Soon fleets the sunbright form by man adored, Now mud-wall'd cots sit sullen on the plain, And wandering, fierce, and wild, sequester'd Arabs reign. In thee, O Albion! queen of nations, live Whatever splendours earth's wide realms have known; In thee proud Persia sees her pomp revive, And Greece her arts, and Rome her lordly throne: By every wind thy Tyrian fleets are blown; Supreme, on Fame's dread roll, thy heroes stand; All ocean's realms thy naval sceptre own; Of bards, of sages, how august thy band! And one rich Eden blooms around thy garden'd land. But, O how vast thy crimes! Though Heaven's great year, When few centurial suns have traced their way; turn; In dust thy temples, towers, and towns decay; The forest howl, where London's turrets burn, And all thy garlands deck thy sad, funereal urn. Some land, scarce glimmering in the light of fame, Scepter'd with arts and arms, (if I divine,) Some unknown wild, some shore without a name, In all thy pomp shall then majestic shine. As silver-headed Time's slow years decline, Not ruins only meet the inquiring eye: Where round yon mouldering oak vain brambles twine, The filial stem, already towering high, Ere long shall stretch his arms, and nod in yonder sky. Where late resounded the wild woodland roar, Now heaves the palace, now the temple smiles; Where frown'd the rude rock and the desert shore, Now pleasure sports, and business want beguiles, And Commerce wings her flight to thousand isles; Culture walks forth; gay laugh the loaded fields; And jocund Labour plays his harmless wiles; Glad Science brightens; Art her mansion builds; And Peace uplifts her wand, and HEAVEN his blessing yields. O'er these sweet fields, so lovely now and gay, Where modest Nature finds each want supplied, Where homeborn Happiness delights to play, And counts her little flock with household pride, Long frown'd, from age to age, a forest wide : Here hung the slumbering bat; the serpent dire Nested his brood, and drank the impoison'd tide; Wolves peal'd the dark, drear night in hideous choir, Nor shrunk the unmeasured howl from Sol's terrific fire. No charming cot embank'd the pebbly stream; No mansion tower'd, nor garden teem'd with good; No lawn expanded to the April beam, Nor mellow harvest hung its bending load; Nor science dawn'd, nor life with beauty glow'd, Nor temple whiten'd in the enchanting dell; In clusters wild the sluggish wigwam stood; And, borne in snaky paths, the Indian fell Now aim'd the death unseen, now screamed the tiger yell. Even now, perhaps, on human dust I tread, Pondering with solemn pause the wrecks of time; Here sleeps, perchance, among the vulgar dead, Some chief, the lofty theme of Indian rhyme, Who loved Ambition's cloudy steep to climb, And smiled, deaths, dangers, rivals to engage; Who roused his followers' souls to deeds sublime, Kindling to furnace heat vindictive rage, And soar'd Cæsarean heights, the phoenix of his age. In yon small field that dimly steals from sight, (From yon small field these meditations grow,) Turning the sluggish soil from morn to night, The plodding hind, laborious, drives his plough, Nor dreams a nation sleeps his foot below. There, undisturbed by the roaring wave, Released from war, and far from deadly foe, Lies down in endless rest a nation brave, And trains in tempests born there find a quiet grave. Oft have I heard the tale, when matrons sere Then, fancy-fired, her memory wing'd its flight Sidneys in zeal, and Washingtons in arms. ran, And hush'd her audience small, and thus the tale began. "Thro' verdant banks, where Thames's branches glide, Long held the Pequods an extensive sway; Bold, savage, fierce, of arms the glorious pride, And bidding all the circling realms obey. Jealous, they saw the tribes beyond the sea Plant in their climes; and towns and cities rise; Ascending castles foreign flags display ; Mysterious art new scenes of life devise; And steeds insult the plains, and cannon rend the skies. "They saw, and soon the strangers' fate decreed, And soon of war disclosed the crimson sign; First, hapless STONE! they bade thy bosom bleed, A guiltless offering at the infernal shrine: Then, gallant NORTON! the hard fate was thine, By ruffians butcher'd, and denied a grave: Thee, generous OLDHAM! next the doom malign Arrested; nor could all thy courage save; Forsaken, plunder'd, cleft, and buried in the wave. "Soon the sad tidings reach'd the general ear, quire : Small was the band, but never taught to yield; Breasts faced with steel, and souls instinct with fire: Such souls from Sparta Persia's world repell'd, When nations paved the ground, and XERXES flew the field. "The rising clouds the savage chief descried, And round the forest bade his heroes arm; To arms the painted warriors proudly hied, And through surrounding nations rung the alarm. The nations heard; but smiled to see the storm, With ruin fraught, o'er Pequod mountains driven; And felt infernal joy the bosom warm, To see their light hang o'er the skirts of even, And other suns arise, to gild a kinder heaven. "Swift to the Pequod fortress MASON sped, Far in the wildering wood's impervious gloom; A lonely castle, brown with twilight dread, Where oft the embowell'd captive met his doom, And frequent heaved around the hollow tomb; Scalps hung in rows, and whitening bones were strew'd; Where, round the broiling babe, fresh from the womb, With howls the Powaw fill'd the dark abode, And screams and midnight prayers invoked the evil god. "There too, with awful rites, the hoary priest, Without, beside the moss-grown altar stood, His sable form in magic cincture dress'd, And heap'd the mingled offering to his god, What time, with golden light, calm evening glow'd. The mystic dust, the flower of silver bloom, And spicy herb, his hand in order strew'd; Bright rose the curling flame; and rich perfume On smoky wings upflew, or settled round the tomb. "Then o'er the circus danced the maddening throng, As erst the Thyas roam'd dread Nysa round, And struck to forest notes the ecstatic song, While slow beneath them heaved the wavy ground. With a low, lingering groan of dying sound, The woodland rumbled; murmur'd deep each stream; Shrill sung the leaves; all ether sigh'd profound; Pale tufts of purple topped the silver flame, And many-colour'd forms on evening breezes came. “Thin, twilight forms, attired in changing sheen Of plumes high-tinctured in the western ray; Bending, they peep'd the fleecy folds between, Their wings light-rustling in the breath of May. Soft-hovering round the fire in mystic play, They snuff'd the incense waved in clouds afar, Then, silent, floated towards the setting day : Eve redden'd each fine form, each misty car, And through them faintly gleam'd, at times, the western star. "Then (so tradition sings) the train behind, Where crept the approaching foe, with purpose fell, And where to wind the scout, and war's dark storm dispel. There, on her lover's tomb, in silence laid, While still and sorrowing shower'd the moon's pale beam, At times expectant, slept the widow'd maid, Her soul far-wandering on the sylph-wing'd dream. Wafted from evening skies on sunny stream, Her darling youth with silver pinions shone; With voice of music, tuned to sweetest theme, He told of shell-bright bowers beyond the sun, Where years of endless joy o'er Indian lovers run. "But now nor awful rites nor potent spell Controll'd the whirlwind of invading fight: "On the drear walls a sudden splendour glow'd, There MASON shone, and there his veterans pour'd. Anew the hero claim'd the fiends of blood, While answering storms of arrows round him shower'd, And the war-scream the ear with anguish gored. And gloomy spirits fled, and corses hid the ground. "Not long in dubious fight the host had striven, When, kindled by the musket's potent flame, In clouds and fire the castle rose to heaven, And gloom'd the world with melancholy beam. Then hoarser groans with deeper anguish came, And fiercer fight the keen assault repell'd: Nor even these ills the savage breast could tame; Like hell's deep caves the hideous region yell'd, Till death and sweeping fire laid waste the hostile field. "Soon the sad tale their friends surviving heard, And MASON, MASON, rung in every wind: Quick from their rugged wilds they disappear'd, Howl'd down the hills, and left the blast behind. Their fastening foes, by generous STOUGHTON join'd, Hung o'er the rear, and every brake explor'd; But such dire terror seized the savage mind, So swift and black a storm behind them lower'd, On wings of raging fear, through spacious realms they scour❜d. "Amid a circling marsh expanded wide, To a lone hill the Pequods wound their way; Where lurk'd his vanish'd friends within their drear abode. "To death the murderers were anew required, A pardon proffer'd, and a peace assured; And, tho' with vengeful heat their foes were fired, Their lives, their freedom, and their lands secured. Some yielding heard. In fastness strong immured, The rest the terms refused with brave disdain; Near and more near the peaceful herald lured, Then bade a shower of arrows round him rain, And wing'd him swift from danger to the distant plain. "Through the sole, narrow way, to vengeance led, When hell's terrific legion scream'd anew. And close their sullen eyes in shades of endless night." Indulge, my native land! indulge the tear That steals impassion'd o'er a nation's doom: To me each twig from Adam's stock is near, And sorrows fall upon an Indian's tomb. And, O ye chiefs! in yonder starry home, Accept the humble tribute of this rhyme. Your gallant deeds, in Greece or haughty Rome, By MARO Sung, or HOMER's harp sublime, Had charm'd the world's wide round, and triumph'd over time. THE SOCIAL VISIT.* YE Muses! dames of dignified renown, Revered alike in country and in town, Your bard the mysteries of a visit show; For sure your ladyships those mysteries know: What is it, then, obliging sisters! say, The debt of social visiting to pay? "Tis not to toil before the idol pier; Each little failing with malignant eye; THE COUNTRY PASTOR.* AH! knew he but his happiness, of ment Not the least happy he, who, free from broils And base ambition, vain and bustling pomp, Amid a friendly cure, and competence, Tastes the pure pleasures of parochial life. What though no crowd of clients, at his gate, To falsehood and injustice bribe his tongue, And flatter into guilt?-what though no bright And gilded prospects lure ambition on To legislative pride, or chair of state? What though no golden dreams entice his mind To burrow, with the mole, in dirt and mire? What though no splendid villa, Eden'd round With gardens of enchantment, walks of state, And all the grandeur of superfluous wealth, Invite the passenger to stay his steed, And ask the liveried foot-boy," Who dwells here?" What though no swarms, around his sumptuous board, Of soothing flatterers, humming in the shine His lot, that wealth, and power, and pride forbids, From those cold nerves of wealth, that, palsied, feel Though oft compell'd to meet the gross attack And point their course to realms of promised life. All virtue's friends are his: the good, the just, With light from heaven; of bless'd Messiah's throne To him her choicest pages Truth expands, Where beauty, novelty, and grandeur wear Not all the scenes Philosophy can boast, Though them with nobler truths he ceaseless blends, Compare with these. They, as they found the mind, Still leave it; more inform'd, but not more wise: These wiser, nobler, better, make the man. Thus every happy mean of solid good His life, his studies, and profession yield. With motives hourly new, each rolling day Allures, through wisdom's path and truth's fair field, His feet to yonder skies. Before him heaven Shines bright, the scope sublime of all his prayers, The meed of every sorrow, pain, and toil. THE COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER.* WHERE yonder humble spire salutes the eye, Some half-grown'sprigs of learning graced his brow: Many his faults; his virtues small and few ;* The bright expansion lighten'd all the scene, At once the sounding clarion breathed alarms; *From "Greenfield Hill,” + This and the three following extracts are from "The Conquest of Canaan." Slow waves the dreadful light, as round the shore Night's solemn blasts with deep confusion roar: So rush'd the footsteps of the embattled train, And send an awful murmur o'er the plain. Tall in the opposing van, bold IRAD stood, And bid the clarion sound the voice of blood. Loud blew the trumpet on the sweeping gales, Rock'd the deep groves, and echoed round the vales; A ceaseless murmur all the concave fills, Waves through the quivering camp, and trembles o'er the hills. High in the gloomy blaze the standards flew; With mingled din, shrill, martial music rings, The shrill swords crack, the clashing shields resound. Here the thick clouds, with purple lustre bright, Spread o'er the long, long host, and gradual sunk in night; Here half the world was wrapp'd in rolling fires, As drives a blast along the midnight heath, |