Pressed rudely down, it droops its head, With opening spring its bloom revives ; UZZAH: FROM THE SECOND BOOK OF SAMUEL. His war-tent in Rephaim the godless hath spread, And the king hath arisen with men of the sword, 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 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. BRIGHT star! while thou thy lonely way Attract the heedless peasant's view, Full oft the wanderer, fortune's child, That tells of happiness and home, And guides him onward 'mid the trackless wild. Oft, too, the sea-boy marks thy beam, Lulls the wrapt soul in fancy's pleasing dream. And oft, sweet star! at even tide, 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 few-the tried-O, where are they, Ah, see! from their mysterious clime, 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? 'Tis great to view!—a link he seems 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- By it remembered not: The thirsty goblet fill; I'll drink to faithless men, To Love, more faithless still. Have I not scanned the round E |