That narrow-chested, pale, enervate thing
Down from a man, for, marvel as you will,
His huge great-grandsire fought on Bunker Hill!
Bore, without gloves, a musket through the war;
Came back adorned with many a noble scar;
Labored and prospered at a thriving rate,
And, dying, left his heir a snug estate,
Which grew apace upon his busy hands,
Stocks, ships, and factories, tenements and lands,
All here at last, - the money and the race,
The latter ending in that foolish face;
The former wandering, far beyond his aim,
Back to the rough plebeians whence it came!

Enough of censure; let my humble lays Employ one moment in congenial praise. Let other pens with pious ardor paint The selfish virtues of the cloistered saint; In lettered marble let the stranger read Of him who, dying, did a worthy deed, And left to charity the cherished store Which, to his sorrow, he could hoard no more. I venerate the nobler man who gives His generous dollars while the donor lives; Gives with a heart as liberal as the palms That to the needy spread his honored alms ; Gives with a head whose yet unclouded light To worthiest objects points the giver's sight; Gives with a hand still potent to enforce His well-aimed bounty, and direct its course; Such is the giver who must stand confest In giving glorious, and supremely blest! One such as this the captious world could find In noble Perkins, angel of the blind;

One such as this in princely Lawrence shone,
Ere heavenly kindred claimed him for their own!

To me the boon may gracious Heaven assign,
No cringing suppliant at Mammon's shrine,
Nor slave of Poverty, - with joy to share
The happy mean expressed in Agur's prayer :
A house (my own) to keep me safe and warm,
A shade in sunshine, and a shield in storm ;
A generous board, and fitting raiment, clear
Of debts and duns throughout the circling year;
Silver and gold, in moderate store, that I
May purchase joys that only these can buy ;
Some gems of art, a cultured mind to please,
Books, pictures, statues, literary ease.
That "Time is Money" prudent Franklin shows
In rhyming couplets, and sententious prose.
O, had he taught the world, in prose and rhyme,
The higher truth that Money may be Time!
And showed the people, in his pleasant ways,
The art of coining dollars into days!
Days for improvement, days for social life,
Days for your God, your children, and your wife;
Some days for pleasure, and an hour to spend
In genial converse with an honest friend.

Such days be mine! - and grant me, Heaven, but this,
With blooming health, man's highest earthly bliss,
And I will read, without a sigh or frown,
The startling news that stocks are going down;
Hear without envy that a stranger hoards
Or spends more treasure than a mint affords ;
See my next neighbor pluck a golden plum,
Calm and content within my cottage-home ;
Take for myself what honest thrift may bring,
And for his kindness, bless the Money-King!

EXCERPTS FROM OCCASIONAL

POEMS.

EXCERPTS FROM OCCASIONAL POEMS.

L

EL DORADO.

ET others, dazzled by the shining ore, Delve in the dirt to gather golden store. Let others, patient of the menial toil And daily suffering, seek the precious spoil; No hero I, in such a cause to brave Hunger and pain, the robber and the grave. I 'll work, instead, exempt from hate and harm, The fruitful "placers" of my mountain-farm, Where the bright ploughshare opens richest veins, From whence shall issue countless golden grains, Which in the fulness of the year shall come, In bounteous sheaves, to bless my harvest-home!

But, haply, good may come of mining yet: 'T will help to pay the nation's foreign debt; 'T will further liberal arts; plate rings and pins, Gild books and coaches, mirrors, signs, and sins; 'T will cheapen pens and pencils, and perchance May give us honest dealing for Finance! (That magic art, unknown to darker times When fraud and falsehood were reputed crimes, Whose curious laws with nice precision teach

Z