{"1": {"fulltext": "I0\u00c2\u00a5 AND THEI.\\nIffem.", "height": "3570", "width": "2164", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0001.jp2"}, "2": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0002.jp2"}, "3": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0003.jp2"}, "4": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0004.jp2"}, "5": {"fulltext": "NOW AND THEN\\nA DISCURSIVE POEM:\\nDELIVERED BEFORE\\nTHE YOUNG MEN S INSTITUTE,\\nHARTFORD, FEB. 27th, 18 5 5\\nGEO. H. CLARK\\n[published by request.]\\nHARTFORD:\\nPUBLISHED BY F. A. BROWN.\\nM. DCCC.lv.", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0005.jp2"}, "6": {"fulltext": "CI7\\nPRIXTET) BY CASK, TIFFANY AND COMPANY,", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0006.jp2"}, "7": {"fulltext": "NOW AND THEN.\\nMy sight, bewildered, roams the crowded hall,\\nWhere, like a mantle, silence seems to fall.\\nThe stir is hushed. The rustling silks are still;\\nRebellious boots obey their owner s will;\\nBonnets, like forts, whose guns the bright eyes be,\\nNow aim, point-blank, their batteries at me\\nAnd sterner eyes bear down upon my lips,\\nAs icebergs grim encounter peaceful ships.\\nExpectant souls Safe anchored here with Hope,\\nStick to that anchor though it parts the rope I\\nThough surging rhymes and waves poetic swell.\\nLet Faith still cheer you with the cry all s well I", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0007.jp2"}, "8": {"fulltext": "POEM.\\nOur later scribes the foregone eras class,\\nThe Age of Gold, of Iron, and of Brass\\nThey now might add another florid page.\\nAnd stamp the present as the Lecturing age;\\nUnless, indeed, the simple fact may be.\\nThat this comprises all the other three.\\nFor he who puts his talents thus to nurse,\\nExtracts the Gold from our too willing purse\\nHis nerves must surely be of Iron made,\\nWho lives and prospers by the lecturing trade\\nThus of the bases I account for two\\nWhere lies the Brass, may be inferred by you I\\nThe frequent feast before this audience spread.\\nBy those who coin their learned brains for bread,\\nOr those who soar on Thought s expansive wings,\\nCramrtied with the lore that large experience brings,\\nAre antecedents which might tempt my muse\\nSome lowlier opening for her flight to choose.\\nDelusive hope, for one like me, unknown,\\nTo link my name with those so widely blown;\\nFor me, unlettered, simple as I stand,\\nTo walk where strode the magnates of the land.\\nYour listening hearts have drank the honeyed tones", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0008.jp2"}, "9": {"fulltext": "NOW AND THEN. 5\\nOf smooth-tongued wanderers from remotest zones\\nGigantic travelers, brimming with fresh news\\nFrom lands of Saracen, Japanese and Jews\\nAnd quaint essayists, whose delight it is\\nTo chase the wrinldes from each solemn phiz;\\nPoets, whose tones your tingling ears have filled\\nWith sun-bright fancies from their brains distilled.\\nWise politicians here have pitched their tents\\nLawyers have stooped to speak plain common sense\\nRight Reverend Bishops and austere divines\\nHave scattered here the diamonds from their mines\\nAnd one there was, who wore no gown nor cowl,\\nWould swallow nations as he would a fowl\\nAll Ireland he would bolt, and nothing loth,\\nLight as a bowl of Nora s chicken broth.\\nThus Ancient Pistol, braggart to the core.\\nVaunted his prowess in the days of yore\\nThe world he made an oyster and his word\\nWas roundly pledged to open it with sword\\nBut the queer puzzle still eludes the view.\\nHow he could well contrive the thing to do\\nFor if Earth s bivalve opened as he tells.\\nWhere in creation would he throw the shells I", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0009.jp2"}, "10": {"fulltext": "POEM.\\nBut let that pass I ve takoi heart of grace,\\nAnd thus in public dare to show my face.\\nWith threadbare tales I shall not bore your ears,\\nNor try from you to squeeze unwilling tears,\\nNor trail a story, length ning to a mile,\\nWith interlarding scenes to force a smile;\\nNo complicated plot shall plague your brains.\\nWhere startling scenes chase sentimental strains\\nI bring no tear nor sigh-provoking tale,\\nWith tender lovers woe-begone and pale\\nThough broken hearts may happen now and then,\\nThey have no charms for my repulsive pen\\nBut, like the bird confined to no one bower.\\nLet me with varying cates beguile the hour,\\nHopeful, that when the evening task is through,\\nI shall have won approving smiles from you.\\nMy subject, as you know, is Now and Then\\nTimes past, times present, things as well as men:\\nClose to the friendly shore my barque shall steer,\\nAnd only bring familiar features here\\nWhile to prevent proclivity to sleep.\\nMy lines shall drop in streams not over deep.", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0010.jp2"}, "11": {"fulltext": "NOW AND THEN. 7\\nOur early home claims my attention first,\\nWhere heart and soul and intellect were nursed;\\nWhere the young stripling slid from scanty frocks\\nTo manly pantaloons and downright knocks\\nWhere first we doubled up our infant fist,\\nAnd where, O where our earliest love was kissed;\\nWhere the first blood we shed in Freedom s cause.\\nCame from rebellion to unwholesome laws.\\nFor who so base among New England boys.\\nAs pass the Fourth without superfluous noise\\nIn spite of city laws guns will be fired.\\nFor in their smoke our country s self was sired\\nAnd every patriot, young or otd, may rave\\nOn Independence day. Long may it wave\\nAh me I what thoughts that theme prolific stirs\\nIts pleasant memories stick by us like burs\\nI travel back the turnpike road of life.\\nAnd tread once more those scenes of boyish strife\\nI see the church, the school-house, and the green.\\nAnd shadowy forms of playmates flit between.\\nWhere are they now that well remembered band,\\nWho day by day clasped each the other s hand;\\nWhere is the studious youth who shared my task,\\nAnd he who could mysterious sums unmask", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0011.jp2"}, "12": {"fulltext": "POEM.\\nThe boy who taught me where to read the stars,\\nAnd he who learned me how to smoke segars;\\nAnd that tall fellow with the wandering eye,\\nWhose honest look was a perpetual lie\\nAnd he who charmed us in vacation times\\nWith recitations of his own sweet rhymes\\nAnd he to whom we all looked up with awe,\\nBecause his sire was learned in the law;\\nAnd that strange bantling with the fiery head,\\nOf whom we stood in such continuous dread,\\nFor that his father, stern and strong of limb.\\nLooked what he was a constable so grim!\\nWhere are they now Grown up and scattered wide.\\nWhere er bold Progress rolls its surging tide.\\nOne in Japan has gained a Yankee hold;\\nOne in Australia gathers lumps of gold\\nOne builds in Africa a mission church.\\nAnd one in Georgia wields his native birch.\\nSome find hard work to get their daily bread,\\nSome are forgotten, some are with the dead;\\nWhile I, more favored, live and find the time,\\nFrom sterner tasks, to dabble thus in rhyme.\\nBut let us leave this adolescent theme,\\nO er which fond poets love to muse and dream", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0012.jp2"}, "13": {"fulltext": "NOW AND THEN. 9\\nSlide over days when sprouting whiskers threw\\nAn air of manhood round our jovial crew,\\nAnd turn to sturdier and more thou^ghtful times,\\nThe gleaming edge of our impulsive rhymes.\\nFor he who crams with sentiment his verse,\\nMay his own doings by himself rehearse\\nOf such trite themes the publishers are shy\\nThey re passed unprinted, or unpurchased by.\\nAnd on the shelves, in stately rows erect.\\nAre left to mildew, cobweb and neglect.\\nBack beyond this our busy fancies run,\\nFor life is older than our childhood s sun\\nManhood not acts alone, but loves to think.\\nAnd life owes half its glow to printer s ink.\\nHow circumscribed would be the realm of thought.\\nIf all we know, or all we dreamed, was caught\\nIn that small circle bounded by the span\\nThat rounds the life, the experience of a man.\\nThe exhaustless past contains a teeming mint,\\nClosed to our souls but for the aid of print\\nAnd yet the manuscripts of sages eld\\nThe hidden germ within their folios held;\\nWhat types and press and paper mills have wrought,\\nAre but the expansion of an earlier thought.\\n2", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0013.jp2"}, "14": {"fulltext": "IQ POEM.\\nThought grows from dreams to acts and living deeds,\\nTill on their ripened fruit the student feeds\\nArt is the work of time in homes unseen,\\nStrong, searching minds on greatest problems lean.\\nBy patient toil a subtle fancy grew.\\nTill a new fact burst on creation s view,\\nAnd a slight wire, around an index curled,\\nSent words, like lightning, pulsing round the world.\\nThe seed that dropped in Fulton s ardent mind.\\nSprang to a height that shadowed half mankind;\\nNor shall the light of such a name grow dim.\\nTill the last strain of Time s funereal hymn.\\nWith look averted, let us take the track\\nThat leads the longings of the curious back,\\nTo those grave times when our forefathers prayed\\nFor strength and help their rugged toils to aid;\\nWho not alone on fervent prayers relied.\\nBut fought like warriors, and like heroes died.\\nTheir savage foe knew not effectual calling,\\nBut well they knew when leaden hail was falling;\\nTheir faith was slight in sermons and good words,\\nBut O twas strong in muskets and in swords\\nThe law was weak a thing they heeded not.\\nBut they believed in powder and in shot I", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0014.jp2"}, "15": {"fulltext": "NOW AND THEN. H\\nSo, failing of conversion other ways,\\nThe thoughtful men of those straight-forward days.\\nBrought carnal weapons to the work in hand,\\nAnd then the red man faded from the land.\\nI stood, of late, on Plymouth s famous rock,\\nAnd thought I felt the all peculiar shock.\\nWhich that magnetic loadstone should impart\\nTo every faithful, true-born Yankee heart;\\nI climbed the hill that overlooks the wave.\\nAnd musing stood on William Bradford s grave;\\nI trod the grass-grown plat where sleep the dead.\\nWith reverent feelings and uncovered head.\\nI walked the village streets how still they were!\\nThe very railroad ends its being there.\\nI heard the. distant sound of making nails\\nAnd down the bay I saw the glittering sails.\\nMoveless and silent on the quiet flood.\\nEach sloop and schooner wallowing in the mud\\nThe tide was out and every vessel lay\\nSelf-anchored in the ooze that autumn day.\\nSo while my long time cherished fancies fell,\\nI wandered, listless, back to ray hotel.", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0015.jp2"}, "16": {"fulltext": "12 POEM.\\nBut when the setting sun s last golden rays\\nTurned to bright amber all the gathering haze,\\nAgain I lingered on that grave-crowned hill,\\nAnd my enthusiast soul then drank its fill.\\nThe sunset glow merged into twilight dim,\\nAnd earth sent up its sweetest evening hymn\\nDull village sounds no more disturbed the ear,\\nBut solemn silence filled the atmosphere\\nThe sleeping sea lay waveless at my feet,\\nA pilgrim s tombstone was my mossy seat;\\nA consecrated air seemed breathing round.\\nAnd all was sacred on that holy ground.\\nThe graves of those brave sufferers met my sight.\\nAnd of the dames who shared their perilous flight;\\nBefore me were the fields that they had tilled,\\nAnd the same spring where they their pitchers filled.\\nThese met the eye. But Fancy sought for more,\\nAnd softly led me back to days of yore\\nImagination painted that stern band.\\nAs first they stepped upon this wintry land;\\nI saw those hopeful men and their brave wives\\nCast on this shore their fortunes and their lives.\\nWhile pinching hunger and the freezing cold\\nLaid their sharp fingers on the little fold.\\nThey never quailed, those true and upright hearts,", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0016.jp2"}, "17": {"fulltext": "NOW AND THEN. 13\\nWho came to plant religion and the arts;\\nThey aimed to found an empire in the west,\\nWhose equal laws should shelter the oppressed;\\nFreedom was written on each manly brow\\nAnd well they triumphed, and are deathless now I\\nDear social souls I How well we love to trace\\nThe haunts and homes of our ancestral race;\\nTo people hills and plains and barren rocks.\\nWith them, their children, and their feeding flocks.\\nWithout their company, the musing mind\\nAmid such scenes but small delight would find\\nThey must be there, or we should not intrude\\nWithin the silence of the solitude\\nWe feel their presence, though we see them not,\\nAnd the bleak hill becomes a hallowed spot.\\nThus much for Plymouth. I could say no less.\\nAnd more, to-night, I hardly dare to press.\\nLest you accuse me, in facetious tone,\\nWith having kissed New England s blarney-stone.\\nYet would our mission be but half complete.\\nDid we omit of kindred themes to treat;\\nSo, from our eastern trip let us return,\\nAnd find what here, at home, we yet may learn.", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0017.jp2"}, "18": {"fulltext": "14 POEM.\\nWould you refresh your memories of that band,\\nGo visit yonder Hall.* There you may stand\\nAmong the relics of an earlier day,\\nAnd give your antiquarian fancy play.\\nThere Elder Brewster s chest unfolds its lids,\\nBeneath which lies whate er that fancy bids:\\nAnd there, at rest, is Captain Standish s pot.\\nWherein he daily boiled no matter what;\\nWhate er it was, it nourished them of old.\\nAnd made the hearts of those gaunt pilgrims bold.\\nI miss one relic; there should be the bed\\nOn which Rose Standish laid her nightcapped head\\nPerhaps the guardian of the Pilgrim Rock\\nMay have it yet among his wondrous stock\\nHe shows, indeed, a heterogeneous hoard\\nOf antique lumber that the May Flower stored.\\nA silver flagon! Ah, that tells a tale,\\nOf cheerful hearts, and bodies strong and hale;\\nDid strength or courage flag? From this they quaffed.\\nAnd at the war-whoop of the Indian laughed\\nThis strung their nerves to brave and daring deeds.\\nAs he may know who their old records reads\\nThere were no Carson leagues, nor Maine Laws then,\\nHistorical Society s Rooms.", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0018.jp2"}, "19": {"fulltext": "NOW AND THEN. 15\\nIn lack of which, they all were temperate men.\\nPledged to the reason that their Maker gave,\\nNo one became to low debauch a slave;\\nYet when they dwelt on Plymouth s grassy bank,\\nThey loved, they fought, they prayed, and eke they\\ndrank.\\nOn yonder shelf arranged with studious care,\\nFaded, and perfumed with an ancient air.\\nRepose the sermons of full many a saint.\\nWhose hand of write was crabbed, small and quaint.\\nThe eyes of each old dignified divine\\nWere surely stronger and more keen than mine,\\nFor nothing short of microscopic art\\nTo us their hidden mysteries can impart;\\nAnd even at times the question may arise.\\nWhether the value of the hoarded prize.\\nLies not in knowing that one can not know\\nWhether the scraps be orthodox or no!\\nThe leaden ball, swift messenger of woe,\\nIs there, that laid the noble Wooster low;\\nThere is the vest by gallant Ledyard worn.\\nWhose treacherous death indignantly we mourn\\nWe see the rent through which his life-blood poured.", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0019.jp2"}, "20": {"fulltext": "IQ POEM.\\nWhere butcher Bloomfield plunged the yielded\\nsword.\\nThere is the tav^ern sign, that swung of yore.\\nBeside brave Putnam s hospitable door;\\nWas its device some rustic painter s fun,\\nOr did young Israel really mean a pun?\\nFor there, exposed to every traveler s view,\\nIs General Wolfe-^but not the one he slew I\\nThere, too, the Drum, that erst on Sundays fair.\\nWith tones sonorous, called the crowd to prayer.\\nOn other days for soldiers it might speak.\\nBut drum ecclesiastic once a week\\nBelligerent no more, but vicegerent bell,\\nIt bore good news where er its summons fell.\\nTo patriot hearts and antiquarian eyes\\nThese homely things are each a cherished prize\\nThey are the subtle keys, that long shall last,\\nTo open wide the storehouse of the past.\\nFor round each symbol clusters iriany a scene.\\nWhich serves to keep ancestral memories green.\\nAnd beggared currency has here a niche\\nShowing wherein the elder race were rich\\nA quaint display, outlandish, odd and strange,", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0020.jp2"}, "21": {"fulltext": "NOW AND THEN. 17\\nFrom Alfred s coins to modern handy change;\\nThere, strings of wampum money in their day\\nEqual to some late promises to pay I\\nAnd quite as useful, all our hopes to mock.\\nAs Western bonds, or Willimantic stock\\nAnd silkiest bills on Biddle s slaughtered bank.\\nBut O how fallen from their princely rank!\\nWhile Continental money, dead by vote,\\nSleeps side by side with Daniel Webster s note!\\nAmidst this heap of rare and curious things.\\nRound which old Time his musty interest flings,\\nThe one which first attracts the inquirer s eye.\\nIs him who points to where the others lie\\nThe faithful seneschal* who fills the chair.\\nAnd guards the precious store with jealous care.\\nBehold, and as you look, admire the guide.\\nWho clings so closely to the stranger s side:\\nThe few thin hairs that hardly thatch his brow.\\nAre wintry white, and patriarchal now\\nThe eye that once with ardent fire was bright,\\nTo know his friends, now needs an ample light;\\nHis cheek is like a rose-leaf in the room,\\nDr. Robbiiis, tlie Librarian.\\n3", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0021.jp2"}, "22": {"fulltext": "IQ P OEM.\\nWhere kindly age has left its youthful bloom\\nBut ah! his trembling limbs and feeble gait,\\nTell that his heirs have briefest time to wait.\\nThe Doctor s dress no stylish art displays,\\nUnless it be the style of other days;\\nThe coat, that flings its van-like skirts abroad,\\nThe antique boots, that well with him accord;\\nThe old blue cloak,. the unpretending hat.\\nWith brim worn bare, but lustrous for all that\\nThe wide-rimmed specs, the gold-surmounted cane,\\nThe brown umbrella, long inured to rain\\nAll seem to tell that we have here at last,\\nOne living link that binds us to the past.\\nSandwiched betwixt the past and present time,\\nPermit me here some slight descriptive rhyme;\\nCompactly pressed, the interloping wile\\nShall change the current but a breathing while.\\nThus I take down from my poetic shelf\\nA fancy sketch of Fancy s fairy self;\\nIn lines more bold Imagination trace.\\nWhile sad-eyed Memory fills the closing space.\\nThree mythic maids, who here walk hand in hand.\\nTo strew with poesy life s prosaic land.", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0022.jp2"}, "23": {"fulltext": "NOW AND THEN. 19\\nSweet Fancy loves to play with trifling themes,\\nAnd loves to revel in the land of dreams;\\nOn every zephyr s breath her pinion stirs,\\nAnd earth, and air, and all the clouds are hers.\\nHer pictures rival, in their mystic wreaths,\\nThose which the sprite on winter windows breathes\\nShe floats on moonbeams, over fields of snow.\\nWhich star-beams interlace with diamond glow;\\nWhen spangles glisten in the frosty air,\\nShe s up and off to frolic with them there\\nShe loves the dreamy haze on autumn hills,\\nAnd loves the music of the singing rills;\\nShe floats with sunbeams shimmering through the\\ntrees,\\nAnd bends to hear the murmuring sound of bees:\\nShe loves all quiet beauties and sweet sounds.\\nAs on light wing she goes her airy rounds.\\nThe phosphorescent glow, like flashing steel.\\nThat following foams around the parting keel\\nCelestial rainbows, circling after storms,\\nThe crimson flush their wrestling clouds that warms;\\nThe songs of birds that meet the blushing morn,\\nThe dewy rain of summer evening born,\\nThe booming melody of far-off bells.", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0023.jp2"}, "24": {"fulltext": "20 1 K M\\nWhose undulations throb along the dells\\nThe insect hum that stirs the drowsy noon,\\nThe new- mown hay of aromatic June;\\nThe apple blossoms, and the bursting rose.\\nThe odor-laden breeze that through them blows\\nO er these her charming influence Fancy flings,\\nAnd waves in dallying wantonness her wings.\\nHers is a realm of -unalloyed delight.\\nRadiant with beauty, and with star-gems bright;\\nThe sparkling dome enroofs her ample hall.\\nAnd where Thought radiates, there she haloes all.\\nImagination takes a broader sweep,\\nA wider circle, and a bolder leap\\nShe loves the seething ocean s crag-piled shore.\\nWith its wild grandeur and perpetual roar;\\nTo laugh among its breakers, and to ride\\nIts crested surges and its rampant tide\\nWhile its great tones, upheaving and elate,\\nSeem kindred voices calling to its mate.\\nThe hollow moan of struggling mountain floods,\\nThe fierce winds battling with the crashing woods;\\nThe storm-king bursting from his awful throne.\\nWith eyes of lightning, and with thunder tone:", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0024.jp2"}, "25": {"fulltext": "NOW AND THEN. 21\\nWhere er roused Nature shows her mighty power,\\nImagination there will proudly tower.\\nShe springs exultant in her upward flight,\\nAnd plumes her way o er many a giddy height;\\nWhen her imperial pinions mount the gale,\\nThought, quivering, leaps, to follow on the trail.\\nThrough fields of light, beyond the bending blue.\\nHer winnowing wings allure the heavenly dew;\\nWhen startled Reason flings to her the helm,\\nWorlds are her kingdom, space her subject realm\\nDown the long vista of the coming years.\\nOn victor wing her steady way she steers,\\nReads there events, as prophets read of yore.\\nAnd rides triumphant through the misty frore.\\nNo hartlihg clouds, nor blinding storms of hail.\\nCan make her strained and flashing eyeballs quail\\nAbove, beyond the lazy course of time,\\nShe holds her way, majestic and sublime I\\nAnd Memory has her triumphs, and her trials.\\nAs she turns back the hands upon the dials\\nStrikes chords that give a long forgotten tone.\\nAnd claims the Past, dominion of her own.\\nAll there is hers the overpeopled past.", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0025.jp2"}, "26": {"fulltext": "22 POEM.\\nWhere sleep dead hopes, our earliest and our last;\\nShe calls at will our youthful longings up,\\nFills to the brim Remorse s wormwood cup.\\nStrikes the wild string that Passion could not\\nbreak,\\nTill its remembered tones once more awake;\\nTouches the spring that lends to young desires,\\nAnd once again they thrill along the wires\\nLifts the dark curtain that enfolds young Love,\\nAnd purpling sunbeams gild it from above.\\nFull to o erflowing is her wide domain,\\nWhere awful silence and pale sorrow reign;\\nTomb of lost joys, and sepulchre of hopes,\\nMid which the aching soul bewildered gropes;\\nFaith, Hope and Love against the portal lean.\\nWhile one lone Phantom stalks across the scene.\\nDown the dim aisles, and o er the crumbling walls,\\nNo starry beam, nor ray of sunlight falls;\\nImpending clouds shut down from overhead,\\nAnd wrap in gloom that region of the dead I\\nWell, let Imagination heavenward sail.\\nAnd Memory enter with a visage pale;\\nLet Fancy come to charm the twilight hour\\nAll have their missions and their times of power.", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0026.jp2"}, "27": {"fulltext": "NOW AND THEN. 23\\nThrough dreamy realms Thought s messenger may\\nroam,\\nBut the true heart turns fondly to its home!\\nAh, at the mention of that cherished word.\\nWhat answering tones are in the bosom stirred\\nThough other scenes may charm with gifts more rare,\\nThe soul s enjoyment springs and centres there I\\nI love my fireside or at least I did,\\nUntil behind a register twas hid!\\nI loved the chimney corner, and the blaze\\nOf hickory logs, in those dear palmy days\\nBut with a feeling near akin to hate,\\nI look on yonder innovating grate;\\nThe modern register s more hopeless yet.\\nWith its grim visor and its bars of jet;\\nIts jaws emit a strong sulphureous heat,\\nThe insulted lungs abhor whene er they meet.\\nThe cheerful blaze, the ample hearth w^e miss,\\nAnd find instead, contrivances like this!\\nAnd yet so long as men have careful wives.\\nThey must submit, or live unquiet lives.\\nShut up your fires burn gas instead of oil\\nLet your beefsteaks on reeking ranges broil\\nToast your cold feet before the heated air.", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0027.jp2"}, "28": {"fulltext": "24 POEM.\\nThat puffs its venom through twelve inches square:\\nResign all comforts with a cheerful laugh,\\nAlthough thereby your days are shortened half:\\nDo any thing submit to any claims,\\nThat most may please or gratify your dames.\\nYet all these wretched arts of modern change,\\nFrom its loved home can not the heart estrange,\\nWe love the quiet that the evening brings.\\nWe love the very song the kettle sings;\\nWe love our books those dear delightful friends,\\nAnd all the comfort their perusal lends.\\nAnd then our cheerful paintings all are there\\nFamiliar things ^^liow well their faces wear I\\nWe re not perplexed to choose among the few,\\nFor, though the same, to us they re always new.\\nThe fairy flowers that ornament the room,\\nMore cheerful there than in the garden bloom;\\nTheir fragrance never satiates nor palls,\\nNor on the passing stranger idly falls.\\nWe know our flowers we ve known and loved\\nthem well.\\nSince the first day their buds began to swell;\\nWe ve watched their fair existence, bright but brief,", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0028.jp2"}, "29": {"fulltext": "NOW AND THEN. 25\\nAs they unfolded each perfected leaf;\\nIn sweet solicitude their dawning nursed,\\nAnd into beauteous being saw them burst,\\nTill now, behold, each fair and slender stem\\nUpholds a star, a crown, a perfumed gem I\\nAh yes I although there s no domestic hearth,\\nHome has its pleasures and its genial mirth\\nThe daily toil, with all its fret and foam,\\nDissolves and fades as one approaches home.\\nYou meet your wife perhaps your infant heir;\\nOne welcome smiles the other pulls your hair!\\nWhich pleases you the most? Ah, happy sire.\\nHere s joy enough without the tabooed fire.\\nAway with grumbling hither comes the boy,\\nThis only s wanting to complete your joy.\\nThe young rogue leaps upon your waiting knee.\\nAnd claps his hands, and crows with noisy glee;\\nThe welcome kiss that met you at the door.\\nWas but the prelude to a hundred more;\\nWho now is happiest? Father, boy, or wife.\\nIn this the culminated hour of life I\\nRemove the magic slide. Your moistened eye\\nBeholds the sad funereal train pass by;\\n4~", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0029.jp2"}, "30": {"fulltext": "26 1 E M\\nThe mother, sobbing with a broken heart,\\nThe father, silent, tearless and apart,\\nBut hopeless, childless, and in mute despair.\\nHis heart lies coffined with the lost one there.\\nNo more to them the radiant child is given,\\nThey dwell alone, and dream of him in Heaven\\nExistence is a blank Life s light is dim.\\nAnd all worth living for expired with him.\\nRash pen, betrayed by this forbidden strain,\\nWheel lightly round into the path again;\\nOur })romised pleasure we shall surely miss.\\nIf turned aside by saddening themes like this.\\nLet me once more, on my accustomed track,\\nBound like a harlequin to the footlights back:\\nResume the motley with its cap and bells.\\nTill on the ear their joyous cadence swells.\\nAmid the themes my busy brain that throng.\\nOne here demands a foothold in my song;\\nFit theme my rambling melody to crown,\\nWould be the young life of our goodly town.\\nSuggestive hint! My nervous fingers glow\\nTo tell in rhyme of all I feel and know;\\nIts past is full of stirring deeds and thought,", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0030.jp2"}, "31": {"fulltext": "NOW AND THEN. 27\\nWith poet subjects and rich fancies fraught\\nThe reins are strong that hold my rampant steed\\nOn such a course he pants to show his speed;\\nImpatient paws the ground, and champs the bit,\\nWhile his excited rider shares the fit.\\nBut I refrain nor dare intrusive tread\\nIn that bright field with loftier trophies spread\\nFor the poor gleaner, following Scseva s track,\\nWould surely come most empty-handed back.\\nAnd yon fair river, wimpling by our doors.\\nRich with the legendary flood it pours,\\nHow should I love its countless charms to sing,\\nAnd o er its wave a graceful idyl fling;\\nTrack its green banks, the startled echoes wake.\\nFrom SaybrOok bar to its bright parent lake;\\nThread its primeval forests of vast pines.\\nOn whose tall heads the northern sunlight shines\\nRush with its waters down the sounding rocks.\\nOr skirt its meadows filled with pastoral flocks\\nAnchor my boat within the eddying pool,\\nAnd stray, enchanted, in its grottos cool\\nFor many such there be, that gem its edge.\\nBy pendent trees and legend-haunted ledge.\\nBut I forbear\u00e2\u0080\u0094nor dare to enter here,", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0031.jp2"}, "32": {"fulltext": "28 POEM.\\nTo share the laurels with a name most dear;\\nMy lowly muse stays her presumptuous flight,\\nWhere Brainard s genius left its trail of light!\\nOne opening s left me one poor local theme\\nYon rueful, meagre, tributary stream I\\nNameless to most, although at times it claims\\nA lovely trio of euphonious names.\\nTis Little River Hog or Sickinam,\\nAnd hardly worth an interrupting dam\\nYet do its falls that dear distinction gain,\\nAnd sometimes otherwheres from men profane!\\nThere have been trials, weak as well as strong,\\nTo lift the simple streamlet into song;\\nAttempts to dignify its banks forlorn,\\nAnd with a wreath its forehead to adorn\\nBut signal were the failures and no bard\\nBut turns discomfited from theme so hard.\\nOur own fair poetess has tried to throw\\nRound its unloveliness a classic glow,\\nBut even Iter powers could not the task achieve,\\nAnd, from its charms, a garland failed to weave.", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0032.jp2"}, "33": {"fulltext": "NOW AND THEN. 29\\nIn early spring it pours a turbid flood,\\nRich with the gatherings of elastic mud;\\nIn summer, dwindling to a sickly thread,\\nIts shallow pools exhale musketoes dread\\nThere tadpoles breed and there melodious frogs\\nOrchestral music pipe from fungused logs.\\nWell, let it pass a still unwritten stream,\\nO er which no poet ever hopes to dream;\\nLeave it to lead, so far as rhyming goes,\\nA quiet life of undisturbed repose\\nTwere better far to steal along incog.\\nThan live exultant in the name of Hog!\\nA few brief moments let my pencil play\\nAround one strange delusion of the day,\\nWhich, with its leaders, stands in bold relief,\\nOf all deliberate humbugs reigning chief.\\nSo strong its grasp upon the willing mind,\\nWe strive in vain its hundred arms to bind\\nSo brazen-faced the rank imposture shines,\\nThat it demands a few indignant lines.\\nAt bearded circles it is ghostly talk\\nMakes tables travel, and the poker walk", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0033.jp2"}, "34": {"fulltext": "30 P E M\\nLike hats, it glories in a soothing nap,\\nAnd, like the postman, enters with a rap.\\nIts many names the public have by heart\\nCall it Psychology, or Mesmeric art.\\nBlack art or Magic, Thaumaturgy wild.\\nBiology, Enchantment, Madness child\\nClairvoyance, Sortilege, or Second Sight,\\nOr any name fair Common Sense to fright\\nWitchcraft, or Sorcery, Theurgy, or plot\\nOf Hocus Pocus. Reason it is not.\\nLet it adopt all synonyms in course,\\nFrom Spirit Rappings to Odylic force\\nBaptize the creature by what name you will.\\nIts patronymic will be Humbug still I\\nThe witch of Endor, if she could arise\\nAnd visit us, would stare with open eyes.\\nTo find her skill, once narrowly confined,\\nNow floating freely as the march of mind.\\nTry your next neighbor pass him into sleep,\\nAnd you have messages from Pluto cheap;\\nAbram or Shakspeare, Junius or Joyce Heth,\\nSpeak at your bidding from the realm of death.\\nCall, if you like, the ghost of father Adam,\\nOr Eve herself, before she was a madam,", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0034.jp2"}, "35": {"fulltext": "NOW AND THEN. 31\\nAnd they, or else the science is a libel,\\nWill straight authenticate or damn the Bible.\\nIn sober earnest, or by way of fun,\\nCall on your ancestors tis often done.\\nWaked up from their unconscionable doze,\\nOn eager ears their knockings they impose;\\nTell you how old your aunt was, when she died,\\nHer Christian name, and when she was a bride;\\nSpell out the number of the boys she bore\\nAll which you know, or might have known, before.\\nThe past is plain but as for time to come.\\nYou might as well consult a muffled drum.\\nBut one great trouble which adepts have got.\\nIs doubt if their reports be true or not;\\nThe unstrung mediums never yet have found\\nIf they re on holy or blasphemous ground.\\nAnd still they sw^ear the information true.\\nWhich they bring up from Hades unto you.\\nOh impious soul! To thrust your addled head\\nWhere only angels are allowed to tread I\\nThe road they re traveling ends in misty night,\\nWhere no blest guide-board stands to set them right;", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0035.jp2"}, "36": {"fulltext": "32 1 E M\\nThe only taverns on that dreary way,\\nWhere they their crazed and aching heads can lay,\\nAre structures furnished by the State at large.\\nWho take, at last, the moonstruck fools in charge.\\nThey re dropping in by such increasing scores.\\nThat every keeper soon must close his doors.\\nUnless the State, to stay the rush awhile.\\nBuilds its asylums once in every mile.\\nWe want some Dr. Johnson on our coast.\\nTo exorcise this modern Cock Lane ghost.\\nOne ticklish subject let me lightly touch,\\nThat just now troubles some folks overmuch.\\nDear Woman bless her heart! has lately found\\nThat man, the rogue, has trespassed on her ground:\\nSomehow the twist has got into her mind.\\nThat some great evil vast, but undefined\\nIs now impending o er the gentle sex,\\nHer simple soul to harass and perplex\\nBut, though conventions still are all the go,\\nWhere that great evil lies, none seem to know.\\nWhere the end is of all their rightful powers,\\nOr the dividing line that marks from ours,\\nWould puzzle wisest craniums to divine\\nMy own belief is, there is no such line.", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0036.jp2"}, "37": {"fulltext": "NOW AND THEN. 33\\nWhat s hers s her own; what s ours belongs to her,\\nAnd she can have it all without this stir.\\nWe live, we act, obedient to her sway,\\nAnd soon or late she always has her way\\nThence comes my fear that she will have it now\\nThe only doubt is, as to when and how.\\nBut if you preach, so should you till our farms\\nIf you will vote, you ought to shoulder arms;\\nDress, if you please, in trowsers like the Turk,\\nBut, for your own sake, don t begrudge our work.\\nPerhaps some shrewd inventive-Yankee mind\\nA new contrivance, or machine may find.\\nWhereby fond woman may obtain her rights,\\nAnd leave poor man in peace to wear the tights I\\nEnough of this, my all too frolic Muse\\nSome ground less dangerous for your antics choose;\\nLet no light reason charm your airy feet\\nBeyond the limits of the sentry s beat;\\nIt is a risk we hardly dare afford,\\nThat brings to ladies lips a pouting word:\\nEdge gently off, and quietly renew\\nOur earlier strain, now partly hid from view;\\n5", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0037.jp2"}, "38": {"fulltext": "34 I OKM.\\nThe past, the present, and the coming time,\\nMust meet and mingle in our closing rhyme,\\nIn that prim city, by fair Schuylkill s side,\\nMiscalled of Love, more truthfully of Pride,\\nWhere broad-brimmed hats and coats of sober hue\\nProclaim, like flags, that virtue s here on view;\\nWhere ostentation dwells in plainest walls,\\nAnd subtle speech in blandest accents falls;\\nIn that square city stands an ancient Hall,\\nIts stones defaced with many a witless scrawl.\\nGrown old and rusty, yet in form the same\\nAs when it held those fearless sons of fame.\\nWho there threw down th(! battle gage to kings.\\nAnd loosed the bands that l)onnd fair Freedom s\\nwings.\\nThat hall is now a pilgrim shrine for men,\\nA theme for poet s and for history s pen,\\nThere was accomplished that world-famous deed\\nWhich overshadows England s Runnymede.\\nFor why? Those barons, whom we term the bold,\\nForced from their king a pledge, in days of old\\nThose haughty nobles, savage, fierce and proud,\\nClaimed half their rights, and had their claim allowed.\\nOur sires demanded all! No boon they craved.", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0038.jp2"}, "39": {"fulltext": "NOW AND THEN. 35\\nBut king and parliament they dauntless braved\\nThey knew their rights, and no resistance feared,\\nBut dared Britannia s monster to the beard\\nWith no weak truckling for a compromise,\\nThey stretched their hands and rudely grasped the\\nprize\\nTheir cry for Freedom thundered on the gale\\nAnd we have got it on the largest scale I\\nAnd Ijiberty, long deemed a sort of myth,\\nTurns out to be a child of nerve and pith;\\nUpon our wave-washed shores she stands complete,\\nAnd finds an empire stretching to her feet.\\nHer ladyship s indeed a noble queen,\\nOf frankest bearing, and of friendliest mien\\nTo all true friends protection she will yield,\\nBehind her bright impenetrable shield.\\nWith brain and hand man here is free to act.\\nAnd fabled Freedom s an established fact.\\nShould any doubt the truth of what I say.\\nGo join the gathering on Election day:\\nThere you may hear and see, perchance may feel.\\nWith what fine unction and exceeding zeal,\\nEach sovereign voter will assert his claim", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0039.jp2"}, "40": {"fulltext": "36 POEM.\\nTo more of Independence than the name.\\nAsk him which ticket he intends to vote,\\nAnd well his prompt and ready answer note;\\nSuggest that possibly he may be wrong,\\nYou but confirm him in his faith more strong:\\nAdduce your proof he s ready for the fight.\\nAnd still maintains he is, and must be right.\\nAssert his ignorance, and the retort\\nComes flying back, with double ardor fraught.\\nHe knows what he s about, and tells you so\\nAnd tells which ticket he intends to go:\\nKnows what majority his man will get.\\nAnd backs his firm conviction with a bet I\\nHe casts his ballot with an air of pride.\\nSure he has voted on the strongest side;\\nBat right or wrong, in victory or defeat.\\nOn one great point his triumph is complete\\nHe votes to please himself and always will.\\nThough that same vote his brother s chance should\\nkill.\\nBat should the cahdidate his trust betray.\\nHe s a marked man, and surely gets his pay;\\nEven grave senators, by interest led,\\nFor one false step their cherished plumes must shed.", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0040.jp2"}, "41": {"fulltext": "NOW AND THEN. 37\\nAnd, like the globe in vacant space that rolls,\\nAre, by gyrating, flattened at the polls!\\nNot only have we earned fair Freedom s boon.\\nBut trust that all will join our standard soon\\nOur eagle banner, to the winds unfurled.\\nWe mean shall claim the homage of the world;\\nAlready have we made a goodly stride^\\nThough much the largest half remains outside;\\nBut in due time their warning they will get.\\nAnd all the slumbering nations join us yet:\\nMonarchs must stoop, and bend the subject knee,\\nAnd all mankind save niggers shall be free I\\nWith eye prophetic I behold the time\\nWhen our star flag shall wave in every clime\\nJapan is coming and the Sandwich Isles\\nAwait the moment with propitious smiles\\nThe fair Antilles beckon us for aid\\nWith all the ardor of a Spanish maid;\\nA few more revolutions, and the Gaul\\nFor help and succor upon us will call\\nAnd Africa awaits, with outstretched arms,\\nTo fling before us all her yielding charms\\nChina comes next\u00e2\u0080\u0094 we want our cup of tea,", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0041.jp2"}, "42": {"fulltext": "38 P E M\\nAnd what is more, we want it duty free\\nThe Russian Bear will soon require our help,\\nAnd we must take compassion on the whelp;\\nThe Pope will knuckle to our growing powers.\\nAnd strike, omnipotent, his flag to ours:\\nPhlegmatic Germany, and Erin dear.\\nWe do not count for they re already here!\\nOur aim is lofty, and our object large\\nTo take the world beneath our special charge;\\nWe ll grow a President with so big a soul\\nAs will not shrink to grasp and guide the whole;\\nOne mighty hand shall hold Creation s purse,\\nAnd one strong mind control the universe I\\nMethinks I hear some listener s voice exclaim,\\nPray what shall be your wondrous empire s name?\\nGood friend, the question is superfluous quite\\nThe name s already writ in w^ords of light;\\nNo irksome change upon our senses grates,\\nTis but extending these United States I\\nWe ll add fresh stars where er our bunting flies,\\nAnd if they re crowded we ll enlarge its size I", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0042.jp2"}, "43": {"fulltext": "NOW AND THEN. 39\\nSome captious cynic here perhaps may ask\\nIf this be poetry. Be mine the task,\\nFrom Johnson, Webster, and such delving fry,\\nTo give the anxious caviller reply.\\nYour lexicon defines the art sublime.\\nAs simple skill in multiplying rhyme:\\nLet one tall Roman each platoon begin,\\nWhile trainband words fall musically in;\\nGive neighboring lines their just amount of feet.\\nAnd thus the definition stands complete.\\nAnd now, O doubter! mark my numbers well\\nEach dropping syllable on your fingers tell\\nIt s all correct the words fall into place.\\nAnd so, Sir Skeptic, I ve made out my easel\\nTrue, that in poetry there are various grades.\\nJust as there are in other sorts of trades\\nI ll sketch their outline as they seem to me.\\nBy a poetic sort of Rule of Three.\\nOne writes immortal verse, and strives for fame.\\nThat unborn children yet may lisp his name;\\nLaborious years in grinding toil he spends.\\nAnd Life s best energies to the task-work lends;\\nThe midnight taper, paleing into dawn.", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0043.jp2"}, "44": {"fulltext": "40 i OE u\\nStill finds him wakeful, toiling, plodding on\\nHis work, evolving from a latent gleam,\\nGrows, till it spreads a deep majestic stream;\\nFed by a thousand tributary springs.\\nAt length its volume to the world it flings.\\nCheered by the hope that ages yet to come\\nWill make a shrine of his now humble home;\\nBlest, that his songs shall triumph and be heard,\\nAnd he, in time, become a household word,\\nWhen every tongue that glorifies his name.\\nShall find therein a synonym for fame;\\nHe sinks exhausted all his nerves unstrung,\\nThe very life blood from his being wrung;\\nHis task accomplished, and his brain pumped dry,\\nThe future wonder lays him down to die I\\nAnother class there is, so feeble, dull.\\nOne doubts the contents of each luckless skull;\\nTheir maudlin rhymes the weekly press adorn,\\nOf tedious, pointless inanition born.\\nThey love their Julias with intensest love.\\nAnd brood o er miseries like a cooing dove\\nTheir gushing lines come forth to greet the spring.\\nAnd with the autumn shivering fancies bring;", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0044.jp2"}, "45": {"fulltext": "NOW AND THEN. 41\\nFrom the pale moon their sadness seeks relief,\\nAnd wailing winds but aggravate their grief.\\nThe moon, so cold, reminds them of their Jane,\\nAnd then, alas! they re agonized with pain:\\nNor cramps, nor colics, nor rheumatic bones,\\nE er claimed so many sympathetic groans.\\nThe stars, so distant, but alas I so bright.\\nEmblem the Susans that they met last night.\\nThey write, they print, and lovingly they read\\nTheir vapid lines, with edifying greed.\\nNo fond admirer plauds the sickly song.\\nThat trails its morbid impotence along;\\nVainly they seek for some congenial mind.\\nWho to their weakness will be fondly blind;\\nUntil, at last, exhaling in a sigh.\\nThey also pass away. Perhaps they die I\\nNext comes the poet with the princely dower,\\nIn all the plenitude of conscious power;\\nHe lightly leaps to breast the living age.\\nRich gems of genius glowing on his page;\\nHis is the pen that tracks its radiant way.\\nWhere angel pinions in the sunlight play;\\nHis airy muse, elastic in her gait,\\nQuickens existence, and is all elate.\\n6", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0045.jp2"}, "46": {"fulltext": "42\\nPOEM.\\nHe stirs the passions and the souls of men,\\nAnd prompts to life youth s smouldering fires again\\nThe eye, swift glancing o er his brimming lines,\\nReflects the light that there in beauty shines;\\nThe rapt ear tingles with the mellow flow\\nOf crisping thoughts that crackle as they glow\\nThe palpitating heart, the kindling brain,\\nThrob back impulsive to the witching strain.\\nHis aspirations sound the wells of life,\\nAnd thought, responsive, bounds to join the strife;\\nElectric flashes all our passions sway.\\nAnd we press on where er he leads the way.\\nThe mighty mother bares her breast for him.\\nAnd all her charms before his vision swim;\\nHe feasts on their intoxicating glow,\\nWhile soft voluptuous airs around him blow:\\nHer perfumed breath his teeming fancy warms.\\nAnd stirs to action its illusive forms;\\nFor him her fountains sparkle with delight.\\nHer hidden paths all open to his siglit;\\nFresh from the spring or welling by the stream,\\nHer rays on him illuminating gleam.", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0046.jp2"}, "47": {"fulltext": "NOW AND THEN. 43.\\nAs summer clouds, poised in the rosy glow,\\nMirror their tints along the fields below,\\nSo all his thoughts, warmed with the flush of Heaven,\\nTo bathe our souls in holiest light are given.\\nMentor and comrade, his the wondrous art.\\nTo make a plaything of the human heart.\\nPraises, like pearls, fall fast around him now,\\nAnd braid the magic wreath to bind his brow.\\nSuch is the life the lifelike poet lives,\\nNor takes on trust what future promise gives\\nHe has no faith in drafts at distant date.\\nAnd deems Posterity for its own can wait.\\nAnd while I thus my rambling notes prolong,\\nYou ask my station in the world of song.\\nAre you a critic? Some are critics born\\nIf you are one, tread lightly on my corn I\\nPray put me where you please I ll be content,\\nSo you allow me to pursue my bent.\\nI love the muses, as I love a flower\\nTo charm the moment, or beguile the hour.\\nSweet to the writer is the voice of praise.\\nThat springs spontaneous up to meet his lays.", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0047.jp2"}, "48": {"fulltext": "44 POEM.\\nA charming word! The end and aim of men\\nWho wield the goose-quill or the patent pen\\nPoetic fervor but for this would fail,\\nAnd intellectual fire burn dim and pale\\nAmbition would expire for want of food,\\nAnd hushed would be the whole enthusiast brood.\\nThen, if you can, bestow the welcome meed\\nCall each a flower that is not quite a weed\\nAdmit the rhythm, and the easy flow.\\nCall mild infusion high poetic glow.\\nAnd, as our brief acquaintance now must end,\\nLet your sweet voices in accordance blend;\\nDon t wait until my living spirit s fled.\\nTo mix me up with the illustrious dead I\\nLet me enjoy what fairly is my own.\\nAnd wield the sceptre from my little throne:\\nFor when the moment comes, as come it must,\\nThat I shall mingle with my parent dust.\\nWhen sorrowing friends their last sad conclave hold,\\nTo consecrate with tears my form of mould;\\nWhat then to me will be the voice of praise.\\nWhich partial friendship to my manes may raise?\\nNo let it echo while I m yet alive I\\nAnd as for those who mourn me, and survive,\\nI ll make them heirs to all my hopes and fears,\\nAnd add the wealth of your applauding cheers.\\nLofC.", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0048.jp2"}, "49": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0049.jp2"}, "50": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0050.jp2"}, "51": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0051.jp2"}, "52": {"fulltext": "LIBRARY OF CONGRESS\\n016 211 695 2 ft", "height": "3450", "width": "1976", "jp2-path": "nowthendiscursiv00clar_0052.jp2"}}