1830-40.] WILLIAM O. BUTLER. 173 was the candidate of the Democratic party for the office of Governor of Kentucky, but was defeated by the influence of Henry Clay. When the war with Mexico broke out, he tendered his services to the Government, and was created Major Gen- eral. He led the daring charge at Monterey, and on the second of March, 1847, was presented a sword by resolution of Congress. In February, 1848, he succeeded General Scott in command of the American forces in Mexico. His military admin- istration in that country was concluded on the twenty-ninth of May, 1848, when he announced the ratification of the treaty of peace. After his return to the United States, he was nominated by the Democratic party as a candidate for the office of Vice President, on a ticket, with Lewis Cass for the Chief Magistracy, which was defeated by the election of Zachary Taylor and Millard Fillmore. In early life IMr. Butler wrote several poems of merit, but the only one generally known is the " Boatman's Horn," first published about the year 1835. THE BOATMAN'S HORN. O, BOATMAN ! wind that horn again, For never did the list'ning air Upon its lambent bosom bear So wild, so soft, so sweet a strain ! What though thy notes are sad and few. By every simple boatman blown, Yet is each pulse to nature true, And melody in every tone. How oft, in boyhood's joyous day. Unmindful of the lapsing hours, I've loitered on my homeward way By wild Ohio's bank of flowers ; While some lone boatman from the deck Poured his soft numbers to that tide. As if to charm fi-om storm and wreck The boat where all his fortunes ride ! Delighted Nature drank the sound, Enchanted, Echo bore it round In whispers soft and softer still, From hill to plain and plain to hill, Till e'en the thoughtless frolic boy, Elate with hope and Avild with joy, Who gamboled by the river's side, And sported with the fretting tide. Feels something new pervade his breast. Change his light steps, repress his jest. Bends o'er the flood his eager ear To catch the sounds far off, yet dear — Drinks the sweet draught, but knows not why The tear of rapture fills his eye. And can he now, to manhood grown. Tell why those notes, simple and lone. As on the ravished ear they fell. Bind every sense in magic spell ? There is a tide of feeling given To all on earth, its fountain heaven. Beginning with the dewy flower. Just ope'd in Flora's vei'nal bower — Rising creation's orders through, With louder murmur, brighter hue — That tide is sympathy ! its ebb and flow Give life its hues, its joy and woe. Music, the master-spirit that can move Its waves to war, or lull them into love — Can cheer the sinking sailor mid the wave. And bid the warrior on ! nor fear the grave, Inspire the fainting pilgrim on his road, And elevate his soul to claim his God. Then, boatman, wind that horn again ! Though much of sorrow mark its strain, Yet are its notes to sorrow dear ; What though they wake fond memory's tear ! Tears are sad memory's sacred feast, And rapture oft her chosen guest.
