Fanny, with Other Poems

"A fairy vision Of some gay creatures of the element, That in the colours of the rainbow live, And play in the plighted clouds."

MILTON.

FROM THE EDITION OF 1821.

F. G. Halleck.

New-York: Harper & Brothers, 82 Cliff Street 1846.

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1839, by Harper & Brothers, in the Clerk's Office of the Southern District of New-York.

CONTENTS.

PAGE Fanny ...........................................5 The Recorder ...................................73

EPISTLES, ETC.

To W*lt*r B*wne, Esq. ..........................95 To *** ......................................101 A Fragment ....................................107 Song, by Miss * .............................111 Song, for the Drama of the Spy ................115 Address at the Opening of a new Theatre .......117 The Rhyme of the Ancient Coaster ..............121

FANNY.

I.

Fanny was younger once than she is now, And prettier of course: I do not mean To say that there are wrinkles on her brow; Yet, to be candid, she is past eighteen-- Perhaps past twenty--but the girl is shy About her age, and Heaven forbid that I

II.

Should get myself in trouble by revealing A secret of this sort; I have too long Loved pretty women with a poet's feeling, And when a boy, in day dream and in song, Have knelt me down and worshipp'd them: alas! They never thank'd me for't--but let that pass.

III.

I've felt full many a heart-ache in my day, At the mere rustling of a muslin gown, And caught some dreadful colds, I blush to say, While shivering in the shade of beauty's frown. They say her smiles are sunbeams--it may be-- But never a sunbeam would she throw on me.

IV.

But Fanny's is an eye that you may gaze on For half an hour, without the slightest harm; E'en when she wore her smiling summer face on There was but little danger, and the charm That youth and wealth once gave, has bade farewell. Hers is a sad, sad tale--'tis mine its woes to tell.

V.

Her father kept, some fifteen years ago, A retail dry-good shop in Chatham-street, And nursed his little earnings, sure though slow, Till, having muster'd wherewithal to meet The gaze of the great world, he breathed the air Of Pearl-street--and "set up" in Hanover-square.

VI.

Money is power, 'tis said--I never tried; I'm but a poet--and bank-notes to me Are curiosities, as closely eyed, Whene'er I get them, as a stone would be, Toss'd from the moon on Doctor Mitchill's table, Or classic brickbat from the tower of Babel.

VII.

But he I sing of well has known and felt That money hath a power and a dominion; For when in Chatham-street the good man dwelt, No one would give a sous for his opinion. And though his neighbours were extremely civil, Yet, on the whole, they thought him--a poor devil,

VIII.

A decent kind of person; one whose head Was not of brains particularly full; It was not known that he had ever said Any thing worth repeating--'twas a dull, Good, honest man--what Paulding's muse would call A "cabbage head"--but he excelled them all

IX.

In that most noble of the sciences, The art of making money; and he found The zeal for quizzing him grew less and less, As he grew richer; till upon the ground Of Pearl-street, treading proudly in the might And majesty of wealth, a sudden light

X.

Flash'd like the midnight lightning on the eyes Of all who knew him; brilliant traits of mind, And genius, clear and countless as the dies Upon the peacock's plumage; taste refined, Wisdom and wit, were his--perhaps much more. 'Twas strange they had not found it out before.

XI.

In this quick transformation, it is true That cash had no small share; but there were still Some other causes, which then gave a new Impulse to head and heart, and join'd to fill His brain with knowledge; for there first he met The editor of the New-York Gazette,

XII.

The sapient Mr. L**G. The world of him Knows much, yet not one half so much as he Knows of the world. Up to its very brim The goblet of his mind is sparkling free With lore and learning. Had proud Sheba's queen, In all her bloom and beauty, but have seen

XIII.

This modern Solomon, the Israelite, Earth's monarch as he was, had never won her. He would have hang'd himself for very spite, And she, bless'd woman, might have had the honour Of some neat "paragraphs"--worth all the lays That Judah's minstrel warbled in her praise.

XIV.

Her star arose too soon; but that which sway'd Th' ascendant at our merchant's natal hour Was bright with better destiny--its aid Led him to pluck within the classic bower Of bulletins, the blossoms of true knowledge; And L**G supplied the loss of school and college.

XV.