STANZA

ON THE DEATH OF SAM FLETCHER, 1849.

I.

The veteran Sam sleeps his last sleep,
His home is now the grave;

Our griefs are vain, tho' some will weep,

But weeping cannot save.

II.

Thro' cares of life, the long hard fight,
He stood thro' many a round;
Vanquish'd or victor, day or night,
Sam's heart was ever sound.

III.

At seventy-seven, when adverse fate,
Had wreck'd his ample store,

Sam rear'd his head, shook off the weight,
To battle on for more,

IV.

It could not be the hand of time
Had palsied his strong arm;
What once was easy in his prime,
When life's red tides ran warm,

V.

Was now beyond his crippled power,
Altho' his heart was brave;

Yet fate brought Sam's departing hour,
And he lies in the grave.

VI.

Farewell, thou steadfast English heart,

Hallow'd be thy last bed;

Old England's fame will not depart,
While men like thee are bred

VII.

The history of thy chequer'd life
Might yield a useful theme,

To shew the ills that human strife

Sheds over life's short dream.

VIII.

And those who might have shelter'd thee,

In thy declining years;

Now far beyond a distant sea,
That rolls on alien spheres,

IX.

May sigh o'er thy untoward fate,
And mourn thy cheerless doom;
Their sighs are wafted all too late,
They cannot reach the tomb.

X.

And thou hast play'd thine active part,
Amid life's changing scenes; .
A drudging slave, yet firm in heart,
Noble, with humble means.

XI.

Adieu! thy memory lives among

A small surviving few,

Who knew thy worth, and knew thee long, Bold Sam, adieu! adieu!

STANZA

I.

The poetry of life, a flower

So fragile, sweet, and fair,
When age brings man's declining hour,
Droops in time's wintry air.

II.

Memory embalms its rich perfumes,
That charm'd youth's flitting day,
And dreams o'er joys that time consumes,
And pines o'er love's decay.

III.

Ye lusty youths, and maidens dear,
Seize pleasures ere they fly;
Pleasures that bring no bitter tear
Into young beauty's eye.

IV.

Time flies unheeded, and so quick,
You cannot lengthen hours;
Seize love's red rose, avoid the prick
That hides among the flowers.

V.

The selfish sordid thought is vain,
Love's sweetest joys are pure;
And spring in hearts without a stain,
Till life's last dying hour.

VI.

Go, seek thy young unspotted love,
And clasp it to thy breast;
A blessing sent from heaven above,
To charm all cares to rest.

VII.

For life is still a varying scene,

A short uncertain day,

Where storms and sunshine intervene ;

Enjoy it while you may.