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Volume 3 (1858-1859) (592 pages)
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Page: of 592
LINES.
And there’s another, dearer link, Some say that ‘absence conquers love,”
My desert heart to them doth bind; But ever yet th’ attempt has prov’d
The kindred which they own to one, That true hearts but the fonder grow,
Whose image ever fills my mind.
an
When last I left yon fading shore,
When sever’d from the dearly lov’d.
Cheats, counterfeits, coguettes, may thus
And gazing, stood, as now I stand; Malign God’s holiest gift to man;
Her hand was fondly link’d in mine; But thro’ all time have honest minds
Both said, “ Adieu, my native land.”
And thoughts of her bring one regret,
Disprov’d this libel on his plan,—
That they are not now by my side;
That ne’er embraced so false a maxim;
To be companions of my way,
It came not from those courts above,
As o’er the broad Atlantic’s tide
Which shew, in highest, purest sense,
That “ God is heaven and heaven is love.”
I bend my course to that bright land, A “Pedlar’s” view of “human natur”
To which our hearts united tend ; May suit for selfish ends, who try;
Where kindred, their affections draw And “Fern Leaves,” artfully decocted,
To her, in whom my love doth end. May lull quick shrinking modesty.
For, far away, where the orb of day
Is now just sinking in the sea;
Beyond yon pathless occan’s bound,
But truths, learnt at our mother’s knees,
My heart’s deep feelings turn to thee.
Such novel-ties can’t displace as yet;
They fail to “ still the heart's affections,”
Nor can they “ banish its regret.”
“ Star of my life!” where waving pines
And rugged peaks ’midst caiions roar;
And, dark Sierras, capp’d with snow,
Like he who rashly touch’d the ark,
Mark California’s golden shore.
Some rush “ where angels fear to tread ;”
And rend, with sacrilegious hands,
Ties, sacred as their father’s bed.
But half an eventful year has pass’d, But “vulgar natures” e’er are rude;
Since that seductive land I left;
Then, wildly pacing o’er the deck,
Impell’d by their own groveling senses,
My lone heart felt of all bereft.
Instinctively, they strive to wound
And truly did I then presage
All finer souls, which their offense is.
The end of that unwise beginning,
Small villains keenly watch the chance
To “hound” a nobler mind in error;
Which specious pretexts justified Their vanity, or lust, would make
In frauds,’gainst truth and nature sinning;
And ever did my sense recoil
Of social life a “reign of terror.”
From such dissembling “‘ moral beauty ;”
Oft ignorance to their cunning yields [it ;
; The “gaping crowds,” brute-force to back
But, sophistry prevail’d, and I Their courage then discreetly shews
Succumb’d, to tread “ the path of duty.”
A canting phrase of solemn knaves,
Such “ men of mettle” never lack it.
[ties ;
Whose walks oft shew strange incongruiWith artful tongue they will distort
The holiest truths, by smart quotations,
Austerely sly :—a paradox— Stolen from stacks of musty wit,
Their love for carnal superfluities.
A phrase—misus’d by honest fools ; Their lives are one dissimulation,
Who in one line think each man’s place is: Their course a locomotive lie;
Vain Empiries! whose nostrums kill Assuming virtues ne’er possess’d,
When * circumstances alter cases.” Practising what they most deny.
T’ express their scheming cogitations.