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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=427409" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To A Friend</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">'You damn me with faint praise.' <br> <br> <br>YES, faint was my applause and cold my praise, <br>Though soul was glowing in each polished line; <br>But nobler subjects claim the poet's lays, <br>A brighter glory waits a muse like thine. <br>Let amorous fools in love-sick measure pine; <br>Let Strangford whimper on, in fancied pain, <br>And leave to Moore his rose leaves and his vine; <br>Be thine the task a higher crown to gain, <br>The envied wreath that decks the patriot's holy strain. <br> <br>II. <br> <br>Yet not in proud triumphal song alone, <br>Or martial ode, or sad sepulchral dirge, <br>There needs no voice to make our glories known; <br>There needs no voice the warrior's soul to urge <br>To tread the bounds of nature's stormy verge; <br>Columbia still shall win the battle's prize; <br>But be it thine to bid her mind emerge <br>To strike her harp, until its soul arise <br>From the neglected shade, where low in dust it lies. <br> <br>III. <br> <br>Are there no scenes to touch the poet's soul? <br>No deeds of arms to wake the lordly strain? <br>Shall Hudson's billows unregarded roll? <br>Has Warren fought, Montgomery died in vain? <br>Shame! that while every mountain stream and plain <br>Hath theme for truth's proud voice or fancy's wand, <br>No native bard the patriot harp hath ta'en, <br>But left to minstrels of a foreign strand <br>To sing the beauteous scenes of nature's loveliest land. <br> <br>IV. <br> <br>Oh! for a seat on Appalachia's brow, <br>That I might scan the glorious prospect round, <br>Wild waving woods, and rolling floods below, <br>Smooth level glades and fields with grain embrown'd, <br>High heaving hills, with tufted forests crown'd, <br>Rearing their tall tops to the heaven's blue dome, <br>And emerald isles, like banners green unwound, <br>Floating along the lake, while round them roam <br>Bright helms of billowy blue and plumes of dancing foam. <br> <br>V. <br> <br>'Tis true no fairies haunt our verdant meads, <br>No grinning imps deform our blazing hearth; <br>Beneath the kelpie's fang no traveller bleeds, <br>Nor gory vampyre taints our holy earth, <br>Nor spectres stalk to frighten harmless mirth, <br>Nor tortured demon howls adown the gale; <br>Fair reason checks these monsters in their birth. <br>Yet have we lay of love and horrid tale <br>Would dim the manliest eye and make the bravest pale. <br> <br>VI. <br> <br>Where is the stony eye that hath not shed <br>Compassion's heart-drops o'er the sweet Mc Rea? <br>Through midnight's wilds by savage bandits led, <br>'Her heart is sad - her love is far away!' <br>Elate that lover waits the promised day <br>When he shall clasp his blooming bride again - <br>Shine on, sweet visions! dreams of rapture, play! <br>Soon the cold corse of her he loved in vain <br>Shall blight his withered heart and fire his frenzied brain. <br> <br>VII. <br> <br>Romantic Wyoming! could none be found <br>Of all that rove thy Eden groves among, <br>To wake a native harp's untutored sound, <br>And give thy tale of wo the voice of song? <br>Oh! if description's cold and nerveless tongue <br>From stranger harps such hallowed strains could call, <br>How doubly sweet the descant wild had rung, <br>From one who, lingering round thy ruined wall, <br>Had plucked thy mourning flowers and wept thy timeless fall. <br> <br>VIII. <br> <br>The Huron chief escaped from foemen nigh, <br>His frail bark launches on Niagara's tides, <br>'Pride in his port, defiance in his eye,' <br>Singing his song of death the warrior glides; <br>In vain they yell along the river sides, <br>In vain the arrow from its sheaf is torn, <br>Calm to his doom the willing victim rides, <br>And, till adown the roaring torrent borne, <br>Mocks them with gesture proud, and laughs their rage to scorn. <br> <br>IX. <br> <br>But if the charms of daisied hill and vale, <br>And rolling flood, and towering rock sublime, <br>If warrior deed or peasant's lowly tale <br>Of love or wo should fail to wake the rhyme, <br>If to the wildest heights of song you climb, <br>(Tho' some who know you less, might cry, beware!) <br>Onward! I say - your strains shall conquer time; <br>Give your bright genius wing, and hope to share <br>Imagination's worlds - the ocean, earth, and air. <br> <br>X. <br> <br>Arouse, my friend - let vivid fancy soar, <br>Look with creative eye on nature's face, <br>Bid airy sprites in wild Niagara roar, <br>And view in every field a fairy race. <br>Spur thy good Pacolet to speed apace, <br>And spread a train of nymphs on every shore; <br>Or if thy muse would woo a ruder grace, <br>The Indian's evil Manitou's explore, <br>And rear the wondrous tale of legendary lore. <br> <br>XI. <br> <br>Away! to Susquehannah's utmost springs, <br>Where, throned in mountain mist, Areouski reigns, <br>Shrouding in lurid clouds his plumeless wings, <br>And sternly sorrowing o'er his tribes remains; <br>His was the arm, like comet ere it wanes <br>That tore the streamy lightnings from the skies, <br>And smote the mammoth of the southern plains; <br>Wild with dismay the Creek affrighted flies, <br>While in triumphant pride Kanawa's eagles rise. <br> <br>XII. <br> <br>Or westward far, where dark Miami wends, <br>Seek that fair spot as yet to fame unknown; <br>Where, when the vesper dew of heaven descends, <br>Soft music breathes in many a melting tone, <br>At times so sadly sweet it seems the moan <br>Of some poor Ariel penanced in the rock; <br>Anon a louder burst - a scream! a groan! <br>And now amid the tempest's reeling shock, <br>Gibber, and shriek, and wail - and fiend-like laugh and mock. <br> <br>XIII. <br> <br>Or climb the Pallisado's lofty brows, <br>Were dark Omana waged the war of hell, <br>Till, waked to wrath, the mighty spirit rose <br>And pent the demons in their prison cell; <br>Full on their head the uprooted mountain fell, <br>Enclosing all within its horrid womb <br>Straight from the teeming earth the waters swell, <br>And pillared rocks arise in cheerless gloom <br>Around the drear abode - their last eternal tomb! <br> <br>XIV. <br> <br>Be these your future themes - no more resign <br>The soul of song to laud your lady's eyes; <br>Go! kneel a worshipper at nature's shrine! <br>For you her fields are green, and fair her skies! <br>For you her rivers flow, her hills arise! <br>And will you scorn them all, to pour forth tame <br>And heartless lays of feigned or fancied sighs? <br>Still will you cloud the muse? nor blush for shame <br>To cast away renown, and hide your head from fame?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Joseph+Rodman+Drake">Joseph Rodman Drake</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=427409" data-title="To A Friend de Joseph Rodman Drake" data-description="'You damn me with faint praise.' 
 
 
YES, faint was my applause and cold my praise, 
Though soul was glowing in each polished line; 
But nobler subjects claim the poet's lays, 
A brighter glory waits a muse like thine. 
Let amorous fools in love-..."></div>
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