While you are emptying your colloquial pack,
The fiend Lumbago jumps upon his back.
Nor cloud his features with the unwelcome tale
Of how he looks, if haply thin and pale:
Health is a subject for his child, his wife,
And the rude office that insures his life,
Look in his face to meet thy neighbor's soul,
Not on his garments to detect a hole:
"How to observe" is what thy pages show,
Pride of thy sex, Miss Harriet Martineau !
O, what a precious book the one would be,
That taught observers what they 're not to see!
I tell in verse - 't were better done in prose -
One curious trick that everybody knows;
Once form this habit, and it's very strange
How long it sticks, how hard it is to change.
Two friendly people, both disposed to smile,
Who meet, like others, every little while,
Instead of passing with a pleasant bow,
And "How d'ye do?" or "How's your uncle now?”
Impelled by feelings in their nature kind,
But slightly weak, and somewhat undefined,
Rush at each other, make a sudden stand,
Begin to talk, expatiate, and expand;
Each looks quite radiant, seems extremely struck,
Their meeting so was such a piece of luck;
Each thinks the other thinks he's greatly pleased
To screw the vice in which they both are squeezed;
So there they talk, in dust, or mud, or snow,
Both bored to death, and both afraid to go!
THERE's a bold, bald bird, with a bending beak,
With an angry eye, and a startling shriek,
That inhabits the crag, where the cliff-flowers blow
On the precipice top, in perpetual snow.
He sits where the air is shrill and bleak,
On the splintered point of a shivered peak,
Bold, bald, and stripped, like a vulture torn,
In wind and strife, his feathers worn.
AL ruffled and stained, yet gleaming bright,
Round his serpent neck, that's wrinkled and white,
Winds a red tuft of hair, which glitters afar,
Like the crest of a chieftain thinned in war.
This bird of the cliff, where the barren yew springs,
Where the sun-beams play, and the wind-harp sings
Sits erect, unapproachable, fearless, and proud,
And screams, flies aloft, and lights in the cloud.
He's the bird of our banner:-the eagle that braves,
When the battle is there, the wrath of the waves; -
He rides on the storm, in its hurricane march,
'Mid lightning's broad blaze, across the blue arch.
He dips his bold wing in the blushes of day;
Drinks noon's fervid light, and eve's parting ray,
He visits the stars at their home in the sky,
And meets the sun's beam with an unquailing eye.
SPEED THE PROW.
Nor the ship that swiftest saileth,
But which longest holds her way
Onward, onward, never faileth,
Storm and calm, to win the day;
Earliest she the haven gains,
Which the hardest stress sustains.
O'er life's ocean, wide and pathless,
Thus would I with patience steer;
No vain hope of journeying scathless,
No proud boast to face down fear;
Dark or bright his Providence,
Trust in God be my defence.
Time there was, 't is so no longer,
When I crowded every sail,
Battled with the waves, and stronger
Grew, as stronger grew the gale;
But my strength sunk with the wind
And the sea lay dead behind.
There my bark had foundered surely,
But a power invisible
Breathed upon me;-then securely
Borne along the gradual swell,
Helm and shrouds, and heart renewed,
I my humbler course pursued.
Now, though evening shadows blacken,
And no star comes through the gloom,
On I move, nor will I slacken
Sail, though verging towards the tomb:
Bright beyond, on heaven's high strand,
Lo, the lighthouse! - land, land, land
Cloud and sunshine, wind and weather,
Sense and sight, are fleeting fast;
Time and tide must fail together,
Life and death will soon be past;
But where day's last spark declines
Glory everlasting shines.
DEAR friends, we thank you for your condescension,
In deigning thus to lend us your attention;
And hope the various pieces we recite
(Youth though we are) will yield you some delight.
From wisdom and from knowledge pleasure springs
Surpassing far the glaring pomp of kings;
All outward splendor quickly dies away,
But wisdom's honors never can decay.
Blest is the man who treads her paths in youth,-
They lead to virtue, happiness, and truth;
Sages and patriots in these ways have trod,
Saints have walked in them till they reached their God
The powers of eloquence can charm the soul,
Inspire the virtuous, and the bad control;
Can rouse the passions, or their rage can still,
And mould a stubborn mob to one man's will.
Such powers the great Demosthenes attained,
Who haughty Philip's conquering course restrained;
Indignant thundering at his country's shame,
Till every breast in Athens caught the flame.
Such powers were Cicero's: -with patriot might,
He dragged the lurking treason forth to light,
Which long had festered in the heart of Rome,
And saved his country from her threatened doom.
Nor to the senate or the bar confined;—
The pulpit shows its influence o'er the mind;
Such glorious deeds can eloquence achieve;
Such fame, such deathless laurels, it can give.
Then say not this, our weak attempt, is vain,
For frequent practice will perfection gain;
The fear to speak in public it destroys,
And drives away the bashfulness of boys.
CLEON hath a million acres
Ne'er a one have I;
Cleon dwelleth in a palace
In a cottage, I;
Cleon hath a dozen fortunes-
Not a penny, I;
But the poorer of the twain is
Cleon, and not I.
Cleon, true, possesseth acres,
But the landscape, I;
Half the charms to me it yieldeth
Money cannot buy;
Cleon harbors sloth and dulness,
Freshening vigor, I;
He in velvet, I in fustian,-
Richer man am I.
Cleon is a slave to grandeur-
Free as thought am I;
Cleon fees a score of doctors-
Need of none have I;
Wealth surrounded, care-environed,
Cleon fears to die;
Death may come, he 'll find me ready,➡
Happier man am I.
WE are all here!
Father, Mother,
Sister, Brother,
All who hold each other dear.
Each chair is filled-we 're all at home
To-night let no cold stranger come;
It is not often thus around
Our old familiar hearth we 're found;
Bless, then, the meeting and the spot;
For once be every care forgot;
Let gentle Peace assert her power,
And kind Affection rule the hour;
We're all-all here.
Some are away-the dead ones dear, Who thronged with us this ancient hearth And gave the hour to guiltless mirth. Fate, with a stern, relentless hand, Looked in and thinned our little band: Some like a night-flash passed away, And some sank, lingering, day by day; The quiet graveyard.
And cruel Ocean has his share
We're not all here.
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