WHENE'ER thy wandering footstep bends Its pathway to the Hermit tree, Among its cordial band of friends, Sweet Mary! wilt thou number me?
Though all too few the hours have roll'd That saw the stranger linger here, In memory's volume let them hold One little spot to friendship dear.
I oft have thought how sweet 'twould be To steal the bird of Eden's art;And leave behind a trace of me On every kind and friendly heart,And like the breeze in fragrance rolled, To gather as I wander by, From every soul of kindred mould, Some touch of cordial sympathy.
'Tis the best charm in life's dull dream, To feel that yet there linger here Bright eyes that look with fond esteem, And feeling hearts that hold me dear.
HOPE.
SEE through yon cloud that rolls in wrath, One little star benignant peep, To light along their trackless path The wanderers of the stormy deep.
And thus, oh Hope! thy lovely form In sorrow's gloomy night shall be The sun that looks through cloud and storm Upon a dark and moonless sea.
When heaven is all serene and fair, Full many a brighter gem we meet;'Tis when the tempest hovers there, Thy beam is most divinely sweet.
The rainbow, when the sun declines, Like faithless friend will disappear;Thy light, dear star! more brightly shines When all is wail and weeping here.
And though Aurora's stealing beam May wake a morning of delight, 'Tis only thy consoling beam Will smile amid affliction's night.
FRAGMENT.
I.
TUSCARA! thou art lovely now, Thy woods, that frown'd in sullen strength Like plumage on a giant's brow, Have bowed their massy pride at length.
The rustling maize is green around, The sheep is in the Congar's bed;And clear the ploughman's whistlings sound Where war-whoop's pealed o'er mangled dead.
Fair cots around thy breast are set, Like pearls upon a coronet;And in Aluga's vale below The gilded grain is moving slow Like yellow moonlight on the sea, Where waves are swelling peacefully;As beauty's breast, when quiet dreams Come tranquilly and gently by;When all she loves and hopes for seems To float in smiles before her eye.
II.
And hast thou lost the grandeur rude That made me breathless, when at first Upon my infant sight you burst, The monarch of the solitude?
No; there is yet thy turret rock, The watch-tower of the skies, the lair Of Indian Gods, who, in the shock Of bursting thunders, slumbered there;And trim thy bosom is arrayed In labour's green and glittering vest, And yet thy forest locks of shade Shake stormy on that turret crest.
Still hast thou left the rocks, the floods, And nature is the loveliest then, When first amid her caves and woods She feels the busy tread of men;When every tree, and bush, and flower, Springs wildly in its native grace;Ere art exerts her boasted power, That brightened only to deface.
III.
Yes! thou art lovelier now than ever;
How sweet 'twould be, when all the air In moonlight swims, along thy river To couch upon the grass, and hear Niagara's everlasting voice, Far in the deep blue west away;That dreaming and poetic noise We mark not in the glare of day, Oh! how unlike its torrent-cry, When o'er the brink the tide is driven, As if the vast and sheeted sky In thunder fell from heaven.
IV.
Were I but there, the daylight fled, With that smooth air, the stream, the sky, And lying on that minstrel bed Of nature's own embroidery With those long tearful willows o'er me, That weeping fount, that solemn light, With scenes of sighing tales before me, And one green, maiden grave in sight;How mournfully the strain would rise Of that true maid, whose fate can yet Draw rainy tears from stubborn eyes;From lids that ne'er before were wet.
She lies not here, but that green grave Is sacred from the plough - and flowers, Snow-drops, and valley-lilies, wave Amid the grass; and other showers Than those of heaven have fallen there.
TO -
WHEN that eye of light shall in darkness fall, And thy bosom be shrouded in death's cold pall, When the bloom of that rich red lip shall fade, And thy head on its pillow of dust be laid;Oh! then thy spirit shall see how true Are the holy vows I have breathed to you;My form shall moulder thy grave beside, And in the blue heavens I'll seek my bride.
Then we'll tell, as we tread yon azure sphere, Of the woes we have known while lingering here;And our spirits shall joy that, their pilgrimage o'er, They have met in the heavens to sever no more.
LINES.
DAY gradual fades, in evening gray, Its last faint beam hath fled, And sinks the sun's declining ray In ocean's wavy bed.
So o'er the loves and joys of youth Thy waves, Indifference, roll;So mantles round our days of truth That death-pool of the soul.
Spreads o'er the heavens the shadowy night Her dim and shapeless form, So human pleasures, frail and light, Are lost in passion's storm.
So fades the sunshine of the breast, So passion's dreamings fall, So friendship's fervours sink to rest, Oblivion shrouds them all.
TO EVA.
A BEAM upon the myrtle fell From dewy evening's purest sky, 'Twas like the glance I love so well, Dear Eva, from thy moonlight eye.
I looked around the summer grove, On every tree its lustre shone;For all had felt that look of love The silly myrtle deemed its own.
Eva! behold thine image there, As fair, as false thy glances fall;But who the worthless smile would share That sheds its light alike on all.
TO A LADY WITH A WITHERED VIOLET.
THOUGH fate upon this faded flower His withering hand has laid, Its odour'd breath defies his power, Its sweets are undecayed.
And thus, although thy warbled strains No longer wildly thrill, The memory of the song remains, Its soul is with me still.
BRONX.
I SAT me down upon a green bank-side, Skirting the smooth edge of a gentle river, Whose waters seemed unwillingly to glide, Like parting friends who linger while they sever;Enforced to go, yet seeming still unready, Backward they wind their way in many a wistful eddy.
