صور الصفحة
PDF
النشر الإلكتروني

The Wianderer at Dome.

A RECITATION

Delivered in the Loyal Earl of Sefton Lodge of the 1. 0. of Odd Fellows, Manchester,- -on being appointed

V. G. of the Lodge.---Nov. 1842.

"O'er many a moor and mountain,

I've travelled in my day.”-Old Song.

A wanderer from his native land

Ilad traveracid many a hundred milo,
Yet aeldon met an outstretched hand,

As geklan met a monilly smalle,
Where was his home was scarcely kruni',

Almost an orphan from his birth,
For other flowers in pride had grown

Around his father's heart and hearth,

Boyhood had been one busy round

Of mirth, and glee, and youthful joy:
Too soon the painful truth he found-

One cannot always be a boy.
With manhood came the cares of life;

He had to seek his bread from home,
And all her heart's warm feelings rife,

In other climes was doomed to roam.

There, as he pictured each fond scene

On which remembrance loved to dwell,

The thought of what he once had been

Would oft his breast with anguish swell. He looked abroad upon the earth,

Companion, fellow he had none; Ilis very smile was void of mirth,

It was so cheerless, chilling, lone.

Wearied, the traveller ceased at length

To look for friend or sympathy, And only found in memory's strength

The kindly flame that will not die. He'd heard of men united strong

By one soft link of charity, Whom clime and creed had severed long;

Yet scarce believed that such could be.

[ocr errors][merged small][ocr errors]

One evening, on a quiet stroll,

He sauntered listlessly along, When sudden music waked his soul

To all he loved in mirth and song. The voice he knew,menquiry led

To further quest; he longed to be Where music and the vine thus shed

Their sweetest fruits in unity.

But soon a nobler purpose warmed

His heart than either cup or song, The theme that first his bosom charm'd

Was not that bosom's tenant long.

[ocr errors]

Those who now took him by the hand

Renewed the visions of his youth;
He found amongst that social band
Long looked-for Friendship, Love, and

Truth.*

1

He turned around from side to side,

And every glance a brother met;
The wanderer's bosom swelled with pride,

While honest tears his eyelids wet.
Ile now had friends his heart to cheer;

He'd now a home on foreign ground, Brethren,--the wanderer-is here!

The friends are those I see around.

* The Motto of the Order of Odd Fellows.

1

The South Sea Boat Song.

Hark to the sad winds how gruflly they sigh,
Stoutly we pull the oar,-ply, brothers, ply!
Dark sail the clouds o'er the westren sky;

We'll have stormy weather.
Bend to the helm, lean strong on the oar,
See the light Petrel e'en flies to the shore ;
A long pull, a strong pull, another pull more!

We pull altogether;
We heed not, we reck not the loud ocean's roar.

White is the foam on each mountainous wave,
Riding in mockery o'er many a grave-
Our brothers are dancing in dark ocean cave ;

Shall we dance along with them ?
Or round our glad fireside on Otaheite hill
Shall we the deep conch with the fire-water fill,
Or in our own war-dance try Owyhee skill,

And chaunt our peace song with them,
In concert with music from streamlet or rill ?

The home that we love is before us, my brothers ! Our altars, our fathers, our wives, and our mothers; We're now on the billow, aud we may like others

Be food for the shark-fish; Bend hard your sinews, and tug with your might, See the green mountains already in sight, We reach them in gladness—we reach them tonight

Or sleep with the dark fish; Where mountains roll o'er us, our bones shall be

white.

Sonnet on Lobe,

They say that the rose but blooms to die, And the Zephyr that plays round its ruby breast,

When the Summer evenings have fitted by, Forgets its dear, the Spring's last bequest.

They tell me that Love is a gay young God, Blushing with smiles like a morn in May ;

They hint that he waits on the Graces' nod, And laughs, as he comes, when he flits away.

Can I thus prove, like the zephyr, untrue To the passion that burns, while it makes me blest?

Or forgetting my Emma's soft eyes of blue, Can her love cease to be my life's sole zest ?

Oh, no; while the pulse of this heart beats warm, None other can ever its feelings charm.

« السابقةمتابعة »