CUTTING THE First T REE

I

Then to work we blithely went,
And we soon got up a tent,
On a point 'round which the lake
Wound like an enormous snake,
As 'twould bind it hard and fast.
Then it stretch'd away at last,
Till in the horizon lost,
Swallow'd in its cloud-built coast.

II

There our humble tent was spread,
With the green boughs overhead,
Such as wand'ring Arabs rear
In their deserts lone and drear.
'Twas a temporary thing,
Yet it made our hearts to sing;

THE J OURNEY

I

In the good ship Edward Thorn
O'er the billows we were borne.
A motley company were we,
Sailing o'er that dreary sea.
Many from their homes had fled,
For they had denied them bread;
Some from sorrow and distress,
Others from mere restlessness;
Some because they long'd to see
The promis'd land of liberty;
Some because their hopes were high,
Others for — they knew not why.

II

There was doubting John, the teacher,
Spouting Tom, nicknamed " the preacher, "

LEAVING H OME

I

Let us sit upon this stone,
With its grey moss overgrown,
While we talk about the past, —
For I'm left the very last
Of that simple, hardy race
Who first settled in this place;
At whose stroke the forest fell,
And the sound of Sabbath bell
Startled Desolation's brood
In the trackless solitude.

II

Half a century has roll'd,
With its burdens manifold,
Since I left my home so dear,
Came, a young adventurer, here.
Many faces Fortune wears

Song

Old England is eaten by knaves,
Yet her heart is all right at the core,
May she ne'er be the mother of slaves,
Nor a foreign foe land on her shore.

I love my own country and race,
Nor lightly I fled from them both,
Yet who would remain in a place
Where there's too many spoons for the broth.

The squire's preserving his game.
He says that God gave it to him,
And he'll banish the poor without shame,

LEAVING H OME

He asks his companion to sit down with him while he recounts the story of his journey from the fatherland.
He moralizes on the changes of fifty years.
He recalls the friends who met to bid him farewell.
It was a morning in spring when all nature, though beautiful, seemed to have an air of sympathetic sadness.
His grandfather comes to give him his blessing.
The grandfather's parting counsel.

The J OURNEY

He describes the motley company on the ship.

THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,
The plowman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.

Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds:

Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower

30
Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth,
A Youth, to Fortune and to Fame unknown:
Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth,
And Melancholy mark'd him for her own.
31

Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,
Heav'n did a recompense as largely send:
He gave to Misery (all he had), a tear,
He gained from Heav'n ('twas all he wish'd) a friend.
32

No farther seek his merits to disclose,
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode,
(There they alike in trembling hope repose,)
The bosom of his Father and his God.

The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Await alike th'inevitable hour:
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault
If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise,
Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.

Can storied urn or animated bust
Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust,
Or Flatt'ry soothe the dull cold ear of death?

I was a joke at dinners; aye, any would-be wit
Might use me for a target, and I must stomach it.
Five years I could be loyal; but now, you'll often mourn,
Biting your nails for anguish, the faith at last outworn,
Nay, weeping will not touch me — I know that trick of old;
You always weep from ambush, I cannot be cajoled.
I shall depart in tears, but my wrongs will check their flow;
Ours was a team well sorted — you could not leave it so.
So now, my mistress' threshold, where oft my tear-drops fell,
And thou, the door I haunted, I bid ye both farewell.

" This warning, Gallus, for thy love I send,
Nor let it from thy heart unheeded fall.
Thou hast a Hylas too, thy fairest friend,
Whom many a wanton nymph would fain enthral
By Anio's stream, or in the forests tall,
Or at the Giant's Causeway cast her spell,
Or on some wandering river. Shun them all,
Remembering what the Minyae befell,
And listen to the tale which now to thee I tell.

From Pagasae — so runs the story old —
The Argo sailed to Phasis' distant land,
And passing by the waves that Helli hold