.jpg)
Live it down.
When in life’s battle onward fighting,
Struggling bravely day and night,
One only ray your rough path lighting—
Inward unconsciousness of right.
be true and trustful—never falter—
E’en though fate may seem to frown;
Your purpose let her frown not alter:
Courage, brother! live it down.
Should calumny’s sharp tongue assail you
Breathing venom,—undismayed,
Let not heart nor courage fail you,
At its hiss be not afraid.
When cynic envy, coward sneering,
Would the voice of conscience drown,
Still on—unswerving and unfearing:
Courage, brother! live it down.
Still forward—calm and self-reliant,
Disdainful of the little mind;
Of scoffing ignorance defiant,
Aside not looking, nor behind.
Still persevere in right forever:
Perseverance wins the crown.
Right ever conquers—wrong will never:
Courage, brother! live it down.
Prison Thoughts.—II.
Next Memory turns to free Columbia’s shore,
And conjures up the blissful hours spent there
’Mongst cherished friends whom I may meet no more;
But Hope, soft whispering, bids me not despair.
And thou, dear friend, whose genial nature drew
All hearts to thee in Friendship’s flowery bonds,
’Art ever near, and still, in Fancy’s view,
Thy willing smile to my fond wish responds.
How sweet upon our prospects to converse,
And proudly prophesy for each success!
We, light and careless, thought not in reverse,
But fondly dreamed of love and happiness.
Foul Discord through the land dissension sowed,
And bloody war spread horror far and wide;
And he pursued the path that duty showed,
And fought and bled and for his Country died.
Sleep, Soldier of the north! and take thy rest,
Thy tombstone wreathed with glory’s laurel crown,
Thy sword in honor lain across thy breast,
Unheeding the false World’s colds smile or frown.
Soft Spirit—whispers fall upon my ear,
By orange-scened gales borne o’er the foam:
"Thy friend in glory lives; be of good cheer!
Thou yet shalt meet him in a happier home."
Memory.
I love in memory to recall those days of peace and joy,
To blot out wordly wiles and cares, and feel again a boy;
To play among the Boyne’s green banks, or through the wildwood roam;
To paint in Fancy’s eye once more my dear old childhood home.
Ah, Time! thy hand may sour the face and sow the wintry hair;
But from my heart those tender thoughts thou shalt not—can not—tear.
Though far removed from that dear spot, yet still I love to trace
The river winding through the vale, each bright young schoolmates face,
To roam bird-nesting far from home,—to hear the noisy mill,—
Yes, all are dear! but one loved thought is brighter, dearer still.
’Twas down beside the Boyne’s green banks, beneath the leafy shade,
I told my boyish love-tale to a little brown-haired maid.
’Twas there I heard the whispered words that filled my sould with bliss,
And planted first on Mary’s lips a lingering lover’s kiss.
—All past and gone those dreams of joy! all fled and nought remains!
But memory’s potent spell recalls their pleasures and their pains.
I pay that God may guard thy steps, and bless thee, Mary, dear;
I’ll never see thee more; but yet I know thou’lt drop a tear
For him who loved thee first of all—who first thy lips impressed,
And told tee how to love thee, with thy cheek upon his breast.
Oh. Memory! blest gift of God, continue still to pour
Thy softening influence my heart till this short life is o’er,
Some crush thy spells, because thy joys may leave a trace of pain,—
But wisdom,—purest brightest gem,—we oft through sorrow gain.
Friendship
When bleak misfortune’s frown I feel,
And painful thoughts my brain oppress,
’Tis then in friendship’s sweet appeal
I find relief for lost caress
Of loving wife, whose soothings tender
To oft my weary spirits cheered,
Or lisping child whose laugh would render
A blissful balm when grief appeared
Though far away from my heart’s treasure,—
Far, far, from all on earth I love,—
I find in friendships hand a pressure
That cheers my path where e’er I rove.
Oft pausing, when the deck i pace,
Strange forms I see around me thronging;
A genial smile lights up a face
To greet me: then with ardent longing
For sympathetic friend I sigh,—
For one whose words my heart would brighten,
To whom I’d talk of days gone by,
And try my bosom’s load to lighten.
Again I look with anxious glancing,
And seek one friend amongst them all:
Ah! now a dear friend is advancing,—
he saw and understood the call.
Oh, friendship! thou’rt a pricless gem;—
Aye! dearer far than brightest gold;
Thy rays can glad the heart of him
When worldly riches ne’er consoled.
