Virtue, Peace, and Contentment, all smiling and sweet,
Throw their charms round the hearth where its glad members meet;
But how altered their looks, and how mournful the scene,
When pale Sorrow tells, weeping, where late I have been!
Sweet minstrels may sing of deeds deathless in story,
And bards tell of Carnage-so falsely called Glory;
But I come and the soul-stirring notes of their lyre
Are unheard in the halls they were wont to inspire.
The wan, shivering wreck of God's image may quaff,
In mean circles, where loudly profane scoffers laugh;
But I nod-and the clamorous drunkard is mute,
And Derision expires in the hope of the brute.
The vile miser may worship his coffers of gold,
Till old age bleach his locks, and his last knell is tolled;
And when, as a captive unwilling, I bind him,
May cling to his idol-but leaves it behind him.
The dissembler, smooth-faced, puts his trust in a name,
And oft climbs up the Cross to high honors and fame;
But I seize him at last, with his world-cankered heart,
And a conscience more keen than a death-dealing dart.
Heroes, haughty and proud, at my withering frown,
All their blood-crimsoned wreaths and their trophies lay down;
And the insolent hand of Oppression is crushed,
And the voice of the babbler and demagogue hushed.
Turbaned ruffian the dazzling tiara may wear,
And fell wretches the will of the tyrant declare;
But they shiver and reel, coward-like, when I come—
Give a shudder and groan, and forever are dumb.
Yea, bold, daring aspirants may pant for renown,
And e'en lofty Ambition may grasp at a crown:
Poor impotent fools! I but flap my dark pinions,
And lo! they are dashed to my breathless dominions.
Oh, had dungeons but tongues, to tell mortals below
Crime's unregistered deeds, which they never can know !
For Oblivion's black wings still securely conceal
The foul guilt and the murders of bigoted Zeal.
Victorious I ride o'er the red battle-ground,
Where I marshal my shadows and compass it round;
And where Pestilence dire, as my herald of wrath,
With its victims all writhing, strews thickly my path.
When winds lash the waves into fury and madness,
And mariners' songs change to wailing and sadness,
Undismayed, robed in lightnings, the world I defy,
Throned on billows that toss their proud crests to the sky.
When earth's fiery depths in hot fury I enter,
The planet convulses and heaves to its centre;
More fierce glow volcanoes, while the lava moves on,
Till tower, temple, and city are all overthrown.
My trophies are millions of millions, that slumber
All speechless and still as the dust they encumber:
The Future mysterious must share the same doom—
Tread the path of the Past, and be laid in the tomb.
Ever onward in triumph my course shall I speed,
Through the mazes of time, on my lightning-winged steed,
And when systems and suns from their spheres shall be hurled,
I'll expire in the flames of a perishing world.
LITHE as the soaring lark, Ella,
Bwith sunshine on our way,
We launched our little bark, Ella,
In love's enchanting bay.
The spring-time of our life, Ella,
Is now forever gone,
But yet, O dearest wife! Ella,
Our hearts beat still as one.
Age has not bleached our locks as yet,
Nor furrowed deep the brow;
We leave the Past with no regret,
With us 'tis Summer now.
The buds and blossoms of our love,
So rosy, young, and fair,
Preserved to us by Him above,
Our blended features wear.
Domestic joys with years increase,
And weary hours beguile;
Contentment and connubial Peace
Forever sweetly smile.
Our offspring twine around the heart As vines cling to the tree:
O God! may they, when we depart, A Parent find in thee.
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