THE APPEAL 
 JF'Oi? SUFFERIJ\G GEJSIUS: 
 
 POETICAL ADDRESS 
 
 FOB 
 
 THE BENEFIT OF THE BOSTON BARD; 
 
 AND 
 
 THE TUITJJMPH 0¥ TTSITJTH, 
 
 A POEM. 
 
 BY DANIEL BRYAN. 
 
 WASHINGTON CITY : 
 
 PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR BY WAY & GIDEON. 
 1826. 
 

 50\0€>e 
 
THE AUTHOR 
 
 RESPECTFULLY DEDICATES 
 
 THIS LITTLZ: VOLXTMS 
 
 To t\\ose GftneTOXLs and liiAe]^enAent 
 3patron^ of Mttit, 
 
 Who> not with partial hand and narrow soul. 
 
 To foreign bards their bounty would extend, 
 While ruled by apish Fashion's blind control, 
 
 They scorn a native Minstrel to befriend ; 
 But with benignant heart and liberal mind. 
 
 To struggling Genius yield its proper meed 
 Wherever their search the hallowed gift can find— 
 
 And joy to see its shackled pinions freed! 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 If the author of this little volume could be convinced 
 that its reception by the public would be influenced by no 
 other considerations than those arising from its intrinsic 
 merits — whatever these may be — he would dismiss it from 
 his hands without any solicitude about the result. For, 
 while he is anxious that it should meet the favour to which 
 justice entitles it, he desires in its behalf nothing more. 
 But, although he does not pretend to claim for it a reputa- 
 tion exempt from blemishes, yet he is apprehensive that 
 these are not the most formidable obstacles which it will 
 have to encounter. 
 
 Through the influence of well-intended, but injudicious, 
 advice, the author was induced, some years ago, to publish 
 a volume of his juvenile effiisions under the title of the 
 Mountain Muse. 
 
 This production — the wild offspring of a rude undisci- 
 plined fancy — is so disfigured by imperfections, that readers 
 not acquainted with the circumstances under which it was 
 written, look with an eye of distrust upon whatever pro- 
 ceeds from his pen. 
 
 They have beheld the turbid stream which once flowed 
 from the fountain of his imagination, and are inclined to 
 
TI PREFACE. 
 
 suspect the purity of aught which may afterwards issue 
 from the same source. 
 
 Hence, although the faults of this premature essay are, 
 and have long been, as palpable to him, as they could be 
 to the most rigid and disinterested Critic; yet they have 
 reared in the way of his Muse a barrier of prejudice which 
 nothing but the current of Time, aided by persevering 
 manifestations of her improvement, can effectually over- 
 throw. — 
 
 Happy you, wlio, (by propitious fate) 
 On great Apollo's sacred standard wait, 
 And with strict discipline instructed riglit, 
 Have learned to use your arms before you fight. 
 
 Provoked too far, we resolutely must. 
 
 To the few virtues that we have, be just. Roscommon. 
 
 While the author gratefully acknowledges that those 
 
 critical notices with which the Mountain Muse has been. 
 
 honoured, were as complimentary to his genius — and as 
 
 favourable to that production as he had any just grounds for 
 
 anticipating, he is constrained to say, that its imperfections 
 
 have enkindled against his Muse a prejudice which he has 
 
 had frequent occasion to witness. His opinion upon this 
 
 subject is not mere matter of surmise ; — of its accuracy he 
 
 has seen exhibited proof incontestible in the fact, that 
 
 editors who have excluded from their columns, some of the 
 
 best effusions of his fancy, when accompanied by his name. 
 
'%. 
 
 PREFACE. Vll 
 
 ^ave not only copied his anonymous articles of inferior 
 quality from other papers, but have readily given insertion 
 to his pieces of this description, when communicated with 
 a fictitious signature in a hand-writing difierent from his 
 own, at the very time they were refusing a place to such of 
 his pieces as their own judgments, if unbiassed by any 
 reference to the writer, would have pronounced greatly 
 superior to those they were honouring ! 
 
 Some ne'er advance a judgment of their own, 
 
 But catch the spreading notion of the town ; 
 
 They reason and conclude by precedent, 
 
 And own stale nonsense which they ne'er invent. 
 
 3ome judge of authors' names not works; and then 
 
 Nor praise nor blame the writings, but the men. 
 
 Of all this servile herd, the worst is he 
 
 That in proud dulness joins with quality. 
 
 A constant critic at the great man's board. 
 
 To fetch and carry nonsense for my lord: 
 
 What woful stuff this madrigal would be. 
 
 In some starved hackney sonnatteer, or me ! 
 
 But let a lord once own the happy lines. 
 
 How the wit brightens ! how the style refines ! 
 
 Before his sacred name flies every fault. 
 
 And each exalted stanza teems with thought !- — Pope. 
 
 While the author is fully aware of the deformities which 
 mar the pages of the Mountain Muse, and freely acknow- 
 ledges that were he now called upon to write a criticism of 
 it himself, he would exercise towards it as much severity as 
 it has experienced from most of the journals by which it 
 has been noticed ; — yet, on the other hand, he flatters him- 
 
Vm I'REFACB. 
 
 self with a belief, that what they have said in its praise was 
 not altogether unwarranted, and that, if it does not possess 
 qualities sufficiently splendid and beautiful to save it from 
 oblivion, it is, however, not less indicative of those native 
 powers which "promise better things," than were the first 
 efforts of numerous " unfledged poets" who have ultimately 
 soared to honourable distinction. 
 
 What became of Pope's "Comedy, Tragedy, Epic Poem, 
 and Panegyricks on all the princes of Europe," written at a 
 time " when he thought himself the greatest genius that 
 ever was ?" 
 
 Of these productions scarcely a vestige remains. All 
 that is known concerning them is, that " Alcander, the epic 
 poem, was burnt by the persuasion of Atterbury" — that 
 "the Tragedy was founded on the legend of St. Gene- 
 vieve" — and that " of the Comedy there is no account." — 
 Yet the soil in which these efflorescences of genius displayed 
 their fruitless luxuriance, had received all the advantages of 
 early and unremitted culture, and was remarkable for the 
 precocity of its productions. 
 
 The lofty structure of Milton's fame could never have 
 been reared upon his youthful performances. By his great 
 biographer we are told, "the products of his vernal fertility 
 have been surpassed by many. Of the powers of tlie mind 
 it is difficult to form an estimate; many have excelled 
 Milton in their first essays, who never rose to works like 
 Paradise Lost." And, again, of the English portion of 
 these " preludes to his future labours," the same illustrious 
 
PREFACE. IX 
 
 critic says, " their peculiarity is not excellence; if they differ 
 from the verses of others, they differ for the worse." 
 
 If the immortal Shakspeare had written nothing but his 
 Sonnets, his Venus and Adonis, and his Lucrece, the sha- 
 dows of forgetfulness would now be gathering round his 
 name ; and the glorious splendour inherent in that mighty 
 luminary of Genius which enlightens the firmament of 
 Literature, would never have been known to the world. 
 
 The most sanguine admirer of Lord Byron's muse would 
 never have anticipated from the perusal of his "Hours of 
 Idleness," his ascension to the elevated position in the 
 temple of Poesy which he now occupies. 
 
 It would be no difficult task to multiply examples, drawn 
 from the history of both ancient and modern authors of 
 established respectability, of the perishable and often unpro- 
 mising character of their first productions ; but the instances 
 here cited are sufficient to shew the fallacy, as well as 
 injustice, of permitting the defects, or even the failure 
 of a writer's juvenile composition, to operate against a fail" 
 appreciation, upon their own merits, of his subsequent 
 productions. 
 
 Shall golden ore be spumed because it came 
 
 From mines whence baser metals once were drawn .' 
 Shall eyes reject the sun's unclouded flame, 
 
 Because dark mists obscured its struggling dawn ? 
 Shall Culture's bounty clothe the fields in vain, 
 
 Because the forest there once spread its gloom ? 
 Or richest fmits be trampled with disdain. 
 
 Because preceded by a vanished bloom ^ 
 
X PREFACE. 
 
 The assimilation of the following poems with works of 
 distinguished merits, which may seem to be implied in the 
 foregoing illustrations, may subject the author to the impu- 
 tation of vanitj': Be it so. For the opinions of those who 
 possess so little talent at discrimination as not to perceive 
 that, on a subject like this, to elucidate by example, is not 
 necessarily to identify with it, he cannot entertain sufficient 
 respect, to feel, concerning them, the slightest solicitude. 
 He would, however, rather be charged with vanity, than 
 be guilty of hypocricy. He, therefore, hesitates not to 
 say — and it would be a ridiculous affectation of modesty 
 in him to say otherwise — that the time has arrived when 
 he claims for the productions of his muse, much higher 
 merits than he dared to believe were justly ascribable to his 
 rude mountain strains. 
 
 But he is not sanguine in his anticipations that his recent 
 poems will fare as well, in proportion to their merits, as did 
 the wild effusions of his juvenile lyre. — For there appears 
 to be a middle point on the scale of poetical excellence, 
 above which the tribunal of public opinion in the United 
 States, will not consent that American poets can possibly 
 rise ! and if there does not exist, as many persons believe 
 there does, a disinclination in this country to be pleased 
 with, or to patronise, the efforts of her native bards ; they 
 have, at least, to contend with powerful and deep-rooted 
 prejudices. 
 
 These, however, he has the happiness to believe, are 
 beginning to yield to the growing influence of unbiassed 
 
PREFACE. XI 
 
 reflection, and to that lofty national pride, and noble spirit 
 of independence, which spurn the equally irrational and 
 degrading hypothesis that imputes intellectual, as well as 
 physical, inferiority to this magnificent continent. And he 
 hopes the period is not remote when his country will regard 
 with as proud feelings, and cherish with as much tenderness 
 and solicitude, the interests and the reputation of her writers, 
 as she now does those of her warriors and her orators : — and 
 when she will resent, with equal indignity, the charge of a 
 destitution of literary genius, as she now would that of a 
 want of valor in the field, or of wisdom in council. 
 
 In relation to the object of this publication, the author 
 considers it unnecessary to say aught here. The "xippeal" 
 must speak for itself. 
 
 It may be proper for him, however, in this place to de- 
 clare a little more explicitly his views concerning the 
 character of Mr. Coffin's poetry. For, while the humblest of 
 these productions exhibit, in his estimation, indications of 
 genius, he would not be understood as intimating that they 
 are all characterized by high degrees of excellence. 
 
 They were manifestly written at separate periods, under 
 the influence of various circumstances, calculated to impart 
 to them various shades of merit. Hence they are, as miglit 
 be expected, marked with considerable diversities of style 
 and feeling; and many of them being improvisatory eflli- 
 sions, thrown out from the heart under the promptings of 
 occasional impulse, were, as soon as the moment of excite- 
 ment had passed away, laid aside and neglected, until the 
 
Xll PREFACE. 
 
 health and situation of the poet did not permit him t© 
 bestow upon them an attentive revision. — These pieces, 
 therefore, are slightly sprinkled with imperfections which, 
 under more favorable circumstances, the Bard's own delicate 
 ear might have detected, and his skilful hand have removed. 
 
 The author does not advance for Mr. Coffin's poetry any 
 pretensions to vast magnificence and sublimity. Melodious 
 sweetness, beautiful imagery, tender sentiment, fervency in 
 the cause of virtue, patriotic enthusiasm, and a general 
 tinge of melancholy, indicating the sorrows which were 
 corroding the minstrel's heart, are its distinguishing traits. 
 And these are sufficient to establish for him a lasting repu- 
 tation as a meritorious poet. What, if his destiny had been 
 less severe, might have been his powers of invention, and 
 his capacity for more continuous systematic compositions, 
 exhibiting loftier displays of grandeur, and a higher com- 
 mand over the mightier passions of our nature, the author 
 will not here pretend to determine. 
 
 If he did not, with Miltonian boldness, sweep the epic 
 lyre, and blow the battle clarion, he touched with Shen- 
 stonian tenderness the harp of Sensibility, and breathed 
 with melting sweetness the Lover's plaintive lute. 
 
 If the parterres of his fancy are not crowned with the 
 gorgeous majesty of the Helianthus, Laburnum, and Mag- 
 nolia, they are enriched and adorned with the fragrance and 
 the bloom of the Primrose, the Snow-drop and the Violet. 
 
 The author cannot close this prefatory article without 
 recording an expression of his fervent thankfulness to those 
 
PREFACE. 301I. 
 
 benevolent Editors, and other individuals, who have gene- 
 rously contributed their aid to promote subscriptions to this 
 publication. 
 
 Their names are enshrined in his memory, where, as long 
 as it endures, they shall receive the homage of bis respect 
 and his gratitude ; and they shall be communicated to the 
 poor consumptive "Bard," that they may be remembered 
 in his dying benedictions. 
 
Z'^t ^»»t»ii 
 
THE APPEAL 
 
 FOR SUFFERING GEJSIUS* 
 
 While millions weep at scenes of fancied wo, 
 And Fiction's wand dissolves the sternest hearts; 
 O'er bosoms sordid, vicious, and unkind, 
 Tlie charm of pure and generous feeling throws. 
 And kindles in the miser's frozen veins 
 A momentary glow of sympathising zeal ; 
 Shall actual want, and wretchedness unfeigned, 
 Pour forth their suppliant wail, nor find relief ? 
 Shall these not waken in the public breast 
 A livelier throb — an interest more intense— 
 Than all the magic pomp of scenic grief— 
 
 Than all the bleeding phantoms of the mind ? 
 
 3 
 
18 THE APPEAL. 
 
 In plaintive tones a cry of anguish comes, 
 From Misery's drear abode, and pleads for help ; 
 While meek -eyed Pity's pale seraphic form 
 Is hovering; near to ur^e the tender suit. — 
 No common suffering wrings her thrilling breast — 
 No feeble claims enlist her kindness now. — 
 Upon a dying Poet's wasting frame, 
 And visage wan, her streaming eye is turned. 
 To you — his brethren — she her prayer prefers — 
 That yet the waning spark which warms his heart 
 May feel your generous bounty's kindling touch, 
 And still a little longer pour its light — 
 The light of living genius— o'er the land 
 Which he with all a Poet's ardour loves : — 
 That your beneficence may sooth the pangs 
 That riot on liis bosom's mangled core, 
 And drink, alas ! his vital fountains dry ! 
 Whose ravage— though no human aid can cure — 
 
TBS APPCAIh 19 
 
 May yet of half its tortures be disarmed — 
 And in its work of ruin and of death — 
 Although unconquered — softened and delayed. 
 
 And shall not Pity's sacred voice prevail ? 
 Go, go Avith her to yonder wretched couch 
 In Poverty's obscure and cheerless shed, 
 Where Freedom's minstrel, broken-hearted, lies, 
 And clasps with feeble arm his mourning Ijtb. 
 See there the weeping Muses round him hang, 
 And still with their inspiring beams illume 
 His haggard cheek, and rouse his fainting pulse ; 
 While he, in many a sorrow-breathing lay, 
 Their soothing care, and tuneful influence owns. 
 But, ah 1 no strains of happiness are heard 
 Commingling now with his melodious song.— 
 No gleams of earthly joy break thro' the gloom 
 Which hovers round, and chills his anguished soul. 
 
TBX: APPEAIi. 
 
 E'en Hope has teased to smile upon the wreck 
 Of promised bliss that cheered his brighter days. 
 
 What eye can gaze upon that prostrate Bard- 
 The embodied type of wo— Consumption's prey ! 
 Nor feel its vision dimmed by gushing tears ? 
 And, yet, 'tis not this vulture of Disease, 
 AVhose cruel ravage wastes his suffering frame, 
 That o'er his spirits casts the deadliest shade. 
 It is the pain he feels from ravening Want, 
 Whose spectral form, and ghastly stare, 
 Still meet his aching eye where'er it turns, 
 That most our kindly charities demand. 
 
 To wander, lonely, houseless, and unclothed. 
 And on the naked earth with hunger die, 
 Or bow his high and independent soul, 
 And beg for shelter, raiment, and for food) 
 
TBE APPEAL. 
 
 Is poor afflicted Coffin's hapless lot ! 
 Though Death to him its terrors long has lost, 
 Yet, ! to perish like an outcast wretch— 
 An exile from the haunts of social man- 
 To starve in his own dear-loved native land, 
 And yield his limbs to feed the prowling tribes 
 Of earth and air, is more than human pride, 
 In all its daring loftiness, can brave. 
 To mighty Nature's stern imperious law. 
 His humbled, broken spirit, therefore, bows, 
 And supplicates his brother man for bread ! 
 
 And shall that crushed and bleeding spirit plead, 
 In this humane and Christian land, in vain ? 
 Methinks I hear a sweet angelic voice— 
 The voice of Charity — replying — ^No ! 
 And that, in whispers breathed from glowing heaits, 
 It here e'en now, a kindred answer meets. 
 
22 THE APPEAL. 
 
 Let not suspicion's cankering breath assail 
 The suppliant Poet's faith, nor shed its blight 
 O'er that lone prospect in his dreary life 
 On which his eye can now repose unpained — 
 His fair integrity and love of ti-uth ! 
 Tliough deeply humbled — prostrate in the dust- 
 Poor beggared Coffin is an honest man I 
 While health infused its vigour through his arm 
 He sought no aid but what its labours gave, 
 And when Disease had withered half its strength, 
 E'en then, for succour on its nerves he hung 5 
 But all its energies, at length, gave way. 
 And, plunged in Poverty's o'erwhelming gulph, 
 He pours his faint, but piteous, cry for help 
 To those, who, basking on the radiant heights 
 Of competence and wealth, feel not the gloom, 
 The agonies, despondency, and cares, 
 
THE APPEAL. 23 
 
 ixac 
 
 Which prey upon his macerated heart 
 In that profound abyss in which he lies. 
 
 Let Fortune's favoured sons, whose happy live.s 
 Through one unvaried track of light and flowers 
 Have smoothly flown, frown not with stern disdain 
 Upon the suffering Poet's lowly state, 
 Nor pierce his feelings with another pang, 
 By stamping on his name dishonour's brand. 
 As he on them for kind assistance calls. 
 So they, pressed down by wretchedness and want. 
 May see the day when from their groaning breasts 
 Exhausted Nature's voice shall humbly rise, 
 In supplications to their brother men, 
 For means the rage of hunger to appease. 
 And quench the flame that burns the fevered lip ! 
 To-day their golden mountains firm may stand, 
 To-morrow's sun may on their ruins shine- 
 
3i THE APPEAXi. 
 
 The same Almighty Power that smote the Bard 
 For His own holy, but mysterious, ends. 
 Oft hurls in dust the loftiest hopes of Pride, 
 And lays the domes of Wealth and Grandeur lo^i-. 
 
 Remember, too— remember — and be wise — 
 ^ Ye whom Fortune's favouring smiles have blest. 
 
 That riches are the means of good or ill 
 To him who holds them, — just as they are used. 
 If well applied — if works of mercy grow 
 Beneath their fostering beams — and sorrow's cheek. 
 Where nought but pallid hues and tears were seen. 
 Is decked by their kind aid in smiles and bloom. 
 They bless the hand from which their comforts flow- 
 Their blessings then extend beyond the grave 
 In fragrance round the benefactor's soul— 
 In sacred fragrance that can never die ! 
 But riches lavished at Ambition's shrine — 
 
TBS APPBAZi. 35 
 
 Applied to pamper vanity and guilt— 
 Or hoarded with a sordid love of pelf, 
 And worshipped with a votary's sleepless zeal, 
 Shall be transformed to ever-during fire, 
 Consume immortal hopes, and rack the soul ! 
 These solemn truths on no slight sanction rest, 
 But are by Heaven's eternal word sustained. — 
 The stores of wealth in man's possession found, 
 He holds in trust for virtuous ends assigned. 
 And they, to sickness and misfortune doomed, 
 Who cannot share those stores by human laws, 
 A higher claim may urge — the laws of Heaven — 
 Which on the opulent with force enjoin. 
 Amid the various duties they impose. 
 To feed the hungry, and the naked clothe. 
 
 Behold, ye rich ! a Lazarus at your gates ! 
 
 He begs the crumbs that from your tables fall. 
 4 
 
^6 THS APPEAL. 
 
 Think, think ! while you in robes of purple shine, 
 
 And finest linens wrap your honoured limbs ; 
 
 While, daily, you on sumptuous fare regale, 
 
 And, free from care, on beds of down repose 
 
 Beneath the shelter of magnifick domes ; 
 
 O, think ! wliat pangs this suppliant's bosom rend 
 
 While on his flinty couch in pain he lies, 
 
 And steeps in tears of wo the scanty crust — 
 
 His last remaining means of sustenance — 
 
 On him by kindred poverty bestowed I 
 
 Let Nature's voice — let Heaven's behest prevail — 
 
 Your festal joys suspend — and deign to turn 
 
 A moment's kindness on your brother man ! 
 
 " Unbar your portals" — hear his anxious prayer— 
 
 And grant him more than he presumes to ask. 
 
 Take counsel of the Gospel Rich Man's fate — 
 
 Behold, and fly, Perdition's awful pit 
 
 Whence he to Lazarus lifts his hopeless cry ! — 
 
THE APPEAL. ^ 
 
 The Muse would scorn to paint the hapless Bard 
 In tints of praise his merits do not claim ; 
 Or in the splendours of his mind conceal 
 The shades that to his portraiture belong. 
 
 Poor Coffin's heart was cast in human mould, 
 And, therefore, bears in common with its kind, 
 Frail Nature's impress — one not free from flaws — 
 And, these Misfortune found — ^Imrled there her shafts- 
 Her keenest, rankling shafts — and helped to make 
 His ruined state, and sufferings, what they are- 
 Be silent, censor ! nor condemn as crimes 
 From which forgiveness should her smiles withhold. 
 The frailties of Afiliction's wretched son 
 Whose deep, enduring, tenderness of soul. 
 And racking trials thou hast never known. 
 Canst thou aver thy virtues would have stood, 
 
28 THE APPEAIi. 
 
 With sterner force than his, their fiery test — 
 
 That years of mental, and corporeal pain, 
 
 Would not have wrung from thee an humbling proof 
 
 That in thy nature, pure as now it seems, 
 
 There mingles some slight portion of alloy r 
 
 If Providence to thee has kindness shown 
 
 In ample gifts — in plenty, health, and ease — 
 
 Let gratitude thy happy bosom fill, 
 
 And teach thee how to prize the gracious boon : 
 
 Let prudence guide thee in her thornless path, 
 
 And virtuous deeds thy life with blessings crown : 
 
 But guard thy breast from pride, nor boast, nor think. 
 
 Thyself superior to the erring Bard 
 
 Whose want and weakness thou hast never felt — 
 
 And e'en whose foibles would in thee be crimes ! 
 
 Mark well thy heart — are there no hidden thoughts 
 Which would thy cheek with burning blushes stain 
 
TBS APPEAL. 39 
 
 If here proclaimed ? Thy secret actions scan — 
 
 And, say — are none of these so steeped in crime, 
 
 So incongenial with thy public walk — 
 
 With that fair guise of purity thou wearest— 
 
 That they would make thee hide thy head witli shame, 
 
 If in the open eye of day exposed, 
 
 And own thy brother's faults, compared with thine, 
 
 Were light as grains of dust with mountains weighed ? 
 
 If thou art really pure in thought, and deed, 
 Thy soul, by meekness, and by love, imbued, 
 With charity thy judgment will restrain ; 
 Will throw her sacred mantle o'er the wounds 
 Thy censure in his aching bosom trenched, 
 And soothe him with her stores of wine and oil. 
 For, this the Muse, not unadvised, proclaims — 
 Whate'er his sins have been, they are confessed, 
 Repented, and forsaken. Shall they, then, 
 
30 THE APPEAL. 
 
 Not free forgiveness find from man himself 
 Who rests on Mercy liis eternal hopes ? 
 Whate'er in circumstances can obtain 
 To palliate our sinful nature's faults, 
 Humanity in Coffin's case may plead. 
 
 At his sad birth no kindly auspice reigned- 
 Misfortune, even then, as victim meet 
 To feed her appetite for human wo, 
 Fixed on his infant heart her hungry eye. 
 While yet his childhood, in its tender bud. 
 Beneath the shelter of parental care, 
 Was opening its sweet promise on the view, 
 And all around was happiness and love 5 
 She fiercely rushed upon the peaceful scene, 
 Tore down its strong-liolds of domestic bliss. 
 And o'er the little Eden smiling there. 
 Remorseless, breathed her desolating blasts. — 
 
THE APPEAL. 31 
 
 Then, then, the infant Poet's flowery hopes 
 In withered ruin lay. The sunny hours 
 That o'er his Fancy waved their sparkling wings, 
 Enkindling there her brightest gayest dreams, 
 Had now forever flown — and blackest gloom 
 Usurped their place. By fiends asunder driven—. 
 He saw his parents part ! and all the joys 
 That grow from hearts in wedded union twined, 
 Forever blighted. Who can tell the pangs 
 That then his lacerated bosom rent .'' 
 Be yours the task his sufferings to conceive, 
 Who still, the bliss in warm remembrance bear 
 Your infant breasts were wont to feel, when love 
 Its pure delights around your homes diffused j 
 And yours, ye happy parents ! whose fond hearts 
 Your children's transports heighten and enjoy ! 
 No golden heritage, or pitying friends, 
 Were his to soothe his worse than orphan state.— «_ 
 
32 TBE APPEAL. 
 
 To kindred, but unfeeling hands, consigned, 
 
 To serve a tyrant's will became his doom ; 
 
 And cruelty and wrong, his tender limbs, 
 
 And tenderer mind, through lingering years, oppressed. 
 
 When from the Oppressor's painful yoke released. 
 And kindness once more shed a cheering ray 
 Upon his path, and gilt the clouds that hung 
 Around his youthful spirits — still the scowl 
 Of Poverty, in prospect, met his view^ 
 While, haunted by the spectre of his home, 
 Where, on its grave, the ruffian spoiler gorged. 
 His soul knew not the cheerfulness and peace 
 Which flourish most in life's enchanting morn. 
 
 The sweetest, dearest, solace he enjoyed 
 Amidst the storms and buffetings of Fate, 
 Was the wild warbling of his juvenile Muse. 
 
TBS APPEAIi. 33 
 
 She poured her thrilling transports through his heart. 
 And kindled there her bright bewildering flame. 
 New hopes took root beneath its quickening glow, 
 And o'er the ruins of his former joys 
 Put forth their gay, but evanescent, blooms, 
 Whose fruit, alas I was soon, too soon, displayed 
 In disappointments, and in woes renewed. 
 
 By hard necessity's unyielding law. 
 
 In manual toils compelled to spend the hours 
 
 For which his struggling genius vainly sighed 
 
 To consecrate to his aspiring Muse, 
 
 That she might bring to light from her rich mines 
 
 The splendid treasures of poetic thought. 
 
 And in their polished beauty spread them forth 
 
 Before admiring and rewarding eyes ; 
 
 He oft, in deepest sadness, mourned the doom 
 
 That urged his Fancy to ethereal flights, 
 
 5 
 
34 THE APPEAX.. 
 
 While on her pinions hung the leaden clogs 
 Of penury. But still the illusive charm 
 Of minstrelsy around his yielding mind 
 Its fascinations threw, and years rolled on 
 "Which found, and left him still a child of wo. 
 
 With feelings strung to thrill at every touch, 
 And deeply conscious of his tuneful powers, 
 He saw the veriest clods in human form 
 Enjoying riches, luxury, and ease ; 
 And stupid brows with brilliant honours crowned, 
 While indigence, obscurity, and toil, 
 In ruthless league, his happiness assailed. 
 
 But weakh was not our humble Poet's aim, 
 And glory's voice unheeded passed his ear. 
 Save when it richly poured from bowers of song 
 He envied not the purse-proud churl his joy, 
 
THE APPEAL. 3$ 
 
 Nor pined for honours built on crumbling earth : 
 But he, with all a minstrel's passion, yearned 
 For means to set his shackled genius free. 
 And scale the heights of Heliconia's mount.— 
 A voice within his breast — a sleepless voice— 
 Which stern Misfortune, and the world's neglect, 
 Could ne'er extinguish, or suppress, proclaimed 
 That fame for which he sighed — the Bard's high meed— 
 The goal to which his genius should aspire. 
 
 Hence, while he saw with wealth and honours crowned 
 The grovelling Iomi, the sycophant, and knave, 
 He well might mourn the destiny severe 
 Which dealt to him, through Drudgery's meager hand, 
 Its scanty dole of life-sustaining husks. 
 
 But still, he oft, in midnight silence, knelt 
 A rapt enthusiast at the Muse's shrine j 
 
oS TBE APPEAI.. 
 
 And, while in sleep the world its cares forgot, 
 With spirits of departed Bards communed, 
 And on their solemn, pure, melodious strains, 
 The livelong night in glowing transport hung. 
 And ofttimes, too, from human eye retired, 
 He swept the chords of his untutored harp, 
 And breathed in measures rude, but wildly sweet. 
 The feelings of his lone, impassioned, heart. 
 But, when with bolder aspirations fired. 
 He poured his song upon the public ear. 
 And sought the humble meed his merits claimed. 
 He met contemptuous sneers, and chilling frowns. 
 
 What claims had he to patrons, smiles, and praise i 
 What splendid titles had his lineage graced ? 
 Where were the records of his funded wealth ? 
 Or where his mansions and his rich domains ? 
 
 And what collegiate honours could he boast ? 
 
TBE APPEAX.. sr 
 
 Who, who were his renowned Patrician friends ? 
 And where the charter of his Muse's fame ? 
 Had Europe's Royal Critics praised his strains, 
 And given his name a license to applause 
 Fi-om petty journalists, and Fashion's throng i 
 Alas ! pretensions such as these he'd none. 
 An humble Printer was the Boston Bard. 
 And who would dare a poor Mechanic's verse, 
 And that besprinkled, too, with juvenile faults, 
 To shield from censure and the world's neglect r 
 Such high and independent souls there are — 
 But he is Fortune's favoured son indeed — 
 The Bard obscure— whose stniggling merits find 
 A friend thus noble, generous, and benign. 
 
 Not such was Coffin's lot — a feeble smile 
 -Might now and then gleam through the critic's frown, 
 And play a moment on the lowering cloud 
 
33 THE APPEAI.. 
 
 Cast o'er the early blossoms of his Muse ; 
 And Nature's suffrage, free and incorrupt, 
 Through those who judged from Feeling^s genial force, 
 Might speak the touching influence of his strains, 
 While tears that glistened in her children's eyes, 
 The expressive raptures of her voice enhanced j 
 But no distingiiished literary Knight, 
 With golden buckler armed, and sword-like pen, 
 Stepped forth the champion of his trembling fame. 
 Ah ! had he then but found such gallant friend, 
 How would the light of joy have cheered his soul. 
 And gratitude have throbbed in all his veins ; 
 Poured livelier fervours through his melting lays, 
 And dwelt in transports on his patron's name ! 
 Then servile readers, sanctioned to applaud, 
 And minor wits, too timid to condemn. 
 Upon his verse no longer would have thrown 
 Contempt's cold glance, or hurled malignant shafts. 
 
THE APPSAZi. 39 
 
 While these discharged their venom in his heart, 
 
 And robbed his merit of its just reward, 
 
 His tender spirits, and his patriot pride, 
 
 Were destined to sustain severest wounds 
 
 From partial favours shewn to foreign Bards. 
 
 He saw, while ears were closed, and breasts-were steeled 
 
 Against the purest strains of native lyres, 
 
 And these lay crushed beneath the reckless feet 
 
 That in their haste our prostrate minstrels spurned, 
 
 Deluded Fashion's eager thousands rush. 
 
 In breathless crowds, to hail the rudest song 
 
 Poured from Corruption's Muse beyond the Deep. 
 
 But Coffin's bruised and trampled spirit then^ 
 
 A rich and growing fragrance still exhaled ; 
 
 And, roused by conscious wrongs and kindled zeal, 
 
 His Muse with loftier energies inspired. 
 
 Although by Poverty's bleak tempests chilled, 
 
 She their descending fury nobly dared, 
 
40 TBE APPEAL. 
 
 And long, with bleeding breast, and fettered wing, 
 Beat up the slippery precipice of Fame. 
 But, while she there in slow progression rose, 
 Her strains were echoed from Britannia's shores, 
 And mimic tongues that had her claims aspersed 
 Dropped their censorious gall, and joined her praise ! 
 But glory's beams, now gathering round his Muse, 
 As she from glittering steep, to glittering steep, 
 With freeer pinion soared — while prospects vast 
 And brilliant on her hopes began to break — 
 Could not the hapless Poet's self protect 
 From his relentless fate's disastrous star. 
 
 While from those only kindred ties unmoored 
 Which could have held his fragile bark secure ; 
 Abandoned by unnatural, cruel men, 
 Whom consanguineous claims, and Pity's calls^ 
 In vain, in liis behalf, for aid, implored ; 
 
TBE APPEAL. 4L 
 
 And tossed from surge to surge of life's dark sea, 
 
 To whirlpools, rocks, and whelming storms exposed, 
 
 He cast around an agonizing glance 
 
 In search of something that might help or soothe, 
 
 A dazzling, but delusive beacon, shone 
 
 Athwart his gloomy way, and on his view 
 
 The prospect of a halcyon port disclosed, 
 
 A voice of siren sweetness charmed his ear — 
 
 A form of beauty, innocent, and bright, 
 
 Before his vision passed, and touched his heart 
 
 With Love's delicious poison — through his tingling veins 
 
 The sweet infection ran — and all his soul 
 
 With hopes of bliss, and bland sensations teemed. 
 
 The waves that late in darkness round him dashed, 
 
 Were all dispersed — while calm and sunshine spread 
 
 Their happy influence o'er the changing scene ; 
 
 And Peace— the genial Peace he long had sought— 
 
 6 
 
42 TBE APPEAIi. 
 
 Seemed, from her bowers of fragiance and of bloom, 
 
 On him her care-dispelling smiles to cast j 
 
 And there, with arms outspread, and snow-white breast, 
 
 To woo him to a paradise of joys ! 
 
 That form, and voice, to whose enchanting spell 
 
 His captive heart these balmy strange delights — 
 
 This new existence owed, were not wild freaks 
 
 Of phrenzied Fancy. — They were Woman's own ! 
 
 On her soft bosom pillowed to repose, 
 
 His infant hopes indulged in flowery dreams. — : 
 
 With all a Poet's tenderness he loved ! 
 
 And she, with fervent lip, and burning sigh, 
 
 And all the force that Beauty's glowing charms 
 
 To her impassioned eloquence can give, 
 
 His dearest wishes cherished and confirmed 
 
 Until his hopes to full assurance grew. 
 
 But then, e'en then, in that extatic hour, 
 
 When Happiness her brimming goblet held 
 
TBS APPEAXb 4a 
 
 To hig enchanted lip, and all seemed bliss, 
 
 A raging monster burst upon his view ! 
 
 The sparkling draught with deadly venom drugged, 
 
 And tore, e'en at the nuptial altar, tore 
 
 From his embrace the Hymeneal gift ! 
 
 His life of life — the object of his love. 
 
 His fair, but brief elysium now was gone^— 
 And in its place tartarean darkness reigned. 
 Where love had fondly nestled in his heart, 
 Despair implanted its consuming fangs, 
 While anguish there, with sharpened zest, returned, 
 To feed again on life's replenished streams. 
 
 As when some lonely and deserted plant, 
 That grew amid dank shades and sickly air, 
 Enjoys awhile the genial sun and breeze. 
 And, springing forth with fresh enlivening growth, 
 
44 ^UE APPEAIi. 
 
 Luxuriates in renovated life, 
 
 Till on its tender vitals, deeply fixed, 
 
 A canker preys, and drinks its balmy sap, 
 
 Its beauty withers and its strength declines : 
 
 Thus undermined, the Poet's health gave way. 
 
 And all his blighted energies relaxed. 
 
 Who, who, shall dare avow himself so stern 
 As not to feel, and weep, for wo like this ? 
 Who dare aver, had he in Coffin's place, 
 With all a Poet's ardent feelings, stood. 
 This last dread shock would not have crushed his heart 
 
 To you whose bosoms own the kindly sway 
 Of virtuous, fervent, and confiding love, 
 The Muse, for sympathy and generous zeal, 
 In his behalf, with confidence, appeals. 
 Imagine his your doom. — Ah, think, should Fate, 
 
THE APPEAZi. 4^ 
 
 Now in the moment of your fondest joys. 
 When all the channels of your hearts o'erflow 
 With streams of pure affection, mingle bane— 
 The direst bane — with their delicious tide — 
 And from your arms those lovely beings rend 
 In whom your happiness and hopes unite, 
 And bury them — not in the peaceful grave, 
 Whose silent chambers breathe a sacred balm 
 To heal the wounds the shaft of Death has made— 
 But where, still living, yet entombed, they would 
 The memory of your former joys deride, 
 And your existing pains with mockery greet : 
 Ah, think ! how then, beneath such awful shock, 
 The pillars of your fortitude and health 
 Would yield, and all the fabric of your peace 
 In ruins sink ! Then, then, forever gone 
 The gentle converse, and endearing smiles^ 
 Which formed the essence of your souls' delights, 
 
THE APPEAXi. 
 
 And cheered you in the hour of bitterest grief. 
 
 Might not afflicted Coffin's doom be yours ? 
 
 But add to loss of these, his life of wo, 
 
 His heart of feelings morbidly intense, 
 
 And Poverty's inexorable stress, 
 
 And say — with reason unimpaired like liis — 
 
 And pure integrity — ^you would have borne 
 
 The ponderous load — the more than mountain weight f 
 
 O, then, be kind, be merciful to him ! 
 
 While dying on his country's teeming breast 
 In wretchedness and want, has he no claim — 
 Her native Bard — ^upon her sense of right — 
 No moral, strong, uncancelled claim to urge ? 
 The voice of Justice, her acknowledged guide, 
 And chosen Arbitress, proclaims — he has ! 
 To him her honour, liberty and fame, 
 Were ever dear. His boyhood's earliest songs, 
 
THE APPEAL. 47 
 
 And his more polished strains of after years, 
 Were poured in praise of these enrapturing themes. 
 
 To fire with bolder zfeal the warrior's heart, 
 And on the field of blood, or crimson wave, 
 , His gallant deeds with glorious triumph cro^vn, 
 His harp with glowing hand was ofttimes swept. 
 Above the patriot's grave his pensive Muse, 
 In many a deep and mournful dirge, has rolled 
 On youthful ears the eulogy of worth. 
 And chanted requiems to the hallowed dust 
 Beneath j — while Freedom's listening sons were filled 
 With emulative warmth and loftiest thoughts. 
 
 He loved to deck the patriot martyr's urn 
 With laurels plucked from Hippocrene's brink, 
 And Glory's amaranthine garlands twine 
 Around the living hero's stainless brow. 
 
IS THE APPEAL. 
 
 And shall his country in his hour of need, 
 When want and wo are pressing from his heart 
 The last sweet drops of comfort circling there, 
 Refuse his filial kindness to reward 
 With some slight tokens of maternal love ? 
 With means from her abundant stores of wealth 
 To mitigate the pangs that rend his breast? 
 
 Her diadem of literary fame, 
 To embellish and enrich, witli added gems, 
 Neglecting suffering Nature's pleading voice, 
 His days, and nights, and means of wealth, he gave. 
 And who, with ample knowledge of his powers. 
 Will dare assert that in this lofty aim 
 The Poet failed to reach the height he sought ? 
 Where is the man who is not proud to own 
 Columbia's tuneful son — the " Boston Bard"— 
 Has ofttimes poured his soul in sti-ains like these ? 
 
TBE APPEAL. 49 
 
 ODE. 
 
 *• When Freedom midst the battle storm 
 
 Her weary head reclined ; 
 And round her fair majestic form. 
 
 Oppression fain had twined ; 
 Amidst the din....beneath the cloud 
 
 Great Washington appeared : 
 With daring hand rolled back the shroud 
 
 And thus the sufferer cheered : 
 
 Spurn, spurn despair ! be great, be free ! 
 
 With giant strength arise ; 
 Stretch, stretch thy pinions, Liberty, 
 
 Thy flag plant in the skies ! 
 Clothe, clothe thyself in glory's robe. 
 
 Let stars thy banner gem ; 
 Rule, rule the sea....possess the globe,... 
 
 Wear victory's diadem. 
 
 Go, tell the world, a world is born-, 
 
 Another orb gives light ; 
 Another sun illumes the morui 
 
 Another star the night; 
 
^ TRE APPEAL. 
 
 Be just ; be brave !....and let thy name 
 
 Henceforth Columbia be ; 
 Wear, wear the oaken wreath of fame, 
 
 The wreath of Liberty ! 
 
 He said....ancl, lo! the stars of night 
 
 Forth to her banner flew; 
 And morn, with pencil dipped in light, 
 
 Her blushes on it drew ; 
 Columbia's chieftain seized the prize, 
 
 All gloriously unfurled : 
 Soared with it to his native skies, 
 
 And waved it o'er the world." 
 
 Where is the man of fancy so devoid — 
 Of taste and sentiment so dull and cold — 
 As not to feel the force — the magic force — 
 Of genius breathed in this resplendent ode 
 Which shines itself a jewel in the crown 
 Of Freedom's Muse, and to the author's name 
 A claim to immortality imparts ? 
 
THE APPEAI.. 51 
 
 Not his the verse that virtue must condemn 
 No reptiles through its flowery chaplets wind, 
 In sly concealment, Beauty's heart to sting : 
 It gilds no baneful sentiments of vice, 
 Nor seeks to cover aught impure in thought ; 
 But, e'en his light and wildest juvenile strain, 
 The young and innocent may safely read ; 
 And virgin loveliness may chant his song, 
 Nor blush to own it yields her ear delight. 
 
 Religion, free from ostentatious pride, 
 Sectarian bigotry, and priestly guile j 
 The simple, pure Religion taught by Christ — 
 Composed of meekness, charity, and love. 
 And speaking forth its faith sincere, in works — 
 Received the humble homage of his Muse. 
 And shall he perish in this Christian land — 
 His mother-land — whose weal — to him so dear— 
 
S^ THE APPEAL. 
 
 He sought with all a patriot minstrel's zeal, 
 
 To heighten and confirm ? Shall he, for bread 
 
 And raiment, perish midst her garnered stores i 
 
 AVill she, whose bounty ne'er refused to flow 
 
 In aidance of a suffering stranger's wants — 
 
 Whose mercy, even in the battle storm, 
 
 Where vengeful passions rage through flames and blood, 
 
 Has always listened to a suppliant foe. 
 
 Relieved his pains, and steeped his wounds in tears ; 
 
 Whose gates against the poor of other climes 
 
 Were never barred — whose wide-extended arms — 
 
 Beneficent, humane, and generous laws, 
 
 Invite the houseless exile to a home, 
 
 And all the happiness that freedom yields — 
 
 Will she her languishing and helpless Bard 
 
 Deny the little boon for which he pleads ? 
 
 Since Coflin's name must swell the mournful list 
 
 Of Poets, whom Misfortune has not spared, 
 
THE APPEAL. SS 
 
 Save, save him, Heaven! from that most wretched doom 
 Which closed the poor unfriended Otway's days ; 
 Nor add his name to that more awful roll 
 Where Chatterton and Carey lead the band ! 
 And 0! protect him from the dreadful fate 
 Which rent and shattered the seraphic lyre 
 By Collins to celestial measures woke — 
 And crushed the fabric of his splendid mind ! 
 
 Shall free Columbia share the deep reproach 
 By which ungrateful lands are stigmatized, 
 Nor aid her sons of genius whose bright thoughts, 
 And arduous toils, illumine and advance 
 Her march in virtue, liberty, and fame ? 
 Ye guardians of her honour and her weal ! 
 Forbid the charge — or from her purity — 
 Your Country's purity — expunge its stain. 
 
S4. TBE APPEAIi. 
 
 E'en now injurious Rumour is abroad, 
 And breathes against her gratitude a tale 
 That strikes a pang through many a patriot's heart. 
 The winged accuser points to that new grave 
 Where Fulton's widow sleeps — and thus exclaims — 
 " Those orphans weeping o'er their mother's dust, 
 And cast dependent on a selfish world, 
 Are children of a lofty-minded sire 
 Whose giant energies, with noble zeal, 
 To build his country's greatness were employed 5 
 And while her rivers roll, and space exists. 
 In their sublime results, and useful ends. 
 Through all her cultured regions, will be felt. 
 But, unrewarded, to the tomb he sank, 
 And left his partner, and his infant ones, 
 To reap the harvest of his generous toil. 
 The lowly grave that hides her broken heart— 
 Those suffering, friendless orphans tell the resf 
 
THE APPEAI.. 55 
 
 Incredulous in aught that would impugn 
 
 Columbia's justice, or beneficence. 
 
 The Muse will not implicit credence yield 
 
 To Rumour's charge, but looks, with anxious hope, 
 
 To see her country from this imputation freed.— 
 
 That cherished hope imbibes a quickening glow 
 
 From gathering symptoms in the public mind. 
 
 On MoNTicELLo's consecrated height, 
 
 Long unobserved, a deep, but silent, cloud 
 
 Of sorrow hung. — Thence on the Nation's ear, 
 
 At length, an uncomplaining whisper stole, 
 
 And thither drew her sympathetic eye— 
 
 And waked a painful throbbing in her breast.— 
 
 Where is the bosom that conceals a heart 
 
 To virtue's nobler sentiments so dead— 
 
 Of Nature's common feelings so devoid !— 
 
 As not to join this general sympathy ? 
 
 One pulse— one voice— throughout the States — 
 
56 THE APPEAL. 
 
 Is felt, and heard, on this soul-kindling theme. 
 Let Wisdom, then, the glowing impulse guide, 
 And Freedom's hoary chief, whose ample mind, 
 From manhood's vernal dawn, to wintry age. 
 Has poured its bounteous treasures o'er the land, 
 Shall not be exiled from his sacred home — 
 From scenes to him by holiest ties endeared — 
 His hearth, domestic altar, and the graves 
 Where oft his knee has bent — ^his tears have flowed. 
 Then, he, from whose expanded source of thought, 
 Columbia's rights their glorious charter drew, 
 Shall not behold his only living child 
 From her beloved paternal mansion driven, 
 And that illustrious seat of science grasped 
 By stranger's hands : — Nor shall life's closing view 
 Present to him a world all coldness then ; — 
 But, freed from Poverty's oppressive cares, 
 With sunshine beaming on liis peaceful Mount, 
 
THE APPEAL. St 
 
 And all the land in smiles and kindness decked, 
 He then, with rapturous hopes among the stars, 
 And no regrets, or sighs, behind him cast, 
 Will gently lay his body to repose, 
 And bless his country with his dying prayer ! 
 
 But while ^vith gratitude your bosoms swell, 
 Ye sons of Freedom ! act — your generous deeds. 
 Unless \vith haste performed, may come too late— 
 The Sage's life is hastening to its goal : 
 In higher regions soon the splendid orb 
 Will shine. But Jefferson's exalted name. 
 In tones of thunder, pleads in his behalf, 
 x\nd advocates resound his glorious claims 
 Wherever worth and liberty are loved, 
 
 Well pleased that Freedom's pulse so deeply throbs 
 
 When moved by gratitude's impellent touch, 
 
 8 
 
S8 THE APPEAL. 
 
 To her afflicted Bard the Muse returns. 
 
 His title to his country's liberal aid, 
 
 Though urged by nought but humble sighs and tears, 
 
 And the unheeded Muse's plaintive strain. 
 
 Yet on no unsubstantial basis rests: — 
 
 His poetry shall live, and give delight, 
 
 Refine the heart, and soothe the ills of life, 
 
 When millions now unborn have passed away ; 
 
 And, ere the living generation die. 
 
 His name shall have a charm throughout the land, 
 
 That Envy's rankling breast shall feel and own. 
 
 And must this hapless child of Genius starve? 
 O ! what is wealth in hands that will not save 
 From Want's benumbing blast, a mind like his ? 
 A mind with Fancy's richest stores replete — 
 Conceptions tender, beautiful, and pure ! 
 Can man in barren piles of golden dust, 
 
TBCE APPEAI., S9 
 
 Amassed for pomp and show alone, delight, 
 Nor yield a grain to soothe a brother's woes ? 
 Can human hearts regard with higher joy 
 Their richly furnished domes, and spreading farms, 
 Than happy souls from pain and want relieved 
 By their own noble deeds ? Can life be sweet- 
 Can Conscience wear an angel's form to him— 
 And dreams of pleasure round his pillow smile-»- 
 Who, while his riches feed his selfish pride, 
 And rise like frozen mountains in the sun, 
 A cold, inhospitable, glittering mass ! 
 Can see a son of Genius pine and die 
 In penury, nor share with him a part- 
 One little part— of all his useless pelf? 
 No, no ! Misfortune's victim on his view, 
 When slumber seals his eyes, — shall start — 
 And, like some injured tenant of the grave, 
 Come forth to haunt the bloody mind of guilt, 
 
60 THE APPEAIi. 
 
 While pointing towards the dark avenging Heavens, 
 In deep, horrific tone, shall munnur thus — 
 *' There, there, of all thy pomp and wealth bereft, 
 Thou shalt ere long appear, and answer give 
 For trust abused — for Mercy's claims repelled'." 
 
 What earthly happiness can his transcend. 
 Who seeks in Poverty's obscure abode 
 The gifted mind, and frees its struggling powers 
 From their incumbering thrall ? The joys sublime 
 That fill his soul, extend, like his kind deeds. 
 Beyond the transient scenes of Time's brief span* 
 His wealth — not lavished on Ambition's toys, 
 Or lifeless idols reared by wasteful Pride, 
 A generous offering flows at Wisdom's shrine. 
 And nurtures plants that bear immortal fruits. 
 He reads, in grateful looks, the good he's done. 
 
THE APPEAX.. 61 
 
 And heiirs from tongues by thankfulness inspired. 
 His name with grateful benedictions joined. 
 
 When in the ground poor Coffin's frame decays, 
 As soon, alas ! it must — for even now, 
 Corroded, one by one, his heart-strings break — 
 Proud Opulence his genius will admire, 
 And grieve that he, so gifted, and so young, 
 Should meet such cruel doom. Then critics stern 
 Will soften into friends — and praise the Bard 
 Whose heart no more can feel. Then, then, his fame 
 Will breathe a fragrance all may freely own ; 
 And tears, from eyes that once his anguish spumed, 
 May bathe the flowery turf that o'er him rests j 
 And even Power, itself, from its high throne 
 May stoop, as in neglected Cowley's case. 
 To sound his eulogy, and o'er his dust — 
 His senseless dust — the costlv marble rear. 
 
62 TBE APPEAXi. 
 
 But England's Bards are blest with patrons now, 
 And Freedom blushes while the Muse proclaims, 
 That sons of genius from Columbia's shore, 
 Beneath Britannia's fostering kindness, find 
 The favour which thej vainly seek at home. 
 Our Wests, our Alstons, and our Leslies, there, 
 And there our Newtons, and our Bowmans, too, 
 The enlivening sunshine of her smiles enjoy ; 
 Their pencils catch the kindling glow of Hope, 
 And on the canvass life and beauty start 
 At tlieir creating touch. Columbians, rouse ! 
 Your mental bondage burst — ^be free in thought — 
 In taste and judgment — ^free — as are your limbs I 
 The soul is here majestic, bright, and pure— 
 In all its powers, as splendid and as vast 
 As they exist beneath the expanded Heavens, 
 Let native merit tlien its guerdon find, 
 >^nd clear your country from deserved reproach. 
 
TBE APPEAL. 69 
 
 The claims of Coffin now address the heart-«* 
 Tis not the Poet^ but the Man that pleads— 
 The dying man — for ease — for longer lifer- 
 Refuse him not this boon ! His days on earth- 
 Though full of pain, and care, have yet been few. 
 Not even one score years and ten have rolled 
 Around his sorrow-sprinkled head — in years 
 Almost a boy — he has grown old in grief. 
 ! then, to him a generous hand extend, 
 And kindly smooth the brief descent which lies 
 Between him and the grave — ^that from the world— 
 His soul, composed, and unobscured by pain, 
 To loftier realms may glide away in peace. 
 
 Can parents hear the sufferer's mournful wail 
 And keep the fountains of their pity closed ? 
 Think, Fathers ! Mothers ! think, those darling babes^ 
 In whom your hopes — and bliss — concentre now — 
 
64 THE APPEAI.. 
 
 Around whose little hearts your life-strings twine 
 May yet be doomed to drink the bitter wave 
 That gushes from Misfortune's sable urn. 
 They too, although their morning opens bright, 
 May feel Affliction's tempests round them beat, 
 Long ere their noon of life has come j and clouds, 
 Black clouds, may darken their descending sun.— ~ 
 They, too, when your devoted hearts are cold, 
 And pulseless in the tomb — in helpless wo— 
 Poor shivering outcasts from the domes of wealth, 
 Without one breast of kindred softness near 
 To melt for them — may raise their suppliant cry 
 For food and shelter for their starving frames. 
 Be generous, then, to the dependent Bard, 
 And righteous Heaven your bounty will return 
 In copious blessings on your offspring showered. 
 Ah ! could his image now before you stand 
 In all the silent eloquence of want— 
 
THE APPEAL. «5 
 
 The Muse might throw her humble harp aside, 
 
 And trust your noble feelings for the rest : — 
 
 For, then, your hearts his cause would plead with power 
 
 Resistless as the force of seraph lyres. 
 
 With all a Poet's relish for her charms. 
 
 He sees this lovely Season round him bloom ; 
 
 And while he casts his melancholy eye, 
 
 For solace, on her gay enchanting scenes, 
 
 The momentary joy which thrills his heart 
 
 Is checked by the intrusive thought, that soon, 
 
 To him, their beauties will forever die ; 
 
 That soon the verdant field, and flowery mead, 
 
 The fragrant forest, and the tuneful grove. 
 
 Will cease to wake the transports of his Muse — 
 
 That while to other eyes they live and smile, 
 
 They will not go with him to Death's dark realms. 
 
 Soothe, soothe his anguish, then, sweet Charity ! 
 
 9 
 
^ THE APPEAZi. 
 
 With thy divinest aid, and bind his heart — 
 His breaking, bleeding heart, in thj soft bands, 
 Until in Death's cold clasp its throbbings cease. 
 
 But Coffin's Mother lives ! and on her breast- 
 Her aching tender breast — ^his dying head 
 He hopes to pillow. Long from her fond arms 
 By stern Misfortune's cruel impulse driven, 
 He now returns to prove a Mother's love 
 Triumphant o'er the wreck of all in life — 
 All else that makes existence dear to man I 
 But while he finds affection in her heart, 
 He there shall find corroding misery too. 
 And while beneath her lowly roof he meets 
 The welcome that a joyful Mother gives 
 A long lost child — he there must also meet 
 That Poverty which crushes to the dust I 
 And yet to him the power shall not belong; — 
 
THE APPEAXk 
 
 Unless through means of Charity benign-^ 
 To yield that more than wretched parent aid. 
 O, hear ! on this, to him, affecting theme, 
 His mournful Muse's own pathetic strain : 
 
 '« What shall I bear thee mother dear. 
 When thy embrace again I greet.... 
 
 And feel upon my cheek the tear 
 That flows when child and parent meet.' 
 
 What shall I bear thee ?.... Wealth and fame ? 
 
 Or gems that gvew beneath the wave ? 
 Gold have I not..,. and glory's flame 
 
 Hath seldom shone but on the g^ve ! 
 
 Nor wealth, nor fame, nor gems to thee, 
 My mother ! will thy offspring bear ; 
 
 Poor such reward indeed would be 
 For all thy love....for all thy care. 
 
 But I shall bear to thy kind breast 
 What thou, what Heaven, will ne'er reject, 
 
 A wasted form....pale sorrow's guest... 
 A broken heart. ..a spirit wrecked." 
 
68 THE APFEAIi. 
 
 And must his "wasted form, and spirit wrecked," 
 Be all that he shall to his Mother bear ? 
 Ye daughters, and ye sons, of Mothers loved ! 
 What answer do your bosoms give the Muse ? 
 Make Coffin's case your own — and then decide. 
 
 Oh ! who that knows a tender Mother's love — 
 That has been nurtured at her generous breast — 
 Enjoyed her fond caresses — felt the bliss 
 Her gentle, warm, endearing smiles impart — 
 Has known her cares — her deep solicitudes — 
 Her nightly watchings, and her constant zeal — 
 And can his heart with cold indifference close 
 Against the filial yearnings of the Bard ? 
 To you, whose bosoms never more can know 
 The holy pressure of maternal arms — 
 Partake the joys, or share the varied griefs, 
 Of breasts on which your infancy reposed — 
 
THE APPEAL. 69 
 
 By all the sacredness in which you hold 
 Their ever dear, and hallowed memories— 
 The Muse for him appeals. — And shall her prayers, 
 And tears, in his behalf, be vainly urged 
 On those whose pilgrimage is still illumed, 
 Still smoothed, and cheered, by kind maternal love ? 
 On tl\ose whose souls would brave the burning stake. 
 Or yield their bodies to the racking wheel. 
 Ere they would see their Mothers whelmed in want ? 
 O, no ! your ardent sympathies proclaim — 
 Your noble, free munificence, will prove- 
 That Coffin's widowed parent shall receive. 
 When she beholds again her dying son, 
 The rich o'erflowings of your generous hearts. 
 
NOTE. 
 
 Page 62. " And there our Newtons, and our Sowmans, too" — 
 
 James Bowmax. — I cannot deny myself the pleasure of here ad- 
 verting to the extraordinary career of this self-tauplit Artist. 
 
 Reared in the obscurity of a new settlement in the Western section of 
 Pennsylvania, where the productions of no other than Nature's pencil 
 met his eye — he remained unconscious of the existence of such an Art as 
 that of Portrait-painting until he had nearly attained the age of manhood, 
 when accidental circumstances, while he was engaged with an elder bro- 
 ther in the occupation of a Carpenter, for which he had no relish, pre- 
 sented to his view a Portrait by some ordinary sign painter. In an instant 
 the latent spark of his fine original genius, which had so long glowed in 
 his breast in restless desires, as I have heard him assert, for some employ- 
 ment — he knew not what — more congenial with his feelings, was, as if by 
 the influence of enchantment, kindled into action, and impelled him to 
 attempt an imitation of the picture with such simple colours as chance 
 threw in his way. His rude transcript pleased himself and others who 
 saw it, so much, that he detennined to try his hand in copying a living face. 
 From this moment a new passion animated his bosom. Picture after pic- 
 ture, formed of the crudest materials, but exhibitmg resemblances to their 
 prototypes which every body recognized, sprang into existence under 
 his bold creative hand ! Tlie result was the same whether his friends 
 consented to sit for him, or not. The clear mirror of his imagination 
 brought their features and expression of countenance vividly before him; 
 and in their absence he would splash their faces upon his polished boards, 
 for these were his canvass, so graphically, that, rough as they were, chil- 
 dren on glancing at them, pronounced the names of the individuals whom 
 they represented. 
 
 His brother, in the pursuit of work, visited Pittsburg, and took James 
 with him. This was, indeed, an epoch in his life. — Here a new world 
 burst upon his transported vision, and, while he here had an opportunity 
 of seeing some well executed pictures, he learned with inexpressible joy, 
 that there was such a profession as that of Portrait-painting ! He forth- 
 with abandoned the adz and the broad-axe — purchased paints — and, having 
 obtained some instructions in the art of mixing them, became a Portrait- 
 painter by profession ! A few months afterwards he was in Philadelphia 
 taking lessons from Artists there, who kindly aided in tlie developement 
 of a genius whose vigour was too palpable to escape their discernment. 
 
n 
 
 At no distant period I became acquainted with him in the city of Wash- 
 ington, where he was associated with Poverty, Melancholy, and a Philo- 
 sopher whom he had created either for ihe purpose of a companion, or a 
 subject of contemplation ! 
 
 The first view of his peculiarly well marked face, illumined as it is by 
 An eye where lotiy genius sits enthi'oned. 
 And noblest virtues in its splendours bask, 
 convinced me that he was a young man of no ordinary powers ; and the 
 specimens of his paintings which he shewed me, though indicating the 
 want of practice, confirmed this conviction. — Never did I more than upon 
 this occasion, regret my destitution of means to do good — lament the lit- 
 tleness of avarice, and the waste of riches upon contemptible objects. — 
 And never did I feel more humbled at the sordidness of my fellow-men 
 than when beholding them availing themselves of the necessities of this 
 gifted — generous minded artist, — to extiuci from him liis labours at half- 
 price ! 
 
 He accepted an invitation to Alexandria, where a ray of patronage 
 glimmered on his pencil, and encouraged him to embark for England. 
 
 On his arrival there he was dependent, in a great measure, upon the 
 kindness of a gentleman of Alexandria wlio had made the voyage in 
 company with him. 
 
 In London, whither he immediately repaired, he found himself an hum- 
 ble stranger in a foreign land, without money, and without fi-iends ; but 
 his genius soon shone through this cloud of difficulties, and attracted the 
 admiration, and the patronage of the enlightened and the powerful. In 
 a few months he was employed to paint some of the most distinguished 
 famihes in the kingdom, among which, were those of the Lord Chancel- 
 lor, and of Gov. Clarkson of Woodbridge. 
 
 His merits received the generous commendation of that prince of 
 artists, Sir Thomas Lawrence, and were fostered by the approving voice 
 of our own eminent Leslie. 
 
 Taste, wealth, grandeur, and beauty, have done homage to his 
 talents, and their possessors have sought from the touches of his vivify- 
 ing pencil, memorials of their characteristic lineaments for tlie inspection 
 of posterity. 
 
 The aspirations of his genius bore him to France, where he imbibed 
 inspiration from the splendid galleries of Paris 
 
 There he became acquainted with our distinguished countryman, 
 Wa.shington Irving, through whom, on his return to England, he obtained 
 an introduction to Mr. Van Wait of Rirmingham, whose wife is the sister 
 of that estimable writer. 
 
72 
 
 In the amiable family of Mr. Van Wart lie has ever since found a home, 
 and those hospitable attentions, wliich, while they fill his heart with a 
 thankfulness that overflows his letters to his friends in the United States, 
 establish a claim upon the gratitude of his country. 
 
 It is to Mr. Ilowman that our accomplished fellow-citizen, Mr. Carter, 
 refers in the following extract from one of his interesting letters : — 
 
 " It is amusing to see with what boldness and ultimate success adven- 
 turers from our country encounter the prejudices of foreigners, and push 
 their fortunes in the piincipal towns of England. In one of the most 
 fashionable parts of Birmingham, a portrait-painter from the woods of 
 Kentucky, [In this particular, Mr. Carter had been misinformed, as the 
 artist was from Pennsylvania] has opened his rooms, and is well establish- 
 ed in his professional pursuits." 
 
 " We called to pay our respects, but found him closetted with a lady, 
 wlio was sitting for her likeness. Such an undertaking requires a more 
 daring spirit of enterprise than to subdue tlie forests of tlie west, or to 
 give chace to the whale amidst the icebergs of the poles." 
 
 Mr. Bowman, in reply to interrogatories on the subject, writes thus — 
 " The paragraph in Mr. Carter's letter to which you allude, had reference 
 to myself. I am the only painter who has resided in Birmingham for the 
 last year, and the only American painter who has ever been established 
 here. — I was informed of his visit, and exceedingly regret that I was pre- 
 vented from seeing him." 
 
 Mr. Bowman intends going to Italy soon, whence, after giving to his 
 professional acquirements their finishing polish, he will return to his native 
 land, where it is hoped his talents will be properly appreciated, and 
 suitably rewarded. 
 
A POEM, 
 
 Occasioned by the Establishment, in France, of the Censor- 
 ship over the Press. 
 
 Written in August^ 1824, 
 
THE TRIUMFH OF TRUTH. 
 
 Where'er to man kind Heaven assigns a home, 
 From cultured realms to where Barbarians roam, 
 Oppression, muffled in the guise of Law, 
 Has dared on Human Rights his sword to draw. — 
 With them the gore-stained Monster's struggled long— 
 And they, too oft — the weak against the strong — 
 Beneath his cruel vengeance have been crushed — 
 With hopes extinguished, and with voices hushed. 
 But, here and there, more favoured climes are found, 
 Where bleeding Nature still maintains her ground : 
 Where, though to agonizing conflict doomed, 
 Her brow with cheering hope is still illumed, 
 While through the vista of unfolding years, 
 Thje goal of triumph to her view appears ! 
 
 On Gallia's vine-wreathed hills, and fragrant vales-. 
 Her wailings long have vocalized the gales. — 
 Inspired with zeal to guard her injured claims, 
 She there has braved the battle's whiilwind flames ; 
 And plunging deep in Revolution's flood, 
 Her wrongs avenged, and whelmed a throne in blood ! 
 
 Reared on the crimson ruin, Freedom's Fane 
 Resounded loud her votaries' joyful strain ; 
 But, trembling for their crowns and iron sway, 
 Infuriate tyrants, in conjoined array. 
 Assailed the hallowed temple — quenched its joy — 
 And aimed its deep foundations to destroy. 
 
76 THE TRZUMPB OF TRUTH. 
 
 Though they, through nerves, and steel, and Priesthood's guile, 
 
 Through gold's corrupting power, and Treason's wile, 
 
 In part their daring purpose have achieved — 
 
 The lofty towers from their strong pillars heaved, 
 
 And gained o'er hapless France ascendant might ; 
 
 Still holy Truth there sheds her struggling light. 
 
 Warmed by the heavenly ray, there man still feels 
 
 His moral strength, and burns to rend the seals 
 
 On human eyes impressed by despot hands. 
 
 Regain his rights, and shiver Slavery's bands ! 
 
 Columbia, Virtue's, Freedom's dearest clime, 
 Shines an exemplar gloriously sublime, 
 Whence nations bowed beneath Oppression's frown 
 May learn to hurl the haughty demon down 
 From his infernal throne : — whence patriot zeal 
 May learn what best promotes the general weal ; 
 What laws are blessings — flowers without a thorn, . 
 Whose sweets shall gladden millions yet unborn — 
 What institutions seek to expand the mind. 
 Where'er the spark of Genius they can find — 
 To Poverty's abodes their cares extend, 
 And help to obscure but struggling merit lend ; 
 On worth the meed of wealth and fame bestow. 
 Regarding neither birth nor glittering show — 
 While they of freeborn breasts a rampart form, 
 To shield their country from invasion's storm. 
 
 The crowned Oppressors whose stupendous chains 
 Environ Europe, and corrode her veins, 
 Behold with rage this beauteous system rise 
 And cast its splendours from Columbian skies 
 
TRS TRZUMPB OF TKUTB. Tf 
 
 Wide o'er the kingdoms, and imperial realms. 
 Whose dreary bounds their withering bight o'erwhelms. 
 In strenuous labour all their art's combined. 
 To shut the glorious prospect from the mind. 
 In deeper horrours their dominions plunge, 
 And thence each trace of liberty expunge. 
 
 Of sceptered tyrants, none, than Gallia's scourge^ 
 Lives more in dread of their funereal dirge : 
 For, while her sons, from regions wrapped in gloom, 
 Behold this lovely land all light and bloom — 
 Portrayed in Truth's bright mirror — Freedom's Press- 
 They curse their chains, and sternly ask redress. 
 Hence, through the kingdom murderous bayonets flash, 
 And shattered limbs on racking engines crash ; 
 With gushing life ensanguined scaffolds smoke. 
 And legal gags the faultering utterance choke. 
 Hence through the furnace of censorial ire, 
 Whose flames are fed by truth-consuming fire, 
 Is doomed to pass whate'er of printed lore 
 Her sons would add to Wisdom's public store ; 
 While from the unrighteous ordeal's partial test, 
 Though, ere thus tried, with golden thoughts impressed- 
 With diamond wit, and fancy's gems bedecked — 
 The learned treasures — doomed to rude neglect — 
 Come forth despoiled of value — worthless dross — 
 All tinselled o'er with falsehood's dazzling gloss. 
 And hence to revel in impervious night, 
 And prowl unscathed by Freedom's vivid light, 
 The Gallic plunderer bids his minions bar 
 From his domain the beams of Freedom's star. 
 
78 THE TRZUMPB OF TRUTB. 
 
 Vain is your ardour, Tyrant ! vain your laws 
 To arrest the tide of Truth's advancing cause 5 
 Not Canute's mandate to the Ocean's waves 
 More impotent. In vain your anger raves ! 
 Resplendent emanations poured from Heaven, 
 And onward by Almighty impulse driven. 
 Through all your guarded battlements will find 
 Admission to illume the darkened mind. 
 
 While still the tempest of your fury grows, 
 And heavier press the shackles you impose j 
 More terrible becomes the avenging wrath 
 Whose desolations will invest your path, 
 When injured Justice, rousing in her might 
 Shall bid her thunders burst, her lightnings smite. — 
 Before her conquering chariot then shall fly 
 Your scattered hosts — and raise the imploring cry : 
 Her arm shall tear your gory banner down. 
 And Victory's peals your rallying clamours drown. 
 Then friendless shall your lost adherents roam, 
 With hopes destroyed — no spot to call their home ! 
 Your own surrendering palace then shall blaze, 
 And Freedom's sabre end your hateful days. 
 
 Still, still shall her triumphant march proceed, 
 Crowns vanish — sceptres fall — and tyrants bleed ; — 
 Till hurled in dust, Oppression's crumbling thrones. 
 All, all, lie mingling with their Monarchs' bones ; 
 And shrouded in oblivion's deepest glooms. 
 No trace shall point to their forgotten tombs. 
 
THE TRIX7MPH Or TRUTH. ?^ 
 
 Unfettered Genius then, on radiant wing, 
 Gay as the Goddess of enraptured Spring, 
 And thrilled with seraph fervency, shall rise, 
 Ascend through Freedom's pure and boundless skies, 
 The orbit of celestial Thought explore, 
 Reach Truth's bright source, and worship — and adore ! 
 
 Then, Man — where'er his home — enlightened, free, 
 Shall bow to God alone the suppliant knee. 
 His Conscience, then, no faggot's glare shall fright, 
 His guide to Heaven the Gospel's holy light.— 
 No bigot arts, to prop a mouldering creed, 
 Or Superstition's cloistered vultures feed, 
 Shall then in ghostly night ingulph the soul, 
 Or wrest from Labour's hand its hard-earned dole. 
 
 Exalted then to their appropriate sphere, 
 Toil's lowliest sons shall hold their honour dear j 
 Around their brows its verdant chaplets twine, 
 While Virtue's halos there untarnished shine. 
 Then o'er each peopled region of wide earth 
 Man, conscious of his high celestial birth. 
 In moral majesty sublimely great. 
 Shall prove his fitness for a loftier state. 
 
 In harmony of kindred views combined, 
 The nations then, all generous and refined, 
 Shall make extended happiness their aim. 
 Renown for virtuous deeds the highest fame 
 For wliich their noblest purposes aspire — 
 The theme of painting, sculpture, and the lyre. 
 
80 THS TRXUnaDPH OF TRUTSi 
 
 No tyrant's f(»otsteps then, or withering breath, 
 Shall blast their joys, or spread their fields with death : 
 But Peace shall there her snow-white banners wave. 
 And Pleasure's streams the flowery landscapes lave. 
 
 Then — crowned with stars — careering winds her steeds— 
 The car in which her course sublime she speeds, 
 The rolling earth and azure-curtained sky 5 
 Her guard, angelic bands, whose stations high, 
 By charter held from God, they ne'er resign ;— 
 Celestial Liberty her reign divine. 
 O'er all the joyful nations shall commence, 
 And blessings with exhaustless hand dispense. 
 
 This globe one vast elysium then shall bloom, 
 Till Heaven's deep trump proclaims its final doom ; 
 And Freedom's martyrs from their mossy graves, 
 And beds profound in Ocean's briny caves. 
 Shall rise obedient to the thunderingcall, 
 Shake from their kindling forms Death's sable pall, 
 And, borne by Seraphs to exulting skies, 
 Receive their blest reward where rapture never dies.