THE BEAR. AN ADVENTURE.
[Providence Gazette.]
"Well fought. We are come off
Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands,
IN that soft region,* where descending showers
Sink the poor traveller chin-deep in mud ;
"Through pathless forests, hung with grape-vine bowers,
The poet roam'd to where a cottage stood.
I then was young; my sweetest moments ran
In deep seclusion from the haunts of man.
In silence here I musing stood,
To view the hovel and the wood;
So dark the place, so wild, so dread,
Suspicion was well warranted
That guilty wight had hither fled,
And hid him in this lonely shed,
In hope to save his wretched head,
By some foul trespass forfeited.
For, save the garden where it stood,
'Twas one immense, extensive wood,
Where none but men of savage mood
Might dare mistake the solitude.
Reader! I see thy wide-mouth'd stare--
Exclaim, I hear thee now,—
"Why, how the dickens cam'st thou there?”
Poh, poh! no matter how.
Fast by the door, beneath the hill,
Through the dark wood, a bubbling rill
Meander'd to the glade;
But, O! it seem'd a dismal stream,
For never had the sun's bright beam
Upon its surface play'd;
No noise was there-the door was shut-
I saw no child about the hut-
No smoke from chimney pour
I paus'd awhile, then op'd the gate,
Advancing to the door:
When, like a messenger of fate,
A BEAR of most enormous weight
Display'd himself before.
With watering jaws he dropt his bone,
And slow advanc'd to meet me ;
And I, poor object, all alone,
Was petrified—almost to stone,
For fear that he would eat me.
"Cowards die many times," indeed; but I
Am of that sort that is not apt to die;
My blood at first retreated-but, what then!
My heart indignant sent it forth again.
Poh! what's a bear!-whoso would shun a bear,
How far soe'er remov'd from all beholders,
And whatsoever his excuses were,
hang a calf-skin on his recreant shoulders."
In sooth-I fac'd the monster, and defied his worst,
And most undauntedly my post maintain'd;
Though, (don't you tell on't,) I discover'd first,
The animal was-chain'd.
THE GENIUS OF SMOKING.
[Portsmouth Journal.]
"I HAD a dream-it was not all a dream”— Methought I sat beneath the silver beam
Of the sweet moon, and you were with me there;
And every thing around was green and fair,
And from our mouths up-curl'd the fragrant smoke,
Whose light blue wreaths can all our pleasures yoke,
In sweetest union, to young Fancy's car,
And waft the soul out through a good cigar.
There as we sate and puff'd the hours away,
And talk'd and laugh'd about life's little day,
And built our golden castles in the air,
And sigh'd to think what transient things they were,
As the light smoke around our heads was thrown,
Amidst its folds a little figure shone,
An elfin sprite, who held within her hand
A small cigar, her sceptre of command.
Her hair, above her brow, was twisted tight off,
Like a cigar's end, which you have to bite off;
Her eyes were red and twinkling, like the light
Of a cigar, that brightens in the night.
A green tobacco leaf her shoulders grac'd,
And dried tobacco hung around her waist.
Her voice breath'd softly, like the easy puffing
Of an old smoker, after he 's been stuffing.
Thus, (as she roll'd aside the wanton smoke,)
To us, her awe-struck votaries, she spoke.
"Hail, faithful slaves! my choicest joys descend On him, who joins the smoker to the friend!
Yours is a pleasure that shall never vanish,
Provided that you smoke the best of Spanish :
Those are my fav'rites, and their incense mine ;
To meaner fays belongs the black long-nine.
Puff forth your clouds, (with that we puff'd amain,)
Sweet is their fragrance, (then we puff'd again.)
How have I hung, with most intense delight,
Over your heads when you have smok'd by night,
And gratefully imparted all my powers
To bless and consecrate those happy hours;
Live on," she said. I started, and awoke,
And with my dream she vanish'd into smoke.
SPIRIT OF MAN.
[Religious Intelligencer.]
"Who knoweth the spirit of man that goeth upward ?”
SAY'ST thou, that when this light has fled,
The spring of mental life is dead?
Say'st thou, that, when this cheek is pale,
The spirit's ardent glow shall fail?
Say'st thou, the soul returns to clay,
When these poor pulses cease to play?
Then let us mourn, if hope expires
When this frail lamp resigns its fires;
If man, so fashion'd like a God,
Must never burst the prisoning sod,
With maniac sorrow let us rave,
And, shrinking, rend his marble grave.
Dash then away the fruitless tear,
And rush in Pleasure's mad career;
To mirth devote this niggard span
This little dateless life of man;
Mock self-control, grave wisdom spurn,
And, heedless, seek the destin'd urn.
Ah, sceptic! why wilt thou essay
To rend the balm of life away?
To plant with goads the path of toil,
To strew with thorns a barren soil,
To shroud with cold and rayless gloom,
Our weary journey to the tomb?
Think'st thou the Power that spread the skies
So just, beneficent, and wise,
Hath man's unbounded powers bestow'd,
Merely for earth's fallacious good?
Oh, pause! a Spirit answers, No,
For boundless joy, or boundless wo.
Look up, and let thy doubtful eye
Sparkle at immortality;
Rend from thy soul its abject chain,
Thy "Maker in thy mind retain,"
And bid it love that hope sublime,
Which soars o'er mists and wrecks of time.
[Republican Sentinel. New-York.]
THOUGH health, and fortune, too, are gone, And faithless friends have fled,
I still possess a tender one,
Who shares my humble shed.
In every sad reverse I 've known,
This friend was ever near,
Felt all my sorrows, as his own,
And answer'd tear for tear.
When but a boy, he ne'er would let
My rights insulted be,
And if nice dainties he could get,
Would give them all to me.
I never had a friend like him,
He all my frailties hid;
Would gratify each childish whim,
Nor e'en my errors chid.
This was his failing, he had been
More merciful to me,
Had he the first desire to sin,
Check'd with severity.
Our love increas'd with length of years,
Nor was it but in name;
Our morals, manners, hopes, and fears,
Had ever been the same.
When fortune smil'd, he was my all,
Though others sought my heart;
And, now, when they deride my fall,
Seeks comfort to impart.
Beside my couch, from morn to exe,
His prayers for me arise-
Nor can repose till I receive
The rest the wretched flies.
But with my life, his cares shall end,
And all his love for me;
O'er my pale corpse he ne'er shall bend,
In speechless agony.
Nor e'er upon my grave will strew,
The earliest flow'rs of spring-
Nor water it with that kind dew,
Which friendship loves to bring.
For Heaven's decreed, that when I die,
He shall no longer live;
The power that bids my sorrows fly,
Repose to him will give.
One shroud, one coffin, and one grave,
To shield us shall be sent→→→
And the rank weeds that o'er us wave,
Our only monument.
This friend of friends, dear as my life,
Dearer than worthless pelf;
Is neither parent, child, nor wife,
But is, in brief-MYSELF.
TENDERNESS OF HEART.
[New-England Galaxy.]
THERE is a little fragile flower
That, low depending on its stem,
Is scarcely known beyond the bower,
Where, all unconscious of its power,
It ever glows in dewy gem.
It once arose in tow'ring pride,
And courted every passing gale,
Exulting threw its odours wide,
Alluring to its gaudy side
The dwellers of its native vale.
But while it show'd its tinsel glare,
At early dawn, or pensive even,
Not thinking that the world could bear
Another flower so sweet and fair--
'Twas wither'd by the "Breath of Heaven,"
Now, from its root this flow'ret grows,
But, trembling at the gentlest breeze,
It scarce around a fragrance throws,
Unlike the lily, or the rose,
With not a tint to charm, or please.
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