« FöregåendeFortsätt »
649. THE MANIAC; MAD-HOUSE.
650. THE ALFS.
She is not mad-who kneels to thee; Among the wonders of his mighty hand :
With summits soaring in the upper sky, [eye :
Where the broad day looks down with burning Mv anguage shall be mild-though sad: Where gorgeous clouds in solemn pomp repose, But yet l'il firinly-truly swear,
Flinging rich shadows on eternal snows: I am not mad- I am not mad.
Piles of triumphant dust, ye stand alone, My tyrant husband-forged the tale,
And hold in kingly state, a peerless throre!
Like olden conquerors, on high ye rear
The regal ensign, and the glittering spear:
His heart, at once--'twill grieve, and glad, Float ever near, in purple or in gold : 'To know, though kept a captive here,
And voiceful torrents, sternly rolling there,
Fill with wild music, the unpillared air:
He quits the grate; I knelt in vain;
Thrills to such tones, as o'er the mountains 'Tis gone, and all is gloom again.
(shone, Cold--hitter cold:-No warmth! no light! There, through long ages past, those summits
Lise-all thy comforts once I had; Where morning radiance on their state was Yet here I'm chained,--this freezing night,
thrown; Although not mad; no, no, not mad.
There, when the summer day's career was done,
What! 1,—the child of rankand wealih, Played the last glory of the sinking sun ;
There, sprinkling lustre o'er the cataract's shade,
Where to still vales, the free streams leaped away.
Where are the thronging hosts of other days,
Whose banners floated o'er the Alpine ways;
Who through their high defiles, to battle, wound, Nor round her neck-how fast you clung; while deadly ordnance stirr'd the h’ights aroundt Nor how with me--you sued to stay; Gone; like the dream, that melts at early morn,
Nor how that suit--your sire forbade; Nor how--I'll drive such thoughts away;
When the lark's anthem through the sky is borne: They'll make me mad; they'll make nie mad. Gone; like the wrecks, that sink in ocean's spray, His rosy lips,-how sweet they smiled!
And chill oblivion murmura; Where are they
Of storms, and eagles, where their pinions roam
Of morn, and eve, imprinted on the sky;
And still, while kings and thrones, shall fade, I am not mad;-I am not mad.
His chain--some furious madman breaks; Still, shall their glaciers flash; their torrents
Till kingdoms fail, and nations rise no more.
Such screams to hear, such sights to see! brated Italian poet, who flourished about four
the confidence and affection of Cardinal (oYes. soon;-for, lo you !-while I speak
lonna, in whose family he resided, by his can. Mark how yon Demon's eye-balls glare !
dor, and strict adherence to truth. A violent He sees me ; now, with dreadful shriek, quarrel occurred in the household of this He whirls a serpent-high in air.
nobleman; which was carried so far, that re Horror !--the reptile--strikes his footh course was had to arms. The Cardinal wish.
Deep in my heart, so crushed and sad; ed to know the foundation of this affair; and Ay. laugh, ye fiends ; I feel the truth, that he might be able to decide with justice,
Your task is done !--I'm mad! I'm mad ! he assembled all his people, and obliged them Here didst thou dwell, in the enchanted cover, to bind themselvrs, hy a most solemn oath Egeria ! thy all heavenly bosom beating, on the gospels, lo declare the whole truth For the far footsteps of thy mortal lover; [ing, this determination ; even the Bishop of Luna,
Every one, without exception, submitted to The purple moonlight vail'd that mystic meet- | brother to the Cardinal was not excused. With her most starry canopy, and, seating
Petrarch, in his turn, presenting himself to Thyself by thine adorer, what befell ? [ing take the oath; the Cardinal closed the book, This cave was surely shaped out for the greet- and said, “ As to you, Petrarch, your word as Of an enamor'd goddess, and the cell
sufficient.” Haunted by holy love—the earliest oracle ! 'Tis done, and since 'tis done, 'tis part recalls Children like tender ecions, take the bow,
And since 'tis past recall, must be forgotten And, ae they first are fashioned-al ways grow.
Never purchase friendship by gifts.
651. MODERN REPUBLICS. Where are So home the clown, with a good fcrlur.e went the republics of modern times, which clusterid Smiling,--in heart and soul coutent, round immortal Italy? Venice, and Genoa And quickly soaped himself to ears and eyes. exist, but in name. "The Alps, indeed, look down upon the brave and peaceful Swiss, in
Being well lathered, from a dish or tub, their native fastnesses; but the guaranty of
Hodge now began, with grinning pain, to grabtheir freedom is in their weakness, and not in Just like a hedger, cutting furze : their strength. The mountains are not easily 'Twas a vile razor!-then the rest he tried ;crossed, and the valleys are not easily retain All were impostors. “Ah!" Hodge signed, ed. When the invader comes, he moves like “I wish my eighteen-pence was in my purse.” an avalanche, carrying destruction in his path. The peasantry sink before him. The
In vain, to chase his beard, and bring the gracue country is too poor for plunder; and too rough He cut and dug, and whined, and stamp'd, Lind for valuable conquest. Nature presents her
swore; eternal barriers, on every side, to check the Bro't blood, and danc'd, blasphem'd and made wr; wantonness of ambition; and Switzerland re And curs'd each razor's body,o'er and o'er.(faces, mains, with her simple institutions, a military road to fairer climates, scarcely worth a per
His muzzle, formed of opposition stuff, manent possession.
Firm as a Foxite, would not lose its ruff ; We stand the latest, and, if we fail, probably So kept it-laughing at the steel, and suds. the last experiment of self-government by the Hodge, in a passion, stretched his angry jaws, people. We have begun it, under circum
Vowing the direst veng'nce, with clench'd claws, stances of the rhost auspicious nature. are in the vigor of youth. Our growth has on the vile cheat that sold the goods. never been checked, by the oppressions of
“Razors! a vile, confounded dog :tyranny. Our constitutions have never been
Noi fit to scrape a hog!" enfeebled by the vices, or luxuries of the old Hodge sought the fellow-found him-and begun, world. Such as we are, we have been from “Prhaps, Master Razor-rogue! to you, 'tis fun, the beginning; simple, hardy, intelligent, ac- That people flay themselves out of their lives. customed to self-government, and self-respect. The Atlantic rolls between us, and any for
You rascal! for an hour, have I been grubbing, midable foe. Within our own territory,
Giving my crying whiskers here a scrubbing, stretching through many degrees of latitude With razors, just like oyster-knives. and longitude, we have the choice of many
Sirrah! I tell you, you 're a knave,
"Friend," quoth the razor man," I'm not a kirave home. What fairer prospect of success could
As for the razors you have bought,-be presented? What means more adequate
Upon my soul, I never thought to accomplish the sublime end? What more That they would share.” is necessary, than for the people to preserve, “ Not think they'd share?" quoih Hodge, with what they themselves have created ?
woud'ring eyes, Already has the age caught the spirit of our institutions. It has already ascended the An- “What were they made for then, you dog?" he cries.
And voice, not much unlike an Indian yell, des, and snuffed the breezes of both oceans. It has infused itself into the life-blood of Eu “Made!" quoth the fellow, with a smile, “  seli." rope, and warmed the sunny plains of France, 653. UNIVERSAL EMANCIPATIOX. 1 and the lowlands of Holland. It has touched speak in the spirit — of the British law, the philosophy of Germany, and the North, which makes liberty –commensurate with and, moving onward to the South, has opened and inseparable from, the British soil, whic" to Greece the lessons of her better days. proclaims, even to the stranger and the son
Can it be, that America, under such cir- | journer, the moment he sets his foot upon cumstances, can betray herself? that she is British earth, that the ground on which he to be added to the catalogue of republics, the treads--is holy, and consecrated—by the ge inscription upon whose ruins ís—“They nius of UNIVERSAL EMANCIPATION. No were, but they are not.” Forbid it, my coun- matter in what language-his doon nay trymen; forbid it, Heaven !-Storý.
have been pronounced; no matter what com 652. RAZOR SELLER.
plexion-incompatible with freedom, an In
dian, or an African sun may have burnt upon A fellow, in a market-town,
him; no matter in whal disastrous battle--hie Most musical, cried razors; up and down, liberty may have been cloven down; no mal. Ard offered twelve-for eighteen-pence;
ter with what solemnities—he may have been Whil, certainly, seem'd wondrous chcap,
devoted-upon the altar of slavery; the first Ard, for the money, quite a heap,
moment—he touches the sacred soil of Britain,
the altar, and the god, sink together in the That every man would buy, with cash and sense. dust; his soul walks abroad in her own ma
A country bumpkin the great offer heard; jesty; his body swells beyond the measure Poor Hodge, who suffer'd by a broad black beard, of his chains, that burst from around him, That seemed a shoe-brush, stuck beneath his nose. disenthralled, by the irresistible genius of
and he stands redeemed, regenerated, and With cheerfulness, the eighteen-pence he paid, UNIVERSAL EMANCIPATION.-Grullun. And, proudly, to himself, in whispers said
When breezes are sost, and skies are fair, This rascal stole the razors, I suppose.
I steal an hour froin study and care, « No matter, if the fellow be a knave,
And hie me away-to the woodland scene
Where wanders ihe stream with waters of green Provided that the razors share;
As if the bright fringe-of herlis on its brink It ceriainly will be a monstrous prize." | Hud given their stain, to the wave they drinks.
654. GINEVRA; OR LOST BRIDE. Something he could not find--he knew not what. If ever you should come to Modena,
When he was gone, the house remained awhilo, Stop at a palace, near the Reggio-gale,
Silent, and tenantless--then, went to strangers Dwelt in, of old, by one of the Donati.
Full fifty years were past, and all forgotten, Its noble gardens, terrace, above terrace, When, on an idle day, a day of search, And rich in fountains, statues, cypresses,
Mid the old lumber, in the gallery, (acid, Will long detain you—but before you go, That mouldering chest was noticed ; and, ?**82 Enter the house-forget it not, I pray you By one as young, as thoughtless as Ginevra, And look awhile upon a picture there
“Why not remove it from its lurking-place ? Tis of a lady, in her earliest youth,
'Twas done, as soon as said; but, on the way, The last, of that illustrious family;
It burst, it fell; and lo! a skeleton! Dore by Zampieri—but by whom I care not. With here and there a pearl, and emerald stone, He, who observes it-ere he passes on,
A golden clasp, clasping a shred of gold. Gazes his fill, and comes, and comes again, Ail else—had perished--save a wedding ring, That he may call it up, when far away.
And a small seal, her mother's legacy, She sits, inclining forward, as to speak,
Engraven with a name, the name of bothHer lips half open, and her finger up,
" Ginevra." As though she said, " Beware!” her vest of gold, There, then, had she found a grave! Broidered with flowers, and clasp'd from head to Within that chest, had she concealed herself, An emerald stone, in every golden clasp; [foot, Fluttering with joy, the happiest of the happy; And on her brow, fairer than alabaster,
When a spring-lock, that lay in ambush there, A coronet of pearls.
Fastened her down forever !--Rogers.
THE NEEDLE. 80 lovely, yet so arch, so full of mirth,
'The gay belles of fashion, may boast of excelling, The overflowing-of an innocent heart-
In waltz, or cotillion, at whist or quadrille; It haunts me still, though many a year has fled,
And seek admiration, by vauntingly tellingLike some wild melody!
of drawing, and painting, and musical skill; Alone it hangs,
But give me the fair onė, in country or city, Over a mouldering heir-loom ; iis companion,
Whose home, and its duties, are dear to her heart An oaken chest, hall-eaten by the worm,
Who cheerfully warbles some rustical dikty, But richly carved, by Antony of Trent,
While plying the needle, with exquisite art; With scripture-stories, from the life of Christ;
The bright little needle, the swift flying needle, A chest, that came from Venice, and had held
The needle—directed by beauty, and art.
If LOVE kas a poleni, a magical token,
A talisman, ever resistless, and true,
A witchery, certain the heart to subdue, The joy, the pride of an indulgent faiher;
'Tis This, and his armory-never has furnished,
So keen, and unerring, or polish'd a darl,
(Let beauty direct it,) so pointed, and burnishid, Her playmate, from her birth, and her first love.
And, oh! it is certain of touching the heart, Just as she looks there, in her bridal dress,
The bright little needle, the swin flying needle, She was; all gentleness, all gayety ;
The needle-directed by beauty, and art. Her pranks, the favorite theme of every tongue.
Be wise, then, ye maidens, nor seek admiratio:1, Bai now, the day was come, the day, the hour;
By dressing—for conquest, and flirting-with alt Now, frowning, smiling, for the hundredth time,
You never, whate'er be your fortune, or station, The irse, that ancient lady, preached decorum; Appear half so lovely, at rout, or at ball, And, in the lustre of her youth, she gave
As-gaily conven'd at the work-covered table, ller hand, with her heart in it, to Francesco. Each-cheerfully active, and playing her part, Great was the joy ; but, at the nuptial feast, (ing. Beguiling the task, with a song, or a fabie, When all sat down, the bride herself-wab want
And plying the needle-with exquisite art; Nor was she in be found! Her father cried,
The bright little needle,-the long darning needle, ""Tis but to make a trial of our love !"
The swift knitting needle, the needle, directed by And filled his glass to all; but his hand shook,
BEAUTY and A KT.~ Woodworth. And soon from guesi lo guest—the panic spread. In parts superior, what advantage lies? 'Twas but that iusta:11-she had left Francesco, Tell, (for you can) what is it to be wise? 1.aughing, and looking back, and flying still, Tis but to know how little can be knowu; Her ivory tooth-inprinted on his finger. To see all others' faulis, and feel our own; But now, alas ! she was not to be found; Condemnd in business, or in arts to drudge, Nor, from that hour, could anything be guessed, Without a second, or without a judge. But, that she was not!
Truths would you teach, to save a sinking and Weary of his life, All fear, none aid you, and few—understand. francesco-few 10 Venice, and, embarking, Even from the body's purity, the mind Flung it away. in banile with the Turk.
Receives a secret sympathetic aid. Donati lived-and long migh: you have seen
Not rural sight alone, but rural sound An old man, wandering—as in quest of something,
Exhilarate the spirits.
635. ADAMA AND JEFFERSON. They have, Erin, my country, though sad and foreeken, gone to the companions of their cares, of their In dreams, I revisit thy sca-beaten shore ! ils. It is well with them. The treasures of But alas! in a far distant land I awaken, (mono' America are now in Heaven. How long the
And sigh for the friends, who can meet mc 140 list of our good, and wise, and brave, assembled there! how few remain with us! There O, hard, cruel fate, wilt thou never replace me, is our Washington; and those who followed In a mansion of peace.where no periler: chase me! him in their country's confidence, are now | Ah! never, again, shall my brothers enibrace me, met together with him, and all that illustrious They died to defend me, or livom lepore ! company:
The faithful marble may preserve their But yet, all its fond recollections suppressing, image; the engraven brass may proclaim One dying wish--my lone bosom shall draw: their worth; but the humblest sod of inde- Erin, an exile bequeaths thee his blessing, pendent America, with nothing but the dew Land of my forefathers, ERIN Go BRAGR! drops of the morning to gild it, is a prouder Buried and cold, when my heart stills its motion, mausoleum than kings or conquerors can Green be thy fields, sweetest isle of the ocean, boast. The country is their monument. Its And thy harp-striking bards sing aloud with devoindependence is their epitaph.
But not to their country is their praise lim- 0, ERIN MA VORNEEN, Erin Go BRAGH! (tior, ited. The whole earth is the monument of
657. THE HYPOCRITE. illustrious men. Wherever an agonizing
He was a man, people shall perish, in a generous convulsion, for want of a valiant arm and a fearless Who stole the livery-of the court of heaven, heart, they will cry, in the last accents of de- To serve the devil in; in virtue's guise, spair, oh, for a Washington, an Adams, a Devoured the widow's house, and orphan's loread Jefferson! Wherever a regenerated nation, In holy phrase, transacted villanies, starting up in its might, shall bụrst the links that common sinners-durst not meddle with. of steel that enchain it, the praise of our fathers shall be the prelude of their triumphal At sacred ferst, he sai among the saints, song.
And with his guilty hands-ouched holiest thing.. The contemporary and successive genera- And none of sin lamented more, or sighed tions of men will disappear. In the long More deeply, or with graver countenance, lapse of ages, the tribes of America, like those Or longer prayer, wept o'er the dying man, of Greece and Rome, may pass away. The whose infant children, at the momen!, he fabric of American freedom, like all things Planned how to rob. In sermon-style he bought human, however firm and fair, may crumble into dust. But the cause in which these our And sold, and lied; and salutation made, fathers shone is immortal. They did that, to In scripture terms. He prayed, by quantity, which no age, no people of reasoning men, And with his repetitions, long and loud, can be indifferent.
All knees were weary. With one hand, he put Their eulogy will be uttered in other lan. A penny—in the urn of poverty, guages, when those we speak, like us who speak them, shall all be forgotten. And when and with the other—took a shilling out. the great account of humanity shall be closed On charitable lists,—those trumps, which told at the throne of God, in the bright list of his The public ear, who had, in secret, done children, who best adorned and served it, The poor a benefit, and half the alms (ing, shall be found the names of our Adams and They told of, took themselves to keep them sour.d. our Jefferson.-Everett.
He blazed his name, more pleased to have it there, 656, ZXLE OF ERIN.
Than in the book of life. Seest thou the man! There came to the beach-a poor exile of Erin, A serpent with an angel's voice! a grave, (ceivid.
The dew, on his thin robe, hung heavy and chill; With flowers bestrewed ! and yet, few were deFor his country he sigh'd, when, at twilight repair- His virtues, being over-done, his face,
To wander alone, by the wind-beaten hill: (ing, Too grave, his prayers too long, his charities, But the day-star-attracted his eyes' sad devotion, Too pornpously attended, and his speech, For it rose-on his own native Isle of the Ocean,
Larded too frequently, and out of time, Where once, in the glow of his youthful emotion, With serious phraseology:-were rents, llo eung the bold anthem-of Erin Go BRAGH!
That in his garments opened, in spite of him, U. sad is my fate! said the heart-broken stranger, Thro' which, the well accustomed eye, could see
The wild deer and wolf, to a covert can flee; The rottenness of his heart. None deeper blush'l, But I-have no refuge—from famine, or danger, As in the all-piercing light he stood, exposeil,
A home, and a country-remain not for me; No longer herding-with the holy ones. Ah! never, again, in the green sunny bowire, [hours, Yet sull he tried to bring his countenanceWhere my forefathers liv'd, shall I spend the sweet To sanctimonious seeming; but, meanwhile, Or cover my harp, with the wild woven flowers, The shame within, now visible to all, And strike to the numbers--of Erin Go BRAGH! His purpose balk'd. The righteour snild, and even 0.where is my collage, that stood by the wild wood? Despair itself, some signs of laughter gave,
Sisters and sires, did ye weep for its fall? (hood, As, ineflectually, he strove to wipe 0.wliere is the n.other, that watch'd o’e: my child. His brow, that inward guiltiness defiled.
And where is the bosom-friend, dearer than all? Detected wretch! of all the reprobate, Ah! my sad soul, long abandoned by pleasure, None seem'd more mature—for the flames of hell 0. a hy did it doat-on a fast fading treasure Where still his face, from ancient custom, weare Tears, like the rain-drops, may fall, without mea- A holy air, which says to all that pass But rapture, and beauty, they cannot recall! (sure, I Him by, " I was a hypocrite on caril." - Pollock.
658. PARRHASIUS AND CAPTIVE. Glazes apace. He does not feel you DOW" Parrhasius, a painter of Atheni, amongst those Olynthian cap.
Stand back! I'll paint the death-dew on bis brow! wes Philip of Macedon brought bome to sell, bought one very old
Gods! if he do not die man; and when he had him at his house, put him to death with Conception with the scorn of those calm lips'
But for one moment-one-till I eclipse Xtreme torture and torment, the better, by his example, to express be pains and passions of his Prometheus, whom he was then
Shivering! Hark! he mutters zbcat bo paint Durton's Anat. of Me.
Brokenly now-that was a difficult breath There stood an ansold captive in the inart,
Another? Wilt thou never come, oh, Deat' A gray-haired and majesical old man,
Look! how his temples flutter! Chained to a pillar. It was almost night,
Is his heart still ? Aha! lift up his head! And the last seller from his place had gone,
He shudders, gasps, Jove help him! so, he's dead And not a sound was heard but of a dog
How like a mounting devil in the heart Crunching beneath the stall a refuse bone, Rules the unreigned ambition! Let it once Or the dull echo from the pavement rung,
But play the monarch, and its haughty brov As the faint captive changed his weary feet. Glows with a beauty that bewilders thought, 'Twas evening, and the half-descended sun And un thrones peace forever. Putting on Tipped with a golden fire the many domes The very pomp of Lucifer, it turns Of Athens, and a yellow atmosphere
The heart to ashes, and with not a spring Lay rich and dusky in the shaded street
Left in the bosom for the spirit's lip, Thiough which the captive gazed.
We look upon our splendor and forget The golden light into the painter's room
The thirst of which we perish! Streamed richly, and the hidden colors stole
O, if earth be all, and Heaven nothing. From the dark pictures radiantly forth,
What thrice mocked fools we are !-Willis. And in the soft and dewy atmosphere,
NATURAL HISTORY OF LOVE, Like forms and landscapes, magical they lay.
Addressed to Dr. Moyce by the ladies Parrhasius stood, gazing, forgetfully,
Dear doctor, let it not transpire,
How much your lectures we admire;
How, at your eloquence we wonder, of the lame Lemnian festering in his flesh;
When you explain the cause of thender, And, as the painter's mind felt through the dim, Of lightning, and electricity, Rapt mystery, and plucked the shadows forth
With so much plainness, and simplicity; With its far-reaching fancy, and with form And color clad them, his fine, earnest eye,
The origin of rocks, and mountains, Flashed with a passionate fire, and the quick curl Of seas, and rivers, lakes, and founta'ns; Of his thin nostril, and his quivering lip (flight. Of rain, and hail, and frost, and snow, Were like the winged God's, breathing from his
And all the storms, and winds that b.JP' “Bring me the captive now!
Besides a hundred wonders more,
Of which we never heard before.
But now, dear doctor, not to flatter,
There is a most important matter, Colors of such divinity to-day.
A matter which our thoughts run much sa, Ha! bind him on his back! Look :-as Prometheus in my picture here'
A maiter, which you never touch on, Quick-or he faints! stand with the cordia, near!
A suliject, if we right conjecture, Now-bend him to the rack!
That well deserves a long, long lecture, Press down the poison'd links into his ficsh!
Which all the ladies would approve,-
The natural history of love!
Deny us not, dear doctor Moyce !
Oh, list to our entreating voice! Ha! gray-haired, and so strong!
Tell us why our poor, tender hearts, How fearfully he stifles that short moan!
So easily admit love's darts. Gods! if I could but paint a dying groan!
Teach us the marks of love's beginning, “Pity” thee! So I do!
What makes us think a beau so winning ) pity the dumb victim at the altar-
What makes us think a coscomb, wity, But does the rob'd priest for his pity falter? I'd rack thee though I knew
A black coat, wise, a red coat-pretty! A thousand lives were perishing in thine
Why we believe such horrid lies, What were ten thousand to a rame like mine?
That we are angels, from the skies, Yet there's a deathless name!
Our teeth like pearl, our cheeks like roset, A spirit that the smothering vault shall spurn, And like a steadfast planet mount and burn
Our eyes like stars—such charming noses! And though its crown of flame
Explain our dreams, awake, and sleeping, Consumed my brain to ashes as it shone,
Explain our blushing, laughing, weeping. By all the fiery stars! I'd bind it on!
Teach us, dear doctor, if you can, Ay—though it bid me rifle
To humble that proud creature, man;
To turn the wise ones into fools,
The proud and insolent to tools ;
Then leave us to ourselves with these;
We'll turn and rule them as we please.
Dear doctor, if you grant our wishes,
And, rather than the affair be blundered, Vain-vain-give o'er! His eye
We'll give you--six-score to the hundred