Chapter X

May thy resemblance e’er remain,
To that soft, sympathetic flower;
Thy hues of grace, without a stain,
Await you to your latest hour.

STANZAS.

Mark you, the stream of the cataract pouring,
Its wild wave o’er the rock!
Hear its rude sound, upon loud echo roaring;
Earth shakes beneath its shock.
Bright in the vale is its silver stream gliding;
Softly it murmurs along,
Sweet peace on its margent presiding,
Steals the soul with her song.
Mark you the wave of the rough ocean foaming!
While the sky is in gloom;
Death, o’er the breast of the mighty deep roaming,
Gives the poor mariner’s doom.
Riding relentless the pinions of æther!
He aims the lightnings dart;
Swells the faint cry of the desolate sailor,
Sees his spirit depart.

Calm is the breast of the tempest-toss’d ocean;
Hush’d is the thunder’s sound;
Still is the fierce elemental commotion;
Soft sigh the zephyrs round;
O’er the glad scene, in its radiance appearing,
The rainbow’s hues are seen;
The sun from the clouds misty canopy peering,
Gilds the tranquil scene.

So o’er the ocean of life as we’re sailing,
Wild waves our peace annoy;
Seeming, each blast of the tempest prevailing,
Hope in our breast to destroy;
The calm of tranquility, softly returning,
Quells the storms of the breast;
The rainbow of hope, in our bosom still burning,
Points to eternal rest.

“THE MOON’s PALE RAY.”

The moon’s pale ray is smiling o’er us,
And night is joyous in her beam;
So spread around, is fancy’s dream,
Tho’ life’s tempestuous sea, before us.

No breeze is up, with soft commotion
To stir the wild lake’s breast;
Our halcyon spirits rest,
Tho’ launch’d on life’s rough heaving ocean.

Calmly, our healthful spirits slumber
On youth’s unruffled wave;
Tho’ soon upon our grave
Affection’s wail may sound in sadest number.

When neath the sod our mould’ring bones are sleeping,
O! may sorrow mark the spot,
And love forget it not,
But still around our graves, be hallow’d vigils keeping.

Arround our current gay, blooms each fav’ring gift of heaven,
And love enchanting smiles,
But beware of cupid’s wiles,--
He shades with hues of death life’s fast approaching even.

O, may our frail bark, through smoothest seas be steering;
As yon moon’s pale placid beam,
Be our love a happy dream,
And each day our kindred spirits endearing.

ADDRESSED TO A FRIEND.

Dark night has enfolded her mantle around me,
And the brightness of day to oblivion consign’d
No more the wild influence of passions confound me,
They have fled, and tranquility reigns o’er my mind.
All nature reposed, at this moment is sleeping,
And man has forgotten the turmoils of care,

Ev’n mem’ry, entranced, o’er past happiness weeping,
In the “semblance of death” imaged raptures may share.

Calm solitude’s power o’er my bosom is stealing,
In whispers of peace, its monition addres’t,
Arouses each pure spark of genuine feeling,
Allays every passion that ruffled my breast:

To the bright climes of fancy, where flowers ever blossom,
On the wild wing of thought, I would hurry my flight,
Shake off every sorrow that weighs on my bosom,
And roam with pure spirits in regions of light.

Indulging each sweet intelectual pleasure,
That fancy’s bright dream, upon man can bestow,
Could I taste of the joy, in its rapturous measure,
Without you to share it? believe me ah no!

Tho’ fancy may yield her precarious blessing,
Tho’ wit may enliven, and talent may glow,
’Tis FRIENDSHIP alone, all our sorrows redressing,
Yields the purest delight that man’s bosom can know.

THE ALTER’D LAY.