George Pope Morris

“ Glory to the King of kings,
Bend low to Him the knee!
Bring the heart before His throne—
Worship Him and Him alone!—
He's the only King we own—
And He has made us free!
The holiest spot a smiling sun
E'er shed his genial rays upon,
Is that which gave a Washington
The drooping world to cheer!
Sound the clarion-peals of fame!
Ye who bear Columbia's name!—
With existence freedom came—
It is man's birthright here!
Heirs of an immortal sire,
Let his deeds your hearts inspire;
Weave the strain and wake the lyre
Where your proud altars stand! ”

“ Scene III. SOPHIA MANSFIELD's apartments in the Porcelain Factory. Enter SOPHIA.
SOPHIA. 'Tis done. My vase is finished, and in the possession of the overseer. How is it with me? Although my fortunes are suspended by a single thread, an unaccustomed buoyancy pervades my bosom. Are these emotions precursors of victory, or has the love of Laniska given me a new existence, and tinged the world once more with hues of paradise? How new and fresh and strange are all he things here about my heart! This is his gift—a simple flower! He said it is an emblem of love. It is not so. ”

“ KARL.
Yes, MUST. I have the king's promise, and Frederick was never known to break his word.
COUNT.
You surely will not marry her against her will?
KARL. Why not? Sophia is the only woman I ever loved: and now that I have her sure, think you I will resign her?
COUNT. And think you the king will force an angel into the arms of a monster? He can not be so great a tyrant—
KARL.
Tyrant!
COUNT. Yes. Man was created to cherish woman, not to oppress her; and he is the worst of tyrants who would injure that sex whom heave ordains it his duty to protect. ”

“ They are 'sunned o'er with love'—their subject, by the way. 'I never have been false to thee' was an emanation from the FEMININE nature of the minstrel alone. Who does not believe the poet gifted with duality of soul? 'Think of me, my own beloved,' and 'Rosabel,' are the throbbings of a lover's breast, set to music; and 'One balmy summer night, Mary,' 'The heart that owns thy tyrant sway,' and 'When I was in my teens,' the distillation of the subtlest sweets lodged in the innermost cells of all flowers dedicated to love. ”

“ COUNT. Whatever His Majesty constructs, whether a fortress or a factory, is perfect in all its details.
WEDGEWOOD. Yet look around, and read your monarch's history in the eyes of these prisoners of war. Observe that picture of melancholy (pointing to SOPHIA, who, during the scene, has been leaning dejectedly on her hand.—KARL standing by her side.) How reluctantly she pursues her task! Our English manufacturers work in quite another manner, for they are free!
KARL. And are free men or free women never indisposed?—or do you Englishmen blame your king whenever any of his subjects turn pale? ”

“ COUNTESS. You have not fallen in love with this stranger, surely? You are not old enough, and this is only your first season, Frederica.
FREDERICA.
Love has all seasons for his own, dear mother. Listen!
SONG—FREDERICA. [This song was not written for the opera; but was introduced by the
composer]
The spring-time of love is both happy and gay,
For Joy sprinkles blossoms and balm in our way;
the sky, earth, and ocean, in beauty repose,
And all the bright future is couleur de rose!
The summer of love is the bloom of the heart,
When hill, grove, and valley their music impart ”

“ It is—and the countess insists upon your being present.
SOPHIA. I am an unknown girl, madam; and if I decline the invitation, I beseech you take it not amiss.
FREDERICA. —But I will take it amiss, and so will the count and countess, whose messenger I am, and who insisted upon my bringing you to the chateau at once.
SOPHIA.
Well, madam, since you will have it so—
FREDERICA. Oh, you'll be delighted. Only think of the concentrated attractions of "the court, the camp, the grove!" Oh, they're too much for any mortal woman to withstand! ”

“ Gray heads are here too, listening to my rhymes,
Full of the spirit of departed times;
Grave men and studious, strangers to my sight,
All gather round me on this brilliant night.
And welcome are ye all. Not now ye come
To speak some trembling poet's awful doom;
With frowning eyes a "want of mind" to trace
In some new actor's inexperienced face,
Or e'en us old ones (oh, for shame!) to rate
"With study good—in time—but—never great:"
Not like you travelled native, just to say
"Folks in this country can act a play—
The can't 'pon honor!" How the creature starts! ”

“ KING.
Excellent!
WEDGEWOOD. Then the grave expounders of the law—the judges—charge the jury, who, upon their oaths, return a verdict—
KING.
A glorious institution!
WEDGEWOOD. The shield and protection of the rights of man—the bulwark of civil and religious liberty—and the admiration of the whole civilized world! Democratically odd!
KING.
Well—well—well—so justice be done, I care not for the means.
WEDGEWOOD. By jingo, he genuine porcelain! It's all right—fair, square, and above board—a clear field and no favor! ”

“ The praise of a poet, therefore, is to be determined not by the nature of the work which he undertakes, but by the kind of mastery which he shows; not by the breadth of surface over which he toils, but by the perfectness of the result which he attains. Mr. Wordsworth has vindicated the capacity of the sonnet to be a casket of the richest gems of fame. We have no doubt that the song may give evidence of a genius which shall deserve to be ranked with the constructor of an epic. ”

“ Its graceful purpose is to exhibit an incident in the substance of an emotion, to communicate wisdom in the form of sentiment; it is the refracted gleam of some wandering ray from the fair orb of moral truth, which glancing against some occurrence in common life, is surprised into a smile of quick-darting, many colored beauty; it is the airy ripple that is thrown up when the current of feeling in human hearts accidentally encounters the current of thought and bubbles forth with a gentle fret of sparkling foam. ”

“ Which can only end in death!
(HAROLD advances.)
HAROLD.
Karl, what ails you?
KARL (aside.) Observed! (To HAROLD.) An infirmity I've had from my youth upward. I shall be better presently.
HAROLD.
You tremble like one with the ague.
KARL. We Hungarians have not your tough constitution, comrade: besides, the weather is chilly—it freezes me to the bone.
HAROLD. It's the weather within, Karl. Repair to the factory, and sun yourself in the bright eyes of Sophia Mansfield! That will warm you, especially if Count Laniska happens to be by to stir up the fire of your jealousy—eh? ”

“ The simple music and the artless rhymes!
Oh, sing those dear, familiar lays once more,
Those cheerful lays of other days—
Oh, sing those cheerful lays once more!
Oh, sing once more those joy-provoking strains,
Which, half forgotten, in my memory dwell;
They send the life-blood bounding thro' my veins,
And linger round me like a fairy spell.
The songs of home are to the human heart
Far dearer than the notes that song-birds pour,
And of our very nature form a part:
Then sing those dear, familiar lays once more! ”

“ The song, "I never have been false to thee," is, of itself, sufficient to establish General Morris's fame as a great poet—as a "potens magister affectuum"—and as a literary creator of a high order. It is a thoroughly fresh and effective poem on a subject as hackneyed as the highway; it is as deep as truth itself, yet light as the movement of a dance. ”

“ General Morris conferred on art and artists of every kind, by his tact, his liberality, the superiority of his judgement, and the vigor of his abilities; by the perseverance and address with which he disciplined a corps of youthful writers, in the presence of a constant and heavy fire from the batteries of foreign criticism; by the rare combination, so valuable in dealing with the numerous aspirants in authorship with whom his position brought him in contact; of a quick, true eye to discern in the modesty of some nameless manuscript the future promises of a power hardly yet conscious of itself ”

“ BURGOMASTER. Sire—the common council has imprisoned a citizen, upon an accusation that he has sinned against heaven, the king, and the right worshipful the common council. We humbly beg to know what Your Majesty's pleasure is with regard to the punishment of so unparalleled and atrocious an offender?
KING. If the prisoner has sinned against heaven, and is not a fool or a madman, he will make his peace with it without delay. This is a Power (taking off his hat—all the characters make their obeisance) that kings themselves must bow to in reverential awe. ”

“ What means Your Gracious Majesty?
KING. (Who has taken out his tablets, and written on them in great haste—does not regard her, and speaks furiously.) —Let all the doors be closed! Such base ingratitude shall not go unpunished!—Give over your mirth! Ho! My guards! (Drums immediately sound.) My guards!
(Presto! Enter HAROLD, CORPORAL, and GRENADIERS, in great haste. The KING hands HAROLD his orders, and rushes out in a towering passion. Enter WEDGEWOOD. All the guests are thrown into great confusion. Re-enter KARL.)
HAROLD (promptly.)
Count Laniska, stand forth! ”

“ I know them well, and plainly speak my mind—
"It is our right," the ancient poet sung—
He knew the value of a woman's tongue!
With this I will defend ye—and rehearse
FIVE glorious ACTS of yours—in modern verse;
Each one concluding with a generous deed
For Dunlap, Cooper, Woodworth, Knowles, Placide!
'Twas nobly done, ye patriots and scholars!
Besides—they netted twenty thousand dollars!
"A good round sum," in these degenerate times—
"This bank-note world," so called in Halleck's rhymes;
And proof conclusive, you will frankly own,
In liberal actions New-York stands alone. ”

“ Morris is, indeed, the poet of home joys. None have described more eloquently the beauty and dignity of true affection—of passion based upon esteem; and his fame is certain to endure while the Anglo-Saxon woman has a hearthstone over which to repeat her most cherished household words.
"Seldom have the benign effects of the passion been more felicitously painted than in the 'Seasons of Love'; and what simple tenderness is contained in the ballad of 'We were boys together.' Every word in that beautiful melody comes home to the heart of him whose early days have been happy. ”

“ There is a certain tone which, hear it when we may, and where we may, we know to be the accents of the gods; and whether its quality be shown in a single utterance, or its volume displayed in a thousand bursts of music, we surround the band of spirits whom we there detect in their mortal disguise, with equal ceremonies of respect and worship, hailing them alike as seraphs of a brighter sphere—sons of the morning. This is natural, and it is reasonable. Genius is not a degree of other qualities, nor is it a particular way or extent of displaying such qualities ”

“ The just notion and office of the modern song, as we think of it, is to be the embodiment and expression, in beauty, of some one of those sentiments or thoughts, gay, moral, pensive, joyous, or melancholy, which are as natural and appropriate, in particular circumstances, or to certain occasions, as the odor to the flower; rising at such seasons, into the minds of all classes of persons, instinctive and unbidden, yet in obedience to some law of association which it is the gift of the poet to apprehend. ”

“ That duty, sire, you have taught us all our lives.
KING (taking snuff.)
Good!—Have any of my grenadiers anything to say to me before the parade is dismissed?
HAROLD (recovering arms.)
Your Majesty!
KING.
Speak out, Harold!
HAROLD. The grenadiers have noticed with deep regret that you fatigue yourself of late too much with the cares of the army. We protest against it—
KING.
Zounds and fury!—Here's rebellion! YOU protest against it?
HAROLD (bluntly.)
We do. You are getting to be an old man—a very old man—and are too much afoot. ”