Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

Pressed rudely down, it droops its head,
And all its varied hues are fled:

With opening spring its bloom revives;
Again the beauteous floweret lives;
Thus, when life's wintry storms are o'er,
The friend revives, to die no more.

UZZAH:

FROM THE SECOND BOOK OF SAMUEL.

His war-tent in Rephaim the godless hath spread, That valley is strown with the bones of the dead ; Philistia! the arm of the Strong was on thee, When His whisperings were heard in the mulberry

tree; And the king hath arisen with men of the sword, And nobles to bring up the ark of the Lord, Even Him, God of triumphs, Jehovah by name, Whose pavilion looks out from the Cherubim's flame.

Rejoice! for the ark hath gone up with a shout,
With glory and beauty 'tis compass'd about;
To the song of the minstrel the timbrel hath rung,
And the cloud of His love is with Israel among ;
Sound cymbal ! sound cornet! proclaim Jubilee,
Thy ark, thy salvation, abideth with thee;
Thou, Israel! no longer art scattered abroad,
With psaltery and anthem give praise unto God.

Why lingers the Covenant at yon threshing floorAnd whence is the trembling where Levites adore? Hath God, in his anger, gone up from his own? Hasten, men ! and in meekness bow down at his

throne;

The ark of his worship by crime is profaned,
With presumption the garment of Israel is stained ;
That Symbol sought he to uphold in his pride?--
God accepted him not-he hath touched it and died!

TO THE NORTH STAR.

BRIGAT star! while thou thy lonely way

Pursuest in yon expanse of blue, Thy gem-like form and steady ray

Attract the heedless peasant's view, And his, whose thoughts to unknown regions stray,

Full oft the wanderer, fortune's child,

Benighted, sad, and doomed to roam,
Beholds with joy thy aspect mild,

That tells of happiness and home,
And guides him onward ʼmid the trackless wild.

Oft, too, the sea-boy marks thy beam,

When ocean sleeps in peaceful calm;
While o'er its breast thy gentle gleam

Plays wanton, and with sacred charm
Lulls the wrapt soul in fancy's pleasing dream.

And oft, sweet star! at even tide,

When all around is hushed to rest, My thoughts ascend, and pensive glide

To distant climes and regions blest, Where wo-worn care and grief would gladly hide.

And fancy whispers in mine ear,

That those who once were here beloved, To friendship and affection dear,

Now from this fleeting scene removed, Repose, bright star, in thy ethereal sphere.

CHARLES CARROLL, OF CARROLLTON;

THE ONLY SURVIVOR OF THE SIGNERS TO THE DECLA

RATION OF AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE.

The few-the tried—0, where are they,

Once eager at their country's callThat mightiest grew in danger's day,

That suffered, strove and perilled all ?

Ah, see! from their mysterious elime,

The sainted shades—they come! they come! They're silent as the womb of time,

Yet at that silence men are dumb.

They speak in every lofty deed

Conceived, achieved, for freedom's sake ; When rousing at a people's need,

The servile chain they dared to break.

Behold them now-behold them here!

They live in every generous breast, In Plenty's smile and in the tear

That gems the memory of the Blessed.

But who is he-alone-the last?

Go ye and mark the Veteran well; Aye, gaze upon the mighty past,

And to the heart its tidings tell.

'Tis great to view!-a link he seems

Connecting yon dim world with ours; And soothing as the ray that gleams

On Autumn's latest, loveliest flowers.

[ocr errors]

Relic sublime, he lingers yet,

But soon to join that brother-band ; Aye, soon-too soon, the sun is set

Of thy last saviour, native land!

The last-already o'er his head

The light of unborn days hath shone ;
Between the living and the dead,
Wrapt in his years he stands alone.

1826.

I SAID THUS TO MY GLASS.

I said thus to my glass

'Twas at a lonely hour, When Memory bade pass

Before the mental eye

Affliction and her powerI said thus to my glass

'Twas in a desert spot, Screened from the world's cold gaze,

By it remembered not:
I said, “Thou art my good,

Though Evil be thy name,
I'll quaff thee and forget

In thy delights, my shame; Pour out libations then!

The thirsty goblet fill ; I'll drink to faithless men,

To Love, more faithless still.

Have I not scanned the round

Of all they call sincere ? My spirit! hast thou found

A kindred spirit here! Have I not craved the boon,

More precious than their gold A heart, within whose truth

I could my own infold ?

E

« AnteriorContinuar »