The examiner. [volume] (Louisville, Ky.) 1847-1849, 1848-02-12
LITERARY EXAMINER.
q he Artisan.
BY WILLIAM D. GALLAGHER.

BY WILLIAM d. GALLAGHER.
The day is past-the quiet night
Toward its midhour weareth on;
His workshop has been closed for hours
A good days labor done.
The toll is hard that brings him bread;
And sometimes he hath scant supply;
When drooPs while his manly head,
And glistens his full eye.
Yet from the trial shrinks he not;
For he has youth, and strength, and will;
And though his toll is III repaid.
Bends daily TO it still.
He sometimes murmurs,-but his pride
Checks each expression at its birth,-
That blessings TO his class denied
Surround the drOnes Of earth.
Hepasses morn, and noon, and night,
The homes Of luxury and wealth;
And giances at their gided ease
His eve will take by stealth.
And shadows gather on his face,
At times-but instantly depart
He feels such weakness disgrace
Both 10 his head and heart.
His calling sometimes takes him where
Wealth, worth, grace, beauty, all unite;
And lovely tones arrest his ear,
And lovely looks his sight
And much he thinks-snd half he signs
Yet ere his welcome work is done,
He longs for home, and Mary's eyes,
And for his prattling son.
His labor hath been light to-day;
And wife and child before him sleep;
And he has pass'd the half-sPent night
In study close aud deep.
The lamp burns dim-the fire is low
The hook fS ctosad xtharai,, he Rad
But wildly swell the streams Of Thought
Its fountain-pages fed
With eyes fixed calmly on the floor,
Butvarying and expressive face,
He cons the lesson DER and DER
The history Of his race.
And much he finds of word and deed,
Whose virtue is example now;
But more that makes his bosom bleed,
And darksns Ger his BROW
The thirst for wealth-the strife for power
The ceaseless struggle for renown-
The daring that hath seized realm,
Or caught a wavering crown
The manhood that hath iamely bent
And fall'n beneath tyrannic sway
The balk'd resistance, that hath lent
Its darkness TO the day
But chiefly this il is that fills
The swelling volume Of his mind:
The countless wrongs and crueltes
That have Oppressed his kind.
And viewing them, upon his brain
His own hard struggles darkly throng;
And a. he feels their weight again,
He also deems OF wrong;
Wrong TO himself, and wrong to all
Who bear the burthens he hath borne:
"a yoke" uPstarting he eXclaims,
sand OH, how meekly wOrn.'
But as he reads Life's riddle still,
He feels, with sudden change Of mood,
The stern, the indomitable viii,
That never was subdued.
The will, not to destroy, but build
Not the blind Might, Of old renown,
Which took the pillars in its grasp,
And shook the temple down
But that whose patient energy
Works ever upward, without rest,
Until the pierced aud parted sea
Rolls from its coral breast.
In the dim freight, for while,
His tall form mOveth tO-and-frO;
Then by the couch of those he loves,
He stops, and bendeth low.
Oh, holy love, on, blessed kiss,
lie ask not splendor-bde not pOw'r-
Dul ~ a uufilnic nome ike tntS,
He have your triumph hour.
He sleeps-but even on his dreams
Obtrude the purpose of his soul;
He wanders where the living streams
OF knowledge brightly roll;
And where men win their own good WAYS,
Not yield TO doubt, or dark despair,
In dreams his bounding spirit strays-
In dreams he triumphs there.
With stronger arm, with mightier heart,
Than he hath felt OF known before,
When comes the mOrrow's hour Of toll.
He'll leave his humble door,
No wagering hence he'll know-no rest
Until the new-seen goal be won;
But firm, and calm. and self possessed,
Bear resOlutely on.
And this il is that, year by year,
Through which nor faith nor hope grow
less,
Pursued, shall crown his high career
With honor and success
This-this it is that marks The man,
Dare thou, then, meath whose studious ey,
This lesson lies, rouse up at once,
And on thyself rely!
Give 10 thy free soul freshest thought,
AND whatsOe'er it prompts thee do,
That manfully, year in year out,
With all thy might pursue
What though thy name may not be heard
Afar, or shouted through the town;
Thou III win a higher need of praise,
A worthier reROwn.
Press on, then.-Earth has need Of thee.
The metal at the forge is red;
The axe is rusting by the tree
The grain hangs heavy in the head
Heed not who works not-iabOr thou!
Lay bravely hold, nor pause nor shrink.
Life's RubicOn is here-and stand
Not dubious on the brink,
hafi0nal Era