We select a passage at random from the satiric poem, as a fair specimen of the author's style and manner.
| "There was a time, our good old fathers say, (Perhaps it was so in their better day,) When coats and gowns were patch'd without disgrace, And men wore hats that cover'd all the face; When ragged virtue was not kick'd aside, Nor worth and equipage identified, Nor taste and genius by possession squared, Nor merit sold, like riband, by the yard. Temperance and charity were then esteem'd, And men and women were just what they seem'd. Labor and health with vigor strung their arms, Themselves less cultivated than their farms. No smart young master, impudent and vain, Play'd with his cue, or silver-headed cane, Forsook his grammar ere he learn'd the rules, To pilfer pins, or rifle reticules; Nor beardless hero boasted laurels won, From maids deceived, or jilted, or undone. The rosy girls, content with native bloom, Sought not the flowing robe and waving plume; Nor wish'd to gain the empire of a heart, Where half the victory was achieved by art. No wanton fashion taught with lace to deck, The shorten'd waist, and lengthen down the neck. No everlasting clack of slanderous tongues, Raised sad solicitude for female lungs; Nor had the sex divided all their cares, To sorting silks and mangling characters." |
If Mr. Speece were at this time a younger man than we presume him to be, we should take the liberty of pointing out some of his defects—but various allusions in some of his minor pieces, authorise the inference that his affections are now almost alienated from the once charming society of the muses. Domestic sorrow seems to have had no inconsiderable share in producing this result. His "Apology to A. L. Esq."—is full of the poet's as well as the father's anguish at the sudden death of a favorite son sixteen years old. We give the whole to the reader.
| "The generous friend may justly claim The offspring of my musing, But to excite the Muse's flame No more obeys my choosing. Life's warmest hopes, its light and pride, Fail'd with my darling when he died. My harp, that once in rapture rung, Full-toned to joy and gladness, Lies all unheeded and unstrung Beneath the cloud of sadness; Vain were the task, the effort vain, To wake its thrilling notes again. Once skill'd to wreath poetic flowers Around the brow of Beauty, My hand has now forgot its powers, Nor heeds that gentle duty; Fled is their bloom; the task were vain, To wreath those wither'd flowers again. The heart that feels the mortal stroke, The bosom anguish-riven, Sinks hopeless as the blasted oak From the fierce bolt of Heaven: The oak no genial season feels; The wounded bosom never heals. Youth may regain its honors reft, And bloom again in gladness; Age, when bereaved, has little left But ever-during sadness; And gathering years and grief dissever Hope from the heart that bleeds forever." |
A VISIT TO TEXAS: Being the journal of a traveller through those parts most interesting to American settlers. With descriptions of scenery, habits, &c. &c. New York: Goodrich & Wiley. 1834.
The proximity of Texas to the United States,—the facilities of intercourse between the two countries—and the migratory habits of our citizens,—are sufficient to invest with more than ordinary interest every thing which relates to that part of Spanish America. The volume before us, is an unpretending and agreeable narrative, and is calculated we think to do good, by pointing out the mischiefs and inconveniences of emigration to the Mexican republic, and especially by calling the public attention to the many ingenious frauds which are practised by land companies and speculators. The author was a purchaser of twenty thousand acres from the Galveston Bay and Texas Land Company through their agents at New York, and full of golden dreams about this new Eldorado of the south west, he embarked in person at New Orleans, in order to take possession of his splendid principality. His disappointment and vexation may be easily imagined at finding himself on his arrival totally deceived on the subject of his title! It was not worth the parchment on which it was written, and after all his fruitless expense, anxiety and hardship, he did not enjoy even the melancholy satisfaction on his return to New York of obtaining from the trustees their sympathy, much less remuneration. Our traveller might indeed have acquired "a quarter of a league of unappropriated land, on condition of professing the Roman Catholic religion, becoming a citizen of the Republic of Mexico, and residing on the soil for six years, receiving his title from the government;"—but he was too conscientious and honorable to submit to such requirements. The truth is, that whilst there is much in the climate and soil of Texas to allure the settler, there are also numerous objections which ought to discourage the rash experiment of emigration. Our own country, particularly in its new states and territories—holds out sufficient inducements to such as find it either convenient or necessary to change their abodes; and there are no superior advantages in a residence on the Brassos or Colorado to compensate for the sacrifices of friends and connexions,—free government and the rights of conscience. It seems to us therefore to be little short of fatuity, especially in the present unsettled state of the miscalled Republic of Mexico, for a citizen of the United States to abandon for a settlement in that quarter his native land, unless indeed, he be a violator of its laws and a refugee from punishment.
In truth, it appears that this desperate class of men constitute no inconsiderable portion of the population of Texas;—and our author relates that on one occasion he sat at the same table with no less than four murderers who had fled from justice. True, there is a large portion of the country extremely beautiful and fertile, and the labors of the planter and herdsman are richly rewarded;—but these advantages are greatly counterbalanced by the insecurity of the government and laws—the intolerance of religious bigotry—and the absence of most of the elements which constitute a virtuous and happy community. Minor evils and inconveniences are also felt. The spacious plains and luxuriant prairies—though they furnish abundance of food for horses and cattle, are scantily supplied with wood, and altogether destitute of stone;—and the usual incidents of southern latitudes,—bilious fever,—poisonous reptiles and insects, and alligators of enormous size, serve to fill up the revolting picture.
We have no fears therefore, notwithstanding the enchanting coloring which even the temperate feelings and chastened imagination of our author have thrown around a Texas landscape—that there are many persons of sober minds, when they shall have balanced the good with the evil, will be much enamoured with the thought of a permanent "visit" to that region. The book, therefore, may be recommended as a tolerably certain antidote to any lurking desire for a ramble across the Sabine,—and if perchance the spirit of migration shall have become too obstinate for cure,—it may still have the effect of confining the wanderer's steps within the limits of our own republic.