The Social Hearth.
How oft man looks for happiness afar,
Amid loud tumult, or the din of war;
O’er foreign lands, through distant climes, he’ll roam
To win that pleasure he may gain at home.
Here does the error in its root begin;
He seeks without when he should search within,
And strive to see included in his breast
The seeds of happiness, the germs of rest.
All bounteous nature upon man doth shower
Her gifts of pleasure, with more equal dower
Than we, dim-sighted and unwise, discern,
But by due effort we the truth may learn.
In the charmed circle of the cheerful hearth
Life’s purest pleasures, richest joys have birth;
Where heart meets heart with confidence serene,
Truth smiles in brightness, Goodness rules benign.
How calmly sweet, how soothing to retire
From pains and toils to peace beside the fire;
Whilst round the blaze, true-hearted friends are met,
In whose gay converse we all care forget.
The merry laugh, the simple playful jest,
The soul of gladness in each look expressed,
The wit retorted, and the temperate mirth,
Are like rich sunshine glowing o’er the earth.
Fresh thoughts imparted, truths unknown before,
In freedom given but increase our store;
And each kind feeling with prolific reign
In kindred breasts is multiplied again.
When song or music elevates the time,
The homely dance or poet’s lofty rhyme,
All feel their pleasure and delight increased
By each partaking in the social feast.
When thus we mingle, how it will impart
Feelings more kind and noble to the heart,
Increase its warmth by love unknown before,
And where it has loved, make it love the more.
The sacred psalmist strung his harp to tell
How goodly ’tis in harmony to dwell;
E’en like the ointment poured upon the head,
That to the skirts of priestly vestments spread!
Oh! ne’er should scandal, or detraction mean,
Or words unkindly desecrate the scene;
But all with pure sincerity conspire
To strengthen friendship, fan love’s holy fire.
If thus we meet—if thus in peace unite,
And make each home a temple of delight,
Our hearts will tell us there is not on earth
A place more sacred than the social hearth.
As this sweet strain of poesy came forth,
All felt its truth and beauty. It described
The pleasures now enjoyed, and but portrayed
Such scenes of innocent and social glee
As often filled that room. The feelings pure
Therein expressed, the higher tone of life,
The sweeter charity, unfolded clear,
Was but a transcript of that law which ruled
The spirit of their Host. Whene’er the life
Is tuned accordant to the poet’s song,
And all his actions manifest his lays
The offspring of sincerity, how great
How wonderful their power! And not alone
Its truthfulness was valued; but the skill
In poetry its melody displayed
Surpassed expectance. Each delighted guest
Felt curiosity within him rise
To know what subject would compose the next,
And how it would be treated. Arthur then
Was called upon for his. With roguish look
He begged them all to guess the theme he chose
To render into verse. Some thought it War,
Some Peace, some Honour, some Heroic life,
Some Solitude. At last a venturous voice
Whispered it might be Love. The simple word
Gave birth to pleasant smiles. When does it not?
To old, to young, to those of middle years,
It aye comes welcome. Those who have not known
The power of love, with curious longing hope,
Still wish that they may know it. Those who feel
Its present sway, if they but hear its name,
Have sacred visions to their fancy brought
Of certain curling locks, bright eyes, sweet smiles,
And forms to them angelic. Those who’ve past
That passion’s mysteries, recall with joy
The season of its sway, and dote to see
Young hearts just flitting o’er the selfsame net
By which they were entangled. Is not this
A picture of the truth, all ye who bear
The hearts of warm humanity? The smile
Was not diminished when the heir confessed
Such guess was near the mark. With steady voice,
And gravity maintained by effort firm,
As conscious that the subject well deserved
High thought and lofty sentiment, he gave
A quick recital to a lyric piece
Entitled simply—