"Deem me not thoughtless, that I weave my bitter tale, "Rude and short, for my heart with anguish doth bewail "The misery that hangs like clouds above your head"The day was nearly gone, when sudden horror fled "From field to field, and men and women shrunk with fear, "In haste approach'd to learn the bitter truth more clear; "The news like lightning flash'd upon each weary swain, "That death by accident, from out their ranks had ta'en "The subject of my theme-and as each man appears, "He pays the solemn tribute of his grief in tears; "Would I could chase the sadness from your youthful brows, "And from the sleep of Death your father's bones arouse ! "But, no, 'tis not in mortal's pow'r to give relief "By giving life, and rob the breast of cank'ring grief.'

"He paused-life's current trickled faster thro' each vein"A choking weight oppress'd my breast-my heated brain "Was fill'd with horrid visions-life seem'd only sent, "By grief, misfortune, and by suffering, to be spent.

"Time pass'd-aye! years had flown-my brothers all had gone "And left me friendless, homeless, in the world forlorn; "To fight 'gainst Poverty in every form and shape"They thought the soldier's life would give secure escape "From peasant slavery, and make them happier far"Alas! they fell upon the bloody plains of war!

"Now, nought remains of all my childhood's home beheld, "But visions that appear and will not be dispell'd!

"I will not weary by describing all I saw

"And felt, of trouble, 'ere I reach'd my second score;

"Nor need I tell my struggles day by day, to be

"More wise, more happy, and, oh, vision wild! more free-
"Yes, wild indeed! a peasant free! 'tis but a dream,
"Delusive to the heart-he glides adown the stream
"Of life, an unprogressive serf, from birth to death,
"Both mind and body feel the hell-polluted breath
"Of tyranny-which blights the human flowers that spring
"In modest pride-their fragrance cheerfully to fling
"O'er the wand'rers path, to give a sweetness to his life,
"And change the bitter dregs that mix the cup of strife.

""Tis past! I thought, when boyhood's happy visions came, "And life was tinsell'd and deluded by the same,

"That Freedom soon would smile from out her heav'n Ideal, "And chase the dreary clouds that hang above the real.

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But, no! my life, made up of many years of toil,

"Doth feel the weight remain that binds us to the soil;
"Our minds are bias'd and estrang'd from Nature's Law-
"We feel, but dare not speak, we know that we are poor.
"We worship in the temples rear'd by human hands,
"And profess the creed that wealthy tyranny demands;
"Our hearts are sear'd by craft, and conscious oft we fall,
"Like hypocrites, to greet the inmates of the Hall.

"Alas! for manhood, when the hardy sons of earth,
"Chain-bound like cattle, range but in the narrow girth
"The chain of tyranny allows-are kept behind,
"Conscious of every wrong or ignorantly blind,
"Unaided by a single class, whose aid would give
"A brighter future, where we all in love might live!

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Away the theme! I've struggled, suffer'd all in vain, "To rouse my comrades and the goal of freedom gain. "All hope seems past! a few there be who seem distress'd "By puzzling problems-how the readiest and best "Of all the plans that haunt their long bewilder'd brains "For our redemption, might be used to soothe their pains. "But Ignorance doth spread its shadows far and wide, "And grov'lling thousands behind those shadows hide, "And live and drudge as tho' they knew no other bliss, "Content to cringe and slave and nobler thoughts dismiss. ""Tis there our weakness lies! and those who tax our strength "Know well the compass which would guide our barque at length "Unto the goal where manhood reigns, supremely crown'd, "And equal rights and equal privileges are found.

“Sullen and sad at times, my conscious Life hath been, "At intervals, the sport of Hope's deceptive mien"Now driven forward roughly in the Peasant's track"Now falling down, or roughly made to journey back; "Ever elate with promis'd joys by treach'ry plann'd, "Ere reach'd the wish'd-for goal to sink within the sand. "I loved and married, and the few brief years that pass'd

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In wedlock joy, all other years in bliss surpass'd;

"And to a widower'd life, bow'd down by husky grief, "Ellen, my only child, is left to give relief.

'My throat is parch'd and tears are falling from my heart, "Which Nature bids my aged eyes refuse to start;

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My wife, with all that to her mem'ry Fancy wreathes, "Revisits earth-oh! life-like wonderment, she breathes! "Again contented, at the close of day I smile,

"In spite of tir'd bones and forebodings dark the while, "And hold communion free of all domestic strife66 I know no freedom which does not possess my wife. "Our child in growing loveliness beguiles the hours, "With prattling innocence and all her varied powers; "Oh, rapture! heaven itself cannot such rapture yield, "As woos my breast at home, when left the rugged field, "I sit and learn the lessons of the swelling heart, "Which my fond wife and lovely daughter do impart! "Alas! like other visions, this tho' bright must fly"My dear fond wife desert our happiness to die. "Begone the mem'ry! that bright and transcient gleam "Of happiness! too short and yet too long a dream,

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Fraught with pleasure and with spirit-deadening pain, "I would not longer it should haunt my troubl'd brain !"

What changing scenes a few brief specks of time produce!
What strange imaginings the hope-sped heart seduce!
The child comes forth, in innocent and happy joy,

The sport of fancies, which, like dreams, its thoughts decoy--
All fact seems fiction, robed in ideal fashion'd dress-
All fiction seems but fact, with power to charm and bless.
But soon do childhood's visions, fraught with magic power,
Desert the mind they once enchanted hour by hour,
That Youth, with mind expanding, may usurp their place,
And, like the blooming flower, divulge a steadier grace,
'Till Manhood comes, opprest with mortal strife and sadness,
No more the sport of childish joy and youthful gladness,
And themes that charm'd of yore, and seemed divinely fair
To thoughtless Youth, to Age a different aspect wear.
So passes life along Time's rough unending track-

The things we love depart, and nought can bring them back!
Two aged souls are borne from human life below,

One rich, the other crown'd with poverty and woe;

One the sire of the hero of our simple tale,

The other honest Gilbert of the rural vale.

A change severe within one twelve-month of the day-
The peasant to his children spoke of Life's decay-

Had crossed their path-they mourn'd in secret unconsol'd,
'Till Time suppress'd their grief, and bade them be more bold.

At last the Bridal hour hath come-the village bells

Ring sweetly-and each bounding heart with rapture swells.
The day is beautiful, and every herb and flower

Is moist with the dewy tear-drops of a passing shower;
The gentle breeze makes tremulous the foliage green,
Which canopies the trees in summer's golden sheen;
The sun in rich delight a blaze of glory sheds,
And with its radiant pow'r, in lucious beauty, weds
The myriad symbols of the love and truth of God,
Scatter'd in regal grandeur o'er the fruitful sod;
The halls of nature thrill aloud with music notes of joy,
And raptures everywhere give to the mind employ.

Tis past! the Priest hath tied the knot, the youthful pair
Together wander o'er the fields-together share
The joys in nature-and when cares or sorrows press,
Together bear the weight, and live in love's caress.
The widow Agnes, with maternal pride, appears,
As though her form defied the crust of gath'ring years;
And in the household bustling busily and free,
Her voice, in broken cadence, quick and merrily
Is heard with pleasure by her Alfred and his Bride,
And all the faithful servants of the hall beside.

GENIUS.

E'en as the mind on Fancy's wings doth glide
Along the gloomy "corridors of time,"

There floats upon the surface of the tide,

Which moves the world upon its course sublime,
A form divine, that strings the poet's rhyme,
And lends a lustre, radiant and serene,

To human life, in every form and clime.
Genius! thou child of truth's majestic Queen!
Thy visionary form from WANT how seldom seen!
Alas! Neglect, with harsh and chilling breath,
Roams o'er the fruitful and delicious earth,
To fan the minstrel with the gale of death,
Who mounts, with soul serene, the heavenly girth;
And, though entranc'd in spiritual mirth,

Descends, enraptur'd with prophetic voice,

To paint the world, when Truth and Love and Worth Shall be the summits of Ambition's choice,

And men in social love together shall rejoice.

Kings! ye have fronted armies, fierce and brave,
And pamper'd sycophants have loiter'd near
The blood-stain'd emblems of your guilt to wave,
To gain your plaudits and your frowns to fear;
But where the trophies to a country dear,
Which give immortal lustre to your name,
Like those in Art's and Poetry's career,

Whose magic virtues rouse the slumb'ring flame
Of human zeal, and light afresh the lamp of Fame?
Inagination o'er the gloomy Past

A web of terror and of grandeur spins;
The myriad-peopled world, sublime and vast,
Its heaven-destroying handiwork begins;
And blinded millions, grovelling in their sins,

Are led by priestly craft and kingly pride

To aid the cause which Freedom never winsTo slavery and ignorance allied,

They stood upon the plains and battled, bled, and died!