To those, who are not strangers to a Father's heart, no apology is necessary for inserting the following chaste and affectionate lines, recently received from a beloved daughter, some of whose productions the reader has already seen.
SATURDAY EVENING TWILIGHT.
THIS is the hour, dear Father, when our hearts
Mingled in sweet communion: when the hum
And busy labour of the week were o'er,
And we could sit with care-unshadowed brows,
Gazing upon the beautiful: the moon
In her majestick glory, and the stars
With their unsullied beauty. And from them
With joy we turned to their great Author, Gop,
Our Father and our Friend, who form'd this earth
So beautiful and glorious. In that hour,
The thrilling musick of our vesper hymn
Came from our household voices; and the one
Most potent to address the wanderer,
And bring him back to virtue and to peace,
Was there with all its magick influence.
It was my mother's! Oh, that soothing voice
Will never cease to hover o'er my heart,
Speaking in angel-tones, till memory's sun
Shall set to rise no more! And, Father, yet
The radiance of thy smile lingers around
To soften and to bless; and it shall have
A mighty charm to guard me against ill.
My fair-haired sisters, too, and brothers dear,
All claim a fond remembrance, and they have
The fervent blessings of a sister's heart.
Father, thy home is now afar from mine;
Vast waters roll between us and I have
Dear ties that bind me to another home;
Yet, yet my heart retains its love for thee,
And when are past old Jordan's waves, a home
Will then be ours, where parting never comes!
A TOKEN OF AFFECTIONATE REMEMBRANCE.
FOR MY REVEREND AND MUCH ESTEEMED FRIEND."
SHALL thy Friend, once again, on the ninth of November, O'er the past cast a view, and to memory recall Life's devious maze;-while with joy I remember Off my youth's lurid morn, thou didst lift the dark pall! My heart, ever rife with the purest emotion,
Offers freely to thee, its most grateful returns;
Nor, till life's latest hour, will withhold its devotion,
But cherish the flame which so gratefully burns.
Lo! a crown of bright radiance, from heaven descending,
A promised reward in yon orient sphere
Kindly waits thine approach, from the grave when ascending,
Secured by thy deeds of Beneficence here.
Lorenzo-though wanting thy kindness attending-
Enshrines in his heart all thy worth, while is blending
Each day, with his prayers; holy Gratitude's tear!
Mt. Parnassus, Ct., Nov. 9, 1834.
I would that thou wert cold or hot. So, then, because thou art lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spew thee out of my mouth.-REV. 111. 15, 16.
HERE let me perch. How blest when such a seat
Is in reserve for us-the wise, the great!
For who could bear to mingle with the throng
Of such as talk of conscience!—a mere song!
Thank heaven, from such annoyance I am free;
Who wish repose, come mount the fence with me.
I view the earth-born race with indignation,
Who pay to PRINCIPLE their adoration.
For what is principle?-an empty name!
Conscience and principle are but a shame-
A blot a stigmalay such trash aside,
And if you wish for fame, come to the fence, and ride!
What numerous topicks set the world ajar!
Temperance and Anti-Slavery, Peace and War,
Colonization, Anti-masonry, Banks :-
And pseudo Patriots, of all names and ranks,
Whigs, Federals, Loco-focos, Democrats,
Van Buren-Webster-Clay-and-Jackson-brats,-
All strive alike; and each, to gain his wishes,
Would feast on Whig or Administration "fishes!"
Here, ON THE FENCE, I hold the golden mean,
And scorn in party contests to be seen.
RELIGIOUS PARTIES! How can such endure?
I've no religion:-ergo-I am PURE!
Conscious I am of "absolute volition ;"
And, whence derived, affects not my condition.
And whether I'm impelled by "moral suasion,”
Or fixed "decree,”—each answers my occasion.
And whether I believe "one God, or twenty,"
Whose business is 't?-sure we have creeds in plenty.
Why should I care for others' creeds, I beg ;—
"They neither rob my purse, nor break my leg!” 28
"For modes of faith, let graceless zealots" squabble,
I'm on the fence, and thus keep out o' the hobble !
In all the moral efforts of the day,
Does not self-interest hold a ruling sway ?
Who, but the man that knows the use of figures
To compound interest, cares about the "niggers ?"
I care no more about "amalgamation,”
Than its antipodes, "colonization ;"
For, is not slavery sanctioned by the law?
Then, why thus rashly brave this lion's paw?
And why should Temperance rouse the world to arms? For wise men still admit that rum has charms !
If no true courage we by birth inherit,
Why not create some, with New-England spirit?
Yet think not me an advocate for drinking;
“Let it alone all will work right, I'm thinking.
|