« AnteriorContinuar »
Pressed rudely down, it droops its head,
With opening spring its bloom revives;
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,
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
The ark of his worship by crime is profaned,
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,
That tells of happiness and home,
Oft, too, the sea-boy marks thy beam,
When ocean sleeps in peaceful calm;
Plays wanton, and with sacred charm
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.
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 ;
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:
Though Evil be thy name,
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 ?