MONARCH of rivers in the wide domain Where Freedom writes her signature in stars, And bids her eagle bear the blazing scroll To usher in the reign of peace and love, Thou mighty Mississippi !-may my song Swell with thy power, and though an humble rill, Roll, like thy current, through the sea of time, Bearing thy name, as tribute from my soul Of fervent gratitude and holy praise, To Him who poured thy multitude of waves. Shadowed beneath those awful piles of stone, Where liberty has found a Pisgah height, O'erlooking all the land she loves to bless, The jagged rocks and icy towers her guard, Whose splintered summits seize the warring clouds, And roll them, broken, like a host o'erthrown, Adown the mountain's side, scattering their wealth Of powdered pearl and liquid diamond drops-There is thy source, great river of the west!
Slowly, like youthful Titan gathering strength
To war with Heaven and win himself a name,
The stream moves onward through the dark ravines,
Rending the roots of over-arching trees,
To form its narrow channel, where the star,
That fain would bathe its beauty in the wave,
Like lover's glance steals trembling through the
That veil the waters with a vestal's care: [leaves
And few of human form have ventured there,
Save the swart savage in his bark canoe.
But now it deepens, struggles, rushes on;
Like goaded war-horse, bounding o'er the foe,
It clears the rocks it may not spurn aside,
Leaping, as Curtius leaped adown the gulf,
And rising, like Antæus from the fall,
Its course majestic through the land pursues,
And the broad river o'er the valley reigns!
It reigns alone: the tributary streams
Are humble vassals, yielding to its sway;
And when the wild Missouri fain would join
A rival in the race-as Jacob seized
On his red brother's birthright-even so
The swelling Mississippi grasps that wave,
And, rebaptizing, makes the waters one.
The rushing Rhone, in whose cerulean depths
The loving sky seems wedded with the wave;
The yellow Tiber, choked with Roman spoils,
A dying miser shrinking 'neath his gold;
And Seine, where Fashion glasses fairest forms;
And Thames, that bears the riches of the world:
Gather their waters in one ocean mass-
Our Mississippi, rolling proudly on,
Would sweep them from its path, or swallow up,
Like Aaron's rod, these streams of fame and song!
And thus the peoples, from the many lands,
Where these old streams are household memories,
Mingle beside our river, and are one--
And join to swell the strength of Freedom's tide,
That from the fount of Truth is flowing on,
To sweep earth's thousand tyrannies away.
It reigns alone and earth the sceptre feels: Her ancient trees are bowed beneath the wave, Or, rent like reeds before the whirlwind's swoop, Toss on the bosom of the maddened flood, A floating forest, till the waters, calmed, Like slumbering anaconda gorged with prey, Open a haven to the moving mass, Or form an island in the dark abyss.
It reigns alone: old Nile would ne'er bedew The lands it blesses with its fertile tide. Even sacred Ganges, joined with Egypt's flood, Would shrink beside this wonder of the west! Ay, gather Europe's royal rivers all—
How wise, how wonderful the works of God!
And, hallowed by his goodness, all are good.
The creeping glow-worm, the careering sun,
Are kindled from the effluence of his light;
The ocean and the acorn-cup are filled
By gushings from the fountain of his love.
He poured the Mississippi's torrent forth,
And heaved its tide above the trembling land-
Grand type how Freedom lifts the citizen
Above the subject masses of the world-
And marked the limits it may never pass.
Trust in his promises, and bless his power,
Ye dwellers on its banks, and be at peace.
And ye, whose way is on this warrior wave,
When the swoln waters heave with ocean's might,
And storms and darkness close the gate of heaven,
And the frail bark, fire-driven, bounds quivering on,
As though it rent the iron shroud of night,
And struggled with the demons of the flood-
Fear nothing! He who shields the folded flower,
When tempests rage, is ever present here.
Lean on "our Father's" breast in faith and prayer
And sleep-his arm of love is strong to save.
The snow-swelled Neva, with an empire's weight
On her broad breast, she yet may overwhelm ;
Dark Danube, hurrying, as by foe pursued,
Through shaggy forests and from palace walls,
To hide its terrors in a sea of gloom;
The castled Rhine, whose vine-crowned waters flow,
The fount of fable and the source of song;
Great Source of being, beauty, light, and love, Creator-Lord-the waters worship thee! Ere thy creative smile had sown the flowersEre the glad hills leaped upward, or the earth, With swelling bosom, waited for her childBefore eternal Love had lit the sun, Or Time had traced his dial-plate in stars, The joyful anthem of the waters flowed: And Chaos like a frightened felon fled, While on the deep the Holy Spirit moved.
And evermore the deep has worshipped God; And bards and prophets tune their mystic lyres, While listening to the music of the floods. Oh, could I catch this harmony of sounds, As borne on dewy wings they float to heaven, And blend their meaning with my closing strain!
Hark! as a reed-harp thrilled by whispering winds, Or naiad murmurs from a pearl-lipped shell, It comes-the melody of many waves! And loud, with Freedom's world-awaking note, The deep-toned Mississippi leads the choir. The pure, sweet fountains chant of heavenly hope The chorus of the rifls is household love; The rivers roll their song of social joy; And ocean's organ voice is sounding forth The hymn of Universal Brotherhood!
"There's wisdom in the grass-its teachings would we heed."
THERE knelt beneath the tulip tree
A maiden fair and young;
The flowers o'erhead bloomed gorgeously,
As though by rainbows flung,
And all around were daisies bright,
And pansies with their eyes of light;
Like gold the sun-kissed crocus shone,
With Beauty's smiles the earth seemed strown,
And Love's warm incense filled the air,
While the fair girl was kneeling there.
In vain the flowers may woo around—
Their charms she does not see,
For she a dearer prize has found
Beneath the tulip tree:
A little four-leaved clover, green
As robes that grace the fairy queen,
And fresh as hopes of early youth,
When life is love, and love is truth-
A talisman of constant love
This humble clover sure will prove!
And on her heart that gentle maid
The severed leaves has pressed,
Which through the coming night's dark shade
Beneath her cheek will rest:
Then precious dreams of one will rise,
Like Love's own star in morning skies,
So sweetly bright, we would the day
His glowing chariot might delay.
What tones of pure and tender thought
Those simple leaves to her have taught!
Of old the sacred misletoe
The Druid's altar bound;
The Roman hero's haughty brow
The fadeless laurel crowned.
Dark superstition's sway is past,
And war's red star is waning fast,
Nor misletoe nor laurel hold
The mystic language breathed of old;
For nature's life no power can give,
To bid the false and selfish live.
But still the olive-leaf imparts,
As when, dove-borne, at first,
It taught heaven's lore to human hearts-
Its hope, and joy, and trust;
Nor deem the faith from folly springs,
Which innocent enjoyment brings;
Better from earth root every flower,
Than crush imagination's power,
In true and loving minds, to raise
An Eden for their coming days.
As on each rock, where plants can cling,
The sunshine will be shed-
As from the tiniest star-lit spring
The ocean's depth's are fed-
Thus hopes will rise, if love's clear ray
Keep warm and bright life's rock-strewn way;
And from small, daily joys, distilled,
The heart's deep fount of peace is filled:
Oh, blest when Fancy's ray is given,
Like the ethereal spark, from Heaven!
DESCRIPTION OF ALICE RAY.
THE birds their love-notes warble
Among the blossomed trees;
The flowers are sighing forth their sweets
To wooing honeybees;
The glad brook o'er a pebbly floor
Goes dancing on its way-
But not a thing is so like spring
As happy Alice Ray.
An only child was Alice,
And, like the blest above,
The gentle maid had ever breathed
An atmosphere of love;
Her father's smile like sunshine came,
Like dew her mother's kiss;
Their love and goodness made her home,
Like heaven, the place of bliss.
Beneath such tender training
The joyous child had sprung,
Like one bright flower, in wild-wood bower,
And gladness round her flung;
And all who met her blessed her,
And turned again to pray,
That grief and care might ever spare
The happy Alice Rray.
The gift that made her charming
Was not from Venus caught;
Nor was it, Pallas-like, derived
From majesty of thought:
Her healthful cheek was tinged with brown,
Her hair without a curl-
But then her eyes were love-lit stars,
Her teeth as pure as pearl.
And when in merry laughter
Her sweet, clear voice was heard, It welled from out her happy heart Like carol of a bird;
And all who heard were moved to smiles,
As at some mirthful lay,
And, to the stranger's look, replied,
""Tis that dear Alice Ray."
And so she came, like sunbeams
That bring the April green
As type of nature's royalty,
They called her "Woodburn's queen!"
A sweet, heart-lifting cheerfulness,
Like springtime of the year,
Seemed ever on her steps to wait-
No wonder she was dear.
Her world was ever joyous-
She thought of grief and pain
As giants of the olden time,
That ne'er would come again;
The seasons all had charms for her,
She welcomed each with joy-
The charm that in her spirit lived
No changes could destroy.
Her love made all things lovely,
For in the heart must live
The feeling that imparts the charm—
We gain by what we give.
"Truth shall spring out of the earth."-Psalm lxxxv. 11.
As, in lonely thought, I pondered
On the marv'lous things of earth,
And, in fancy's dreaming, wondered
At their beauty, power, and worth,
Came, like words of prayer, the feeling—
Oh! that God would make me know,
Through the spirit's clear revealing,
What, of all his works below,
Is to man a boon the greatest,
Brightening on from age to age,
Serving truest, earliest, latest,
Through the world's long pilgrimage.
Soon vast mountains rose before me,
Shaggy, desolate, and lone,
Their scarred heads were threat'ning o'er me,
Their dark shadows round me thrown;
Then a voice, from out the mountains,
As an earthquake shook the ground,
And like frightened fawns the fountains,
Leaping, fled before the sound;
And the Anak oaks bowed lowly,
Quivering, aspen-like, with fear-
While the deep response came slowly,
Or it must have crushed mine ear!
"Iron! iron! iron!"-crashing,
Like the battle-axe and shield!
Or the sword on helmet clashing,
Through a bloody battle-field:
"Iron! iron! iron !"-rolling,
Like the far-off cannon's boom;
Or the death-knell, slowly tolling,
Through a dungeon's charnel gloom!
"Iron! iron! iron!"-swinging,
Like the summer winds at play;
Or as bells of Time were ringing
In the blest millennial day!
Then the clouds of ancient fable
Cleared away before mine eyes;
Truth could tread a footing stable
O'er the gulf of mysteries!
Words, the prophet-bards had uttered,
Signs, the oracle foretold,
Spells, the weird-like sybil muttered,
Through the twilight days of old,
Rightly read, beneath the splendor,
Shining now on history's page,
All their faithful witness render-
All portend a better age.
Sisyphus, for ever toiling,
Was the type of toiling men,
While the stone of power, recoiling,
Crushed them back to earth again!
Stern Prometheus, bound and bleeding,
Imaged man in mental chain,
While the vultures, on him feeding,
Were the passions' vengeful reign;
Still a ray of mercy tarried
On the cloud, a white-winged dove,
For this mystic faith had married
Vulcan to the queen of love!
Rugged strength and radiant beauty-
These were one in nature's plan;
Humble toil and heavenward duty-
These will form the perfect man!
Darkly was this doctrine taught us
By the gods of heathendom;
But the living light was brought us,
When the gospel morn had come!
How the glorious change, expected,
Could be wrought, was then made free;
Of the earthly, when perfected,
Rugged iron forms the key!
"Truth from out the earth shall flourish,"
This the Word of God makes known-
Thence are harvests men to nourish-
There let iron's power be shown.
Of the swords, from slaughter gory,
Ploughshares forge to break the soil;
Then will Mind attain its glory,
Then will Labor reap the spoil-
Error cease the soul to 'wilder,
Crime be checked by simple good,
As the little coral-builder
Forces back the furious flood.
While our faith in good grows stronger,
Means of greater good increase;
Iron, slave of war no longer,
Leads the onward march of peace;
Still new modes of service finding,
Ocean, earth, and air, it moves,
And the distant nations binding,
Like the kindred tie it proves;
With its Atlas-shoulder sharing
Loads of human toil and care;
On its wing of lightning bearing
Thought's swift mission through the air.
As the rivers, farthest flowing,
In the highest hills have birth;
As the banyan, broadest growing,
Oftenest bows its head to earth-
So the noblest minds press onward,
Channels far of good to trace;
So the largest hearts bend downward,
Circling all the human race;
Thus, by iron's aid, pursuing
Through the earth their plans of love,
Men our Father's will are doing,
Here, as angels do above!
THE WATCHER.
THE night was dark and fearful, The blast swept wailing by ;A watcher, pale and tearful, Looked forth with anxious eye: How wistfully she gazes-
No gleam of morn is there!
And then her heart upraises
Its agony of prayer!
Within that dwelling lonely,
Where want and darkness reign,
Her precious child, her only,
Lay moaning in his pain;
And death alone can free him-
She feels that this must be:
"But oh! for morn to see him
Smile once again on me!"
A hundred lights are glancing
In yonder mansion fair,
And merry feet are dancing-
They heed not morning there:
Oh! young and lovely creatures,
One lamp, from out your store, Would give that poor boy's features To her fond gaze once more!
The morning sun is shining-
She heedeth not its ray;
Beside her dead, reclining,
That pale, dead mother lay!
A smile her lip was wreathing,
A smile of hope and love,
As though she still were breathing"There's light for us above!"
I SING to him! I dream he hears
The song he used to love,
And oft that blessed fancy cheers
And bears my thoughts above.
Ye say 'tis idle thus to dream-
But why believe it so?
It is the spirit's meteor gleam
To soothe the pang of wo.
Love gives to nature's voice a tone
That true hearts understand-
The sky, the earth, the forest lone,
Are peopled by his wand;
Sweet fancies all our pulses thrill
While gazing on a flower,
And from the gently whisp'ring rill
Is heard the words of power.
I breathe the dear and cherished name,
And long-lost scenes arise;
Life's glowing landscape spreads the same;
The same hope's kindling skies;
The violet-bank, the moss-fringed seat
Beneath the drooping tree,
The clock that chimed the hour to meet,
My buried love, with thee-
O, these are all before me, when
In fancy's realms I rove;
Why urge me to the world again?
Why say the ties of love,
That death's cold, cruel grasp has riven,
Unite no more below?
I'll sing to him-for though in heaven,
He surely heeds my wo!
Mr son, thou wilt dream the world is fair,
And thy spirit will sigh to roam,
And thou must go;-but never, when there,
Forget the light of home!
Though pleasure may smile with a ray more bright,
It dazzles to lead astray;
Like the meteor's flash, 't will deepen the night When treading thy lonely way:
But the hearth of home has a constant flame,
And pure as vestal fire;
"T will burn, 'twill burn for ever the same, For nature feeds the pyre.
The sea of ambition is tempest-tossed,
And thy hopes may vanish like foam: When sails are shivered and compass lost,
Then look to the light of home!
And there, like a star through the midnight cloud,
Thou shalt see the beacon bright,
For never, till shining on thy shroud,
Can be quenched its holy light.
The sun of fame may gild the name,
But the heart ne'er felt its ray;
And fashion's smiles that rich ones claim,
Are beams of a wintry day:
How cold and dim those beams would be,
Should life's poor wanderer come!-My son, when the world is dark to thee, Then turn to the light of home.
THE TWO MAIDENS.
ONE came with light and laughing air,
And cheek like opening blossom-
Bright gems were twined amid her hair,
And glittered on her bosom,
And pearls and costly diamonds deck
Her round, white arms and lovely neck.
Like summer's sky, with stars bedight,
The jewelled robe around her, And dazzling as the noontide light
The radiant zone that bound herAnd pride and joy were in her eye, And mortals bowed as she passed by. Another came: o'er her sweet face
A pensive shade was stealing; Yet there no grief of earth we traceBut the heaven-hallowed feeling Which mourns the heart should ever stray From the pure fount of truth away.
Around her brow, as snowdrop fair,
The glossy tresses cluster,
Nor pearl nor ornament was there,
Save the meek spirit's lustre ;
And faith and hope beamed in her eye,
And angels bowed as she passed by.
MRS. WELLS, formerly Miss FOSTER, was born in Gloucester, Massachusetts. Her father died while she was an infant, and her mother, in a few years, married Mr. Locke, of Boston, the father of Mrs. Osgood. She began to write verses when very young, but published little until her marriage, in 1829, with Mr. Thomas Wells, of the United States revenue service, who was also an author of considerable merit, as is evident from some pieces by him quoted in Mr. Kettell's Specimens of American Poetry.
In 1830 Mrs. Wells published a small vol
ume entitled Poems and Juvenile Sketches, and she has since been an occasional contributor to several periodicals that have been edited by her personal friends. The poems of Mrs. Wells are characterized by womanly feeling and a tasteful simplicity of diction. Her range is limited, and she has the good sense to enter only the fields to which she is invited by her affections and the natural fancies which are their children. While therefore her successes have not been brilliant they have been honorable, and she-has to regret no failures.
In a low, white-washed cottage, overrun
With mantling vines, and sheltered from the sun
By rows of maple trees, that gently moved
Their graceful limbs to the mild breeze they loved,
Oft have I lingered-idle it might seem,
But that the heart was busy; and I deem
Those minutes not misspent, when silently
The soul communes with nature, and is free.
O'erlooking this low cottage, stately stood
The huge Ascutney: there, in thoughtful mood,
I loved to hold with her gigantic form
Deep converse-not articulate, but warm
With feeling's noiseless eloquence, and fit
The soul of nature with man's soul to knit.
In various aspect, frowning on the day,
Or touched with morning twilight's silvery gray,
Or darkly mantled in the dusky night,
Or by the moonbeams bathed in showers of light-
In each, in all, a glory still was there,
A spirit of sublimity; but ne'er
Had such a might of loveliness and power
The mountain wrapt, as when, at midnight hour,
I saw the tempest gather round her head:
It was an hour of joy, yet tinged with dread.
As the deep thunder rolled from cloud to cloud,
From all her hidden caves she cried aloud:
Wood, cliff, and valley, with the echo rung;
From rock and crag darting, with forked tongue
The lightning glanced, a moment laying bare
Her naked brow, then silence-darkness there!
And straight again the tumult, as if rocks
Had split, and headlong rolled. But nature mocks
All language: these are scenes I ne'er again
May look upon-but precious thoughts remain
On memory's page; and ever in my heart,
Amid all other claims, that mountain hath a part.
THE TAMED EAGLE.
He sat upon his humble perch, nor flew
At my approach;
But as I nearer drew,
Looked on me, as I fancied, with reproach,
And sadness too:
And something still his native pride proclaimed,
Despite his wo;
Which, when I marked-ashamed
To see a noble creature brought so low-
My heart exclaimed:
"Where is the fire that lit thy fearless eye,
Child of the storm,
When from thy home on high, Yon craggy-breasted rock, I saw thy form Cleaving the sky?
"It grieveth me to see thy spirit tamedGone out the light
That in thine eyeball flamed, When to the midday sun thy steady flight Was proudly aimed!
"Like a young dove forsaken, is the look Of thy sad eye,
Who, in some lonely nook, Mourns on the willow bough her destiny, Beside the brook.
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