OCR Interpretation

The Delaware register, or, Farmers', manufacturers' & mechanics' advocate. [volume] (Wilmington, Del.) 1828-1829, February 14, 1829, Image 8

Image and text provided by University of Delaware Library, Newark, DE

Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn84020593/1829-02-14/ed-1/seq-8/

What is OCR?

Thumbnail for 132

ll Is the girt nf POETRY to tiallow every pince In which it moves, to
more eopiisite than the |»orfmn«s> of the ros«
magical loan the MimIi of ninuting."
breathe round nature
ami to shed
it a tint
the Emerald.
noYii OO D.
When I was young—when 1 was young,
I laugh'd at what the world cull'd caro;
M } lips were always dress'd in smiles,
And every thing was bright and fair.
With lazy pace I went to school,
Or fleetly chased the butterfly;
There was no sorrow in my heart,
Joy, sunny joy laugh'd in my eye.
When I was young—when I was young,
I used to join the stripling band,
And bravely storm the snow-redoubt,
By twenty hostile urchins mann'd.
I call'd myself " Montgomery,"
And when I fell—I was no fool,
I'd die just li^e a " demi-god,"
And then get up and run to school.
When I was young—when I was young,
Love's language darted from my eyes,
I loved to feast on Ellen's lips,
For they were stored with luxuries.
I kiss'd the book she used to read,
I thought of music when she spoke;
I worshipp'd all her tresses bright,
And read my fate in every look.
I'in getting old—I'm getting old,
I cannot, as in boyhood's hours,
Climb proudly up the mountain steep,
Or count the leaves of summer flowers.
I cannot look upon the world
As if 'twere made for me alone;
I cannot claim a single friend,
For those I lov'd in youth are gonç»
I'm getting old—I'm getting old,
-bright days of youth are gone,
Care's leaden hand is on my heart,
And I am in the world—alone!
Life's winter is advancing fast,
Ah! where is Ellen ? where are they
Who join'd me in my youthful sports ?
Just like a dream, they've pass'd away!
And say ye 'tis better to yield,
Than give up our lives on the field ?
Would ye bow down your necks to the foe,
And with sullenness broke,
Like the steer to his yoke,
Would ye sacrifice Liberty ? No!
Our blood hath come down from the fine of the brave,
Let us die like the free, and not live like the slave.
Desert not our country in need,
Come forth with the steel and the steed,
And these boasters may learn from our bund,
Although we be few,
What each freeman can do,
NV! ien his sword is unsheathed for his land;
Then ho! for the combat; tho end of our strife
Shall be death, not defeat, or be freedom and life!
Look on tower and on temple around,
And hark to the bell's solemn sound,
That so often hath called you to prayer!
Looking up to the Cross,
Know that life must be loss,
"Should the Crescent supplant it in air.
And swear by the volume, which know's not to lie,
For our hearths and our alta r s, to conquer or die!
Oh! strange that your purpose should freeze!
Irresolutes look ye on these,
The glories your foemen should shroud:—
Your country demands
Her defence from our hands.
Yea, her stones lift their voices aloud;
And the ghosts of our fathers start up from their graves,
To gibber at those who submit to be slaves.
Yes, these worthies; they bled for ilssako—•
Let the might of their spirits awake—
And rouse ye to glory once more;
Doubt and darkness shall fly
From that morning's bright eye,
Which dawns to illumine our shore;
In the might of each arm—in the flash of each sword,
In the throb of each heart shi^l the past be restored.

Then forward!—Heav'n smiles on our cause—
Let us fight for our lives and our laws;
by the sword,
While a kindling remains
Of Greek blood in our veins, *■
That " Freedom or death" is the word;
Then draw for the onset—huzza for the strife,
Which leuds us from thraldom to freedom and life.
Advance we and
He comes not—I have watched the moon go down,
But yet he comes not—once it was not so.
He thinks not how these bitter tears do flow,
The while he holds Ins riot in that town.
Yet he will come, and chide, and I shall weep;
And he will w ake my infant from its sleep,
To blend its feeble w ailing with my tears.
O! how I love a mother's watch to keep,
Over those sleeping eyes, that smile which cheers
My heart, though sunk in sorrow, fix'd and deep.
I had a husband once, who lov'd me—now
He ever wears a frown upon his brow.
And feeds his passion on a wanton's lip,
As bees from laurel flow 'rs a poison sip ;
But yet 1 cannot hate—0! there were hours,
When I could hang forever on his eye,
And Time, who stole with silent swiftness by,
Strew'd as he hurried on, his path with flowers.
I lov'd him then—he lov'd me too—my heart
Still finds its fondness kindle, if he smile;
The memory of our loves will ne'er depart;
And though he often sting me with a dart,
Venom'd and barb d, and waste upon the vile,
Caresses which his babe and mine should share;
Though he should spurn me, I will calmly beur
His madness—and should sickness come, and lay
Its paralizing hand upon him, then
I would, with kindness, all my wrongs repay,
Until the penitent shall weep, and say,
How injured, and how faithful i had been.
From the Winter's Wreath
'Tis Home where'er the heart is!
Where'er its loved ones dwell,
In cities or in cottages,
Thronged haunts or mossy dell;
The heart's a rover ever,
And thus on wave and wild,
The maiden with her lover walks,
The mother with her child.
'Tis bright where'er the heart is;
11 s fairy spells can bring
Fresh fountains to the wilderness,
And to the desert—spring.
There are green isles in each ocean,
O'er which affection glides;
. And a haven on each shore,
When Love 's the star that guides.
'Tis free where'er the heart is;
Not chains, nor dungeon dim,
May check the mind's aspirings,
The spirit's pealing hymn!
The heart gives life its beauty,
Its glory and its power,—
'Tis sunlight to its rippling stream,
And soft dew to its flower.
j 4
From the London Weekly Review.
The Butterfly was a gentleman,
Of no very good repute;
And he roved in the sunshine all day long,
In his scarlet and purple suit:
And he left his lady-wife at home
In her own secluded bower;
Whilst he, like a bachelor, flirted about
With a kiss for every flower.
His lady-wife was a poor glow-worm»
And seldom fiom home she'd stir;
She loved him better than all the world,
Though little he cared for her.
Unheeded she pass'd the day—she knew
Her lord was a rover then;
But, when night came on, she lighted her lamp,
To guide him over the glen.
One night the wanderer homeward came,
But he saw not the glow-worm's ray;
Some wild bird saw the neglected one,
And flew' with her far away.
Then beware, ye Butterflies all, beware
If to you such a time should come:
Forsaken by wandering lights, you'll wish
You had cherish'd the lamp at home.
Whoever is angry with another is wrong himself.
Hanover , Pa. Jan 20.—We are informed that week be. H
fore la hi, during the eohl mid windy weather, a young man, a I
market tender by profession, lit mg several miles west oi this |
place, on his return from Baltimore, whither he had been to H
dispose of his cargo, finding the piercing sharpness of the wind H
and cold exceedingly unpleasant, resolved to creep into
old empty chest he had on his waggon in oidinary use for
slowing away market articles, but then empty. Be had
scarcely time to feel snug und comfortable in his new
I era, before a stick, placed us a supporter of the lid of the H
• best gave wuy, it fell, and being we suppose a spring lock,
closed firmly on him, and all his elforts to force it open were
unavailing. Being thus buried alive, and finding it impossible
10 extricate himself, in the extremity of terror he screomed, H
shouted and halloed, hut all to no purpose; the chest _
tight and the wind high, and the sound of his voice could not WÊ
penetrate his sarcophagus. His horses, accustomed to tht
road, travelled on unconscious of their master's unpleasant
incarceration, and proceeded three miles, when at last the ^B
(supposed) absence of the owner excited attention. The ^B
horses were stopped, and having at last made himself heard, H
lie was released from his uncomfortable durance, with great H
pleasure to himself and the umuseinent of his deliverers. H
We copy the following anecdote from the Boston Evening H
Bulletin: ||
44 The Attorney General, now nearly eighty years of age, ^B
and said to be more competent to the discharge of the or
duous duties of his highly honorable station than almost any S
practitioner at the bar, on account of his great learning anil ^B
experience, as well as a remarkable retention of mental pow- H
or, was managing a case in behalf of the Commonwealth, in H
Middlesex county, where a man was indicted for gouging out R|
the eyes of a girl, because she had made oath that he was
the father of her illegitimate child. Her brother, an intelli
gent lad of nine years of age, was on the stand, as a Govern
ment witness; and his relation of the facts which he saw.
produced an electrical effect on the whole audience. The
girl was also present, in total blindness; and every circum
stance attending the invesiigation of this horrible barbarity,
was highly exciting. The boy stated the preliminary circum
stances, and then said:—" I was cutting bean poles round the
barn, and my sister was milking; I heard her scream, and
then I ran with a pole in my Hand, and as 1 came up, I saw
that he had pulled her over backwards; then he looked over
his shoulders to see who was coming, and I struck him with
the pole, and broke his jaw."—" Why did you not repeat the
blow ?" exclaimed the Attorney General, carried away with
the tremendous interest—" why did you not repeal the blow,
and knock his d-d brains out ?" 44 Mr Attorney," said
the Judge, " you well know that profanity in Court is a high
offence, punishable with imprisonment; but, in consequence
of the unusual excitement of the case, it will, in this instance,
be overlooked."
At a fire in London, while the engines were discharging
: their contents against the front of a house, an inscription
j it became nearly obliterated. ' By my sow/*' exclaimed a
! witty Irishman in the crow d, 4 this is a queer time for a joke.'
j 4 And who is a joking?' growled one of the firemen. 4 Why,
I dont' you see honey, how you are playing upon words* said
o I
The last number of the European Magazine contains an
gênions article, showing the way in which lying too long in
! bed injures the body. This is unquestionably one of the most
j pernicious habits which can beset poor human nature Too
i much bed (and above seven hours is too much) debilitates
I both body and mind; it causes indigestion, nervous disorders,
j low spirits, and is as hostile to 44 good looks" as to strength
j and cheerfulness. We hear some unhappy and inveterate
! sluggard exclaim, 44 but different constitutions require dilfe*
! reu» quantities of rest!" No such thing; 7 hours is an ample
1 allowance for young and old, weak or strong, and the softer
sex may be assured, that all the cosmetics in the world will
not improve their complexion half so effectually as the whole
some, useful, and every way valuable practice of early rising;
a practice against which not a single objection can be urged,
and which costs absolutely nothing—unless indeed that is an
Previous to the last session of the Legislature of Il
linois, says the Galena Miners' Journal, there was no
Court of Judicature on Fever Hiver» and the only writ
ten law operating upon the Miners, who compose the
principal part of the population of Galena, was con
tained on a single page of foolscap paper , signed I»)
the Superintendent of the Mines, and posted up in a
public place. The regulations, as they were called,
provided a way for settling all disputes between the
Miners, with regard to their ore and lots of ground;
hut in their daily transactions, and in the credits given
by one another, they were governed entirely by the law
of honor.

xml | txt