Think'st thou, because the song hath ceas'd, Think'st thou it woke to crown the feast, No! by our names and by our blood, Though hush'd awhile, that sounding flood Shall roll in joy through ages yet to be. We leave it, 'midst our country's woe, We leave it, as we leave the snow, We leave it with our fame to dwell, Our voice in theirs through time shall swellThe bard hath gifts of prophecy from death. He dies-but yet the mountains stand, And this is yet Eneurin's † land-- Winds! bear the spoiler one more tone of pride. *Eryri, the Welsh name for Snowdon. Encurin, a celebrated ancient British bard. THE WRECK. ALL night the booming minute-gun Had vail'd her topsails to the sand, And bow'd her noble mast. The queenly ship!-brave hearts had striven, And true ones died with her We saw her mighty cable riven, Like floating gossamer. We saw her proud flag struck that morn, A star once o'er the seas Her anchor gone, her deck uptorn, We saw her treasures cast away- And gold was strewn the wet sands o'er, Like ashes by a breeze And gorgeous robes-but oh! that shore Had sadder things than these! We saw the strong man still and low, Yet by that rigid lip and brow, And near him on the sea-weed lay— But well our gushing hearts might say, For her pale arms a babe had prest, Yet not undone the clasp. Her very tresses had been flung To wrap the fair child's form, Where still their wet long streamers clung. All tangled by the storm. And beautiful 'midst that wild scene, Gleam'd up the boy's dead face, In melancholy grace. Oh! human Love, whose yearning heart, Through all things vainly true, So stamps upon thy mortal part Its passionate adieu Surely thou hast another lot, There is some home for thee, Where thou shalt rest, remembering not The moaning of the sea! A VOYAGER'S DREAM OF LAND. -His very heart athirst COWPER. THE hollow dash of waves!-the ceaseless roar! There's a spring in the woods by my sunny home, Afar from the dark sea's tossing foam; Oh the fall of that fountain is sweet to hear, |