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You asked, I remember, if those that have flown To the regions of sunshine, would visit again The scenes of past grief, to mortality known, The dream of anxiety, chequered with pain?

From courts of the skies should the spotless e’er

bend, And delights, once endeared, unimpassioned descry; Is there aught that could bid the wrapt spirit descend, Or a wish rise unbidden, to waken the sigh ?

If so, 'tis the thought of that innocent bliss,
The sun-ray, expanding affection's young flower,
Which, caught from yon region, beams brightly on

And to Time lends the hue of Eternity's hour.

If so, 'tis remembrance of love's plighted vow, The sweets of communion, once ardent and true ; And the wish that those veiled in mortality now, Should soar disembodied, and friendship renew.


YES, life is but a waste,
A cheerless pathway, where
No healthy fruit allures the taste,
No flowerets balm the air,

If Love
The wild rose, ne'er luxuriates there,

Love is a guide, when lorn
The wanderer is astray,
'Mid dangers, and no star of dawn
To smile




'Tis Love Burns on the cloud, the gem of day!

Along affliction's coast,
Hard by despair's grim shoal,
She shines on him, the tempest-tost,
The light-house of the soul;

And guides
Where storms repose, no oceans roll.

O thou Inspirer! who
Sang to my infancy,
And half life's rugged journey through
Hast still attended me,

I consecrate
My all to thee, to only thee!

When pleasure's mellow note
Allured me to her bowers,
Thou bad’st kind dreams of fancy float
Along the white-wing'd hours;

Thy smile
Did strew existence path with flowers.

The lightning crossed my way,
Thou camest and in its scathe,
I but discerned the tempered ray
Of Love, around my path,

A pillar given
When all was tempest, night and wrath.

Be nigh at the dread hour
Of nature's utmost need,
When unknown shadowy worlds appear,
And unreal scenes recede.

O then the spirit cheer, And bid it on its passage speed !


LIFT ye my country's banner high,
And Aling abroad its gorgeous sheen ;
Unroll its stripes upon the sky,
And let its lovely stars be seen.

Blood, blood, is on its spangled fold,
Yet from the battle comes it not ;

God! all the seas thy channels hold,
Cannot wash out the guilty spot.

These glorious stars and stripes that led
Our lion-hearted fathers on,
Vailed only to the honoured dead-
Beaming where fields and fame were won:

These symbols that to kings could tell
Our young republic's rising name,
And speak to falling realms the knell
Of glory past, of future shame:

Dishonoured shall they be by hands,
On which a sacrament doth lie?
The light that heralded to lands
Immortal glory-must it die ?

No! let the earthquake-utterance be
From thousand swelling hearts-not so!
And let one voice from land and sea,
Return indignant answer-NO!

Up, then! determine, dare and do, What justice claims, what freemen may ; What frowning heaven demands of you, While yet its muttering thunders stay;

That thou, forever from this soil
Bid SLAVERY's withering blight depart;
And to the wretch restore the spoil,
Though thou may’st not the broken heart;
That thou thy brother from the dust
Lift up, and speak his spirit free!
That millions whom thy crime hath curst,
May blessings plead on thine and thee,

Then to the universe wide spread
Thy glorious stars, without a stain ;
Bend from your skies, illustrious dead !
The world ye won is free again.


WEEP not, when sad distress is nigh, When bliss and transie pleasures fly; When earthly blessings droop and fade, When all is wrapt in sorrow's shade.

Weep not, when death with cruel dart,
Pierces some idol of the heart;
When hallowed friendship decks the bier,
When tender love would claim the tear,

Weep not, for as the morning cloud, Doth nature's radiant smile enshroud ; But scatters soon ;—these gloomy woes, Shall flee, and all be calm repose.

Weep not, for as the floweret fair,
Is crushed with winter's blighting air ;

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