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diff --git a/29606.txt b/29606.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6962b76 --- /dev/null +++ b/29606.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2002 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Emigrant, by Frederick William Thomas + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Emigrant + or Reflections While Descending the Ohio + +Author: Frederick William Thomas + +Release Date: August 4, 2009 [EBook #29606] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EMIGRANT *** + + + + +Produced by Bryan Ness, Katherine Ward, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from scans of public domain works at the +University of Michigan's Making of America collection.) + + + + + + + + + + THE + EMIGRANT, + + OR + + REFLECTIONS + WHILE DESCENDING THE OHIO. + + A Poem, + + BY FREDERICK W. THOMAS. + + + "_Westward the star of Empire takes its way._" + + + From the original Edition of 1833, to which is added a memoir of the + author. + + + CINCINNATI: + PRINTED FOR J. DRAKE. + SPILLER, PRINTER. + 1872. + + Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872: + By JOSIAH DRAKE, + In the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + PAGE + PREFACE iii + DEDICATION v + MEMOIR vii + THE EMIGRANT 9 + NOTES 41 + ERRATA 48 + + + + +PREFACE. + + +This POEM was written under the circumstances which its title implies. +Three years since, as the author was descending the Ohio, to become a +citizen of the West, he wrote a considerable number of stanzas, +expressive of his feelings, six or eight of which were published as a +fragment on his arrival in Cincinnati, in the Commercial Daily +Advertiser, and republished and noticed by different prints in a way +that induced the author, from time to time, to add stanzas to stanzas, +until they almost imperceptibly reached their present number. He wrote +on, without any previous study of the style or manner in which the +subject should be pursued--using the poetic license of light and shade +as Fancy dictated. Being in ill health, and coming to a strange land, +it was very natural for his Reflections to be of a sombre cast, +without there being any thing peculiar in his situation differing from +that of other Emigrants. + +The reader will perceive that the metrical arrangement of the stanzas +is the same as that used by Gray, in his Ode to Adversity, with this +difference, that the Ode is written in lines of eight syllables, and +the author has attempted the heroic measure. + +After the POEM had been finished some time, the author delivered it in +the Hall of the Lyceum to an assemblage of Ladies and Gentlemen. Their +reception and that of the several editors (to whom he is most +grateful) who noticed its delivery, and gave extracts from the POEM, +induced him to publish it. + +The author has by him many manuscript pieces with which he might have +swelled the volume to a much greater size; but as this is his first +attempt at authorship, in the shape of a volume, he offers it, +tremblingly, at the ordeal of public opinion, merely as a sample of +his ware. + + + + +DEDICATION. + + +TO CHARLES HAMMOND, ESQ. + +MY DEAR SIR, + + Before I had the pleasure of your personal acquaintance, + differing from you as I do on many political points, I imbibed + some of those impressions against you, which ever attach to an + exalted character, when he takes a decided stand in the + political arena. + + Permit me, Sir, in acknowledging how much those impressions + were prejudices, to inscribe this volume to you, in testimony + of my admiration for your talents, and respect for your + virtues. And, moreover, as the first encouragement which I + received, for this my first literary attempt of any length, + proceeded from yourself; if it has merit, I know no one to + whom I should more properly inscribe it than to the one, who + being entitled to speak _ex cathedra_ on the subject, first + cheered me with the hope of its success. And if it shall be + found to be destitute of merit, while it shows that your + judgment has for once been wrong, it will also prove that the + error proceeded from a personal partiality, for which I am + anxious to express my gratitude. + + I am, Sir, + With the greatest respect, + Your obliged friend and humble servant, + THE AUTHOR. + + CINCINNATI, _April 23, 1833_. + + + + +MEMOIR. + + +Frederick William Thomas was the oldest child of E. S. Thomas and Anna +his wife. He was born at Providence Rhode Island, but spent his +earlier years at Charleston South Carolina, where Mr. E. S. Thomas +resided and edited and published the Charleston City Gazette. + +While Frederick William was still young, Mr. Thomas removed to +Baltimore Maryland, and there his son was educated and brought up to +the profession of the law. Being unfortunate in business, when +Frederick William was about nineteen, Mr. Thomas resolved to remove +with his family to the west, which he did, making Cincinnati his place +of residence. His son however, remained in Baltimore. + +It was in the following year while journeying West, to join his family +in their new home, that this poem--the Emigrant was suggested to him, +by the associations and the romantic scenery of the Ohio river, and +while descending it most, if not all the poem, was written. He was +about twenty-one when it appeared. It was followed by "Clinton +Bradshaw," or the adventures of a Lawyer, published by Carey, Lee and +Blanchard, of Philadelphia. This was called the best American Novel of +its time. Mr. Thomas' next venture was "East and West" which was +succeeded by "Howard Pinkney." During the years which intervened +between the writing of these books he resided in the west, principally +in Cincinnati, and wrote tales, sketches, fugitive poetry, delivered +lectures, and made political speeches. In 1840 when General Harrison +was elected President, Mr. Thomas went to Washington City. After +General Harrison's death, Mr. Tyler gave him an office under +government and he continued to reside at the Capital, but wrote little +except an occasional song or story. Some years elapsed and Mr. Thomas +left Washington and went south on a lecturing tour. He was engaged to +write for several newspapers and continued lecturing through the South +and West. His literary efforts at this period were chiefly confined to +Magazine articles, short poems and songs. His song "T'is said that +Absence conquers Love," was one of the most popular of the day. He +often spoke of the feeling he had in passing of a summers night +through a strange city and having his own words greet him from houses +whose inmates only knew of his existence through them. + +Clinton Bradshaw was also very popular. An American visiting Calcutta +India, wrote home of the thrill it gave him to find it on the shelves +of a book store there. + +Mr. Thomas was popular in society for he was amiable and entertaining. +He was a fine belle letter scholar, and was remarkable for his +conversationable powers--he had a fund of anecdote always at command. +He was a great observer and studier of Character and a believer in +human nature. + +The year 1866 found him again in Washington city where after a short +illness he died. Recently his remains have been brought to Cincinnati, +by his brother Calvin W. Thomas and placed beside those of his parents +in Spring Grove Cemetery. + + + + + The Emigrant, + + OR + REFLECTIONS[1] + WHILE DESCENDING THE OHIO. + + + I. + We both are pilgrims, wild and winding river! + Both wandering onward to the boundless West-- + But thou art given by the good All-giver, + Blessing a land to be in turn most blest:[2] + While, like a leaf-borne insect, floating by, + Chanceful and changeful is my destiny; + I needs must follow where thy currents lave-- + Perchance to find a home, or else, perchance a grave. + + II. + Yet, dost thou bear me on to one I've loved + From Boyhood's thoughtlessness to Manhood's thought, + In all the changes of our lives, unmoved-- + That young affection no regret has brought: + Beloved one! when I seem Fortune's slave, + Reckless and wrecked upon the wayward wave, + Bright Hope, the Halcyon, rises o'er the sea, + Calming the troubled wave--bearing my heart to thee. + + III. + Alas! we parted: what a bitter sorrow + Clings to the memory of our last embrace! + No joy to-day, no promise of to-morrow, + No idol image, shall usurp thy place: + For thee my holiest hope is upward given-- + My love for thee is with my love for Heav'n, + A dedication of my heart to thine, + With God to smile on both, and consecrate the shrine. + + IV. + Our home, when last I saw it, was all lone; + Yet my affections peopled it with those + Whose sunny smile upon my boyhood shone; + Then came reality,--the heart-spring froze:-- + There was the stream, the willow, and the wild wood, + Where, emulous of height, in playing childhood, + With hearts encircled, on the beechen tree, + Dear one, I carved thy name, but then thou wert with me. + + V. + Thou wert my nurse in many an hour of pain, + My comforter in many an hour of sadness; + And when my spirit leaped to joy again, + Thou wert the one who joyed most in its gladness. + Ay, more than nurse--and more than comforter-- + Thou taught'st my erring spirit not to err, + Gave it a softness nature had not given, + As now the blessed moon makes earth resemble heav'n. + + VI. + How deep the bitterness alone to grieve + In grief's deep hour--the death-watch of the night-- + When Fancy can no more her day dreams weave, + And there seems madness in the moon's pale light-- + When sorrow holds us, like a life-long state, + Not as a portion, but the whole of fate, + When the mind yields, like sick men to their dreams, + Who know all is not right, yet know not that which seems. + + VII. + Why come such thoughts across the brow? Oh, why + Cannot the soul sit firmly on her throne, + And keep beside her strong Philosophy? + Alas! I am a wanderer and alone. + Beneath deep feeling reason's self must sink; + We cannot change the thought, yet we _must_ think; + And, O! how darkly come such thoughts to me-- + The gathered pangs of years, recounting agony. + + VIII. + Who has not felt, in such a night as this, + The glory and the greatness of a God, + And bowed his head, in humbleness, to kiss + His merciful and kindly chast'ning rod? + The far off stars! how beautiful and bright! + Peace seems abroad upon the world to-night; + And e'en the bubble, dancing on the stream, + Is glittering with hope,--a dream--a very dream! + + IX. + In sickness and in sorrow, how the breast + Will garner its affections in their home! + Like stricken bird that cowers within its nest, + And feels no more an anxiousness to roam; + While a thick darkness, like a cloud, comes o'er + The gallant spirit;--it can rise no more + To wing its way, as if it sought the sky, + But falls to earth, forlorn, as though it fell to die. + + X. + And yet, there is a torturing sense of life, + E'en in the feeling of the quick drawn breath, + That tells of many years of woe and strife, + Ekeing our being out, though bringing death: + While Fancy, with a thousand thronging tales, + Now in her gladness, now in woe, prevails,-- + Till the dark moment of o'erwhelming grief, + When sorrow mourns as one who cannot find relief. + + XI. + Is health returnless? Never more may I + Throw by the staff on which, alas! I lean? + Is the woof woven of my destiny? + Shall I ne'er be again what I have been? + And must th' bodily anguish be combined + With the intenseness of the anxious mind? + The fever of the fame and of the soul, + With no medicinal draught to quell it or control. + + XII. + Upon my brow I feel the furrow's course, + Deep sinking inward to the source of thought; + The deeper sinking if I seek its source, + Or try to crush its agony, unsought, + O! tell thy secret, thou stern vampyre, Care! + E'en for Philosophy thou hast a snare, + For in thy quest she wears the galling chain, + Making the burden more, the more she'd soothe its pain. + + XIII. + Sweet solace of the life-lorn! HOPE! to thee + How oft in loneliness the heart will turn, + To quell the pang of its keen misery; + While wailing sorrow weeps o'er memory's urn: + Rise from the ashes of my buried years! + The past comes up with overflowing tears, + To quench the promises that would arise:-- + They're in the future far--where are they?--in the skies! + + XIV. + My hopes, e'en my hopes, wither; a dark cloud + Has passed between them and the glorious sun, + Clothing the breathing being in a shroud-- + The pall is o'er them and their race is run: + Their epitaph is written in my heart-- + The all of mem'ry that can ne'er depart-- + Yes, it is here! the truth of every dream, + The ever-present thought, in every varying theme. + + XV. + O! who can pierce the cloud that o'er him lowers? + It were as vain my wayward fate to scan; + Enough, 'twill come with th' onhurrying hours-- + The futile purpose or the settled plan: + Or Death, perchance, e'en now each tie may sever! + There's many a grave in this bright rolling river, + That's bounding onward where the one I love, + To meet my coming, now, on its far banks may rove. + + XVI. + And, but that thou would'st feel a pang for me, + 'Twere sweet, methinks, to sleep beneath the wave; + Its murmuring song, like sweetest minstrelsy, + Would rest a wanderer in an early grave, + Within thee, River, many a pale face sleeps-- + And many a redman's ghost his vigil keeps-- + And many a maid has watched the dark banks over-- + He comes not, yet, in truth, he was a faithful lover. + + XVII. + For then, perchance, thy stream ran red with blood, + Then pale and red men met upon thy shore-- + Embracing foes they sunk within the flood, + Fierce twins in death, and joined forevermore,-- + Forevermore in time. Eternity! + _Thy_ doom we see not, and we may not see, + But God is just! to Him the red race fly, + Driv'n to the pathless West, thence upward to the sky. + + XVIII. + Here once Boone trod--the hardy Pioneer-- + The only white man in the wilderness:[3] + Oh! how he loved, alone, to hunt the deer, + Alone, at eve, his simple meal to dress; + No mark upon the tree, nor print, nor track, + To lead him forward, or to guide him back; + He roved the forest, king by main and might, + And looked up to the sky and shaped his course aright. + + XIX. + That mountain, there, that lifts its bald high head + Above the forest, was, perchance, his throne; + There has he stood and marked the woods outspread, + Like a great kingdom, that was all his own; + In hunting shirt and moccassins arrayed, + With bear skin cap, and pouch, and needful blade, + How carelessly he leaned upon his gun! + That sceptre of the wild, that had so often won. + + XX. + Those western Pioneers an impulse felt. + Which their less hardy sons scarce comprehend; + Alone, in Nature's wildest scenes, they dwelt, + Where crag, and precipice, and torrent blend, + And stretched around the wilderness, as rude + As the red rovers of its solitude, + Who watched their coming with a hate profound, + And fought with deadly strife for every inch of ground. + + XXI. + To shun a greater ill sought they the wild? + No! they left happier lands behind them far, + And brought the nursing mother and her child + To share the dangers of the border war; + The log-built cabin from the Indian barred, + Their little boy, perchance, kept watch and ward, + While Father ploughed with rifle at his back, + Or sought the glutted foe through many a devious track. + + XXII. + How cautiously, yet fearlessly, that boy + Would search the forest for the wild beast's lair, + And lift his rifle with a hurried joy + If chance he spied the Indian lurking there: + And should they bear him prisoner from the fight, + While they are sleeping in the dead midnight, + He slips the thongs that bind him to the tree, + And leaving death with them, bounds home right happily.[4] + + XXIII. + Before the mother, bursting through the door, + The redman rushes where her infants rest; + Oh God! he hurls them on the cabin floor! + While she, down kneeling, clasps them to her breast. + How he exults and revels in her woe, + And lifts the weapon, yet delays the blow: + Ha! that report! behold! he reels! he dies! + And quickly to her arms the husband--father--flies. + + XXIV. + In the long winter eve, their cabin fast, + The big logs blazing in the chimney wide-- + They'd hear the Indian howling, or the blast, + And deem themselves in castellated pride: + Then would the fearless forester disclose + Most strange adventures with his sylvan foes, + Of how his arts did over theirs prevail, + And how he followed far upon their bloody trail. + + XXV. + And it was happiness, they said, to stand, + When summer smiled upon them in the wood, + And see their little clearing there expand, + And be the masters of the solitude. + Danger was but excitement; and when came + The tide of Emigration, life grew tame; + Then would they seek some unknown wild anew, + And soon, above the trees, the smoke was curling blue. + + XXVI. + Long e'er the pale-face knew them, or their land, + Here, too, the redmen met in the stern strife + Of foe to foe and bloody hand to hand-- + The mortal agony of life for life: + How fertile is this "dark and bloody ground!" + Here Death has given many a horrid wound![5] + Here was the victim tortured to the stake, + While dark Revenge stood by, his burning thirst to slake. + + XXVII. + Methinks I see it all within yon dell, + Where trembles thro' the leaves the clear moonlight; + Say, Druid Oak, can'st not the story tell? + Why met they thus? and wherefore did they fight? + And wept his maiden much? and who was he, + Who thus so calmly bore his agony? + Sang he his death song well? was he a chief? + And mourned his nation long in notes of lengthened grief? + + XXVIII. + Here, from the woods, he came to woo his mate, + And launched, to meet her, his bark-built canoe: + Who would have thought he had a soul to hate + To see him thus, all gentleness to woo? + In tenderest tone he tells his deeds of war, + With blandest feeling shows the ghastly scar + He joyed to take, that he might win his bride, + His own, his blushing one--the dark-eyed by his side. + + XXIX. + Again he goes--again she looks for him-- + At the death-stake her warrior-love is tied: + Say, when he thought of her, did the tear swim? + Shook, for an instant, that bold Indian's pride? + No! when he thought of her, it was to nerve + A soul whose purpose knew not how to swerve! + For this she loves him, holds him doubly dear; + He knows what 'tis to love, but not what 'tis to fear. + + XXX. + O, Love what rhymer has not sung of thee? + And, who, with heart so young as his who sings, + Knows not thou art self-burdened as the bee, + Who, loving many flowers, must needs have wings? + Yes, thou art wing'd, O, Love! like passing thought, + That now is with us, and now seems as nought, + Until deep passion stamps thee in the brain, + Like bees in folded flowers that ne'er unfold again. + + XXXI. + Who does not love his early dream of love?-- + The passionate fondness of the happy boy, + When woman's lightest look the pulse would move + To the wild riot of extatic joy; + The tremulous whisper, mingling hopes and fears, + _Her_ very presence, that so long endears + The spot, on which the mutual vow was giv'n, + The interchange of love, and the on-looking Heav'n. + + XXXII. + This is the tale that never tires in telling-- + If woman listens as ye tell the tale: + And then, to mark her gentle bosom swelling, + And feel the fervor of your faith prevail! + Her tone, the confidence of her bright eye, + That looks to yours its eloquent reply! + And then, her seeming doubt--spoke you in vain? + O! no! she only doubts to hear you speak again! + + XXXIII. + My Mary! though I yet am young in years, + 'Tis like a dream, Love, of the olden time, + When first they coyness yielded up its fears, + And thy warm heart throbb'd tremblingly to mine,-- + When we exchanged the faith we loved to make, + And made the promise it should never break-- + How happy, then, the future rose to view-- + Our hearts the auguries that made it seem all true. + + XXXIV. + A sense of coldness, like the atmosphere, + When chilled by the rude winter's snowy blast, + Has passed between us now: and--lone and sear, + Like the last autumn leaf that fell at last, + Though on its parent stem it fain would stay, + With days, perchance, as bright as yesterday-- + Our hopes have fallen--yet, my Mary, yet, + There is no lethean power can teach me to forget. + + XXXV. + For, in that young affection's early dream, + There was the presence and the soul of joy, + Which, like the stars, though clouds obscure them, beam + With hues of Heav'n, that earth cannot destroy: + Dark desolation may be o'er our path, + And the fierce lightnings rive it in their wrath, + And scalding tears may weep their sources dry, + Yet, will that love live on, on its own agony. + + XXXVI. + E'en like--if we its hopes may personate-- + Fall'n Marius, 'mid the ruins, when he stood + And pondered darkly o'er his desperate fate, + Alone, in th' o'erthrown City's solitude. + Oh! we may build a fairy home for love-- + But, when 'tis blasted, how can we remove? + How from the ruins can the ruined part? + Or how rebuild the hope that, falling, crushed the heart. + + XXXVII. + And, mused I now, as that stern exile mused, + 'Mid fallen columns, cities overthrown, + With Desolation all around diffused, + I should seem less than I seem now alone-- + For it would be companionship; but here + There is no sympathy with mortal tear: + The skies are smiling, and the forests rise + In their green glory up, aspirers to the skies!-- + + XXXVIII. + And the wild river, laughing, laves its banks-- + A babbler--like a happy-hearted girl, + Dancing along with free and frolic pranks; + The leaves, o'erhanging, tremble like the curl + That plays upon her forehead as she goes-- + While 'mid the branches, free from human woes, + The wild bird carols to its happy mate, + Glad in the present hour, nor anxious for its fate. + + XXXIX. + But there is one tree blasted 'mid the green, + Surrounding forest; and an eagle, there, + Looks sadly o'er the gaily, glitt'ring scene, + A mourner--with his bleeding bosom bare:-- + No more! no more! he'll reach his eyry now, + Or sport in triumph o'er the mountain's brow; + His wing may hide the death-bolt as he dies, + No more shall it expand to bear him to the skies. + + XL. + How like the balmy breathing of the spring, + Is the unfolding of Love's happy morn! + Then our nurst hopes, anticipating, bring + The May-day breaking, that shall bear no thorn: + The thorn must have its birth-day with the rose-- + When one is blighted, still the other grows, + And grows the keener, as the seared leaves fall, + And rankles in the heart when the storm scatters all. + + XLI. + Be blessings on thee, Lady of my love! + As many blessings as thou did'st impart, + When to my breast thou cam'st like a young dove, + And made thy home in my all-happy heart. + Like the loved picture of his buried maid, + Which the sad lover keeps, and weeps the shade, + So Memory, to my early feelings true, + Preserves its passionate love in bidding hope adieu! + + XLII. + No! "while there's life there's hope," at least, in love; + Hope that the two shall not be always twain:-- + Will it not find its home--that parted dove-- + Though severed far o'er mountain and o'er main? + Though night o'ertake it, though the tempests rise, + Alike, through cloudy, and through smiling skies, + Onward it hastens; and, with panting breast, + Nestles at home at last, and loves the more its nest. + + XLIII. + Built o'er the Indian's grave, the city, here, + To all the pomp of civic pride is giv'n, + While o'er the spot there falls no tribute-tear, + Not e'en his kindred drop--the dew of Heav'n. + How touching was the chieftain's homily! + That none would mourn for him when he should die; + Soon shall the race of their last man be run-- + Then who will mourn for them? Alas! not one--not one! + + XLIV. + They all have passed away, as thou must pass, + Who now art wandering westward where they trod-- + An atom in the mighty human mass, + Who live and die. No more. The grave-green sod, + Can but be made the greener o'er the best, + A flattering epitaph may tell the rest-- + While they who come, as come these onward waves, + Forget who sleep below, and trample on their graves. + + XLV. + Yet, who, that ever trod upon this shore, + Since the rude red man left it to his tread, + Thinks not of him, and marks not, o'er and o'er, + The contrast of the living with the dead? + There the tall forest falls--that Indian mound + Will soon be levelled with the ploughed-up ground-- + Where stands that village church, traditions hold, + The war-whoop once rang loud o'er many a warrior cold. + + XLVI. + Where stole the paddle-plied and tottering bark + Along the rough shores cragg'd and sedgy side,-- + Where the fierce hunter, from the forest dark, + Pursued the wild deer o'er the mountains wild,-- + Now towering cities rise on either hand, + And Commerce hastens by to many a strand, + Not on her white wings, as upon the sea-- + Yet borne as bravely on, and spreading liberty. + + XLVII. + And here, where once the Indian mother dwelt, + Cradling her infant on the blast-rocked tree, + Feeling the vengeance that her warrior felt, + And teaching war to childhood on her knee-- + Now dwells the christian mother: O! _her_ heart + Has learned far better the maternal part-- + Yet, in deep love, in passion for her child, + Who has surpass'd thine own, wild woman of the wild? + + XLVIII. + Our homes, and hearts, and Nature, the blue sky, + Breathe these affections into all who live-- + The flowings of their fountains cannot dry. + Who gave us life? 'Tis He, who bids them live! + And they have lived, here, in this forest-bower, + In all the strength, the constancy, the power, + The deep devotion, the unchanging truth + Of Eden's early dawn, when Time was in his youth. + + XLIX. + How patient was that red man of the wood! + Not like the white man, garrulous of ill-- + Starving! who heard his faintest wish for food? + Sleeping upon the snow-drift on the hill! + Who heard him chide the blast, or say 'twas cold? + His wounds are freezing! is the anguish told? + Tell him his child was murdered with its mother! + He seems like carved out stone that has no woe to smother. + + L. + With front erect, up-looking, dignified-- + Behold high Hecla in eternal snows! + Yet, while the raging tempest is defied, + Deep in its bosom how the pent flame glows! + And when it bursts forth in its fiery wrath! + How melts the ice-hill from its fearful path, + As on it rolls, unquench'd, and all untam'd!-- + Thus was it with that chief when his wild passions flam'd. + + LI. + Nature's own statesman, by experience taught, + He judged most wisely, and could act as well; + With quickest glance could read another's thought, + His own, the while, the keenest could not tell; + Warrior--with skill to lengthen, or combine, + Lead on, or back, the desultory line; + Hunter--he passed the trackless forest through,-- + Now on the mountain trod, now launch'd the light canoe. + + LII. + To the Great Spirit, would his spirit bow, + With hopes that Nature's impulses impart; + Unlike the Christian, who just says his vow + With heart enough to say it all by heart. + Did we his virtues from his faults discern, + 'Twould teach a lesson that we well might learn: + An inculcation worthiest of our creed, + To tell the simple truth, and do the promised deed. + + LIII. + How deeply eloquent was the debate, + Beside the council fire of those red men! + With language burning as his sense of hate; + With gesture just, with eye of keenest ken; + With illustration simple, but profound, + Drawn from the sky above him, or the ground + Beneath his feet; and with unfalt'ring zeal, + He spoke from a warm heart and made e'en cold hearts feel. + + LIV. + And this is Eloquence. 'Tis the intense, + Impassioned fervor of a mind deep fraught + With native energy, when soul and sense + Burst forth, embodied in the burning thought; + When look, emotion, tone, are all combined-- + When the whole man is eloquent with mind-- + A power that comes not to the call or quest, + But from the gifted soul, and the deep feeling breast. + + LV. + Poor Logan had it, when he mourned that none + Were left to mourn for him;--'twas his who swayed + The Roman Senate by a look or tone; + 'Twas the Athenian's, when his foes, dismayed, + Shrunk from the earthquake of his trumpet call; + 'Twas Chatham's, strong as either, or as all; + 'Twas Henry's holiest, when his spirit woke + Our patriot fathers' zeal to burst the British yoke. + + LVI. + Isle of the beautiful! how much thou art, + Now in thy desolation, like the fate + Of those who came in innocence of heart, + With thy green Eden to assimilate: + Then Art her coronal to Nature gave, + To deck thy brow; Queen of the onward wave! + And woman came, the beautiful and good, + And made her happy home 'mid thy embracing flood.[6] + + LVII. + Alas! another came: his blandishment, + The fascination of his smooth address, + That read so well the very heart's intent, + And could so well its every thought express,--[7] + Won thy fair spirits to his dark design, + And gave our country, too, her Cataline. + He lives--the Roman traitor dared to die! + Yet, in their different fates, behold the homily. + + LVIII. + Rome, torn by civil feuds and anarchy, + Could not endure a traitor on her heart-- + For ready Faction, with her argus eye, + Was ever watchful when to play her part; + And Freedom, with a nightmare on her breast, + But show'd she liv'd by groaning when opprest; + And even Cato's energy to save, + Preserved her, but awhile, to sink upon her grave. + + LIX. + Far different with our Country! mark the time + When she threw off her trans-atlantic yoke-- + Throughout the wide domain of her fair clime, + But one high soldier from his promise broke: + In that free gathering who would not enroll + With all the patriot's willingness of soul? + Our fathers fought for sacred home and hearth! + And were too young in crime to think of treason's birth. + + LX. + And when the war had passed, and Freedom raised + Her temple to her worshippers, to bless + Those who had lit her altar fires, that blazed + To light the far untrodden wilderness, + All felt the worship, all confessed the God, + All knew the tyrant, and all curs'd his rod-- + And if one heart fell from his promise then, + Why, he might live like Cain, scorned of his fellow men. + + LXI. + The Cain of Nations! be that sov'reignty, + That shall, for any purpose, seek to sever + The glorious union of the brave and free-- + That, but for treason, will endure forever! + Her curse shall be the base redeemless lot + Of the once free, who feel that they are not-- + Who tread their native soil as native slaves, + And build their bondage house on their free fathers' graves. + + LXII. + In such a state, would not a Caesar rise, + And chain the nation to his gory car, + And pluck from out the blue of our bright skies, + To form his diadem, that falling star? + Then, one by one, each brilliant light would fall, + And primal chaos desolate them all-- + While Tyranny, with loud prophetic shout, + Would wave his bloody sword, as each and all went out! + + LXIII. + That free born spirit who could rouse again? + The dried-up fountain and the scorched up field. + The breath, that withers mountain, flood, and plain, + To Nature's revolution learn to yield: + As strong as ever, man may tread the soil, + And sweat for others at his daily toil-- + But how shall he regain the gift unbought, + The privilege to act the high resolve of thought? + + LXIV. + Say, how shall he regain it, when 'twas giv'n + With broken vow, apostatizing breath? + How stand erect, how look to the bright Heav'n, + Cloth'd in the darkness of that moral death? + Her rights down trod, her star-lit banner rent, + O! where could Freedom find an armament? + How gather, in their glory and their pride, + Her own grey father-band, who, for her, nobly died. + + LXV. + United hearts have made united States! + What could a single, separate State have done + Without the arms of her confederates? + Without their glorious leader, WASHINGTON! + They stand united, but divided fall-- + 'Twas union that gave liberty to all! + Then, who would call mad Discord from her cell, + To scatter poisons there where the world's manna fell! + + LXVI. + Proud Venice, by her Doge's solemn rite, + Was wedded to the wave o'er which she rose: + Thence came her lions' all-surpassing might-- + A greatness that 'twas glory to oppose. + A peaceful pomp proclaimed her nuptial bands: + Our Country's bond of States, and hearts and hands, + Was signed and sealed before a world amazed, + While, for her nuptial torch, red Battle's bacon blaz'd! + + LXVII. + It was a bloody sacrament: Death came + Unto the bridal, like a bidden guest, + The Priestess, FREEDOM, had but bless'd the flame, + E'er the fierce furies to the revel press'd: + The storm grew dark--its lightning flash'd afar-- + Murder and Rapine leagu'd themselves with War; + Yet, proudly and triumphantly, on high, + That eagle-guarded banner waved to victory. + + LXVIII. + How fiercely flew that eagle o'er the plain! + Then, Albion, sunk thy lion's lordly crest; + Behold! again he shakes his brist'ling mane-- + There is a serpent in that eagle's nest, + Seeking to sting her, in the feint to help, + And give her free brood to the lion's whelp-- + She strikes the reptile, headless down to earth-- + And thus may Treason die, let who will give it birth! + + LXIX. + Last of the Signers! a good night to thee! + Alas! that such brave spirits must depart: + Peace to thy ashes--to thy memory + A monument in every living heart. + It gives the spirit strength, endurance, pride, + A lofty purpose, unto thine allied, + To muse upon thy glory--'tis to stand, + As 'twere, upon thy hearth, and hold thee by the hand. + + LXX. + And hear thee tell of thy illustrious peers + Who stood beside thee, for our country, there, + Fearless, amidst a host of pressing fears, + And calm, where even Courage might despair. + Ye staked, with this high energy indued, + "Life, Fortune, Honor," for the public good, + And made your "Declaration" to the world, + And, to the tyrant's teeth, defiance sternly hurl'd. + + LXXI. + Alas! the omen--in this awful hour, + While Discord and Disunion rend the land! + Did'st thou take with thee Freedom's priceless dower? + Did'st thou resume the gift of thine own hand, + And bear the affrighted Goddess to the skies? + Are there no mourners o'er thy obsequies? + None, who, with high resolves, approach thy grave? + Or--flits a spirit there, that frights the modern brave? + + LXXII. + Say, has our Capital no tarpeian height[8] + From which to hurl the traitor? Standing now, + Where once he stood, in patriotic might, + With the fresh laurel wreath upon his brow, + And Freedom burning on his lip of flame; + Does Pity plead forgiveness for his shame? + Then bear him thence, like Manlius, and be just-- + Or go to Vernon's shade, and desecrate its dust. + + LXXIII. + Soon must I mingle in the wordy war, + Where Knavery takes in vice her sly degrees, + As slip, away, not guilty, from the bar, + Counsel, or client, as their Honors please. + To breathe, in crowded courts, a pois'nous breath-- + To plead for life--to justify a death-- + To wrangle, jar, to twist, to twirl, to toil,-- + This is the lawyer's life--a heart-consuming moil. + + LXXIV. + And yet it has its honors; high of name + And pure of heart, and eloquent of tongue, + Have kindled, there, with a most holy flame, + While thousands on their glowing accents hung! + And be it mine to follow where they've led, + To praise, if not to imitate, the dead-- + To hail their lustre, like the distant star + Which the sad wayworn bless, and follow from afar. + + LXXV. + My friends! how often, in our social talk, + Have we called up these names of spell-like power, + As, arm in arm, we took the friendly walk, + Or lingered out the evening's parting hour-- + Or met at the debate, with joyous zest, + To test our strength, and each to do his best; + While pun and prank we gaily gave and took, + With friendship in each heart and pleasure in each look. + + LXXVI. + I recollect it well, and lov'd the time, + When we were wont to meet: when last we met, + I parted from you for this western clime, + With the deep feeling never to forget. + In the quick bustle of the busy throng, + I feel that I shall miss ye, O! how long! + The generous hearts who mann'd my spirit on-- + Who sooth'd me when I lost, and cheer'd me if I won.[9] + + LXXVII. + Away! why should I muse in unsooth'd sadness! + While the gay sky is smiling upon earth, + Like a young mother, o'er her infant's gladness, + Blessing the early promise of its birth. + The opening day-dawn breaks along the land, + Like glorious FREEDOM, as her hopes expand; + While the far mountains tower to meet the glow, + The altar fires are lit, burning on all below. + + LXXVIII. + Oh! light up every land, till, far and free, + Their brave hearts come from mountain and from plain, + While, with the shout of onward liberty, + Old Earth to her foundation shakes again. + The night is gone!--thus Tyranny recedes!-- + The sky is cloudless!--FREEDOM!--like thy deeds: + A gladness beams o'er earth, and main, and Heav'n-- + Thus look the nations up, their chains, their chains are riv'n. + + LXXIX. + Kingdoms are falling! thrones--that have withstood + The earthquake and the tempest in their shock, + And brav'd the host of battle's fiery flood, + Making of human rights the merest mock,[10] + Of blood, of agony, of human tears, + The daily sacrifice of countless years-- + Are falling: may they fall on every shore, + As fell the fiend from Heav'n, no more to rise--no more. + + LXXX. + Greece gathers up again her glorious band! + With FREEDOM'S loud hurra the Andes quake! + It swells, like ocean's wave, from land to land-- + Bless them, our Father! for thy children's sake. + They strike the noblest who shall strike the first-- + Wailing and prostrate, Tyranny accurst, + Convulses earth with his fierce agonies; + But, if ye strike like men, the fell dictator dies! + + LXXXI. + A tear for Poland! many tears for her + Who rose so nobly, and so nobly fell! + E'en at her broken shrine, a worshipper, + In dust and ashes, let me say farewell! + Farewell! brave spirits!--Earth! and can it be, + Thy sons beheld them struggling to be free-- + Unaided, saw them in their blood downtrod-- + Nations, ye are accurst! be merciful, Oh God! + + LXXXII. + My HOME! it needs no prophet voice to tell + Thy coming glories; they are thronging fast, + Like the enchantments of the Sybil's cell, + Expanding brighter to the very last: + Fulfilling all the patriot's burning vow, + Be free forever my own land as now! + While the uprising nations hail thy star, + And strike, for freedom, that God-sanctioned war. + + LXXXIII. + And they may fall--but who shall date thy end? + Lo! all the past has giv'n its light to thee: + Expiring Rome, like a departing friend, + Gave solemn warning to thy liberty: + And e'en the empires, fabulously old + In fruitful fable, have a moral told; + What say their fallen kings and shrineless God? + There is no "right divine" in the fell tyrant's rod! + + LXXXIV. + Thou learn'dst the lesson, long ago, my HOME, + And taught'st it to a willing, wondering world, + When thy bright stars rose o'er the ocean's foam, + And lit thy banner as it stood unfurl'd; + When, from thy farthest mountain to the sea, + All rose to bless that banner and be free, + Where perch'd thy eagle, in victorious might, + While the proud, lordly lion fled in craven flight. + + LXXXV. + Thou hast my heart--and freely do I bow, + To bless thee, Freedom, on thy holiest shrine, + And give to thee devotion's warmest vow; + Oh! let thy spirit mingle into mine: + Thy temple is my country, whose far dome + Circles as high as the Almighty's home-- + Here, 'mid the glories of Creation's birth, + Thy altars spread around--this is my mother earth. + + LXXXVI. + Glorious! most glorious! proudly let me stand, + With the rapt fervor of a Poet's eye, + And pour my blessings on my native land; + Oh! for the gift to tell thy destiny, + And mould it to the telling--thou should'st rise, + Eternal, as the stars that bless thy skies, + And sparkle in thy banner--thou should'st be + All that thy brave hearts wish'd, who will'd thee to be free. + + LXXXVII. + And no portentous, fearful meteor, there, + Should blaze, and blacken, and create dismay, + Shaking fierce furies from its snaky hair; + No!--thou should'st light the Nations on their way, + And be to them a watchword to fight well; + And should they fall, as Poland's patriots fell. + Oh! cheer them with their exile-flag unfurl'd, + And give them freedom here, in her own Western world. + + LXXXVIII. + Auspicious Time! unroll the scroll of years-- + Behold our pious pilgrim fathers, when + They launch'd their little bark and braved all fears, + Those peril-seeking, freedom-loving men! + Bless thee, thou Stream! abiding blessings bless + Thy farthest wave--Nile of the wilderness! + And be thy broad lands peopled, far and wide, + With hearts as free as his who now doth bless thy tide. + + LXXXIX. + And may new States arise, and stretch afar, + In glory, to the great Pacific shore-- + A galaxy, without a falling star-- + Freedom's own Mecca, where the world adore. + There may Art build--to Knowledge there be giv'n + The book of Nature and the light of Heav'n; + There be the Statesman's and the patriot's shrine, + And Oh! be happy there, the hearts that woo the Nine. + + XC. + There is a welcome in this Western Land + Like the old welcomes, which were said to give + The friendly heart where'er they gave the hand; + Within this soil the social virtues live, + Like its own forest trees, unprun'd and free-- + At least there is one welcome here for me: + A breast that pillowed all my sorrows past, + And waits my coming now, and lov'd me first and last. + + XCI. + It binds my Eastern to my Western home; + Then let me banish thoughts that sad would be: + Not like a leaf-borne insect on the foam, + But like a bark upon a glorious sea-- + A little bark, perchance, yet firm withal, + 'Midst bursting breakers that shall not appal-- + I'll bide the coming of a brighter day, + Or, to the far off West, pass, like the past, away. + + +FINIS. + + + + +NOTES. + + +NOTE I. + +_"The Emigrant, or Reflections," &c._ + +Mr. Hammond, in the notice which he was so kind as to take of this +POEM, suggested the alteration of the title from "Reflections" to +"Reveries." In retaining the first title, I do not do so because I +think it best, but merely because it was the first title, and the one +under which the extracts were given. + +It seems to the author, if he may dare to hazard the remark, that the +stanza in which he has attempted to write, has advantages over even +the Spenserean stanzas. He understands the latter to be that in which +the Fairy Queen, from whose author it takes its name--Beattie's +Minstrel, Thompson's Castle of Indolence, Byron's Childe Harold, &c. +&c., are written. The following is a stanza of it, from Childe +Harold: + + The starry fable of the Milky Way + Has not thy story's purity; it is + A constellation of a sweeter ray, + And sacred nature triumphs more in this + Reverse of her decree, than in the abyss + Where sparkle distant worlds. Oh! holiest nurse! + No drop of that clear spring its way shall miss + To thy sire's heart, replenishing its source + With life, as our free souls rejoin the Universe. + +Here, the reader will perceive that, in a stanza of nine lines, there +is a necessity for the second, the fourth, the fifth, and the seventh +lines to rhyme together; and that the sixth, eighth and ninth lines +must, also, rhyme together. To make the stanza correct, with these +complicated embarrassments of rhyme, must not only cause great +trouble, sometimes, to the easiest versifier, but to succeed in doing +so, critically, he must often sacrifice a happy expression, a striking +phrase, or a beautiful line. "Words are things," says Mirabeau; and, +to the poet, they are things of potency. They are at once tools and +materials in his headwork. + +Any one who has read Childe Harold, must have observed that even the +Lord of Poets, with all his powers of language, was often thus +hampered, and that, for the sake of preserving the force of an +expression, or a striking word, he used what are no rhymes at all, if +Monk Lewis' remark to Scott, "that a bad rhyme is no rhyme," be true. + +Whereas, by making the stanza of but eight lines and having the first +four lines to rhyme alternately, and the last four immediately, and by +having the concluding line an Alexandrine, as in the Spenserean +stanzas, the difficulty, arising from the necessity of having so many +similar rhymes, would be obviated, and the poet would have much +greater facilities in expressing himself well, without impairing the +dignity or strength of what might still be called, from its many +resemblances, the Spenserean stanzas; at the same time, the monotony +would be avoided, of which criticism has complained so much in the +works of Pope and Goldsmith. + +Very few readers of poetry, in the first poems which they open, are +fond of those, no matter how great their merits, which are written in +the Spenserean stanzas. They have to acquire a taste for it. They +delight in simpler styles: this is one reason of Scott's great +popularity with many persons who seldom read any other poet, except +perhaps, Burns. And even to those who have a natural taste for poetry, +but who have not much cultivated it, the Spenserean stanza seems +complicated, and, I will even venture to say, at first untunable; and +it is not at the first perusal that they perceive the beauties of +those poems which are written in this style. + +These remarks are hazarded very hastily. It would be much more +difficult for the author to build the complicated verse of the +Spenserean stanza, than this which he has attempted; and, therefore, +perhaps, very rashly, he concludes that it would be more difficult for +others; and, moreover, we easily persuade ourselves that what is most +easily done it is best to do. + + +NOTE II. + + _"But thou art given by the good all-giver, + Blessing a land to be in turn most blest."_ + + _Thou exulting and abounding river, + Making thy waves a blessing as they flow._ + + BYRON. + + +NOTE III. + + _"Here once Boone trod--the hardy Pioneer-- + The only white man in the wilderness."_ + +In a late work entitled "Sketches of Western Adventure," a most +interesting account is given of Boone, whose passion for a sylvan life +was intense. Like Leather-stocking, it would seem that he always got +lost in the clearing, and that only in the forest he knew his way and +felt free and unincumbered. Then, like McGregor, "standing on his +native heath," he feared no difficulties or dangers. Byron, in his Don +Juan, calls him "The man of Ross run wild," and says, that he "killed +nothing but a bear or buck," but not so; he had many deadly encounters +with the Indians, and was repeatedly taken prisoner by them; but he +effected his escapes with great tact. The author of "Sketches of +Western Adventure," speaking of him, alone in the wilderness, says, + +"The wild and solitary grandeur of the country around him, where not +a tree had been cut, nor a house erected, was to him an inexhaustible +source of admiration and delight; and he says himself, that some of +the most rapturous moments of his life were spent in those lonely +rambles. The utmost caution was necessary to avoid the savages, and +scarcely less to escape the ravenous hunger of the wolves that prowled +nightly around him in immense numbers. He was compelled frequently to +shift his lodging, and by undoubted signs, saw that the Indians had +repeatedly visited his hut during his absence. He sometimes lay in +canebrakes, without fire, and heard the yells of the Indians around +him. Fortunately, however, he never encountered them." + +Mr. John A. McClung is the author of the above mentioned work. This +gentleman is also the author of a novel, entitled "Camden," which has +not received half the notice it deserved. + +Mr. Flint has now in the press a life of Boone, which will soon be +published. I am indebted to him for the following graphic note, +concerning Boone: + +"This extraordinary man, whose birth is said to have been in +Maryland, in Virginia, and in North Carolina, was in fact born in +neither; but in Pennsylvania, in Buck's County, about twenty miles +from Philadelphia. When he was three years old, his father removed to +a water of the Schuylkill, not far from Reading. When he was +thirteen years old, his father removed thence to the South Yadkin, +North Carolina; and in the midst of the bushy hills of that State the +character of this Nimrod was developed. + +"No historical facts are better attested, than those, to which +allusion is here made. The native sagacity, the robust hardihood, the +invincible courage and spirit of endurance, put forth on all occasions +by the pioneer of Kentucky, were, perhaps, never surpassed by any +character on record. These traits were admirably balanced and relieved +by a disposition peculiarly mild and gentle. In his old age he removed +from Kentucky to the banks of the Missouri. The portrait of him in the +capitol is said not to be a correct likeness. He was of the middle +stature, of prodigious strength and swiftness, with sandy hair, and a +bright complexion, a bold, prominent forehead, aquiline nose and +compressed lips. There was a peculiar brightness, an unquenchable +elasticity and force visible in his forehead and his eye, even under +the frost of eighty winters. His old age was not cheered by affluence, +but his departure was neither unhonored, nor unsung. No American +character seems to have more chained interest and attention. His life +constitutes the theme of Mr. Bryant's 'Mountain Muse,' and he is one +among the few, whom lord Byron honored with unalloyed eulogy, in seven +or eight of the happiest stanzas of Don Juan." + + +NOTE IV. + + _And should they bear him prisoner from the fight, + While they are sleeping, in the dead midnight, + He slips the thongs that bind him to the tree, + And leaving death with them, bounds home right happily._ + +The reader is referred to "Sketches of Western Adventure," page 309, +for a most interesting account of the escape of two small boys from +the Indians. + + +NOTE V. + + _"How fertile is this 'dark and bloody ground!' + Here Death has given many a horrid wound."_ + +Kentucky was called the "dark and bloody ground" by the Indians, in +consequence of many of the fiercest contests having occurred there; it +was the common hunting ground of many of the tribes, and here they +frequently met in their excursions, scarcely ever without bloodshed. + +At my request, I was kindly furnished with the annexed note by Judge +Hall, on the subject of Indian mounds, which should have been inserted +under the passage which alludes to them; but the reference at the +proper place being accidentally omitted, it is given here. Judge Hall +will readily imagine why the author has omitted some passages of the +note, which to himself were not the least pleasing. + +This gentleman has lately become a citizen of Cincinnati, where those, +who knew him formerly but by his high reputation, now feel how much +courtesy and kindness increase its charm. + +Judge Hall is of opinion that most of the mounds are natural; speaking +of them he says: + +"There are few objects so well calculated to strike the poetic +imagination as these mounds, standing alone in the wilderness. The +belief that they are the workmanship of human hands, awakens curiosity +and leads to a long train of reflections. For if men have thrown up +these singular elevations, we feel inquisitive to know by whom, and +for what purpose, they were erected. They are large and numerous; and +they bear every mark of great antiquity. Indeed, I am of opinion, that +they are as old as the hills. + +"Supposing them to be artificial, we are led into a vast field of +conjecture. Were they made by the present race of savages, who are +ignorant of all the mechanic arts, and disinclined to labor? If so, +what inducement could have been placed before them, sufficiently +powerful, to break down the barriers of nature, and bring men +habitually indolent, to so herculean a task? The Indian, as we see him +now, never works. He is the sovereign of the woods, and strides over +his heritage with the step of a master, and the wild glance of one who +disdains employment. He submits to no restraint but that of military +discipline. + +"Viewing them as artificial, nothing can be more curious; and whether +we suppose them to have been graves, or temples, or fortifications, +they are equally calculated to awaken feelings of wonder, if not of +awe. We see them in the wilderness, where, for ages, savage men alone +have dwelt, and we behold them covered with majestic oaks, which have +flourished for centuries. They have existed here in the silence and +repose of the forest, unchanged amid the revolutions which have been +carried on around them. They are among the few records of the past. A +people ignorant of writing, painting, or sculpture, destitute of the +mechanic arts, and without any knowledge of the use of metals, have +left few memorials; unless we see them in the mounds, we might, +perhaps, say none. + +"If we suppose them to be natural, which, in my opinion, is the +most rational belief, as to the majority of the mounds, they are +still attractive, as natural curiosities, and as displaying a +wonderful exhibition of the creative power. Beheld in any light, +they are interesting. Whatever may have been their origin, they +adorn the monotony of western scenery, and afford employment to the +fancy of the traveller. The plodding foot may tread carelessly over +them, the uninquiring eye may pass them, unheeded; but the poet and +philosopher linger around the hallowed spot where they stand, to +catch inspiration, or to gather wisdom from these silent memorials." + +Judge Hall further says, "satisfied I am that if ever any rational +hypothesis, in relation to these interesting remains of past ages, +shall be invented, we shall owe it to the inspiration of the poet, and +not to the researches of the philosopher." + +It is very certain that no one can confront the traveller who may be +speculating upon these mounds, as Edie Ochiltree did the Antiquary, +with "I mind the bigging o' it." + + +NOTE VI. + + _"Isle of the beautiful! how much thou art, + Now, in thy desolation, like the fate + Of those who came in innocence of heart + With thy green Eden to assimilate: + Then Art her coronal to Nature gave + To deck thy brow, Queen of the onward wave! + And woman came, the beautiful and good, + And made her happy home 'mid thy embracing flood."_ + +The allusion, here, is to Blennerhasset's Island, which is beautifully +situated in the Ohio. The romantic story of its former inhabitants +makes it a spot of great interest to the Emigrant, who, in descending +the river, never fails to request that it may be pointed out to him; +and it is often the topic of conversation and conjecture to him and +his companions for hours after they have passed it. The author is +indebted to Morgan Neville, Esq., for the following account of the +Island and its unfortunate owner. Mr. Neville's admirable tale of Mike +Fink, and his other sketches, have created in the public an appetite +for more, which they have long hoped he would be induced to gratify, +with longer and more frequent productions; or, at least, that he would +collect what he has written into a volume. + +"BLENNERHASSET'S ISLAND.--How many recollections of mingled pleasure +and pain, does the name of this once beautiful spot, call to mind! In +descending the Ohio, I never come in sight of the Island, without +sensations almost too powerful to bear; and I linger on the deck of +the boat, until the point below snatches it from view. The first +impressions were made on me in early youth, and time cannot efface +them; on the contrary, the long vista through which I look back to +this western 'Eden,' presents it, probably, with exaggerated colorings +of beauty and loveliness. The traveller, as he wanders over the +grounds, once consecrated by philanthropy, cannot reconcile it with +probability, that a proud mansion, a quarter of a century since, was +here erected, dedicated to hospitality, where a priestess, in the +person of an elegant and refined lady, shed an influence around that +attracted to its portal the stranger from every country. In looking at +a scene, now desolate and repulsive, he can scarcely credit the fact, +that, within that period, the same place was embellished by gardens, +groves, and arbors, upon which taste was exhausted, and which cost a +fortune to realize. The villa of Blennerhasset was really a +beacon-light in the wilderness, that seemed created to invite the +approach of the stranger to enjoy that repose which the sluggish and +comfortless mode of travelling of that day, rendered so gratifying. +The only sounds now heard, are the sighing of the wind through the +lofty cotton wood, or the puffing of steam, as some boat rushes +rapidly past the prosperous settlement of Bellepre. There was a time +when music of a less melancholy character breathed upon the ear; when +a master hand swept the chords, and science and taste directed the +scene. + +Herman Blennerhasset and his accomplished wife have sat for many a +picture; but, after all, Fancy, alone, guided the pencil, and the +originals have never been truly sketched. The reality of their history +possesses sufficient interest, without the aid of fiction, to enlist +the sympathies of the most romantic. Born to fortune, and nobly +connected, Blennerhasset stood in the front rank of Irish society. +Educated for the bar, he distinguished himself on many occasions, and +he was the assistant counsel, with Curran, in the celebrated trial of +Hamilton Rowan. But his disposition was restless, his mind visionary, +and, doubtless, he felt sincerely for the degraded state of his +country. Notwithstanding his close relationship to the aristocracy of +Ireland, and the glaring unfitness of his character for scenes of +daring and of danger, he connected himself with the leading yeomen of +that day, and became the intimate associate and co-adjutor of Arthur +O'Conner. He continued to labor in the cause of Liberty, until the +eyes of Government were turned upon him; the result is a matter of +public history: O'Conner was arrested, and Blennerhasset escaped. He +had the good fortune, however, to secure a considerable portion of his +property, and, accompanied by his accomplished wife, an English lady, +he arrived in New York in 1796 or '97, with what, in this country, was +esteemed a large fortune. + +He was, however, a visionary; he knew nothing of human nature, nothing +of the practical business of life. With considerable literary +acquirements, and much pretensions to science, he gave himself up to +all the reveries and schemes of modern philosophy; with Southey, +Godwin, and the whole class, he was continually dreaming about the +perfectibility of human nature, and believed that innocence was alone +to be found in that portion of humanity, which approached the nearest +to the state of nature. With these notions, which he succeeded, in +some measure, in imparting to his young and interesting partner, he +declined establishing himself in any of our Atlantic cities, then the +only places in the Union offering attractions to a foreigner of taste +and fortune, and turned his attention, to the magnificent solitudes of +the West. He purchased a portion of the Island in Virginia, near the +mouth of the Little Kenhawa, which has been consecrated by his +misfortunes, and executed those embellishments which have since become +the theme of many a fanciful speech and tale. + +Considering himself a second Capac, he set about acquiring an +influence over the rude inhabitants of the Virginia shores, which +might enable him to test the efficiency of his favorite system. But +his exertions were abortive, and he became convinced of the folly of +his early speculations on human nature; his unsophisticated scholars, +affecting to admire him, overreached him on all occasions, and then +laughed at him. He embarked in commercial speculations; this proved a +failure, and he stopped in time to save a portion of the large fortune +which, a few years before, he brought from Europe. He recanted, in +bitterness of feeling, his early political principles, and began to +sigh for the charms of refined society. Discontent stole into his +domestic circle, and the idea of educating his two interesting boys in +the desert became insupportable. + + _Oh! quantum est in rebus in ave!_ + +During this state of feeling, Colonel Burr presented himself, armed +with all the fascinations of manners and address, which so eminently +distinguished him. He soon became the ruler of the destiny of the +Island pair, and unfolded to them, with resistless eloquence, his +magnificent project of the conquest of Mexico, gilding his own +ambition under the plausible motive of relieving enslaved millions +from the thraldom of Spanish tyranny. The idea of becoming prominent +members of a court that would rival the ancient splendor of Montezuma, +and the modern glory of Napoleon, absorbed every other feeling. The +remains of this once large fortune were embarked in the scheme, and +ruin and misery were the consequence. What he felt and saw as but a +misdemeanor, was distorted, by political rancor, into treason; and, +although one of the most enlightened juries that were ever empanelled, +pronounced an acquittal, Blennerhasset was left destitute of means, +and blasted in reputation. He attempted to retrieve his affairs as a +cotton planter, but was unsuccessful; he afterwards removed to +Montreal, to resume his profession. Within a few years he has returned +to England, the outlawry against him having been removed; and those +who feel an interest in the history of this persecuted family, may be +gratified to know that their decline of life will not be devoid of +comfort. They reside near Bath, in England, with a sister of +Blennerhasset, the relict of the late admiral De Courcy. The evening +of life promises to close free from those clouds that so long lowered +over them. + + +NOTE VII. + + _"Alas! another came," &c._ + +See Mr. Wirt's character of Colonel Burr, in his great speech against +him. It was scarcely necessary to refer to this speech, as it is in +the mouth of every school boy. + + +NOTE VIII. + + _"Say, has our Capital no Tarpeian height + From which to hurl the traitor?"_ + +These lines were written in the excitement which prevailed during the +session of the last Congress, when the Nullifiers were fulminating +their doctrines of disunion and prophesying the downfall of the +Republic, when he, who has not yet lost all his original brightness, +was acting a part which Milton has described. + +This may account for what now may be deemed harshness. + + +NOTE IX. + + _"I recollect it well, and loved the time, + When we were wont to meet: when last we met + I parted from you for this western clime, + With the deep feeling never to forget. + In the quick bustle of the busy throng, + I feel that I shall miss ye, O! how long! + The generous hearts who mann'd my spirit on-- + Who sooth'd me when I lost and cheer'd me when I won."_ + +I have both rhyme and reason for remembering my young friends of +Baltimore. More frank, fearless, and generous spirits, it has not been +my lot to meet: social companions, firm friends, and with highly +cultivated minds, they possess an _esprit du corps_ which gives such +qualities their strongest attractions. They have made Baltimore to me +the "city of the soul." + + +NOTE X. + + _"Making of human rights the merest mock."_ + The fiend's arch mock. + SHAKSPEARE. + + + + +ERRATA. + + +In Stanza 69, 7th line, read _To_ for _No_. + + * * * * * + + + + +Transcriber Notes + +Table of Contents added. + +Typographical inconsistencies have been changed and are listed below. + +The original text has also had its errata incorporated. + +Archaic and variable spelling and hyphenation is preserved. + +Author's punctuation style is preserved, except where noted. + +Passages in italics indicated by _underscores_. + +Passages in bold indicated by =equal signs=. + + +Transcriber Changes + +The following changes were made to the original text: + + Page 17: Added missing footnote tag (Here Death has given many a + horrid =wound![5]=) + + Page 20: Was 'foreget' (There is no lethean power can teach me to + =forget=.) + + Page 30: Stanza number was 'XLIV' (=LXIV=. Say, how shall he regain + it, when 'twas giv'n) + + Page 38: Was 'protentous' (And no =portentous=, fearful meteor, + there, should blaze, and blacken, and create dismay) + + Page 43: Changed period to comma (When he was thirteen years old, + his father removed thence to the South =Yadkin,= North + Carolina;) + + Page 43: Added beginning quote (="No= historical facts are better + attested, than those, to which allusion is here made.) + + Page 44: Added beginning quote (="Supposing= them to be artificial, + we are led into a vast field of conjecture.) + + Page 44: Added beginning quote (="Viewing= them as artificial, + nothing can be more curious;) + + Page 44: Added beginning quote (="If= we suppose them to be natural, + which, in my opinion, is the most rational belief) + + Page 45: Changed to single quotes (the long vista through which I + look back to this western ='Eden,'= presents it) + + Page 46: Was 'iu' (accompanied by his accomplished wife, an English + lady, he arrived in New York =in= 1796 or '97) + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Emigrant, by Frederick William Thomas + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EMIGRANT *** + +***** This file should be named 29606.txt or 29606.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/6/0/29606/ + +Produced by Bryan Ness, Katherine Ward, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from scans of public domain works at the +University of Michigan's Making of America collection.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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