[????]Sit in [?]On to the deep and darksome tomb.O'er which the midnight zephyrs waftLost their fragrance: where the still.Unbroken silence ever reigns.And naught disturbes the hallowed sleepOf those whom Nature has ordained,To rest them from their earthly toils,He has been borne; amid the tearsThe wailings of his countrymen.He's gone! and like the [?] rose.[??????]But can his sacred mem'ry ale[?]vanish like the mellow raysof Luna, as some spreading cloudOvershadows her effulgent light?[?]tho' the last remaining one[??]dusky freeborn sons.[?]perish in the strife00033[????]Alas!This one,-this sole remaining link.Which bound our present destiniesClose to the past. - this starry guideThis [?]to the uniformedAnd inexperienced marinerWho guides our stately destinies.Is fallen, and his fall echoedThroughout Liberia's sovereignty:Waking within each Negro's breast,Some sympathetic feeling there,And as across the Stygian pond,Thy honored corse was born JOHNSON!A nation's heart, - a nation's soulDeparted with thy parting breath.[???????][??????][??????][??????]00044Their offspring: and as he expires,Celestial halls received his soulWith loud acclaim. The archangelsThey stand aside, and as the wholeOf Heaven's sweetly chiming bells,Ring loudly out their joyful lays,Our mighty, conquering hero pays,Before Jehova's jasper throne,His homage and adoration. SONG OF THE DEAD.We will lift our slumb'ring voicesTo our tuneful songs and lays,And will tell in solemn noises,[?]were spent our mortal days.[?]are those who once were living[?]the fair lance of the earth.Some were taking,-some were giving.00055[???????]There are some who never took lifeUnto them with great concern;They were wandering through that great strife.Fearless of what they could earn.Then they see some prospect open,First and foremost,-one they rush!When they think their hope is broken.Quickly they avoid the crush.[?] were the where no crush was.Fearful when they should but strive:Low cast when the first slight brush was.Always ready to contrive.As the case is, the could win not,[?]can scarcely gain.But they argue that they sinned not.00066[?] their [?] God [?] ordain.There are some who thought enjoyment,Was the highest end of lifeThey believed all good employmentWas the portion of the serf.Quickly are their hopes dispell-edSorrows followed in their wake.Not are they now here compell-edTo confess their sad mistake.That their fill of lifes excesses,Brought them pain, and strife and woe,That their maidens' sweet caressesAre what give them sorrows sore.They have learned, and are repenting,Of their mortal sad-mistakes,[?] in Pluto's cave resenting00077[?????]Those who had the paltry riches ofOf the world at their command,And in Death that their grand wishesCannot move a single hand.There are still a few remaining,Who on earth their passions kept,Ne'er troubled,-ne'er complaining,Ne'er their trials never wept.These are those who have been called up,At the seats near God's right hand,[?] his voice which falls like dew-drop,[??] torrid desert's sand.This the recompense of faith isFor true faith must have its due,If you live upright are trust His00088[?] forever you will [?] LOVEI sing of love, that tender theme,Which wakes a poet from his dreams;Which bends the stern man of resolve,And from all force, his will absolve.Love, 'tis the theme of angel choirs;'Tis love ignites the heavenly fires:Love rules this universal frame,Here love existed ere man came.What would Bright Nature be withoutThat the which binos amid the routNo rage of time the souls of manAnd holds them to one common plan:00099Love is a vast and grand [?]Which e'er steel-tempered will can feel:Love is conception of that light,Which rules the universe aright.Great love is love, tho we scarce see,How' neath His chill, warm love can beHe of this love the author is,And he is love, and love is his.The whispering of the forest treesIn sweet confab at every breeze.Portrays to us some human deedsWhen sympathy is all man needs.In nature harmonies exist.And heart to heart fore'er is fixed;God joined to man, and man to God.[?] to them that tread this sod.

DREAMING001010Dreaming dreams of love,Softly steals sweet music from above,As we dream those dreams of youth,which show naught but truth.Dreaming, dreaming,Love I'm dreamingOf those happy youthful days.When not sorrowMarred our morrow,And we sang our infant lays.Gently were wafted all day long,Love, the burthen of our song.This you remember for day after day.Love your cares away.Sailing o'er the sea,Gently wafts the breeze for you and me.As our gallant boat doth glideWith the flowing tide.001111Sailing, sailing,Love we're sailing,Fost the haunts of beast and menNor of pain, LoveNe'll complain, LoveHappy now we will be then.[?] her flows the gliding tide.And thus our hearts move side by side.With raptured beats now swift, now slow.Cease they- Nevermore!.Stealing nearer thee.Love, they face has sacred charms for me,Which forever haunt my heartAnd they will not 'part.Stealing, stealingI am stealingTo your happy heart againAnd not sorrowWill tomorrow.001212Bring me care or fright or pain.It is not passion which I feelBut true love which makes me kneel.In your bright presance day after day.And there I'll always stay.

TO TENNYSON.Poet! who of the modern schoolArt prince, and sings with silvered tongue,The praises of your home and Queen.Long may your songs roll down to age,Of which not e'en High Heaven knows!And teach to unborn tribes and old,Honour and truth and patrial love,To Mr. Spurgeon on the birth of his son,The YOUNG ANGELThe gates of Heaven open their portals wide,And from the throne of Jesus Christ, beside,Descended to the anxious mother's arms,The smiling angel who all fear becalms.001313And when the early swallow's callAwoke the feathered ones and all.The Sun shone out with greater force.And Nature's face did smile perforce.

TO ELOISE.O Eloise! sweet Eloise!Who can repell thy charms!Even the boughs of all the trees.Protect thee from all harm!Ah! dear darling Eloise,Thy beauty holds me here.But why is it! from me she flees.Alike a stag in fear!O fear me not my dear one!Forsaeth my vow I mean.I'll have no jest or idle fun.'Till thou mine own has been.001414So lovely, beauteous EloiseFear not, but come to me,And He Who from all trouble freesWill comfort me and thee.

Hymn.The following was composed by the author in 1897 on the age offourteen. Liberia! 'tis of thee,Sweet land of libertyThy child doth sing.Land where our fathers died,Land of the Negro's pride.Each to thy mighty sideThy sons we'll bring.At times we hear thee say"O sons across the bayWill ye not come?Come rally 'round the flagO sons why days lag.001515Come and uphold the flag,With sword and gun."Shall white men take awayWhat God before did sayShould be our own?No! by our fathers' bloodTho' ours flow like a flood.This land tho it be mudShall be our own.Come! let us all bow down.And raise a strong loud sound.To our good GOD.He who has blessed us nowCome let us show our power.And raise to him a towerOn this free sod.

TO MORRIS.Whether your friendship stands or fliesWhether your trust doth live or dies.Mine unto thee the same will be.Throughout this and eternity.Ah friend, thou wrongst the trusting soulWhich 'round thine own has been entwined,Spirits like ours, tho' from the whole,Of human sympathy confined.Cannot endure this estrangement.Which rises from mismanagement,Yet, should a true, undoubted friend.With whom your happy days were spent.Be sent unto a silent end.With hopes all crushed and courage bent?Should your true friend whose sympathiesIdentical to yours, by liesForever from your mind be cast?Nay! friendship which is not candid.Can never be so true and fastAs that from which naught can be hid.001717Perchance in joke or idle fun.A chord which spoken by the one,Most hurtful seems to the other;Should latter vexed with former be,because of tales by another,Cropped from the wind most eagerly,To snap and break their union strong,Which 'tween the two exist for long?Nay! Nay! Therefore my dear friend,[Tho' friendship's but a name, - an end.]Whether your friendship stands or fliesWhether your trust doth live, or dies,Mine unto thine the same will be.Throughout this and eternity.

TO GIBSON.Friend, there are times in mortal life.When man to fate must yield.There are many a truce Tho' many a strife,In this world's battle field.001818woes may surround,Grim Darkness crown.Still, there is light for man aroundTherefore be not cast down.Thy fortune, true, a sad one is.And hard for thee to bear.But there's a haven for all this.Where thou may'st rest from careGod is aboveAnd Him you trust.Toil on O friend for life and loveAnd fight if fight you must.What Tho' the imps of Hell surroundAnd drive you on to death?What Tho' vile foes so near abound.Should you your sapre sheath?Nay! not 'till life,Is almost spent,001919Or you be Sickness' helpless serf.`Till then, be you content.Fear not my friend, light is beyond,This gloom shall soon dispell,Thrice-curs-ed thou, if thou hadst scorn'dTo make your manhood tell.We honor thee,We love thee moreSince thou from fate, disdained to flee,but sailed thy trials o'er.School days are pleasant, but must cease,Tho' we leave friends behind;Be not dismayed, know, they increase.The friends you sure must find.We feel for you.We sympathise,We still do hold our friendship trueYea, 'till from earth rise!002020[????]In the south the lowering cloudGathers for the coming fray;From the east, and from the west,Rush they to its mounting crest,Cloudlets, which have all the day,Spread O'er heaven an azure shroud.Dauntless, on our hero goes!Courage high, and mind intentOn the end of his desire;Shall they bar him, - Death and Fire?Nay! not e'en if heaven-sent,Nor if gore like water, flows!Hark! the madding Turbo blows;Hark! the cry He comes! he comes!Children to the house attend,Imps, their prayers to God ascend,Laborers rush unto their homes;[??????] 002121[?] cease! your peril's sure,Court thou see the spreading cloud,Like a great ship on the deep,Spread its sails, and onward sweep,Eolching from its side, most loud,Death and hell and conflicts sore?Madness this, of knowing kind,Purishable with greatest wrath;Culpable, deserving death.Lost thou know 'tis certain death,To set out on such a path.In this darkening boisterous wind?""Naught deters my fixed intent."Thus the noble youth replies,"To the height of yonder mount,I will go, and reach this fount,Where no spirit ever flies,[??]002222Then upon his onzara way.With determination nerved,With a purpose and a will,On he goes! and onward still,-His intention still unswerved,Onward to the close of day.And the boiserous wind behind,Rushes on with quickened pace;And into the forest's gladesDrives him, 'neath the darksome shades.Which like death hang o'er the place.Made like Hades by the wind.Undetered and undismayed,Forward, in the mist he goes;Dark the night and dark the leftStill he moves far up the clift,By a way which no one knows.Reached the centre undismayed.002323Then with one appalling sound.Like to JOVIA's warlike boom.Bursts the tempest o'er his headDrenched him, yet within he said:-"Tho' Pluto a doth upward boom,Tho' my way with flame be bound,"Onward, upward, still I go,Fearless trusting, unconcerned,'Till the summit I attain,"Why should he a handsome swain,'Tempt to scale those heights now spurned,By the bravest men we know?But to this unwise demand,Comes an answer from the air."What one man on earth has done,That, can do another one."And this seems no more than fair,For we all have one strong hand.002424Still our hero upward plodsStill defies the elements,Deeper in the woods he moves,And enduring, he now proves,That the higher firmaments,Have no will save of the gods,Perseverance in the end,Conquers all that we may raise,'Gainst its prowess and its might.If we upward plod at night,We'll receive uncourted praiseNot from him we thought our friend,But our ennemy severe.Thus when up the hill he went,Bearing, shieldlike offer his heart.Perseverance, which the cart,Of his greatest friend resent,He was free from every fear.002525Have there any reached the topIs there room for any more?Are they friendly, are they true.To them who their course pursue?This you know as up you go,This you know when high you stop.How, our hero undismayed,Dauntless fearless and most brave,Sees the glimmer of a light.Which doth cheer him on his fight.[Which is ended he now crave,]And he hopes his name is made.But how often we deceive,Our own judgement, when we think,High ambition is obtained,When endurance we have strained.So to reach the highest brink.Of the fame which we conceive.002626Like Hannattan's stinging winds,Is the summit, height of fame;Coldness everywhere we meet,Coldness e'en beneath our feet,Then what is there in a name.Which we seek with outstretched wings?How our youth has reached the height.Of th' ambition he desires.Yet there's aught for him to wish;Is it gold? - Oh no! he's rich.Sympathy he now requires:Coldness kissed him on the height.Coldness was his last bequest,Coldness was his latest friend,He who struggled to the height,Strove by day and toiled by night.Went unto his silent end.Without sympathy and rest.002727Thus we see how many men,Fail to profit by this fame,Wished in early life no friend.Gained none then they reached their end,Die, with fame? No!-rather shame,Lay they lost, forgot, and then-Oblivion!

AN ACROSTIC.To M----E-------May fortune guide thee O my love!And love your eartly efforts bless:Reginal reign o'er thy new world.Your sceptre sway right mightily!Empress! Before whom Nature bends,Upon whose head, fair wreaths are wound,Prepare for me some word of hope,Have pity on my cheerless state.002828Enrapt my soul in love-sworn bonds.My languid thoughts.-O fairest one!In mercy cast far from my mind,And then come thou, my partner be.

AMBITION.Low are the aims whence high ambition rise,Step over step the climbing pilgrim plies.And when unto etherial heights attained,He scorns the ladder which his travels stained.Ah! who would scorn a doubtful trusting friend.That from the base, into the highest end.An aid most helpful to the pilgrim young.-Who strove, thinking his praise would be unsung,-Did lend?Ungrateful wretch! come, hence away,[?] 'proach thee, till this slowly passing day,Which men call life, coth rend its silent tread.Hence, to the gloomy region of the dead.002929Ambition of the true and noblest kind,Not from the fount of "self" its rise doth find;Not from the dark and low conception "mine",But from the widen'd view of mine and thine.To reach a height from which one can descend,And raise another to the ultra-end,Of love and peace, from poverty severe,Is but this true ambition's only care.But should, O Muse! the noble helper think,That he of Degradation's cup should drink,Before those passions which from love do riseHe can perceive; and bind those by strong ties,Whose poverty he doth relieve?Ah yea,For how can pity rise from hearts most gay,Unless some likeness to the pain which dayBy day haunts those who on their couches lay003030[?????????][????????]May! stern, immovable resolve can claim,No right nor little to this noble name!Ambition! how art thou most wrong perceived,By those whose mock'd desire for fame received,Some passing glimmer of thy [?] light,Which shines thro' gloomy ages, clear and bright!With low desire and base design, they strove,To reach a height ne' enfore attained and prove,Some wild, unguarded, childish statement madeTo those who ever list to what they said,Yet, doth Ambition teach us thus to proveThose things which lie, deep down beneath the [?][?] pure the wind and high the lofty air,Which there desire, seeks thus to attain,003131[????????]Which like all planets thro' vast space is [?]To raise into a higher state this raceOf man.- Thus an Ambition's noble place!And when these things we hold in perfect view,Can opposition cause what we pursue,To vanish in surrounding sultry air,Leaving nor e'en their fading shadows there?Nay! for no noble aims are ever lost,If for the elevation of what most,[?] deemed sufficient to the world's progress,We bend our feeble efforts, None the less!

THE NEW AFRICA-Lo! a light has burst upon us,See! the darkness now dispels,Christ has come to live among us,-He of whom the Bible tells,003232Afric's son now see the bright light,From the firmament above,Superstition now faces from sight,And with it the Devil's love.Afric"s sons wherever ye be,Come, box down before your king,Fight for God and humanity,And to Jesus praises sing,

AFRAGMENT.'Twas night:The great effulgent mistress of the cloudless skyHer lucid beams, threw o'er the silvery waters by:Peaceful and calm they were,No rising wind did stir,The sleeping mermen of the deep;For, on they flowed in their enchanted sleep,Regardless of their course, and non-alert.

James Robert Spurgeon,United States Secretary of Legation,Moravia, Liberia.003434He stood.And ratched with silent and inspiring awe. [his stream.]Besice whose flowery banks in by-gone days hisOf future happy life.Free from all pain and strife.He entertained. And as he thinks.How vain the hopes,-how snapped the strongest linksThat bind his present to his past,-he weeps."Weep Not."It was the voice of one, who, in white raiment clad.Drawn by his loud lament, most pitiful and sad,sad' proached to find the cause.Of th' infringment of the laws.Which aid those sacrea precints guard.The mourner ceased, and the remarked 'tis hard.Yea, hard indeed, that there's no one to cheer."[?]The white robed one replied, "there is someone to [?]