ROBERT TREAT PAINE FROM THE RULING PASSION Life is a print-shop, where the eye may trace But they who chiefly crowd the field are those From FOPS we turn to PEDANTS-deep and dull, 5 ΙΟ 15 20 25 330 35 With toil incessant thumbs the ancient page, 1797. RICHARD HENRY WILDE STANZAS My life is like the summer rose That opens to the morning sky, But ere the shades of evening close Is scattered on the ground-to die. Yet on the rose's humble bed 40 45 50 1797. 5 All trace will vanish from the sand. All vestige of the human race, On that lone shore loud moans the sea But none, alas, shall mourn for me! About 1815. JOHN NEAL FROM THE BATTLE OF NIAGARA A NIGHT-ATTACK BY CAVALRY Observed ye the cloud on that mountain's dim green The tent of the Thunderer, the chariot of one 20 'T is descending to earth, and some horsemen are now 5 ΙΟ No banners abroad on the wind are thrown, No shoutings are heard and no cheerings are given, No waving of red-flowing plumage to heaven, 15 No neighing of steeds and no tossing of manes, Dark and chill is the sky, and the clouds gather round; 20 25 |