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And pour'd the noon of light ! Rapture ! be kindling, mounting, glowing, While from thine eye the tear is flowing,
Pure, warın, and bright!
'Twas on this day-oh, love divine !
The Orient Star's effulgence rose; Then waked the Morn, whose eye benign
Shall nezer, never close !
Proud Castle ! though the days are flown
Emanuel ! Prince of Peace !
Bade discord cease !
Wake the loud pean, tune the voice,
Children of heaven and sons of earth ! Seraphs and men ! exult, rejoice,
To bless the Saviour's birth !
Nor wilt thou, Spring ! refuse to breathe
Soft odours on this desert air; Refuse to twine thine earliest wreath,
And fringe these towers with garlands fair!
CHORUS. Devotion ! light thy purest fire ! Transport ! on cherub wing aspire ! Praise ! wake to Him thy golden lyre,
Strike every thrilling chord ! While, at the Ark of Mercy kneeling, We own thy grace, reviving, healing,
Redeemer ! Lord !
Sweets of the wild, oh ! ever bloom
Unheeded on this ivied wall !
THE DOMESTIC AFFECTIONS.
WHENCE are those tranquil joys in mercy given,
Or dwell with Luxury, in th' enchanted bowers ! Where taste and wealth exert creative powers ?
Favour'd of heaven ! O Genius! are they thine, When round thy brow the wreaths of glory shine ; While rapture gazes on thy radiant way, Midst the bright realms of clear and mental day? No ! sacred joys ! 'tis yours to dwell enshrined, Most fondly cherish'd, in the purest mind; To twine with flowers those loved, endearing ties, On earth so sweet-so perfect in the skies !
While mental peace, o'er every prospect bright,
Nursed in the lap of solitude and shade, The violet smiles, embosom'd in the glade There sheds her spirit on the lonely gale, Gem of seclusion ! treasure of the vale ! Thus, far retired from life's tumultuous road, Domestic Bliss has fixed her calm abode Where hallow'd Innocence and sweet Repose May strew her shadowy path with many a rose. As, when dread thunder shakes the troubled sky, The cherub, Infancy, can close its eye, And sweetly smile, unconscious of a tear, While viewless angels wave their pinions near; Thus, while around the storms of Discord roll, Borne on resistless wing from pole to pole, While War's red lightnings desolate the ball, And thrones and empires in destruction fall; Then calm as evening on the silvery wave, When the wind slumbers in the ocean cave, She dwells unruffled, in her bower of rest, Her empire Home!-her throne, Affection's breast !
Bower of repose ! when, torn from all we love, Through toil we struggle, or through distance rove; To thee we turn, still faithful, from afarThee, our bright vista ! thee, our magnet-star ! And from the martial field, the troubled sea, Unfetter'd thought still roves to bliss and thee!
When ocean-sounds in awful slumber die, No wave to murmur, and no gale to sigh; Wideo'er the world when Peace and Midnight reign, And the moon trembles on the sleeping main ; At that still hour, the sailor wakes to keep, Midst the dead calm, the vigil of the deep! No gleaming shores his dim horizon bound, All heaven-and sea-and solitude-around ! Then, from the lonely deck, the silent helm, From the wide grandeur of the shadowy realm, Still homeward borne, his fancy unconfined, Leaving the worlds of ocean far behind, Wings like a meteor-flash her swift career, To the loved scenes, so distant, and so dear!
For her,sweet Nature wears her loveliest blooms, And softer sunshine every scene illumes. When Spring awakes the spirit of the breeze, Whose light wing undulates the sleeping seas; When Summer, waving her creative wand, Bids verdure smile, and glowing life expand; Or Autumn's pencil sheds, with magic trace, O'er fading loveliness, a moonlight grace; Oh! still for her, through Nature's boundless reign, No charm is lost, no beauty blooms in vain ;
Lo! the rude whirlwind rushes from its cave, And Danger frowns—the monarch of the wave!
Lol rocks and storms the striving bark repel,
In that blest moment, all the past forget-
Child of the ocean ! is thy bier the surge,
And oh ! for him, the child of rude alarms, Thy grave the billow, and the wind thy dirge? Rear'd by stern danger in the school of arms ! Yes! thy long toil, thy weary conflict o'er, How sweet to change the war-song's pealing note No storm shall wake, no perils rouse thee more ! For woodland-sounds in summer air that float! Yet, in that solemn hour, that awful strife, Through vales of peace, o'ermountain wilds to roam, The struggling agony for death or life,
And breathe his nativegales, that whisper—Home!' E’en then thy mind, embittering every pain, Retraced the image so beloved—in vain !
Hail, sweet endearments of domestic ties, Still to sweet Home thy last regrets were true, Charms of existence ! angel sympathies ! Life's parting sigh-the murmur of adieu ! Though Pleasure smile, a soft Circassian queen!
And guide her votaries through a fairy scene, Can war's dread scenes the hallow'd ties efface, Where sylphid forms beguile their vernal hours Each tender thought, each fond remembrance With mirth and music in Arcadian bowers; chase ?
Though gazing nations hail the fiery car Can fields of carnage, days of toil, destroy That bears the Son of Conquest from afar, The loved impression of domestic joy?
While Fame's loud pæan bids his heart rejoice,
And every life-pulse vibrates to her voice ;Ye daylight dreams ! that cheer the soldier's Yet from your source alone, in mazes bright, breast,
Flows the full current of serene delight!
On Freedom's wing, that every wild explores,
Hails the full noon, and triumphs in the blaze; When all is hush'd—the rage of combat past, But soon, descending from his height sublime, And no dread war-note swells the moaning blast; Day's burning fount, and light's empyreal clime, When the warm throb of many a heart is o'er, Once more he speeds to joys more calmly blest, And many an eye is closed to wake no more; Midst the dear inmates of his lonely nest ! Lull’d by the night-wind, pillow'd on the ground, (The dewy deathbed of his comrades, round!) Thus Genius, mounting on his bright career While o'er the slain the tears of midnight weep, Through the wide regions of the mental sphere, Faint with fatigue, he sinks in slumbers deep! And proudly waving in his gifted hand,
E'en then, soft visions, hovering round, portray O'er Fancy's worlds, Invention's plastic wand, | The cherish'd forms that o'er his bosom sway; Fearless and firm, with lightning-eye surveys
He sees fond transport light each beaming face, The clearest heaven of intellectual rays !
(While in his mind, with high-born grandeur “Hail, weary soldier !-never more to part !"
Dilate the noblest energies of thought ;) And lo! at last, released from every toil, Still, from the bliss, ethereal and refined, He comes !—the wanderer views his native soil ! Which crowns the soarings of triumphant mind, Then the bright raptures words can never speak At length he flies, to that serene retreat, Flash in his eye and mantle o'er his cheek ! Where calm and pure the mild affections meet; Then Love and Friendship, whose unceasing Embosom’d there, to feel and to impart prayer
The softer pleasures of the social heart ! Implored for him each guardian-spirit's care; Who, for his fate, through sorrow's lingering year, Ah! weep for those, deserted and forlorn, Had proved each thrilling pulse of hope and fear; From every tie by fate relentless torn;
See, on the barren coast, the lonely isle,
Where winter triumphs, through the polar night,
Thence, roving wild through many a depth of
shade, Where voice ne'er echo'd, footstep never stray'd, He fondly seeks, o'er cliffs and deserts rude, Haunts of mankind midst realms of solitude ! And pauses oft, and sadly hears alone The wood's deep sigh, the surge's distant moan ! All else is hush'd ! so silent, so profound, As if some viewless power, presiding round, With mystic spell, unbroken by a breath, Had spread for ages the repose of death! Ah! still the wanderer, by the boundless deep, Lives but to watch-and watches but to weep! He sees no sail in faint perspective rise, His the dread loneliness of sea and skies ! Far from his cherish'd friends, his native shore, Banish'd from being—to return no more ; There must he die !-within that circling wave, That lonely isle—his prison and his grave !
And thus, Affection, can thy voice compose The stormy tide of passions and of woes; Bid every throb of wild emotion cease, And lull misfortune in the arms of peace !
Lo ! through the waste, the wilderness of snows, With fainting step, Siberia's exile goes ! Homeless and sad, o'er many a polar wild, Where beam, or flower, or verdure never smiled; Where frost and silence hold their despot-reign, And bind existence in eternal chain ! Child of the desert ! pilgrim of the gloom ! Dark is the path which leads thee to the tomb ! While on thy faded cheek the arctic air Congeals the bitter tear-drop of despair ! Yet not that fate condemns thy closing day In that stern clime to shed its parting ray; Not that fair nature's loveliness and light No more shall beam enchantment on thy sight; Ah ! not for this-far, far beyond relief, Deep in thy bosom dwells the hopeless grief; But that no friend of kindred heart is there, Thy woes to mitigate, thy toils to share ; That no mild soother fondly shall assuage The stormy trials of thy lingering age; No smile of tenderness, with angel power, Lull the dread pangs of dissolution's hour; For this alone, despair, a withering guest, Sits on thy brow, and cankers in thy breast ! Yes! there, e'en there, in that tremendous clime, Where desert grandeur frowns in pomp sublime;
Oh! mark yon drooping form, of aged mien, Wan, yet resign'd, and hopeless, yet serene ! Long ere victorious time had sought to chase The bloom, the smile, that once illumed his face, That faded eye was dimm'd with many a care, Those waving locks were silver'd by despair ! Yet filial love can pour the sovereign balm, Assuage his pangs, his wounded spirit calm ! He, a sad emigrant! condemn'd to roam In life's pale autumn from his ruin'd home, Has borne the shock of Peril's darkest wave, Where joy - and hope — and fortune — found a
grave! 'Twas his to see Destruction's fiercest band Rush, like a Typhon, on his native land, And roll triumphant on their blasted way, In fire and blood, the deluge of dismay ! Unequal combat raged on many a plain, And patriot-valour waved the sword in vain ! Ah! gallant exile ! nobly, long, he bled, Long braved the tempest gathering o'er his head ! Till all was lost! and horror's darken'd eye Roused the stern spirit of despair to die !
Ah! gallant exile ! in the storm that roll'd Far o'er his country, rushing uncontrolla, The flowers that graced his path with loveliest
bloom, Torn by the blast, were scatter'd on the tomb ! When carnage burst, exulting in the strife, The bosom ties that bound his soul to life, Yet one was spared ! and she, whose filial smile Can soothe his wanderings and his tears beguile, E'en then could temper, with divine relief, The wild delirium of unbounded grief;