Though forced to drudge for the dregs of men, And scrawl strange words with the barbarous pen, And mingle among the jostling crowd,

Where the sons of strife are subtle and loud

I often come to this quiet place,

To breathe the airs that ruffle thy face,

And gaze upon thee in silent dream;

For in thy lonely and lovely stream,

An image of that calm life appears

That won my heart in my greener years.

THE YELLOW VIOLET.

WHEN beechen buds begin to swell,

And woods the blue bird's warble know,

The yellow violet's modest bell

Peeps from the last year's leaves below.

Ere russet fields their green resume,
Sweet flower! I love in forest bare
To meet thee, when thy faint perfume
Alone is in the virgin air.

Of all her train, the hands of Spring
First plant thee in the watery mould,
And I have seen thee blossoming
Beside the snow-bank's edges cold.

Thy parent sun, who bade thee view

Pale skies, and chilling moisture sip, Has bathed thee in his own bright hue,

And streak'd with jet thy glowing lip.

Yet slight thy form, and low thy seat,
And earthward bent thy gentle eye,
Unapt the passing view to meet,

When loftier flowers are flaunting nigh.

Oft, in the sunless April day,

Thy early smile has stayed my walk, But, 'midst the gorgeous blooms of May, I passed thee on thy humble stalk.

So they, who climb to wealth, forget
The friends in darker fortunes tried.

I copied them-but I regret

That I should ape the ways of pride.

And when again the genial hour
Awakes the painted tribes of light,
I'll not o'erlook the modest flower

That made the woods of April bright.

THE BUCCANEER.

THE island lies nine leagues away.

Along its solitary shore,

Of craggy rock and sandy bay,

No sound but ocean's roar,

Save, where the bold, wild sea-bird makes her home
Her shrill cry coming through the sparkling foam.

But when the light winds lie at rest,

And on the glassy, heaving sea,

The black duck, with her glossy breast,

Sits swinging silently;

How beautiful! no ripples break the reach,
And silvery waves go noiseless up the beach.

And inland rests the green, warm dell;
The brook comes tinkling down its side;
From out the trees the sabbath bell

Rings cheerful, far and wide,

Mingling its sounds with bleatings of the flocks,

That feed about the vale amongst the rocks.

Nor holy bell, nor pastoral bleat

In former days within the vale;

Flapp'd in the bay the pirate's sheet;
Curses were on the gale;

Rich goods lay on the sand, and murder'd men;

Pirate and wrecker kept their revels then.

But calm, low voices, words of grace,
Now slowly fall upon the ear;

A quiet look is in each face,

Subdued and holy fear:

Each motion 's gentle: all is kindly doneCome, listen, how from crime this isle was won.

Twelve years are gone since Matthew Lee
Held in this isle unquestion'd sway,

A dark, low, brawny man was he

His law-" It is my way."

Beneath his thickset brows a sharp light broke

From small gray eyes; his laugh a triumph spoke.

Cruel of heart, and strong of arm,
Loud in his sport, and keen for spoil,
He little reck'd of good or harm,

Fierce both in mirth and toil;

Yet like a dog could fawn, if need there were;
Speak mildly, when he would, or look in fear.

Amidst the uproar of the storm,

And by the lightning's sharp, red glare,

Were seen Lee's face and sturdy form;

His axe glanced quick in air.

Whose corpse at morn is floating in the sedge?

There's blood and hair, Matt, on thy axe's edge."

“Nay, ask him yonder; let him tell,

I make the brute, not man, my mark.

Who walks these cliffs, needs heed him well!

Last night was fearful dark.

Think ye the lashing waves will spare or feel!

An ugly gash !—these rocks-they cut like steel."

He wiped his axe; and turning round,

Said with a cold and harden'd smile,

"The hemp is saved-the man is drown'd,

Wilt let him float awhile,

Or give him christian burial on the strand?
He'll find his fellows peaceful 'neath the sand."

Lee's waste was greater than his gain.
"I'll try the merchant's trade," he thought.
"The trouble's less to kill, than feign;

Things sweeter robb'd than bought,

But, yet, to circumvent them at their arts !"
Mann'd, and his spoils and cargo-Lee departs.