet Philomela come, And sound in front the nightly strain. The bee begins her ceaseless hum, And doth with sweet exertions rise; And with delight she stores her comb, And well her rising stock supplies. Let sportive children well beware, While sprightly frisking o'er the green; And carefully avoid the snare, Which lurks beneath the smiling scene. The mistress bird assumes her nest, And broods in silence on the tree, Her note to cease, her wings at rest, She patient waits her young to see. Page 14 The farmer hastens from the heat; The weary plough-horse droops his head; The cattle all at noon retreat, And ruminate beneath the shade. The burdened ox with dauntless rage, Flies heedless to the liquid flood, From which he quaffs, devoid of guage, Regardless of his driver's rod. Pomacious orchards now expand Their laden branches o'er the lea; And with their bounty fill the land, While plenty smiles on every tree. On fertile borders, near the stream, Now gaze with pleasure and delight; See loaded vines with melons teem-- 'Tis paradise to human sight. With rapture view the smiling fields, Adorn the mountain and the plain, Each, on the eve of Autumn, yields A large supply of golden grain. ON WINTER. When smiling Summer's charms are past, The voice of music dies; Then Winter pours his chilling blast From rough inclement skies. The pensive dove shuts up her throat, The larks forbear to soar, Or raise one sweet, delightful note, Which charm'd the ear before. The screech-owl peals her shivering tone Upon the brink of night; As some sequestered child unknown, Which feared to come in sight. The cattle all desert the field, And eager seek the glades Of naked trees, which once did yield Their sweet and pleasant shades. The humming insects all are still, The beetles rise no more. The constant tinkling of the bell, Along the heath is o'er. Page 15 Stern Boreas hurls each piercing gale With snow-clad wings along, Discharging volleys mixed with hail Which chill the breeze of song. Lo, all the Southern windows close, Whence spicy breezes roll; The herbage sinks in sad repose, And Winter sweeps the whole. Thus after youth old age comes on, And brings the frost of time, And e'er our vigor has withdrawn, We shed the rose of prime. Alas! how quick it is the case, The scion youth is grown-- How soon it runs its morning race, And beauty's sun goes down. The Autumn of declining years Must blanch the father's head, Encumbered with a load of cares, When youthful charms have fled. HEAVENLY LOVE. Eternal spring of boundless grace, It lifts the soul above, Where God the Son unveils his face, And shows that Heaven is love. Love that revolves through endless years-- Love that can never pall; Love which excludes the gloom of fears, Love to whom God is all! Love which can ransom every slave, And set the pris'ner free; Gild the dark horrors of the grave, And still the raging sea. Let but the partial smile of Heaven Upon the bosom play, The mystic sound of sins forgiven, Can waft the soul away. The pilgrim's spirits show this love, They often soar on high; Languish from this dim earth to move, And leave the flesh to die. Sing, oh my soul, rise up and run, And leave this clay behind; [illegible] ing thy swift flight beyond the sun, Nor dwell in tents confined. Page 16 ON THE DEATH OF REBECCA. Thou delicate blossom; thy short race is ended, Thou sample of virtue and prize of the brave! No more are thy beauties by mortals attended, They now are but food for the worms and the grave. Thou art gone to the tomb, whence there's no returning, And left us behind in a vale of suspense; In vain to the dust do we follow thee mourning, The same doleful trump will soon call us all hence. I view thee now launched on eternity's ocean, Thy soul how it smiles as it floats on the wave; It smiles as if filled with the softest emotion, But looks not behind on the frowns of the grave. The messenger came from afar to relieve thee-- In this lonesome valley no more shalt thon roam; Bright seraphs now stand on the banks to receive thee, And cry, "Happy stranger, thou art welcome at home." Thou art gone to a feast, while thy friends are bewailing, Oh, death is a song to the poor ransom'd slave; Away with bright visions the spirit goes sailing, And leaves the frail body to rest in the grave. Rebecca is free from the pains of oppression, No friends could prevail with her longer to stay; She smiles on the fields of eternal fruition, Whilst death like a bridegroom attends her away. She is gone in the whirlwind--ye seraphs attend her, Through Jordan's cold torrent her mantle may lave; She soars in the chariot, and earth falls beneath her, Resign'd in a shroud to a peaceable grave. ON DEATH. Deceitful worm, that undermines the clay, Which slyly steals the thoughtless soul away, Pervading neighborhoods with sad surprise, Like sudden storms of wind and thunder rise. The sounding death-watch lurks within the wall Away some unsuspecting soul to call: The pendant willow droops her waving head, And sighing zephyrs whisper of the dead. Page 17 Methinks I hear the doleful midnight knell-- Some parting spirit bids the world farewell; The taper burns as conscious of distress, And seems to show the living number less. Must a lov'd daughter from her father part, And grieve for one who lies so near her heart? And must she for the fatal loss bemoan, Or faint to hear his last departing groan. Methinks I see him speechless gaze awhile, And on her drop his last paternal smile; With gushing tears closing his humid eyes, The last pulse beats, and in her arms he dies. With pallid cheeks she lingers round his bier, And heaves a farewell sigh with every tear; With sorrow she consigns him to the dust, And silent owns the fatal sentence just. Still her sequestered mother seems to weep, And spurns the balm which constitutes her sleep; Her plaintive murmurs float upon the gale, And almost make the stubborn rocks bewail. O what is like the awful breach of death, Whose fatal stroke invades the creature's breath! It bids the voice of desolation roll, And strikes the deepest awe within the bravest soul. ON THE EVENING AND MORNING. When Evening bids the Sun to rest retire, Unwearied Ether sets her lamps on fire; Lit by one torch, each is supplied in turn, Till all the candles in the concave burn. The night-hawk now, with his nocturnal tone, Wakes up, and all the Owls begin to moan, Or heave from dreary vales their dismal song, Whilst in the air the meteors play along. [illegible] ength the silver queen begins to rise, [illegible] spread her glowing mantle in the skies, [illegible] from the smiling chambers of the east, [illegible] the eye to her resplendent feast. Page 18 What joy is this unto the rustic swain, Who from the mount surveys the moon-lit plain; Who with the spirit of a dauntles Pan Controls his fleecy train and leads the van; Or pensive, muses on the water's side, Which purling doth thro' green meanders glide, With watchful care he broods his heart away 'Till might is swallowed in the flood of day. The meteors cease to play, that mov'd so fleet And spectres from the murky groves retreat, The prowling wolf withdraws, which bowl'd so bold And bleating flocks may venture from the fold. The night-hawk's din deserts the shepherd's ear, Succeeded by the huntsman's trumpet clear, O come Diana, start the morning chase Thou ancient goddess of the hunting race. Aurora's smiles adorn the mountain's brow, The peasant hums delighted at his plow, And lo, the dairy maid salutes her bounteous cow. ON THE POETIC MUSE. Far, far above this world I soar, And almost nature lose, Aerial regions to explore, With this ambitious Muse. My towering thoughts with pinions rise, Upon the gales of song, Which waft me through the mental skies, With music on my tongue. My Muse is all on mystic fire, Which kindles in my breast; To scenes remote she doth aspire, As never yet exprest. Wrapt in the dust she scorns to lie, Call'd by new charms away; Nor will she e'er refuse to try Such wonders to survey. Such is the quiet bliss of soul, When in some calm retreat, Where pensive thoughts like streamlets roll, And render silence sweet; Page 19 And when the vain tumultuous crowd Shakes comfort from my mind, My muse ascends above the cloud And leaves the noise behind. With vivid flight she mounts on high Above the dusky maze, And with a perspicacious eye Doth far 'bove nature gaze. ON THE CONSEQUENCES OF HAPPY MARRIAGES. Hail happy pair from whom such raptures rise, On whom I gaze with pleasure and surprize; From thy bright rays the gloom of strife is driven, For all the smiles of mutual love are Heaven. Thrice happy pair! no earthly joys excel Thy peaceful state; there constant pleasures dwell, Which cheer the mind and elevate the soul, Whilst discord sinks beneath their soft control. The blaze of zeal extends from breast to breast, While Heaven supplies each innocent request; And lo! what fond regard their smiles reveal, Attractive as the magnet to the steel. Their peaceful life is all content and ease, They with delight each other strive to please; Each other's charms, they only can admire, Whose bosoms burn with pure connubial fire. Th' indelible vestige of unblemished love, Must hence a guide to generations prove: Though virtuous partners moulder in the tomb, Their light may shine on ages yet to come. With grateful tears their well-spent day shall close, When death like evening calls them to repose; Then mystic smiles may break from deep disguise, Like Vesper's torch transpiring in the skies. Like constellations still their works may shine, In virtue's unextinguished blaze divine; Happy are they whose race shall end the same-- Sweeter than odours is a virtuous name. Such is the transcript of unfading grace, [illegible] eflecting lustre on a future race. [illegible] virtuous on this line delight to tread, [illegible] magnify the honors of the dead-- Page 20 Who like a Phoenix did not burn in vain, Incinnerated to revive again; From whose exalted urn young love shall rise, Exulting from a funeral sacrifice. On hearing of the intention of a gentleman to purchase the Poet's freedom. When on life's ocean first I spread my sail, I then implored a mild auspicious gale; And from the slippery strand I took my flight, And sought the peaceful haven of delight. Tyrannic storms arose upon my soul, And dreadful did their mad'ning thunders roll; The pensive muse was shaken from her sphere, And hope, it vanish'd in the clouds of fear. At length a golden sun broke thro' the gloom, And from his smiles arose a sweet perfume-- A calm ensued, and birds began to sing, And lo! the sacred muse resumed her wing. With frantic joy she chaunted as she flew, And kiss'd the clement hand that bore her thro' Her envious foes did from her sight retreat, Or prostrate fall beneath her burning feet. 'Twas like a proselyte, allied to Heaven-- Or rising spirits' boast of sins forgiven, Whose shout dissolves the adamant away Whose melting voice the stubborn rocks obey. 'Twas like the salutation of the dove, Borne on the zephyr thro' some lonesome grove, When Spring returns, and Winter's chill is past, And vegetation smiles above the blast. 'Twas like the evening of a nuptial pair, When love pervades the hour of sad despair-- 'Twas like fair Helen's sweet return to Troy, When every Grecian bosom swell'd with joy. The silent harp which on the osiers hung, Was then attuned, and manumission sung: Away by hope the clouds of fear were driven, And music breathed my gratitude to heaven. Page 21 Hard was the race to reach the distant goal, The needle oft was shaken from the pole; In such distress, who could forbear to weep? Toss'd by the headlong billows of the deep! The tantalizing beams which shone so plain, Which turn'd my former pleasures into pain-- Which falsely promised all the joys of fame, Gave way, and to a more substantial flame. Some philanthropic souls as from afar, With pity strove to break the slavish bar; To whom my floods of gratitude shall roll, And yield with pleasure to their soft control. And sure of Providence this work begun-- He shod my feet this rugged race to run; And in despite of all the swelling tide, Along the dismal path will prove my guide. Thus on the dusky verge of deep despair, Eternal Providence was with me there; When pleasure seemed to fade on life's gay dawn, And the last beam of hope was almost gone. TO THE GAD-FLY. Majestic insect! from thy royal hum, The flies retreat, or starve before they'll come; The obedient plough-horse may, devoid of fear, Perform his task with joy, when thou art near. As at the Lion's dread alarming roar, The inferior beasts will never wander more, Lest unawares he should be seized away, And to the prowling monster fall a prey. With silent pleasure often do I trace The fly upon the wing, with rapid pace, The fugitive proclaims upon the wind, The death-bound sheriff is not far behind. Ye thirsty flies beware, nor dare approach, Nor on the toiling animal encroach; Be vigilant, before you buzz too late, The victim of a melancholy fate. Such seems the caution of the once chased fly, Whilst to the horse she dare not venture nigh; This useful Gad-Fly traversing the field, [illegible] ith care the lab'ring animal to shield. Page 22 Such is the eye of Providential care, Along the path of life forever there; Whose guardian hand by day doth mortals keep And gently lays them down at night to sleep. Immortal Guard, shall I thy pleasures grieve Like Noah's dove, wilt thou the [error in typography] reature leave, No never, never, whilst on earth I stay. And after death, then fly with me away. THE LOSS OF FEMALE CHARACTER. See that fallen Princess! her splendor is gone-- The pomp of her morning is over; Her day-star of pleasure refuses to dawn, She wanders a nocturnal rover. Alas! she resembles Jerusalem's fall, The fate of that wonderful city; When grief with astonishment rung from the wall, Instead of the heart-cheering ditty. When music was silent, no more to be rung, When Sion wept over her daughter; On grief's drooping willows their harps they were hung, When pendent o'er Babylon's water. She looks like some Star that has fall'n from her sphere, No more by her cluster surrounded; Her comrades of pleasure refuse her to cheer, And leave her dethron'd and confounded. She looks like some Queen who has boasted in vain, Whose diamond refuses to glitter; Deserted by those who once bow'd in her train, Whose flight to her soul must be bitter. She looks like the twilight, her sun sunk away, He sets; but to rise again never! Like the Eve, with a blush bids farewell to the day, And darkness conceals her forever. HTML version https://1drv.ms/u/c/ea9004809c2729bb/ERJSA4MEpzNOgaUKiipgU-8BpRLnEgnS76h-_xZ3z2O-Mg?e=0rTZND POETICAL WORKS TEXT version POETICAL WORKS OF <BDB®3E(B3B £Go SI ® IB 93? 3D ST $ flie Colored Bard of North-Carolina, TO WHICH I? PREFIXED THE LIFE OF TM AUTHOR WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. HILLSBOROUGH: PRINTED BY D. HEARTT, J845. Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2013 http://archive.org/details/poeticalworksofgOOhort LIFE OF <BIB®IB<BIB mo m<3mT$®289 The Colored Bard of North-Carolina. T^ROM the importunate request of a few individuals, I assume the difficult task of ■writing a concise history of my life. But to open a scene of all the past occurrences of my life I shall not undertake, since 1 should fail by more than two-thirds in the matter. But if you will condescend to read it, I will endea- vor to give a slight specimen entirely clear of exaggeration. A tedious and prolix detail in the matter may not be of any expected, since there is necessarily so much particularity le- quired in a biographical narrative. I was born in Northampton county, N C, near the line of Virginia, and within four miles of the Roanoke River; the property of Wil- liam Horton, senior, who also owned my mother, and the whole stock of her children, which were five before me, all girls, but not of one father. I am the oldest child that my r mother had by her second husband, and she had IV four younger than myself, one boy and three girls. But to account for my age is beyond the reach of my power. I was early fond of music, with an extraordinary appetite for sing- ing lively times, for which I was a little re- markable. In the course of a few years after my birth, from the sterility of his land, my old master assumed the notion to move into Chat- ham, a more fertile and fresh part of country recently settled, and whose waters were far more healthy and agreeable. I here become a cow-boy, which I followed for perhaps ten years in succession, or more. In the course of this disagreeable occupation, I became fond of hearing people read; but being nothing but a poor cow-boy, 1 had but little or no thought of ever being able to read or spell one word or sentence in any book whatever. My moth- er discovered my anxiety for books, and strove to encourage my plan; but she, having left her husband behind, was so hard run to make a little shift for herself, that she could give me no assistance in that case. At length I took a resolution to learn the alphabet at all events; and lighting by chance at times with soma opportunities of being in the presence of school children, I learnt the letters by heart; and fortunately afterwards got hold of some M parts of spelling books abounding with these elements, which I learnt with but little difficulty. And by this time, my brother was deeply excited by the assiduity which he dis- covered in me, to learn himself; and some of his partial friends strove to put him before me, and I in a stump now, and a sorry instrument to work with at that. But still my brother never could keep time with me. He was in- deed an ostentatious youth, and of a far more attractive person than myself, more forward in manly show, and early became fond of po- pularity to an astonishing degree for one of his age and capacity. He strove hard on the wing of ambition to soar above me, and could write a respectable fist before I could form the first letter with a pen, or barely knew the use of a goose-quill. And I must say that he was quite a remarkable youth, as studious as a judge, but much too full of vain loung- ing among the fair sex. But to return to the earlier spring of my progress. Though blundering, I became a far better reader than he; but we were indeed both remarkable for boys of color, and hard raising. On well nigh every Sabbath during the year, did I retire away in the summer sea- son to some shady and lonely recess, when I VI could stammer over the dim and promiscuous syllables in my old black and tattered spelling book, sometimes a piece of one, and then of another; nor would I scarcely spare the time to return to my ordinary meals, being so tru- ly engaged with my book. And by close appli- cation to my book at night, my visage became considerally emaciated by extreme perspira- tion, having no lucubratory aparatus, no can- dle, no lamp, nor even light-wood, being chiefly raised in oaky woods. Hence I had to sit sweating and smoking over my incom- petent bark or brush light, almost exhausted by the heat of the fire, and almost suffocated with smoke ; consequently from Monday morning I anticipated with joy the approach of the next Sabbath, that I might again retire to the pleasant umbrage of the woods, whith- er I was used to dwell or spend the most of the day with ceaseless investigation over my book. A number strove to dissuade me from my plan, and had the presumption to tell me that I was a vain fool to attempt learning to read with as little chance as I had. Play boys importunately insisted on my abandon- ing my foolish theory, and go with them on streams, desport, and sacrifice the day in ath* letic folly, or alibatic levity. Nevertheless vu did I persevere with an indefatigable resolu- tion, at the risk of success. But ah! the op- positions with which I contended are too te- dious to relate, but not too formidable to sur- mount; and I verily believe that those obsta- cles had an auspicious tendency to waft me, as on pacific gales, above the storms of envy and the calumniating scourge of emulation, from which literary imagination often sinks beneath its dignity, and instruction languishes at the shrine of vanity. I reached the threa- tening heights of literature, and braved in a manner the clouds of disgust which reared in thunders under my feet. This brings to mind the verse of an author on the adventurous seaman. * The wandering sailor ploughs the main, A competence in life to gain; The threatening waves around him foam, 'Till flattering fancy wafts him home." For the overthrow and downfal of my scheme had been repeatedly threatened. But with defiance I accomplished the arduous task of spelling, (for thus it was with me,) having no facilitating assistance. From this I entered into reading lessons with triumph. I became very fond of reading parts of the New Testa- ment, such as I could pick up as they lay about at random; but I soon became more fond of reading verses, Wesley's old hymns, and other peices of poetry from various au- thors. 1 became foGnd of it to that degree, that whenever I chanced to light on a piece of paper, so common to be lying about, I would pick it up in order to examine it whether it was written in that curious style or not. If it was not, unless some remarkable prose, I threw it aside; and if it was, I as carefully pre- served it as I would a piece of money. At length I began to wonder whether it was pos- sible that I ever could be so fortunate as to compose in that manner. I fell to work in my head, and composed several undigested pieces, which I retained in my mind, for I knew nothing about writing with a pen, also without the- least grammatical knowledge, a few lines of which I yet retain. I will give you the following specimen. On one very Calm Sabbath morning, a while before the time of preaching, I undertook to compose a divine hymn, being under some serious im- pression of mind: Rise up, my soul, and let ns go Up to the gospel feast; Giid on the garment white as snow, To join and be a guest. Dost thou not hear the trumpet call For thee* my soul, for thee? Not only thee, my soul, but all, May rise and enter free. The other part I cannot now recollect. But in the course of some eight or ten months, Under similar pensive impressions, I compos- ed the following: Excited from reading the obedience of Nature to her Lord in the vessel on the sea. Master, we perish if thou sleep, We know not whence to fly; The thunder seems to rock the deep, Death frowns from all the sky. He rose, he ran, and looking out, He said, ye seas, be still; What art thou, cruel storm, about? All silenced at his will. Dost thou not know that thou art mine, And all thy liquid stoues; Who ordered first the sun to shine And gild thy swelling shores. My smile is but the death of harm, Whilst riding on the wind, My power restrains the thunder's arm, Which dies in chains confined. After having read the travel of Israel from Egypt to the Red Red Sea, where they tri- umphantly arrive on the opposite bank, I was excited to compose the following few lines : Sing, O ye ransom'd, shout and tell What God has done for ye; The horses and their riders fell And perish'd in the sea. Look back, the vain Egyptian dies Whilst plunging from the shore; He groans, he sinks, but not to rise, King Pharaoh is no more. Many other pieces did I compose, which have long since slipped my recollection, and some perhaps better than those before you. During this mental conflict no person was ap- prised of my views except my brother, who rather surmised it, being often in converse with me, and who was equally emulous for literature, and strove to rival me. Though XI he learnt to read very well for one of color, it seems that his genius did not direct him towards Parnassus, for he was rather a Jo- sephus than a Homer; though he could write very well before I could form the first letter as above stated, for I devoted most of my op- portunities to the study of composing or try- ing to compose. At any critical juncture, when any thing momentous transpired, such as death, misfortune, disappointment, and the like, it generally passed off from my mind like the chanting of birds after a storm, for my mind was then more deeply inspired than at other periods. One thing is to be lamented much; that is, that ever I was raised in a family or neigh- borhood inclined to dissipation, or that the foul seed should have been sown in the bosom of youth, to stifle the growth of uncultivated genius, which like a torch lifted from a cell in the midst of rude inclement winds, which, instead of kindling its blaze, blows it out. My old master, being an eminent farmer, who had acquired a competent stock of living through his own prudence and industry, did not de- scend to the particularity of schooling his children at any high rate; hence it is clear that he cared less for the improvement of the mind Xll of his servants. In fact, he was a man who aspired to a great deal of elaborate business, and carried me into measures almost beyond my physical ability. Often has he called me with my fellow laborers to his door to get the ordinary dram, of which he was much too fond himself; and we, willing to copy the ex- ample, partook freely in order to brave the storms of hardship, and thought it an honor to be intoxicated. And it was then the case with the most of people; for they were like savages, who think little or nothing of the re- sult of lewd conduct. Nay, in those days, when the stream of intemperance was little regarded, the living had rather pour a libation on the bier of the dead than to hear a solemn funeral preached from the hallowed lips of a divine ; for Bacchus was honored far more than Ceres, and they would rather impair the fences of fertile lands in their inebriating course, than to assist a prudent farmer in cul- tivating a field for the space of an hour. Those days resembled the days of martyr- dom, and all Christendom seemed to be relaps- ing into dissipation; and libertinism, obsceni- ty and profanation were in their full career; and the common conversation was impregnat- ed with droll blasphemy. In those days sen- XIII filial gratification was prohibited by few; for drinking, I had almost said, was a catholic to- leration, and from 1800 to 1810 there was I scarcely a page of exemplary conduct laid be- fore my eyes. Hence it was inevitably my misfortune to become a votary to that growing evil; and like a Saul, I was almost ready to hold the garments of an abominable rabble in their public sacrilege, to whom the tender of a book was offensive, especially to those who followed distilling on the Sabbath in the midst of a crowd of profligate sots, gambling around, regardless of demon, or Deity! Such scenes I have witnessed with my own eyes, when not a Sunday school was planted in all the sur- rounding vicinities. My old master having come to the conclu- sion to confer part of his servants on his child- ren, lots were cast, and his son James fell heir to me. He was then living on Northh- ampton, in the winter of 1814. In 1815 he moved into Chatham, when my opportunities became a little expanded. Having got in the way of carrying fruit to the college at Chapel Hill on the Sabbath, the collegians who, for their diversion, were fond of pranking with the country servants who resorted there for the same purpose that I did, began also to XIV prank with me. But some how or other they discovered a spark of genius in me, eith- er by discourse or other means, which excit~ ed their curiosity, and they often eagerly in- sisted on me to spout, as they called it. This inspired in me a kind of enthusiastic pride. I was indeed too full of vain egotism, which always discovers the gloom of ignorance, or dims the lustre of popular distinction. I would stand forth and address myself extem- pore before them, as an orator of inspired promptitude. But I soon found it an object of aversion, and considered myself nothing but a public ignoramus. Hence I abandoned my foolish harangues, and began to speak of poetry, which lifted them still higher on the wing of astonishment; all eyes were on me, and all ears were open. Many were at first incredulous; but the experiment of acrostics established it as an incontestable fact. Hence my fame soon circulated like a stream through- out the college. Many of these acrostics I composed at the handle of the plough, and retained them in my head, (being unable to write,) until an opportunity offered, when I dictated, whilst one of the gentlemen would serve as my emanuensis. I have composed love pieces in verse for courtiers from all parts XV of the state, and acrostics on the names of ma- ny of the tip top belles of Virginia, South Ca- rolina and Georgia. But those criticising gentlemen saw plainly what I lacked, and ma- ny of them very generously gave me such books as they considered useful in my case, which I received with much gratitude, and improved according to my limited opportuni- ties. Among these gentlemen the following names occur to me: Mr. Robert Gilliam, Mr. Augustus Washington, Mr. Cornelius Rober- son, Mr. Augustus Alston, Mr. Benjamin Long, Mr. William Harden, Mr. Merryfort, Mr. Augustus Moore, Mr. Thomas Pipkin, Mr. A. Rencher, Mr. Rllerbee, Mr. Gilmer, Mr. William Pickett, Mr. Leonidas Polk, Mr. Samuel Hinton, Mr. Pain, Mr. Steward, Mr, Gatlin, Mr. J. Hogan, Mr. John Pew, Messrs W. and J. Haywood, and several more whose names have slipped my memo- ry; all of whom were equally liberal to me, and to them I ascribe my lean grammatical studies. Among the books given me were Murray's English Grammar and its accord- ant branches; Johnson's Dictionary in minia- ture, and also Walker's and Sheridan's, and parts of others. And other books of use they gave me, which I had no chance to peruse X¥l minutely, Milton's Paradise Lost, Thompr son's Seasons, parts of Homer's Uliad anil Virgil's iEnead, Beauties of Shakespear, Beauties of Byron, part of Plutarch, Morse's Geography, the Columbian Orator, Snow- den's History of the Revolution, Young's IN ight Thoughts, and some others, which my concentration of business did not suffer me tp pursue with any scientific regularity. Mr. Augustus Alston first laid (as he said) the low price of twenty=rfive cents on my com- positions each, which was unanimously es- tablished, and has been kept up ever since; but some gentlemen extremely generous, have given me from fifty to seyenty-flve cents, be- sides many decent and repectable suits of clothes, professing that they would not suffer me to pass otherwise and write for them. But there is one thing with which I am sorry to charge many of these gentlemen. Before the moral evil of excessive drinking had been impressed upon my mind, they flat- tered me into the belief that it wpmM hang me on the wings of new inspiration, which would waft me into regions of poetical perfection. And I am not a little astonished that nature and reason had not taught me better before, after having walked so long on a line which plain? ly dictated and read to me, though young, the lesson of human destruction. This realizes the truth of the sentiment in the address of the Earl of Chatham, in which he spoke of " the wretch who, after having seen the diffi- culties of a thousand errors, continues still to blunder ;" and I have now experienced the destructive consequences of walking in such a devious line from the true centre to which I was so early attracted by the magnet of genius. But I have discovered the bene- ficial effects of temperance and regularity, and fly as a penitent suppliant to the cell of private reflection, sorrowing that I ever had driven my boat of life so near the wrecking shoals of death, or that I was allured by the music of sirens that sing to ensnare the lovers of vanity. To the much distinguished Mrs. Hentz of Boston, I owe much for the correction of ma- ny poetical errors. Being a professional po- etess herself, and a lover of genius, she disco- vered my little uncultivated talent, and was moved by pity to uncover to me the beauties of correctness, together with the true impor- tance of the object to which I aspired. She was extremely pleased with the dirge which I wrote on the death of her much lamented XVIU primogenial infant, and for which she gave m6 much credit and a handsome reward. Not being able to write myself, 1 dictated while she wrote; and while thus engaged she strove in vain to avert the inevitable tear slow trickling down her ringlet-shaded cheek. She was in- deed unequivocally anxious to announce the birth of my recent and astonishing fame, and sent its blast on the gale of passage back to the frozen plains of Massachusetts. This celebrated lady, however, did not con- tinue long at Chapel Hill, and I had to regret the loss of her aid, which I shall never forget in life. At her departure from Chapel Hill, she left behind her the laurel of Thalia bloom- ing on ray £ainJ, and went with all the spot- less gaiety of Euphrooyne with regard to the ■signal services whieii she had done me. In gratitude for all these favors, by which she attempted to supply and augment the stock of servile genius, I inscribe to her the fol* lowing EULOGY. Deep on thy pillar, thou immortal dame, Trace the inscription of eternal fame; For bards tinhorn must yet thy works adore, XIX And bid thee live when others are no more. When other names are lost among the dead, Some genius yet may live thy fame to spread; Memory's fair bush shall not decline to bloom, But flourish fresh upon thy sacred tomb. When nature's crown iefuses to be gay, And ceaseless streams have worn their rocks away; W7hen age's vail shall beauty's visage mask, And bid oblivion blot the poet's task, Time's final shock shall elevate thy name, And lift thee smiling to eternal fame. I now commit my brief and blundering task to the inspection of the public, not pretending to warrant its philology nor its orthography, since grammarians, through criterions them- selves, from precipitation do not always es- cape improprieties ; and which little task, as before observed, I should not have assumed had it not been insisted on by some parti- cular gentlemen, for I did not consider my- self capable of such an undertaking. I trust, therefore, that rny readers will rather pity than abuse the essay of their unqualified writer. I will conclude with the following lines from the memorable pen of Mr. Linn, in XX which he has done honor to the cause of illi- terate genius : *' Though in the dreary depth of gothic gloom, Genius will burst the fetters of her tomb; Yet education should direct her way, And nerve with firmer grasp her powerful sway." INTRODUCTION. The author of the following miscellane- ous effusions, asserts that they are original, and recently written; and they are now pre- sented to the test of criticism, whatever may be the result. It is entirely different from his other work entitled the Museum, and has been written some time since that, and is not so large. The author is far from flattering himself with an idea of superiority, or even equality with ancient or other modern poets. He is deeply conscious of his own inferiority from the narrowness of the scope in which he has lived during the course of his past life. Few men of either a white or colored popula- tion, have been less prompted by a desire for public fame than he whose productions are now before j-ou. He was actuated merely by pleasure and curiosity, as a call to some literary task, or as an example to remove the doubts of cavilists with regard to African ge- gius. His birth was low, and in a neigh- borhood by no means populous; his raising XX11 was rude and laborious; his exertions were cramped, and his progress obstructed from start to goal; having been ever deprived of the free use of books and other advantages to which he aspired. Hence his genius is but an unpolished diamond, and can never shine forth to the world. Forbid to make the least attempt to soar, The stifled blaze of genius burns the more; He still prevails his drooping head to raise, Plods through the bogs, and on the moun- tains gaze. THE OF GEORGE ill. MORTON. THE MUSICAL CHAMBER. I trust that my friends will remember, Whilst I these my pleasures display, Resort to my musical chamber, The laurel crown'd desert in May. Resort to this chamber at leisure, Attend it by night and by day; To feast on the dainties of pleasure, Which cannot be stinted in May. This place is both pleasing and moral, A chamber both lovely and gay, In the shade of a ne'er fading laurel, Whose grace in December is May. Abounding with every fine story, While time passes hurrying aw av, 24 This place is a banquet of glory, Which rings with the ditties of May. The chamber of Chatham and Dolly, A place of a comical play, Gave place unto Lovel's fine folly, The birds and sweet flowers of May. Here Venus attends with her lover, Here Floras their suitors betray, And uncommon secrets discover, Which break from the bosom of May. • Here ever young Hebe sits smiling, The wonders of youth to portray, Excluding old age from defiling The lads and the lassies of May. Call by, little stranger, one minute, Your joy will reward your delay; Come, feast with the lark and the linnet, And drink of the waters of May. Walk in, little mistress, be steady, You 'r welcome a visit to pay; Ail things in the chamber are ready, Resolve to be married in May. 25 A DIRGE. § ,.. rv ; > ,:j:4-. <«£ Deserted of her Spouse,,, she eat lamenting m th© chamber. liast thou gone and left me, ....* Void of faults but.strictly true ? Fly far away . .? , Without delay, , / Adieu, my love, adieu. Hast thou gone and left me, ? Hence to seek another bride ? I must be still, Thou hast thy will, , 'the world is free and wide Qnlyjiadst thou told me .: Ere I drunk the bitter cup, I could with shame, . N o w b ear the blame, And freely give thee up. But I'm left to ponder, „ .. :?>. , Now in the depth of sorrow's gloom, Like some dull sprite, In dead of night, Bewailing o'er her tQmb. 26 Swiftly fly and welcome; It is the fate of fools to rove y With whom 1 know Wedlock is wo Without the stream of love. Where constant love is wanting-, Pleasure has not long to dwell ; I view my fate, Alas, too late I So partner, fare thee wellV But, my love, remember, Hence we meet and face to face, Thy heart shall ache, Thy soul shall quake, The wretch of all disgrace. DEATH OF A FAVORITE CHAMBER MA* O death, thy power I own, Whose mission was to rush, And snatch the rose, so quickly blown, Down from its native bush; The flower of beauty doom'd to pine, Ascends from this to worlds divine. 27 Death is a joyful doom, Let tears of sorrow dry, The rose on earth but fades to bloom And blossom in the sky. Why should the soul resist the hand That bears her to celestial land. Then, bonny bird, farewell, Till hence we meet again % Perhaps I have not long to dwell Within this cumb'rous chain, Till on elysian shores we meef, Till grief is lost and joy complete. THE FEARFUL TRAVELLER IN THE/ HAUNTED CASTLE. Oft do f hear tlxose windows ope And shut with dread surprise, And spirits murmur as they grope,' But break not on the eyes. Still fancy spies the winding sheet,' The phantom and the shroud; And bids the pulse of horror beat Throughout my ears aloud. 58 $ome unknown finger thumps the door, ... From one of faltering voice, Till some one seems to walk the floor With an alarming noise. The drum of horror holds her sound,' , Which will not let me sleep, When ghastly breezes float around, And hidden goblins creep. M ethinks I hear some constant groan,"' The din of all the dead, While trembling thus I lie alone, Upon this restless bed. At length the blaze of morning broke On my, impatient view, _ .. And truth or fancy told the joke, And bade the night adieu *; 'Twas but the noise of prowling rats,' ., Which ran with all their speed, Pursued in haste by hungry cats," Which on the vermin feed. The cat growl'd as she held her prey, Which shriek'd with all its might, And drove the- balm of sleep away Throughout the 'live-long night. 20 *Those creatures crumbling off the cheese Which on the table lay; Some cats, too quick the rogues to seize, With rumblingjost their prey. Thus man is often his own elf, .Who makes the night his ghost, And shrinks with horror from himself, uWhich is to fear the most. TO CATHARINE. J'll love thee as Jong as . I live, Whate'er thy condition may be ; All else but my life would I give, That thou wast as partial to me. JL love jthee because thou art fair, And fancy no other beside ; J languish thy pleasures to share, JVhatever my life may betide. y\l love thee when youth's vital beam Grows dim on the visage of cares; And trace back on time's rapid stream, Thy beauty when sinking in years, rThough nature no longer is gay, .With blooms which the simple adore. 20 Let virtue forbid me to say. That Cath'rine is lovely no more. THE SWAN— VAIN PLEASURES. The Svyan which boasted mid the tide, Whose nest was guarded by the wave, . Floated for pleasure till she died, And sunk beneath the flood to lave. The bird of fashion drops her wing1, The rose-bush now declines to bloom; -The gentle breezes of the spring No longer waft a sweet perfume. Fair beauty with tlmse lovely eyes.? Withers along her vital stream; Proud fortune leaves her throne, and flies From pleasure, as a flattering dream. The eagle of exalted fame, Which spreads his pinions far to sail, Struggled to fan his dying flame, Till pleasure palPd in every gale. And gaudy mammon, sordid gain, Whose plume has faded, once so gay, 31 Languishes mid her flowery train. Whilst pleasure flies like fumes away. Vain pleasures, O how short to last ! Like leaves which quick to ashes burn; Which kindle from the slightest blast, And slight to nothing hence return. THE POWERS OF LOVE. It lifts the poor man from his cell To fortune's bright alcove ; Its mighty sway few, few can tell, Mid envious foes it conquers ill; There's nothing half like love. Ye weary strangers, void of rest, Who late through life have strove, Like the late bird which seeks its nest, If you would hence in truth be blest, Light on the bough of lovo. The vagrant plebeian, void of friends, Constrain'd through wilds to rove, On this his safety whole depends, One faithful smile his trouble ends, A smile of constant love. If JThus did a captured wretch complain, ' Imploring Jieaven above, Till one with sympathetic pain, Flew to his arms and broke the chain, - And grief took flight from love; K jLet clouds of danger rise and roar, And hope's firm pillars move ; With storms behind and death before, O grant me this, I crave rto more, *■ There's nothing half like love.' When nature wakes soft pity's coo The hawk deserts the dove, Compassion melts the creature throughs "With palpitations felt by few, :*' ; The wrecking throbs of love. Xet surly discord take its flight From wedlock's peaceful grove, While Union breaks' the arm of fight, With darkness swallow'd up in light, O what is there like love. TO A DEPARTING FAVORITE. Thon mayst retire, but think of me r lyhen thou art gone afar, 1? JVhere'er in life thy travels be, If tost along the brackish sea, h Qr borne upon the car. Thou mayst retire, I care not where, * .Thy name my theme shall be; With thee in heart I shall be there, Content thy good or ill to share, * If dead* to lodge with thee. Thou mayst retire beyond the 4eep, And leave thy sister train, To roam the wilds where dangers sleep, And leave affection sad to weep In bitterness and pain. g i fi» .. :?v. .* . r Thou mayst retire, and yet be glad To leave me thus alone, Lamenting and bewailing sad; ^Farewell, thy sunk deluded lad May rise when thou art gone. THE TRAVELLER. 'Tis sweet to think of home. When from my native clime, Mfd lonely vallies pensive far J roam9 34 Mid rocks and hills where waters roll sublime, 'Tis sweet to think of home. My retrospective gaze Bounds on a dark horizon far behind, •But yet the stars of homely pleasures blaze And glimmer on my mind. When pealing thunders roll, ^Lnd ruffian winds howl, threat'ning life with gloom, •To Heaven's kind hand I then commit the whole, And smile to think of home. But cease, my pensive soul, To languish at departure's gloomy shrine; Still look in front and hail the joyful goal, The pleasure teeming line. When on the deep wide sea 1 wander, sailing mid the swelling foam, Tost from the land by many a long degree, O, then I think of thee. I never shall forget The by-gone pleasures of my native shore, Until the sun of life forbears to set, And pain is known no more. 65 W<hen nature seems to weep, And life hangs trembling o'er the watery tomb, Hope lifts her peaceful sail to brave the deep, And bids me think of home. My favorite pigeon rest, Nor on the plane of sorrow drop thy train, But on the bongh of h.ope erect thy nest, Till friends shall meet again. Though in the hermit's cell, Where eager friends to cheer me fail to come, Where Zeph'rus seems a joyless, tale to tell, No thought js sweet but home. RECENT APPEARANCE OF A LADY. The joy of meeting one so fair, Inspires the present stream of song ; A bonny belle, That few excell, And one with whom I few compare, Though out of sight so long. It is a cause of much delight, When lads and lasses meet again; But, bonny belle, No long to dwell, jFor soon, upon the wing of flight, We haste away in pain. That long hid form J smile to trace, A star emerging out of gloom, Exal tea* belle, Whose powers impel!, And draw the heart by every grace, The queen of every bloom. Jiong out of sight, but still in mind, Eternal mem'ry holds its grasp," Still, bonny belle, 'Tis sweet to telj. Of thee, when I am left behind Jn sorrow's lonely clasp. MEDITATION ON A COLD, DARK, AND RAINY NIGHT. Sweet on the house top falls the gentle shower, When "jet" bjack darkness crowns the silent hour, When shrill the owlet pours her hollow tone, Like some lost child sequester'd and alone, When Will's bewildering wisp begins to flare, And Philomela breathes her dulcet air, 37 ?Xis sweet to listen to her nightly tune, Deprived of star-light or the smiling moon. ■ "When deadly winds sweep round the rural shed, And tell of strangers lpst, without a bed,". Fond sympathy invokes her dol rous lay, And pleasure steals in sorrow's gloom away, Till fost'ring Somnus bids my eyes to close, And smiling visions open to repose; Still on my soothipg couch I lie at ease, Still round my chamber flows the whistling breeze, Wk Still in the chain of sleep I lie confined,, To all the threat' ning. ills of life resign'd, Regardless of the wand' ring elfe of night* While phantoms break on my immortal sights The trump of morning bids my slumbers end, While from a flood of rest I straight ascend, When on a busy world I cast my eyes, And think of nightly slumbers with surprise. ON AN OLD DELUDED^ SUITOR^ See sad deluded love, in years too late, With tears desponding o'er the tomb of fate, \yhile dusky evening's veil excludes the light Which in the morning' broke upon his sight. 38 Me now regrets his vain, his fruitless plan/ And sadly wonders at the faults of man. 'Tis now from beauty's torch he wheels aside, And strives to soar above affection's tide; 'Tis now that sorrow feeds the worm of pairr With tears which never can the loss regain; 'Tis now he drinks the wormwood and the" gall, And all the sweets of early pleasures pall,' When from his breast the hope of fortune flies, The songs of transport languish into sighs; nd, lovely rose, that beamed as she blew, all the charms of youth the most untrue, She, with delusive smiles, prevail'd to move This silry heart" into the snare of love f Then like a flower closed against thtf beey Folds her arms and turns her back on me. When on my fancy's eye her smiles she shed, The torch by which deluded love was led, Then, like a lark, from boyhood's maze I soar'd, And thus in song her flattering smiles adored. My heart was then by fondling love betray'd, A thousand pleasures bloom'd but soon to' fade, From joy to joy my heart exulting flew, In quest of one, though fair, yet far from true. 39 THE WOODMAN AND MONEY HUNTER, Throughout our rambles much we find ,* The bee trees burst with honey ; Wild birds we tame of every kind, At once they seem to be resign'd; I know but one that lags behind, There's nothing lags but money. The woods afford us much supply, The opossum, coon, and coney ; They all' are" tame and venture nigh, Regardless of the public eye, I know but one among them shy, There's nothing shy but money. And she lies in the bankrupt shade,' The cunning fox is funny ; When thus the public debts are paid', Deceitful cash is not afraid, "Where funds are hid for private trade, There's nothing paid but money. Then let us roam the woods along^ And drive the coon and coney ;' Our lead is good, our powder strong, . To shoot the pigeons as they throng, But sing no more the idle song, Nor prowl the chase for money. 40 THE EYE OF LOVE. I I know her story-telling eye Has more expression than her tongue; And from that heart-extorted sigh, At once the peal of love is rung. When that soft eye lets fall a tear .^ Of doating fondness as we part, The stream is from a cause sincere, And issues from a melting heart. j ....'.;•...„-.' ■"■ "What shall her fluttering pulse restrain,! * The life-watch beating from her soul, When all the power of hate is slain, And love permits it no control. When said her tongue, I wish thee well, Her eye declared it must be true ; And every, sentence seem'd to tell The tale of sorrow told by few. When low she bow'd and wheel'd aside, I saw her blushing temples fade; Her smiles were sunk in sorrow's tide, But love was in her eye betrayM, 41 THE SETTING SUN. *Tis sweet to trace the setting sun Wheel blushing down the west ; When his diurnal race is run, The traveller stops the gloom to shun, And lodge his bones to rest. Far from the eye he sinks apace, But still throws back his light From oceans of resplendant grace, Whence sleeping vesper paints her face, And bids the sun good night." To those hesperian fields by night My thoughts in vision stray, Like spirits stealing into light, From gloom upon the Wing of flight, Soaring from time away. Our eagle, with his pinions furl'd, Takes his departing peep, And hails the occidental world, Swift round whose base the globes are whirl'd, Whilst weary creatures sleep. 42 ■Fee rising fcufcr. The king of day rides on, To give the placid morning birth; On wheels of glory moves his throne* Whose light adorns the eaarth. When once? his limpid mart! Has the imperial course begun, The lark deserts the dusky glader And soars to meet the sun* Vp from the orient deep, Aurora mounts without delay, With brooms of light the plains to sweep. And purge the gloom away. Ye ghostly scenes give wayv Our king is coming now in sight. Bearing the diadem of day, Whose crest expels the night; Thus we, tike birds, retreat To groves, and hide from ev'ry eye; Our slumbering dust will rise and meet Its morning in the sky. The immaterial sun, Now hid within empyieal gloom; 43 Will break forth on a brighter throne* And call us from the tomb. MEMORY. Sweet memory, like a pleasing dream, Still lends a dull and feeble ray ; For ages with her vestige teems, When beauty's trace is worn away. When pleasure, with her harps unstrung* Sits silent to be heard no more, Or leaves them on the willows hung, And pass-time glee forever o'er ; Still back in smiles thy glory steals With ev'ningdew drops from thine eye; The twilight bursting from thy wheels, Ascends and bids oblivion fly. Memory, thy bush prevails to bloom, Design'd to fade, no, never, never* Will stamp thy vestige on the tomb, And bid th' immortal live forever. When youth's bright sun has once declined And bid his smiling day expire, 44 Mem'ry, thy torch steals up behind, And sets thy hidden stars on fire. PROSPERITY. Come, thou queen of every creature, Nature calls thee to her arms j Love sits gay on every feature, Teeming with a thousand charms. Meet me mid the wreathing bowers, Greet me in the citron grove, "Where I saw the belle of flowers Dealing with the blooms of love. Hark! the lowly dove of Sharon, Bids thee rise and come away, From a vale both dry and barren, Come to one where life is gay. Come, thou queen of all the forest, Fair Feroma, mountain glee, Lovelier than the garden florist. Or the goddess of the bee. Come, Sterculus, and with pleasure, Fertilize the teeming field ; 45 From thy straw, dissolved at leisure, Bid the lea her bounty yield. Come, thou queen of every creature, Nature calls thee to her arms ; Love sits gay on every feature, Teeming with a thousand charms. DEATH OF GEN. JACKSON— AN EULOGY. Hark! from the mighty Hero's tomb, I hear a voice proclaim ! A sound which fills the world with gloom, But magnifies his name. JJis flight from time let braves deplore, And wail from state to state, And sound abroad from shore to shore, The death of one so great ! He scorn'd to live a captured slave, And fought his passage through ; He dies, the prince of all the brave, And bids the world adieu ! Sing to the mem'ry of his power. Ye vagrant mountaineers. 45 Ye rustic peasants drop a shower Of love for him in tears. He wields the glittering sword no more, With that transpiercing eye ; Ceases to roam the mountain o'er. And gets him down to die ! Still let the nation spread his fame, While marching from his tomb ; Aloud let all the world proclaim, Jackson, forever bloom. No longer to the world confm'd, He goes down like a star ; He sets, and leaves his friends behind To rein the steed of war. Hark! from the mighty Hero's tomb, 1 hear a voice proclaim ! A sound which fills the world with gloom, But magnifies his name ! MR. CLAY'S RECEPTION AT RALEIGH, April, 1844. Salute the august train t a scene so grand, With kvery tuneful baud \ It The mighty brave, His country bound to save, Extends his aiding hand ; For joy his vofries hoop and stamp,. Excited by the blaze of pomp ! Let ev'ry eye the scene descry, The sons of freedom's land. They look ten thousand stars t lamp tumbler blaze, To give the Hero praise I Immortal Clay, The cause is to pourtray J Your tuneful voices raise j The lights of our Columbian sun, Break from his patriotic throne ; Let all admire The faithful sire, The chief musician plays* Ye bustling crowds give way, proclaims th# drum, And give the Patriot room ; The cannon's sound, The blast of trumpets bound, Be this our father's home ; Haw let the best musician playj 48 A skillful tune for Henry Clay ! Let every ear With transport hear ! The President is come. Let sister states greet the Columbian feast, With each admiring guest ; Thou art our choice ! Let ev'ry joyful voice, Sound from the east to west ; Let haughty Albion's lion roar, The eagle must prevail to soar ; And in lovely form, Above the storm, Erect her peaceful nest. Beyond each proud empire she throws her eye ! "Which lifted to the sky, No thunders roll, To agitate her soul, Beneath her feet they fly ! Let skillful fingers sweep the lyre, Strike ev'ry ear ! set hearts on fire ! Let monarchs sleep Beyond the deep, And howling faction die. 49 Nor h*nee forget tta tesne applauding &*$% When every heart was g-ay ; The universal swell Rnsh'd from the loud to"wn bell '; tn awful, grand array* We see them form the bright parade ; And hark, a gladdening march is play'd ! Along the street, The theme is sweet, For every voice is Clay. To the Capitol the low and upland peers* Resort with princely fears, And homage pay * A loud huzza for Clay ! Falls on our ears ; Loud from his lips the thunders roll* And fill with wonder every soul ; Round the sire of state All concentrate, And W&¥f mortal hears. CLAY'S DEFEAT. 'Tis the hope of the noble defeated ; The aim of the marksman is vain; The wish of destruction completed, The soldier eternally slain; 50 When winter succeeds to ihe smnme'rv The bird is too chilly to sing ; No music is play'd for the drummer, No carol is heard on the wing. The court of n. nation forsaken, An edifice stripn'd of its dome, Its fame from her pinnacle shaken, Like the sigh heaving downfall of Rome. Fali'b, fall'n is the chief of the witty, The prince of republican power ; The star-crown of Washington City Descends his political tower. * The gold-plated seat is bespoken, The brave of the west is before"; The bowl at the fountain is broken, The music of fame is no more. No longer a wonderful story Is told for the brave whig to hear, Whose sun leaves his circuit of glory, Or sinks from the light of his sphere. 51 THE HAPPY BIRD'S NEST. When on my cottage falls the placid shower, When ev'ning calls the labourer home to rest, When glad the bee deserts the humid flower, O then the bird assumes her peaceful nest. When sable shadows grow unshapely tall, And Sol's resplendent wheel descends the •west, The knell of respiration tolls for all, And Hespar smiles upon the linnet's nest. When o'er the mountain bounds the fair g'a- zell, The night bird tells her day-departing jest, She gladly leaves her melancholy dell, And spreads her pinions o'er the linnet's nest. Then harmless Diaii spreads her lucid sail, And glides through ether with her silver crest, Bidding the watchful bird still pour her tale, And cheer the happy linnet on her nest. Thus may some guardian angel bear her light, And o'er thy tomb, departed genius, rest, 52 Whilst thou *halt take thy long eternal flight, And leave some faithful bird to guard thy nest. THE FATE OF AN INNOCENT DOG. When Tiger left his native yard. He did not many ills regard, A. "fleet and harmless cur ; Indeed, he was a trusty dog, And did not through the pastures prog* The grazing flocks to stir, poor dog, The grazing flocks to' stir. He through a field by chance was led* In quest of game not far ahead, And made one active leap ; When all at once, alarm'd, he spied, A creature welt' ring on its side* A deadly wounded sheep, alas ! A deadly wounded sheep. He there was fill'd with sudden fear, Apprized of lurking danger near, And there he left his trail ; Indeed, he was afraid to yelp, 58 Nor could he grant the creature help, But wheel' d and drop'd his tail, poor dog, But wheel' d and drop'd his tail. It was his pass-time, pride and fun, At morn the nimble hare to run, When frost was on the grass ; Returning home who should he meet ? The weather's owner, coming fleet, Who scorn'd to let him pass, alas ! Who scorn'd to let him pass. Tiger could but his bristles raise, A surly compliment he pays, Insulted shows his wrath ; Returns a just defensive growl, And does not turn aside to prowl, But onward keeps the path, poor dog, But onward keeps the path. The raging owner' found the brute, But could afford it no recruit, Nor raise it up to stand ; 'Twas mangled by some other dogs, A set of detrimental rogues, Raised up~at no eommand,"alas ! Raised up at no command. Sagacious Tiger left his bogs, But bore the blame of other dogs, With powder, fire and ball ; They kilPd the poor, unlawful game, And then came back and eat the same ; But Tiger paid for fell, poor dog, But Tiger paid for all. Let ev'ry harmless dog beware Lest he be taken in the snare, And scorn such fields to roam ; A creature may be fraught with grace, And suffer for the vile and base, By straggling off from home, alas! By straggling off from home. The blood of creatures oft is spilt, Who die without a shade of guilt; Look out, or cease to roam ; Whilst up and down the world he plays For pleasure, man in danger strays Without a friend from home, alas ! Without a friend from home. 5S THE TIPLER TO HIS BOTTLE. What hast thou ever done for me? Defeated every good endeavor; I never can through life agree To place my confidence in thee, JNot ever, no, never! Often have I thy steam admired, Thou nothing hast avail'd me ever; Vain have I tliought myself inspired, Say, have 1 else but pain acquired? Not ever, no, never! No earthly good, no stream of health, Flows from thy fount, thou cheerful giver; From thee, affluence sinks to stealth, From thee I pluck no bloom of health, Whatever, no, never ! Thou canst impart a noble mind, Power from my tongue flows like a river; The gas flows dead, I'm left behind, To all that's evil down confined, To flourish more never! With thee I must through life complain, Thy powers at large will union sever; Disgorge no more, thy killing bane, The. bird hope flies from thee in pain. To return more never! ROSABELLA— PURITY OF HEART, Though with an angel's tonguo I set on fire the congregations all, *Tis but a brazen bell that I have "rung* And I to nothing fall; My theme is but an idle air If Rosabella is not there, though I in thunders rave, And hurl the blaze of oratorio flowers, Others I move, but fail myself to save With my declaiming powers; I sink, alas! Ijknow not where, If Rosabella is not there. Though J poirlt o&t the way, And closely circumscribe the path to heaven, And pour my melting prayer without delay, And vow my sins forgiven, I sink^into the gloom despair f( Rosabella is not there, V7 Though I may mountains more, And make tbe vallies vocal with my song, I'm vain without a stream of mystic love, For alt my heart is wrong; I've laid myself a cruel snare, If Iiosabella is not there. From bibliothic stores, I fly, proclaiming heaven from land to land, Or cross the seas and reach their distant shores. Mid Gothic groups to stand; O, let me of myself beware, If Rosabella is not there. Our classic books must fail, And with their flowery tongue* to ashes burn, And not one groat a mortal wit avail Upon his last return; Be this the creature's faithful prayer, That Rosabella may be there. This spotless maid was born The babe of heaven, and cannot be defiled; The soul is dead and in a state forlorn On which she has not smiled; Vain are the virile and the fair* Jf Rosabella be not there. When other pleasures tire, And mortal glories fade to glow ho more, She with the wing of truth augments her fire, And still prevails to soar; All else must die, the good and wise, But Rosabella never dies. FALSE WEIGHT. The poor countryman to a fraudulent lady profess- ing fright Christianity. If thou art fair, deal, lady, fair, And let the scales be oven; Forbid the poising beam to rear, And pull thee down from heaven. Dost thou desire to die in peace, For ev'ry sin forgiven, Give back my right, thy weight decrease, And mount like mine to heaven. Itathcr give over to the poor, Take ten and give eleven ; Or else be fair, I ask no more, 'Tis all required of heaven. And when on thee for pay I call, Which is but four for seven, 59 Keep nothing back, but pay it all, It is not hid from heaven. Remember hence the sentence past, The truth in scripture given, Last shall be first, and first be last, DEPARTING SUMMED. When auburn Autumn mounts the stage, And Summer fails her charms to yield, Bleak nature turns another page, To light the glories of the field. At once the vale declines to bloom, The forest smiles no longer gay; Gardens are left without perfume, The rose and 1 Illy pine away. The orchard bows her fruitless head, As one divested of her store; Or like a queen whose train hashed, And left her sad to smile no more. That bird which breath'd her vernal song, And hopp'd along the flow'ry spray, 60 Now silent holds her warbling tongue, Which dulcifies the feast of May. But let each bitter have its sweet, No change of nature is in vain ; 'Tis just alternate cold and heat, For time is pleasure mix'd with pain. REFLECTIONS FROM THE FLASH OF A METEOR. Psalm xc. 12. So teach me to regard my day, How small a point my life appears ; One gleam to death the whole betrays, A momentary flash of years. One moment smiles, the scene is past, Life's gaudy bloom at once we shed, And sink beneath affliction's blast, Or drop as soon among the dead. Short is the chain wound up at morn, Which oft runs down and stops at noon; Thus in a moment man is born, And, lo! the creature dies as soon. Life'sjittle torch how soon forgot, Dim burning on its dreary shore; 61 Just like that star which downwards shot, It glimmers and is seen no more. Teach me to draw this transient breath, With conscious awe my end to prove, Early to make my peace with death, As thus in haste from time we'move, O heaven, through this murky vale, Direct me with a burning pert ; Thus shall I on a tuneful gale Fleet out my threescore years and ten. TRUE FRIENDSHIP. Friendship, thou balm for ev'ry ill, I must aspire to thee; Whose breezes bid the heart be still, And render sweet the patient's pill, And set the pris'ner free. Friendship, it is the softest soul Which feels' another's pain; And must with equal sighs condole, While sympathetic streamlets roll* Which nothing can restrain* Not to be nominated smart* Of mortals to be seen, 62 She does not thus her gifts impart, Her aid is from a feeling heart, A principle within. When the lone stranger, forced to ream, Comes shiv'ring to her door, At once he finds a welcome home,"*; The torch of grace dispels his^gloom, And bids him grope no more. Friendship was never known to fail The voice of need to hear, When rainless ills onr peace assail, When from our hearts she draws the veil, And drys the falling tear. When dogs and devils snarl and fight, She hides and dwells alone; When friends and kindred disunite, With pity she surveys the right, And gives to each his own. Friendship has not a sister grace Her wonders to exceed ; She is the queen of all her race, Whose charms the stoutest must embrace When in (he vale of need. 03 Friendship is but the feeling sigh. The sympathizing tear, • Constraint to flow till others dry Nor lets the needy soul pass by, JNor scorns to see or hear. ON THE CONVERSION OF A SISTER. "JTis the voice of my sister at home, Resigned lo the treasures above, Inviting the strangers to come, And feast at the banquet of love. 'Tis a spirit cut loose from its chain, 'Tis the voice of a culprit forgiven, Restored from a prison of pain, With th' sound of a concert from heaven. 'Tis a beam from the regions of light, A touch of beatific fire; A spirit exulting for flight, With a strong and impatient desire. 'Tis a drop from the ocean of love, A foretaste of pleasures to come, Distill'd from the fountain above, The joy which awaits her at home. <k A BILLET DOLX Dear Miss : Notwithstanding the cloud of doubts which overshadows the mind of ador- ing fancy, when t trace that vermillion cheek, that sapphire eye of expressive softness, and that symmetrical form of grace, I am con- strained to sink into a flood of admiration be* neath those heavenly charms. Though, dear Miss, it may be useless to introduce a multi- plicity of blandishments, which might either lead you into a field of confusion, or absorb the truth of affection in the gloom of doubts | but the bell of adulation may be told from the distance of its echo, and cannot be heard far- ther than seen. Dear Miss, whatever may be the final result of my adventurous progress, I now feel a propensity to embark on the ocean of chance, and expand the sail of re- solution in quest of the distant shore of con- nubial happiness with one so truly lovely. Though, my dearest, the thunders of parental aversion may inflect the guardian index of af- fection from its favorite star, the deviated nee- dle recovers its course, and still points on- wards to its native poll. Though the waves of calumny may reverberate the persevering mind of the sailiug lover, the morning star of 65 hope directs him through the gloom of trial to the object of his choice. My brightest hopes are mix'd with tears, Like hues of light and gloom ; As when mid sun -shine rain appears, Love rises with a thousand fears, To pine and still to bloom. When I have told hi}- last fond tale In lines of song to thee, And for departure spread my Fail, Say, lovely princess, wilt thou fail To drop a. tear for me? O, princess, should my votive strain Salute thy ear no more, Like one deserted on the main, I still shall gaze, alas! but vain, On wedlock's llow'ry shore. TROUBLED WITH THE ITCH, AND RUB- BING WITH SULPHUR. 'Tis bitter, vet 'tis sweet, Scratching effects but transient case ; Pleasure and pain together meet, And vanish as they please. My rralte, She only balm, To ev'ry bump are oft applied, And thus the rage will sweetly calm ^Vhich aggravates my hide. It soon returns' again ; A frowh succeeds to ev'ry smile ; Grinning I scratch and curse the pain, But grieve to be so vile* In fine, 1 know not which Can play the most deceitful gam<?? The devil, sulphur, or the itch; The three are but the same. The devil sows the itch, /slid sulphur has a loathsome smell, And tfrith my clothes as black as pitch, I stink where'er I dwell. Excoriated deep, By friction play'd on ev'ry part, It oft deprives me of my sleep, And plagues me to my heart. 67 EARLY AFFECTION. I loved thee from the earliest dawn, When first I saw thy beauty's ray; And will until life's eve cornea on, And beauty's blossom fades away; And when all thing's go well with thee^ With smiles or tears remember me. I'll love thee when thy morn is past And wheedling galantry is o'er. When youth is lost in age's blast, And beauty can ascend no more; And when life's journey ends with thee, 0 then look back and think of me. I'll love thee with a smile or frown, JV1 id sorrow's gloom or pleasure's light; And when the chain of life runs down, Pursue thy last eternal flight; When thou hast spread thy wing to flee, Still, still a moment wait for me. 1 love thee for those sparkling eyes, To which my fondness was betray 'd, Bearing the tincture of the skies, To glow when other beauties fade; And when they sink too low to see, Reflect an azure beam on me. 68 THE CREDITOR TO HIS PROUD DEBTOR, Ha, tott'ring-Johny, strut and boast, But think of what your feathers cost; Your crowing days are short at most, You bloom but soon to fade; Surely you could not stand so wide, If strictly to the bottom tried, The wind would blow your plume aside If half your debts were paid. Then boast and bear the crack, With the sheriff at your back; Huzza for dandy Jack, My jolly fop, my Joe, The blue smoke from your segar flies, Offensive to my nose and eyes; The most of people would be wise Your presence to evade; Your pocket jingles loud with cash, And tbus you cut a foppish dash, But, alas! dear boy, you would be trash, If your accounts were paid. Then boast and bear the crack, &c. My duck bill boots would look as bright, Had you injustice served me right; Like you I then could step as light, Before a flaunting maid; As nicely could I clear my throat, And to my tights my eyes devote; But I'd leave you bare without that coat, For which you have not paid. Then boast and bear the crack, &c. I'd toss myself with a scornful air, And to a poor man pay no care; I could rock cross-leg'd on my chair Within the cloister shade; I'd gird my neck with a light cravat, And creaning wear my bell-crown hat; But away my down would fly at that, If once my debts were paid. Then boas! and bear the crack, With a sheriff at your back; Huzza for dandy Jack, My jolly fop, my Joe. REGRET FOR THE DEPARTURE OF FRIENDS. As smoke from a volcano soars in the air, The soul of man discontent mounts from a sigh, 70 Exhaled as to heaven in mystical prayeij Invoking that love which forbids him to die. Sweet hope, lovely passion, my grief ever ehase, And scatter the gloom which veils plea- sure's bright ray, O lend me thy wings, and assist me to trace The flight of my fair one when gone far away. When the dim star of pleasure sets glimmer- ing alone, The planet of beauty on life's dreary shore, And th' fair bird of fancy forever is flown, On pinions of haste to be heard of no more. Hope, tell me, dear passion, thou wilt not for- get, To flourish still sweetly and blossom as Expelling like morning the gloom of regret, When the lark of aifection is gone far away. If hurried into some unchangeable clime, Where oceans of pleasure continually roll, Far, far from the limited borders of time, With a total division of body and soul. 71 Hope, tell me, cigar passion, ifhicb must earth survive, That love will be sweeter when nature is o'er, And still without pain though eternity live, In the triumph of pleasure when time is iiq more. O love, when the day-light of pleasure shall close, Let the vesper of death break on life's dus- ky even; £et the faint sun of time set in peace as it rose, And eternity open thy morning in heaven. Then hope, lovely passion, thy torch shall expire, Effusing on nature life's last feeble ray; While the night maid of love sets her taper on fire, To guard smiling beauty from time far away. FAREWELL TO FRANCES. Farewell ! if ne'er I see' thee more, Thdugri distant calls my flight impel, 78 I shall not less thy grace adore, So friend, forever fare thee well. Farewell ! forever, did I say ? What, never more thy face to see ? Then take the last fond look to-day, And still to-morrow think of me. Farewell ! alas, the tragic sound Has many a tender bosom torn; While desolation spread around, Deserted friendship left to mourn. Farewell! awakes the sleeping tear, The dormant rill from sorrow's eye, Express'd from one by nature dear, Whose bosom heaves the latent sigh. Farewell ! is but departure's tale, When fond association ends, And fate expands her lofty sail, To show the distant flight of friends. Alas ! and if we sure must part, Far separated long to dwell, I leave thee with a broken heart, So friend, forever, fare thee well. I leave thee, but forget thee never, Words cannot my feeling tell, **Faro thed well, and if former, Sjtill forever fare thee well." THE RETREAT FROM MOSCOW. Sad Moscow, thy fate do I see* Fire ! lire ! in the city all cry ; Like quails from the eagle all flee, JEscape in a moment or die. It looks lite the battle of Troy, The stclrm rises higher and higher ; The scene of destruction all hearts must an* noy, The whirlwinds, the smoke,- and the fire* The dread conflagration rolls forth, Augmenting the rage of the wind, Which blows it from soilth unto norths And leaves but the embers behind; It looks l&e Gomorrah? the flame Is moving Still nigher arid nigher, Aloud from all quarters the people proclaim^ The whirlwinds, the sniok«e,, and the firq* Jl dead fumigation now swells, A b^ue circle darkens the air, 74 With tones as the pealing of bells, Farewell to the brave and the fair. O Moscow, thou city of grace, Consign'd to a dread burning pyre, From morning to ev'ning with sorro.w I trace The wild winds, the^ smoke, and the fire. The dogs in the kennel all howl, The wether takes flight with the ox, Appal'd on the wing is the fowl, The pigeon deserting her box. With a heart full of pain, in the night Mid hillocks and bogs I retire, Through lone, deadly vallies I steer by ite light, The wild storm, the smoke, and the fire* Though far the crash breaks on my ear, The stars glimmer dull in the sky, The shrieks of the women I hear, The fall of the kingdom is nigh. O heaven, when earth is no more, And all things in nature expire, May I thus, with safety, keep distant before The whirlwinds, the smoke, and the fire. IMPLORING TO BE RESIGNED AT DEATH. Let me die and not tremble at death* But smile at the close of my day* And then, at the flight of my breath, Like a bird of the morning in May* Go chanting away. Let me did without fear of the dead, No horrors my soul shall dismay, And with faith's pillow Under my head, With defiance to mortal decay, Go chanting away. Let me die like a son of the brave, And martial distinction display, Nor shrink from a thought of the grave, No, but with a smile from the clay* Go chanting away* Let me die glad, regardless of pain, No pang to this world to betray ; Arid the spirit cut loose from its chain, So loath in the flesh to delay, Go chanting away. Let me die, and my worst foe forgive, When death veils the last vital ray ) Since I have but a moment to live, Let me, when the last debt I pay, Go chanting away, fe THE PLEASURES GfF COLLEG# tlFE. With tears I leave these academic bowers, And cease to cull the scientific flowers ; With tears I hail the fair succeeding train, And take my exit with a breast of pain, The Fresh may trace these w6nd£f£ as they smile ; The stream of sciericC like the river Nile, Reflecting mental beauties as it flows, Which all tl^e charms of College life disclose j This sacred current as it runs refines, Whilst Byron sings and Shakspeajre's mirror shines,. First like a garden flower did I rise, When on the college bloom I cast my eyes; I strove to emulate each smiling gem, Resolved to wear the classic diadem » But when the Freshman^s garden breeze was gone'/ Around me spread a vast extensive lawn'; 'Twas there the muse of college life begun, Beneath the rays of erudition's stiri, 'Where study drew the mystic focus down, And lit the lamp of nature with renown ; There first I heard the epic thunders roll, And Homer's light'ning darted through my soul. Hard was the task to trace each devious line; Though Locke and Newton bade me soar and shine ; I sunk beneath the heat of Franklin's blazer And struck the notes of philosophic praise ; With timid thought I strove the test to stand. Reclining on a cultivated land, Which often spread beneath a college bower:. And thus invoked the intellectual shower \ E'en that fond sire on whose depilous crown, The smile of courts and states shall shed re? nown ; Now far above the noise of country strife, I frown upon the glooni of rustic life, Where no pure stream of bright distinction flows, No mark between the thistle and the rose f One's like a bird encaged and bare of food, Borne by the fowler from his native wood, Where sprightly oft he sprung from spray to spray, ^nd cheer'd the forest with his artless lay. 78 Or fluttered o'er the purling brook at will, Sung in the dale or soar'd above the hill. Such are the liberal charms of college life, Where pleasure flows without a breeze of strife; And such would be my pain if cast away, Without the blooms of study to display. Beware, ye college birds, again beware, And shun the fowler with his subtile snare; Nor fall as one from Eden, stript of all The life and beauty of your native hall; Nor from the garden of your honor go, Whence all the streams of fame and wisdom flow; Where brooding Milton's theme purls sweet along W7ith Pope upon the gales of epic song; Where you may trace a bland Demosthenes, Whose oratoric pen ne'er fails to please; And Plato, with immortal Cicero, And with the eloquence of Horace glow; There cull the dainties of a great Ainsworth, Who sets the feast of ancient language forth; Or glide with Ovid on his simple stream, And catch the heat from Virgil's rural beam; Through Addison you trace creation's fire, And all the rapid wheels of time admire ; Or pry with Paley's theologic rays, And hail the hand of wisdom as you gaze; Up Murray's pleasant hill you strive to climb, To gain a golden summit all sublime, And plod through conic sections all severe, Which to procure is pleasure true and dear. The students' pensive mind is often stung, Whilst blundering through the Greek and Latin tongue; Parsing in grammars which may suit the whole, And will the dialect of each control. Now let us take a retrospective view, And whilst we pause, observe a branch or two. Geography and Botany unfold Their famous charms like precious seeds of gold; Zoology doth all her groups descry, And with Astronomy we soar on high; But pen and ink and paper all would fail, To write one third of this capacious tale. Geography presents her flowery train, Describes the mountain and surveys the plain, Measures the sounding rivers as they grow, Unto the trackless deeps to which they flow: She measures well her agriculture's stores, Which meet her commerce on the golder* shore, Includes the different seasons of the year, And changes which pervade the atmosphere? Treats of the dread phenomena which rise In different shapes on earth, Or issue from the skies; She points in truth to Lapland's frozen climq? And nicely measures alt the steps of time; Unfolds the vast equator's burning line', Where all the stores of heat dissolve anc( shine; Describes the earth as utfperceived she rolls* Her well-poised axis placed upon the poles*.* Botany,whose charms her florists well display, Whose lavish odpurs swell the pomp of May? Whose purling wreaths the steady box adorn, And fill with fragrance all the breeze of morri. Through various means her plants are oft ap? plied, Improved by art, and well hy nature tried; Thro' her, the stores of herbage are unroll'd, All which compose the vegetable world; tjven the sensitives, which feel and shrink, From slightest touches, though they cannot think, Nor yet rejoice, void of the power to fear, 01 dr sense to smell, to see, to taste, or hear. Zoology, with her delightful strain, f)oth well the different animals explain; From multipedes to emmets in the dust. And all the groveling reptiles of disgust; She well descries the filthy beetle blind, "With insects high and low of every kind; She with her microscope surveys the mite, Whi.eh ne?er could be beheld by naked sight; Thence sne descends into the boundless deep, Where dolphins play and monsters slowly creep; pxplofes (he fotfmiug main from shore to shore, And hears With aive tfie dshing sea bull roarj Traces enormous whales exploding high Their floods of briny water to the sky; Desribes the quadrupeds of ever shape. The bear, the camel, elephant and ape, And artful monkey, which but lack to tatk7 And like the human' kind uprightly walk. Astronomy, with her aerial powers, Lifts iis above this dfeafy globe of Ours; Throughout the realms of ether's vast expanse, Her burning wings our towering minds ad- vance^ ^Measures her tropic well from line tp line. 8* And marks her rolling planets as they shine; Describes the magnitude of every star, And thence pursues her comets as they roll afar. But nature never yet was half explored, Though by philosopher and bard adored; Astronomer and naturalist expire, And languish that they could ascend no higher; Expositors of words in every tongue, Writers of prose and scribblers of song, Would fail with all their mathematic powers, And vainly study out their fleeting hours. Sir Walter Baleigh, Pen and Roberson, With Morse and Snowden, who are dead and gone, They all were, though mused their lives away, And left ten thousand wonders to display. And though the fiery chemists probe the mine. The subterraneous bodies to define; Though melting flames the force of matter try, Rocks mix'd with brass and gold to pieces fly; And those who follow the electric muse, Amidst the wilds of vast creation loose Themselves like pebbles in the swelling main, And strive for naught these wanders to ex- plain; 88 Galvin himself, the monarch of the whole, Would blush his empty parchments to unroll. These different branches to one ocean go, "Where all the streams of life together flow, Where perfect wisdom swells the tide of joy, A tide which must eternity employ; A boundless sea of love without a shore, Whose pleasure ebbs and flows forever more; Volume Divine ! O thou the sacred dew, Thy fadeless fields see elders passing through, Thy constant basis must support the whole, The cabinet and alcove of the soul; It matters not through what we may have pass'd, To thee for sure support we fly at last; Encyclopedias we may wander o'er, And study every scientific lore, Ancient and modern authors we may read, The soul must starve or on thy pastures feed. These bibliothic charms would surely fall, And life grow dim within this college wall, The wheels of study in the mind would tire, If not supported by thy constant fire; Greatest of all the precepts ever taught Maps and vocabularies dearly bought, Purns with his harp, Scott, Cambell, and their flowers, 84 Will shrink without the? everlasting showers; Theology, thou sweetest science yet, Beneath whose boughs the silent classics sitf And thus imbibe the sacred rays divine, Which make the mitred faculty to shine; O for a gleam of Buck, immortal muse, With elder Scott and Henry to peruse; These lines which did a secret bliss inspire, And set the heads, the hearts, the tongues, on fire. Such is the useful graduate indeed, Not merely at the bar in law to plead, . Nor a physician best to heal the flesh, But all the mystic power of soul and flesh; On such a senior let archangels smile? And all the students imitate his style. Who bears with joy the mission all divine, The beams of sanctitude, a Paul benign; Whose sacred call is to evangelise, A gospel prince, a legate of the skies, Whose bright diploma is a deed from heaven, The palm of love, the wreath of sins forgiven. THE GRADUATE LEAVING COLLEGE, What summons do I hear ? The morning peal, departures knell ; If My eyes let fall a friendly tear* And bid this place farewell. Attending servants come; The carriage wheels like thunders roar, To bear the pensive seniors home, Here to be seen no more. Pass one more transient night, The morning sweeps the college clean; The graduate takes his last long flight, No more in college seen; The bee, which courts the flower, Must with some pain itself employ,3 And then fly, at the day'd last hour,* Home to its hive with joy* TO THE KING OF MACEDONIA.' Phillip, thou ajt piprtal ! Thou may'st with pleasure hail the dawn,- And greet the morning's eye ; Remember, king, the night comes on, The fleeting day will soon be' gone, Not distant, loud proclaims the funeral tone, Phillip, thou hast to die. 86 With thee thy dame, the queen of birds, May spread her wing to fly; Or smile to trace the numerous herds, Thunders from the Lord of lords, I hear some peal surpassing human words, Philip, thou hast to die* Thou rrtayst thy mighty host survey And neighboring kings defy, Whilst round thy retinues flit gay, Beneath thy pomp's imperial ray, Make merry on the tide of joy to day, To-morrow thou shalt die. I heave to hear the day's last peal, A sorrow teeming sighj The morning's fluttering bird has flowri, The roses fade, so quickly blown,- The lofty king falls robeless from his throne, Philip was born to die. 'Twas thus the haughty king of France Strove to ascend on high; Lifting his adamantine lance, He bade his dauntless war-»horse pnince, Defied the World, and rode the car of chance, To rage, to fume and die. Thus vile, thus obstinately vain, . He pours his distant brag, 87 Regardless of his millions slain, Regales his pale surviving train, Was but wraped in his infernal chain, Dies on the ocean crag. This faithful lesson read to all Creation, far and nigh, It is the fate, from Adam's fall, The swain, the king, the low, and tall, The watchman of the grave must give the call, Mortal, thou hast to die. DIVISION OF AN ESTATE. It well bespeaks a mail beheaded, quite Divested of the laurel robe of life, "When every member struggles for its base, The head; the power of order now recedes, Unheeded efforts rise on every side, With dull emotion rolling through the brain Of apprehending slaves* The flocks and herds, In sad confusion, now run to and fro, And seem to ask, distressed, the reason why That they are thus prostrated. Howl, ye dogs! Ye cattle, low ! ye sheep, astonish'd, bleat ! Ye bristling swine, trudge squealing through the glades, m Void of an owner 10 impart your fooiH Sad hoVses, lift your heads and heigh atoudf And caper frantic from the dismal scene j Mow the last food upon your grass-clad lea^ And leave a solitary home behind, In hopeless widowhood no" longer gay ! The traveling sun of gain his journey erfds In unavailing pain J he sets with tears;' A king sequester' d Striking from his throne, Succeeded by a train of busy friends, Lffce stars which rise with smiles, to mark the flight Of awful Phoebus to another World f Stars after stars in fleet succession rise Into the wide empire of fortune clear, Regardless of trie donor of their lamps/ Li£e heirs forgetful of parental care, Without a grateful smile or filial tear^ Redound in rev'rerice to expiring age. But soon parental benediction flies Like vivrd meteors ; in a moment gone, As though they ne'er had been. But 0\ the state, The dark suspense hr whiph poor vassals stand, Each mind upon the spire of chance hangs' fluctuant ; 89 The day of separation is at hand ;' Imagination lifts her gloomy curtains, Like ev'ning's mantle at the flight of day, Thro' which the trembling pinnacle we spy, On which we soon must stand with hopeful smiles, Or apprehending frowns ; to tumble on The right or left forever. PRIDE IN HEAVEN. On heaven's ethereal plain, With hostile rage ambition first begun, When the arch rebel strove himself to reign And take Jehovah's throne. Swift to the fight the seraphim On floods of pride were seen to swim, And bold defy the power supreme^ And thus their God disown. High on a dome of state, From azure fielcls he cast his daring eye, Licentious trains his magazines await, At whose command they fly. The gloom excludes celestial charms, When all the angels rush to arms, Heaven shakes beneath the vast alarms, And earth begins to sigh. 90 Eternal mountains move, And seven-fold thunders rock the hills below. While starry throngs desert the worlds above, Beneath Jehovah's brow. O Lucifer, thou morning son, To glut thy pide what hast thou done ? Sing, 0 ye heavens, the plague is gone, And weep, thou earth, for wo. Creation felt the fall, And trembling nature heay'd a dismal groan; For that rebellion brought her into thrall, She must her fate bemoan ; See angels fall no more to rise, And feed the worm that never dies ; No ear of grace can hear their cries, And hoarse lamenting tone. Weak nature lay exposed, And felt the wound in pleasing hate conceal'd; And, void of fear, the secret charm disclosed Which ev'ry ill reveaj'd. The venom struck through ev'ry vein, And every creature felt the pain; But undefiled a lamb was slain, By which the wound was heal'd. 01 TO MISS TEMPE. Bless'd hope, -when Tempe takes her last long flight, And leaves her lass-lorn lover to complain, Like Luna mantling o'er the brow of night. Thy glowing wing dispels the gloom of pain. Yes, wondrous hope, when Tempe sails afar, Thy vital lamp remains to burn behind, While by-gone pleasure, like a setting star, Reflects her glory o'er the twilight mind? Thy glowing wing was never spread to tire, Expanded o'er the mansion of the brave, To fan and set the heaving breast on fire, That soars in triumph from affliction's wave. Then, Tempe, dart along the ocean drear, Hope yet forbids my cheerful soul to weep, But marks thy passage with affection's tear, And hails thee on the bosom of the deep. Farewell, since thou wilt leave thy native shore, I smile to think I am not left alone ; Auspicious hope shall yet my peace restore, When thou art from the beach forever gone. 92 MAN A TQBCH. Blown up with painful care, and hard to light, A glimmering torch, blown in a moment out; Suspended by a webb, an angler's bait. Floating at stake along the stream of chance, Snatch'd from its hook by the fish of poyerty. A silent cavern is his last abode ; T'he king's repository, veil'd with gloom, The umbrage of a thousand oziers ; bowed, The couch of hallowed bones, the slave's asy- lum, The brave's retreat, and end of ev'ry care. CONTENTS. .ife of the Author, 3 introduction, 21 The Musical Chamber, 23 A Dirge, 25 Death of a favorite Chamber Maid, 26 The fearful Traveller in the haunted Castle, 27 To Catharine, 29 The Swan — Vain Pleasures, SO The powers of Love, 31 To a departing Favorite, 32 The Traveller, 33 Eecent appearance of a Lady, 35 Meditation on a cold, dark and rainy night, 33 On an old deluded Suitor, 37 The Woodman and Money Hunter, 39 The eye of Love, 40 The setting Sun, 41 The rising Sun, 42 Memory, 43 Prosperity, 44 Death of Gen. Jackson, 45 Mr. Clay's reception at Kaleigh, 46 Clay's Defeat, 49 The happy Bird's nest, 51 The fate of an innocent Dog, 52 The Tippler and hie Bottle. 55 04 Rosabella — Purity of heart, 56 False Weight, 58 Departing Summer, 59 Reflections from the flash of a Meteor, 60 True Friendship, 61 On the Conversion of a Sister, 63 A Billet Doux, 64 Troubled with the Itch, 65 Early Affection, 67 The Creditor to his proud Debtor, 68 Regret for the Departure of Friends, 69 Farewell to Frances, 71 The Retreat from Moscpw, 73 Imploring to be resigned at Death, 75 On the Pleasures of a College Life, 76 THe graduate leaving College, 85 Division of an Estate, 87 Pride in Heaven, 89 To Miss Tempe, 91 Man a Torch,1 ' 92 SUBSCRIBERS' NAMES. Thos. M. Arrington, A. Alston, G. W. Brookes, Geo. T. Baskerville, William K. Blake, John Wi By nu m, Ridley Brown, C. B. Brookes, T. B. Bailey, James P. Bryan, Joseph Benjamin, V. C. Barringer, J. C. Coleman,' R. Cow per, J. W. Cameron, W. F. Carter, Alexr. J. Cansler, John Y. Campbell, D. L. Clinch, D. Clanton, Alexr. O. Daniel, William J. Duke, J. N. Daniel, William A. Daniel, H. M. Dusenbery, "\Viljiam H. Davie, T. A. Donoho, Thomas W. Dewey, William A. Faison, Solomon J. Faison, L. CJ. Farrell, James S. Green, Wijliam M. Green, James pallier, jr. Augustus Graves, James W. Hicks, Wm. M. Howerton, E. A. Roscoe Hooker, E. W. Hall, Edward H. Hicks, H. 0. W. Hooker, Thomas C. Hall, G. O. Hines, ^ames J. Herring, E. Burke Haywood, R. C. T. S. Hilliard, William H. Jones, D. §. Johnston, James M. Johnson, James J. Iredell, John J. Kindred, Martin A. Lyon, 96 Charles E. Lowther, Lionel L. Levy, J. S. Lncas, W. B. Meares, O. P. Meares, J. D. Mysick, Wm. Henry Manly, John Mallett, Edward Mallett, John Murphy, John L. Malone, John A. Malone, James L. Moseley, C. M'Eachin, E. H. Norcom, Thos. C. Pinckard, John Pool, Thomas J Person, L. H. Rogers, Alexander Ramsey, James S. Ruffin, Alfred M. Scales, W. M. Smith, Edward M. Scott, Thos. E. Skinner, David L. Swain, John V. Sherard, John K. Strange, T. W. Steele, James G. Scott, Charles Shober, William S. Trigg, R. E. G. Tucker, R. Taleavero, D. T. Tayloe, Edward Thorne, Robert H. Tate, John Wilson, N. L. Walker, H. G. Williams, Geo. W. Whitfield, Thomas White, jr. Thomas C. William* L. G. Whyte, John H. Watson, Thomas Webb, James R, Ward. ■ ♦ • ■ * -Mb PDF version https://1drv.ms/b/c/ea9004809c2729bb/EdgukNWJ3ZBPgtD9RfSXET8Bjgld-Uz0zJtLg4W6Ws-PVg?e=j4aKRe