To you, kind Patrons, on this festal day,
The humble news-boy brings his duteous lay.
With gratitude the Arab wish he bears,
That each of you may " live a thousand years; "
And every one be past in constant bliss,
In unalloy'd, increasing happiness;
Hoping that he himself may live as long,
Each new year's day to greet you with his song.
With unabating speed, the unwearied sun
Another circuit in the heavens has run;
And now soft breezes, to the waking ear,
Announce the advent of the glad new year.
And, as the traveller on the mountain's brow,
Ling'ring, looks back upon the vale below;
Marks each bright landscape, each enchanting spot
Of groves and streamlets, left, but not forgot; —
Or forward turns, to seek with anxious glance,
What scenes will meet him as his steps advance; —
So would we pause, with retrospective thought
Of each event time's rapid course hath brought;
So mark the sunny hours for ever fled,
So weep for friendship wither'd with the dead; —
Wither'd, not blasted; — winter'd in the tomb,
To spring, hereafter, in immortal bloom; —
So would we strive, by reason's feeble light,
To pierce the future, with prophetic sight;
So choose our path, that life's brief journey past,
We all may reach one happy goal at last.
Turn we then first to Europe's high career,
And mark her progress through the closing year.
Alas for Poland! prostrate in the dust,
She long bewail'd her spoiler's broken trust;
Till roused to action by her deep-felt wo,
She turn'd and grappled with her faithless foe;
Pour'd out her life-blood on the battle-plain,
And struggled bravely till the task was vain; —
Then overpower'd, beneath the tyrant's grasp,
Yielded her freedom with her dying gasp!
Ye who have wept o'er Kosciusko's bier, —
For his lost country shed one kindly tear!
Mourn, sons of freedom, for her fallen brave!
Others she help'd, herself she could not save.
Where late the lily only bloom'd to fade,
See the tri-color'd banner now display'd;
A tyrant banish'd by a nation's voice,
A monarch ruling by the people's choice;
Where nature's rights are better understood,
And pow'r employ'd to advance the public good.
Now Britain feels the soul-inspiring flame,
And wakes, resolved her dormant rights to claim;
Demands her Commons for the people's own,
A barrier 'gainst the aristarchal throne.
Britain! in arts as well as arms the first;
The home in which our ancestors were nursed;
What generous bosom does not welcome thee,
Of lands afar the foremost of the free!
While France and England aid the people's cause,
And advocate the reign of equal laws, —
Though Russia growl, and Holland's monarch frown,
And Pedro strive for Lusitania's crown, —
Though all the hosts of tyranny assail,
The cause of truth and freedom shall prevail.
And though the torch of war in future days
Should kindle Europe in a general blaze; —
Though armies to the battle-thunder rush,
And legions fall, and blood in torrents gush;
Our country, like a rock , shall stand unmoved,
By all respected, and by all beloved.
For true to justice, to our honor true,
To every nation rendering its due,
Unpledged, impartial, liberal and sincere,
Who shall molest? or what have we to fear?
Shall hellish discord raise his fiery crest,
And pour his venom in his country's breast?
Shall the weak limbs, complaining of their share,
Refuse the body's easy load to bear?
Withhold all sustenance till strength is gone?
Then find, too late, their strength was all its own?
But see, with justice arm'd and clothed in might,
The Hero comes to enforce his country's right;
Call'd by her grateful voice to guard her fate,
To take the helm and guide the ship of state,
His word prophetic makes the promise sure,
" The Union must , the Union shall endure. "
And now with reason's clearest, calmest ray,
He comes to show the wanderers their way;
By mild persuasion strives their minds to draw,
To see their duty and obey the law;
Or else in justice's panoply array'd,
He marches forth to draw the battle-blade,
To arrest their course, to stay disunion's flood,
And quell the treason at the price of blood.
What hosts of mortals with the year now fled,
Have tenanted the chambers of the dead!
No more alone 'mid Egypt's catacombs
Champollion, seeking hieroglyphics, roams;
Nor Cuvier shall nature's depths explore,
Nor Goithe sing with swan-like sweetness more; —
Nor young Napoleon, emulous of fame,
Make princes tremble at his mighty name!
How deeply manhood sleeps beneath the sod,
Which yesterday its buoyant footsteps trod!
How many a maiden, clothed in beauty's bloom,
Lies cold and voiceless in the silent tomb!
For lo! with venom'd wing and breath of flame,
From Eastern climes the fell destroyer came:
Fear went before him, messenger of wrath,
Death stalk'd beside him, — terror mark'd his path: —
Loaded with spoils he pass'd, and left his urn, —
Grant Heaven, in mercy, never to return!
But you, dear patrons, have escaped his fang,
You have not felt for friends the parting pang;
You have enjoy'd the luxury of health,
Improved in knowledge, and increased in wealth;
Your thriving village stands, by all confess'd,
Fairest amid the fair ones of the West.
Your barns and granaries are fill'd with grain,
Your flocks and herds enliven all the plain;
Your children smile the winter hours away;
And their improvement crowns the well-spent day.
Then, as with thankful hearts you sit beside
Your happy hearth, at sober eventide,
When you pour forth an offering of praise
To Him who thus with plenty crowns your days,
While bleak winds whistle o'er the snow-clad moor,
Oh! think with pity on the helpless poor;
In charity extend your kind relief,
Prevent their suffering and soothe their grief.
For you, fair maidens, brighter than the morn,
Whom every virtue, every grace adorn,
What tribute can the humble news-boy bring
Worthy to be a New Year's offering?
Would new year's day but wait for April flow'rs,
He'd twine you garlands from the sweetest bow'rs;
Or did our streams Golconda's diamonds share,
He'd deck the wreaths with jewels for your hair;
Or could the falling stars be found in space,
The brightest ones should fill the diamond's place;
Or could the rainbow, with its tints so varied,
Be folded up and in a band-box carried,
He certainly would send for one express,
To make you all a handsome new-year's dress;
But seeing Fate has otherwise decreed,
He hopes you'll take the intention for the deed;
And since his gift to wishes is confined,
He hopes you'll meet with husbands to your mind;
That you, young gentlemen, may pass your lives,
With prudent, loving, amiable wives; —
In short, he wishes, gentle patrons dear,
Always, to all of you, a happy year.
The humble news-boy brings his duteous lay.
With gratitude the Arab wish he bears,
That each of you may " live a thousand years; "
And every one be past in constant bliss,
In unalloy'd, increasing happiness;
Hoping that he himself may live as long,
Each new year's day to greet you with his song.
With unabating speed, the unwearied sun
Another circuit in the heavens has run;
And now soft breezes, to the waking ear,
Announce the advent of the glad new year.
And, as the traveller on the mountain's brow,
Ling'ring, looks back upon the vale below;
Marks each bright landscape, each enchanting spot
Of groves and streamlets, left, but not forgot; —
Or forward turns, to seek with anxious glance,
What scenes will meet him as his steps advance; —
So would we pause, with retrospective thought
Of each event time's rapid course hath brought;
So mark the sunny hours for ever fled,
So weep for friendship wither'd with the dead; —
Wither'd, not blasted; — winter'd in the tomb,
To spring, hereafter, in immortal bloom; —
So would we strive, by reason's feeble light,
To pierce the future, with prophetic sight;
So choose our path, that life's brief journey past,
We all may reach one happy goal at last.
Turn we then first to Europe's high career,
And mark her progress through the closing year.
Alas for Poland! prostrate in the dust,
She long bewail'd her spoiler's broken trust;
Till roused to action by her deep-felt wo,
She turn'd and grappled with her faithless foe;
Pour'd out her life-blood on the battle-plain,
And struggled bravely till the task was vain; —
Then overpower'd, beneath the tyrant's grasp,
Yielded her freedom with her dying gasp!
Ye who have wept o'er Kosciusko's bier, —
For his lost country shed one kindly tear!
Mourn, sons of freedom, for her fallen brave!
Others she help'd, herself she could not save.
Where late the lily only bloom'd to fade,
See the tri-color'd banner now display'd;
A tyrant banish'd by a nation's voice,
A monarch ruling by the people's choice;
Where nature's rights are better understood,
And pow'r employ'd to advance the public good.
Now Britain feels the soul-inspiring flame,
And wakes, resolved her dormant rights to claim;
Demands her Commons for the people's own,
A barrier 'gainst the aristarchal throne.
Britain! in arts as well as arms the first;
The home in which our ancestors were nursed;
What generous bosom does not welcome thee,
Of lands afar the foremost of the free!
While France and England aid the people's cause,
And advocate the reign of equal laws, —
Though Russia growl, and Holland's monarch frown,
And Pedro strive for Lusitania's crown, —
Though all the hosts of tyranny assail,
The cause of truth and freedom shall prevail.
And though the torch of war in future days
Should kindle Europe in a general blaze; —
Though armies to the battle-thunder rush,
And legions fall, and blood in torrents gush;
Our country, like a rock , shall stand unmoved,
By all respected, and by all beloved.
For true to justice, to our honor true,
To every nation rendering its due,
Unpledged, impartial, liberal and sincere,
Who shall molest? or what have we to fear?
Shall hellish discord raise his fiery crest,
And pour his venom in his country's breast?
Shall the weak limbs, complaining of their share,
Refuse the body's easy load to bear?
Withhold all sustenance till strength is gone?
Then find, too late, their strength was all its own?
But see, with justice arm'd and clothed in might,
The Hero comes to enforce his country's right;
Call'd by her grateful voice to guard her fate,
To take the helm and guide the ship of state,
His word prophetic makes the promise sure,
" The Union must , the Union shall endure. "
And now with reason's clearest, calmest ray,
He comes to show the wanderers their way;
By mild persuasion strives their minds to draw,
To see their duty and obey the law;
Or else in justice's panoply array'd,
He marches forth to draw the battle-blade,
To arrest their course, to stay disunion's flood,
And quell the treason at the price of blood.
What hosts of mortals with the year now fled,
Have tenanted the chambers of the dead!
No more alone 'mid Egypt's catacombs
Champollion, seeking hieroglyphics, roams;
Nor Cuvier shall nature's depths explore,
Nor Goithe sing with swan-like sweetness more; —
Nor young Napoleon, emulous of fame,
Make princes tremble at his mighty name!
How deeply manhood sleeps beneath the sod,
Which yesterday its buoyant footsteps trod!
How many a maiden, clothed in beauty's bloom,
Lies cold and voiceless in the silent tomb!
For lo! with venom'd wing and breath of flame,
From Eastern climes the fell destroyer came:
Fear went before him, messenger of wrath,
Death stalk'd beside him, — terror mark'd his path: —
Loaded with spoils he pass'd, and left his urn, —
Grant Heaven, in mercy, never to return!
But you, dear patrons, have escaped his fang,
You have not felt for friends the parting pang;
You have enjoy'd the luxury of health,
Improved in knowledge, and increased in wealth;
Your thriving village stands, by all confess'd,
Fairest amid the fair ones of the West.
Your barns and granaries are fill'd with grain,
Your flocks and herds enliven all the plain;
Your children smile the winter hours away;
And their improvement crowns the well-spent day.
Then, as with thankful hearts you sit beside
Your happy hearth, at sober eventide,
When you pour forth an offering of praise
To Him who thus with plenty crowns your days,
While bleak winds whistle o'er the snow-clad moor,
Oh! think with pity on the helpless poor;
In charity extend your kind relief,
Prevent their suffering and soothe their grief.
For you, fair maidens, brighter than the morn,
Whom every virtue, every grace adorn,
What tribute can the humble news-boy bring
Worthy to be a New Year's offering?
Would new year's day but wait for April flow'rs,
He'd twine you garlands from the sweetest bow'rs;
Or did our streams Golconda's diamonds share,
He'd deck the wreaths with jewels for your hair;
Or could the falling stars be found in space,
The brightest ones should fill the diamond's place;
Or could the rainbow, with its tints so varied,
Be folded up and in a band-box carried,
He certainly would send for one express,
To make you all a handsome new-year's dress;
But seeing Fate has otherwise decreed,
He hopes you'll take the intention for the deed;
And since his gift to wishes is confined,
He hopes you'll meet with husbands to your mind;
That you, young gentlemen, may pass your lives,
With prudent, loving, amiable wives; —
In short, he wishes, gentle patrons dear,
Always, to all of you, a happy year.