Edwardsville spectator. [volume] (Edwardsville, Ill.) 1819-1826, 1826-05-27
POETRY.

O1I Il
The Prize Poem, for last years Re-
corder and Telegraph, seems to US an
effort of genius so happy and promising,
that we cannot deny ourselves the plea
sure of giving it place in our paper.
The youthful writer is understood TO
be Mr.. Nathaniel P. Willis, son OF the
senior editor OF the Recorder and Tele-
graph, and member Of the junior class
of Yale College. His muse is very
prolific and rich in classic imagery, yet
he aspires above the mere frost-work OF
fancy, and very happily blends the use
full with the sweet. Even if the
-" stranger bright and beautiful,
"With step Of grace, and eye of fame"
should not deign to approve the pious
sympathies Of the prize poem, the Chris
iian, who delights TO stand +" before the
scene Of Calvary" will find pleasure in
poetry that discourses so sweetly OF Je.
sus. We, as nation, have much need
of such poetry. Surely the fair cannot
refuse elevated, ennobling thoughts and
wholesome reproof, when every line is
glowing with beauty and fragrant with
flowers.
lions Herald.
PRIZE POEM,
roR LAST YEARS RECORDER TELEGRAPH.
MIsANTHROPlC HOURS.
I sometimes feel as could blot
All traces of mankind from earth
And if 'twere wrong to blast them not,
They so degrade, so shame their birth,
To think that earth should be so fair,
So beautiful and bright thing;
That nature should come forth and wear
Such glorious apparrellng;
That sky, sea, air, should live and glow
With light, and love, and holiness,
And yet men never feel and know
How much a God of love can bless
How deep their debt of thankfulness.
I've seen the sun so down, and light
Like floods of gold pour'd on the sky
When every tree and flower was bright,
And every pulse was beating high.
And the full soul was gushing love.
And longing for its home above
And then, when men would soar, if ever,
To the high homes of thought and soul
When lfe's degrading ties shall sever,
And the free spirit spurn control
Then have l seen, oh how my cheek i
Is burning with the shame feel,
That truth is in the words speak)
Pve seen my fellow-creatures steal
Away to their unhallowed mirth,
As if the revelries of earth
Were all that they could feel or share,
And glorious heaven were scarcely worth
Their passing notice or their care
Pve said was worshipper
AT woman's shrine-yet even there
Hound unworthiness Of thought,
And when deemd just had caught
The radiance of that holy light
Which makes earth beautiful and bright
When eyes of fire their flashes sent
Aud rosy lips look'd eloquent
Oh have turn'd and wept to find
Beneath it all, triAing mind.
Twas in one of those high halls
Where genius breathes in sculptur'd stone,
Where shaded light in softness falls
On pencil'd beauty they were gone
Whose hearts of fire and hands Of skill
Had wrought such power-but they spoke
To me IN every feature still,
And fresh lips breath d, and dark eyes woke,
And wept with Mary at the tree
Where Jesus SUFFERED had felt
The warm blood rushing to my brow
At the stern buffet Of the Jew
Had seen the God of glory bow
And bleed for sins he never knew
And had wept. thought that all
Must feel like me-and when there came
A stranger, bright and beautiful,
With step of grace, and eye of fame,
And tone and look most sweetly blent
To make her presence eloquent,
o then look d for tears. We stood
Before the scene of Calvary
saw the piercing spear, the BLOOD
The gall--the writhe Of agony
saw his quivering lips in prayer,
"Father forgive them" all was there,
turn'd in bitterness of soul,
And spoke of Jesus. l had thought