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When Peace and Mercy, banished from the

plain, At summer-eve, when Heaven's aerial bow Sprung on the viewless winds to Heaven Spans with bright arch the glittering hills

again; below,

All, all forsook the friendless guilty mind, Why to yon mountain turns the musing eye, But Hope, the charmer, lingered still behind. Whose sunbright summit mingles with the Thus, while Elijah's burning wheels sky?

prepare Why do those cliffs of shadowy tint appear From Carmel's heights to sweep the fields More sweet than all the landscape smiling

of air, near?

The prophet's mantle, cre his flight began, 'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view, Dropt on the world—a sacred gift to man. And robes the mountain in its azure hue. Auspicious Hope! in thy sweet garden Thus, with delight we linger to survey

grow The promised joys of life's unmeasured way; Wreaths for each toil, a charm for every Thus, from afar, each dim-discovered scene

woe; More pleasing seems than all the past hath Won by their sweets, in Nature's languid been;

hour, And every form, that Fancy can repair The way-worn pilgrim seeks thy summerFrom dark oblivion, glows divinely there.

bower; What potent spirit guides the raptured eye There, as the wild bee murmurs on the wing, To pierce the shades of dim futurity? What peaceful dreams thy handmaid-spirits Can Wisdom lend, with all her heavenly

bring! power,

What viewless forms th' Aeolian organ play, The pledge of Joy's anticipated hour? And sweep the furrowed lines of anxious Ah, no! she darkly sees the fate of man

thought away! Her dim horizon bounded to a span ; Angel of life! thy glittering wings explore Or, if she hold an image to the view, Earth's loneliest bounds, and Ocean's wildest 'Tis Nature pictured too severely true.

shore. With thee, sweet Hope! resides the heavenly Lo! to the wintry winds the pilot yields


His bark careering o'er unfathomed fields; That pours remotest rapture on the sight: Now on Atlantic waves he rides afar, Thine is the charm of life's bewildered Where Andes, giant of the western star,


With meteor-standard to the winds unfurled, That calls each slumbering passion into play. Looks from his throne of clouds o'er half Waked by thy touch, I see the sister band,

the world! On tiptoe watching, start at thy command, Now far he sweeps, where scarce a sumAnd fly where'er thy mandate bids them

mer smiles, steer,

On Behring's rocks,orGreenland's naked isles: To Pleasure's path, or Glory's bright career. 'Cold on his midnight-watch the breezes blow,

Primeval Hope, the Aönian Muses say, From wastes that slumber in eternal snow: When Man and Nature mourned their first And waft, across the wave's tumultuous roar,


The wolf's long howl from Onalaska's shore. When every form of death, and every woe, ! Poor child of danger, nursling of the storm, Shot from malignant stars to earth below, Sad are the woes that wreck thy manly form! When Murder bared her arm, and rampant Rocks, waves, and winds, the shattered bark War

delay; Yoked the red dragons of her iron car, Thy heart is sad, thy home is far away.

But Hope can here her moonlight-vigils Till, led by thee o’er many a cliff sublime,


He found a warmer world, a milder clime, And sing to charm the spirit of the deep : A home to rest, a shelter to defend, Swift as yon streamer lights the starry pole, Peace and ropose, a Briton and a friend! Her visions warm the watchman's pensive Congenial Hope! thy passion-kindling power,


How bright, how strong, in youth's unHis native hills that rise in happier climes,

troubled hour! The grot that heard his song of other times, On yon proud height, with Genius hand in His cottage-home, his bark of slender sail,

hand, His glassy lake, and broomwood-blossomed I see thee liglit, and wave thy golden wand.


“Go, child of Heaven! (thy winged words Rush on his thought; he sweeps before the

proclaim) wind,

'Tis tbine to search the boundless fields of Treads the loved shore he sighed to leave

fame! behind;

Lo! Newton, priest of nature, shines afar, Meets at each step a friend's familiar face, Scans the wide world and numbers ev'ry star! And flies at last to Helen's long embrace; Wilt thou, with him, mysterious rites apply, Wipes from her cheek the rapture-speaking And watch the shrine with wonder-beaming tear,

eye? And clasps, with many a sigh, his children Yes, thou shalt mark, with magic art dear!

profound, While, long neglected, but at length caressed, The speed of light, the circling march of His faithful dog salutes the smiling guest,

sound; Points to the master's eyes (where'er they With Franklin grasp the lightning's fiery rom)

wing, His wistful face, and whines a welcome Or yield the lyre of Heaven another string.


“The Swedish sage admires, in yonder Friend of the brave! in peril's darkest

bowers, hour,

His winged insects, and his rosy flowers; Intrepid Virtue looks to thee for power;

Calls from their woodland-haunts the savage To thee the heart its trembling homage

train yields,

With sounding horn, and counts them on On stormy floods, and carnage-covered fields,

the plainWhen front to front the bannered hosts So once, at Heaven's command, the wanderers

combine, Halt ere they close, and form the dreadful To Eden's shade, and heard their various

line. When all is still on Death's devoted soil, “Far from the world, in yon sequestered The march-worn soldier mingles for the toil;

clime, As rings his glittering tube, he lifts on high Slow pass the sons of Wisdom, more sublime; The dauntless brow, and spirit-speaking eye, Calm as the fields of Heaven, his sapient eye Hajls in his heart the triumph yet to come, The loved Athenian lifts to realms on high, And hears thy stormy music in the drum! Admiring Plato, on his spotless page, And such thy strength-inspiring aid that Stamps the bright dictates of the Father bore

sage: The hardy Byron to his native shore- Shall Nature bound to Earth's diurnal span In horrid climes, where Chiloc's tempests The fire of God, th’ immortal soul of man?


“Turn, child of Heaven, thy rapture-lightTumultuous murmurs o'er the troubled deep, 'Twas his to mourn misfortune's rudest To Wisdom's walks, the sacred Nine are shock,

nigh: Scourged by the winds, and cradled on the Hark! from bright spires that gild the rock,

Delphian height. To wake each joyless morn, and search again From streams that wander in eternal light, The famished haunts of solitary men; Ranged on their hill, Harmonia's daughters Whose race, unyielding as their native

swell storm,

The mingling tones of horn, and harp, and Know not a trace of Nature but the form;

shell; Yet, at thy call, the hardy tar pursued, Deep from his vaults, the Loxian murmurs Pale, but intrepid, sad, but unsubdued,

flow, Pierced the deep woods, and hailing from afar, And Pythia's awful organ peals below. The moon's pale planet, and the northern "Beloved of Heaven! the smiling Mose shall star;

shed Paused at each dreary cry, unheard before, Her moonlight-halo on thy beauteous head; Hyænas in the wild, and mermaids on the Shall swell thy heart to rapture unconfined,


And breathe à holy madness o'er thy mind.



end eye

I see thee roam her guardian power beneath, | There, as the parent deals his scanty store And talk with spirits on the midnight heath; To friendless babes, and weeps to give no Enquire of guilty wanderers whence they

more, came,

Tell, that his manly race shall yet assuage And ask each blood-stained form his earthly Their father's wrongs, and shield his latter name;

age. Then weave in rapid verse the deeds they tell, What though for him no llybla-sweets distil, And read the trembling world the tales of Nor bloomy vines wave purple on the hill;


Tell, that when silent years have passed “When Venus, throned in clouds of rosy hue,

away, Flings from her golden urn the vesper-dew, That when his eye grows dim, his tresses And bids fond man her glimmering noon

gray, employ,

These busy hands a lovelier cot shall build, Sacred to love, and walks of tender joy; And deck with fairer flowers his little field, A milder mood the goddess shall recall, And call from Heaven propitious dews to And soft as dew thy tones of music fall;

breathe While beauty's deeply-pictured smiles im- Arcadian beauty on the barren heath;


Tell, that while Love's spontaneous smile A pang more dear than pleasure to the heart

endears Warm as thy sighs shall flow the Lesbian The days of peace, the sabbath of his years,


Health shall prolong to many a festive hour And plead in beauty's ear, nor plead in vain. The social pleasures of his humble bower. “Or wilt thou Orphean hymns more sacred Lo! at the couch where infant beauty deem,

sleeps, And steep thy song in Mercy's mellow stream; Her silent watch the mournful mother keeps ; To pensive drops the radiant eye begule- She, while the lovely babe unconscious lies, For beauty's tears are lovelier than her Smiles on her slumbering child with pensive smile;

eyes, On Nature's throbbing anguish pour relief, And weaves a song of melancholy joyAnd teach impassioned souls the joy of grief? -Sleep, image of thy father, sleep, my boy: "Yes; to thy tongue shall seraph-words No lingering hour of sorrow shall be thine;

be given,

No sigh that rends thy father's heart and And power on earth to plead the cause of

mine; Heaven;

Bright as his manly sire the son shall be The proud, the cold untroubled heart of In form and soul; but, ah! more blest than he!


Thy fame, thy worth, thy filial love, at last, That never mused on sorrow but its own, Shall soothe his aching heart for all the past-Unlocks a generous store at thy command, With many a smile my solitude repay, Like Horeb's rocks beneath the prophet's And chase the world's ungenerous scorn away.


And say, when summoned from the world The living lumber of his kindred earth,

and thee, Charmed into soul, receives a second birth; I lay my head beneath the willow-tree, Feels thy dread power another heart afford, Wilt thou, sweet mourner! at my stone Whose passion-touch'd harmonious strings

appear, accord

And soothe my parted spirit lingering near? True as the circling spheres to Nature's plan; Oh, wilt thou come, at evening-hour to shed And man, the brother, lives the friend of man. The tears of Memory o'er my narrow bed; "Bright as the pillar rose at Heaven's with aching temples on thy hand reclined,


Muse on the last farewell I leave behind, When Israel marched along the desart land, Breathe a deep sigh to winds that murmur Blazed through the night on lonely wilds

low, afar,

And think on all my love, and all my woe?" And told the path-a never-setting star: So speaks allection, ere the infant eye So,-heavenly Genius, in thy course divine, can look regard, or brighten in reply ; Hope is thy star, her light is ever thine.” But when the cherub-lip bath learnt to claim Propitious Power! when rankling cares A mother's ear by that endearing name;


Soon as the playful innocent can prove The sacred home of hymenean joy; A tear of pity, or a smile of love, When doomed to Poverty's sequestered dell, Or cons his murmuring task beneath her care, The wedded pair of love and virtue dwell, Or lisps with holy look his evening-prayer, Unpitied by the world, unknown to fame, Or gazing, mutely pensive, sits to hear Their woes, their wishes, and their hearts The mournful ballad warbled in his ear;

the same

How fondly looks admiring Hope the while, Oh there, prophetic Hope! thy smile bestow, At every artless tear, and every smile! And chase the pangs that worth should never How glows the joyous parent to descry

A guileless bosom, true to sympathy!



Where is the troubled heart, consigned to There should my hand no stinted boon assiga


To wretched hearts with sorrow such as Tumultuous toils, or solitary care,

mine! Unblest by visionary thoughts that stray That generous wish can soothe unpitied care, To count the joys of Fortune's better day! And Hope half mingles with the poor man's Lo, nature, life, and liberty relume

prayer. The dim-eyed tenant of the dungeon-gloom, Hope! when I mourn, with sympathizing A long-lost friend, or hapless child restored,

mind, Smiles at his blazing hearth and social board; The wrongs of fate, the woes of human kind, Warm from his heart the tears of rapture Thy blissful omens bid my spirit see


The boundless fields of rapture yet to be; And virtue triumphs o’cr remembered woe. I watch the wheels of Nature's mazy plan, Chide not his peace, proud Reason! nor And learn the future by the past of man. destroy

Come, bright Improvement! on the car The shadowy forms of uncreated joy,

of Time,
That urge the lingering tide of life, and pour And rule the spacious world from clime to
Spontaneous slumber on his midnight-hour.
Hark! the wild maniac sings, to chide the Thy handmaid-arts shall every wild explore,

Trace every wave,

and culture every shore. That wafts so slow her lover's distant sail; On Erie's banks, where tigers steal along, She, sad spectatress, on the wintry shore And the dread Indian chaunts a dismal song, Watched the rude surge his shroudless corse Where human fiends on midnight-errands that bore,

walk, Knew the pale form, and, shrieking in amaze, And bathe in brains the murderous tomahawk; Clasped her cold hands, and fixed her mad- There shall the flocks on thymy pasture stray,

dening gaze: And shepherds dance at Summer's opening Poor widowed wretch! 'twas there she wept

day; in vain

Each wandering Genius of the lonely glen Till memory fled her agonizing brain ;- Shall start to view the glittering haunts of But Mercy gave, to charm the sense of woe,

men, Ideal peace, that truth could ne'er bestow; And Silence watch, on woodland-heights Warm on her heart the joys of Fancy beam,

around, And aimless Hope delights her darkest dream. The village-curfew as it tolls profound. Oft when yon moon bas climbed the mid- In Lybian groves, where damned rites are night-sky,

done, And the lone sea-bird wakes its wildest cry, That bathe the rocks in blood, and veil the Piled on the steep, her blazing faggots burn

sun, To hail the bark that never can return; Truth shall arrest the murderous armprofane, And still she waits, but scarce forbears to Wild Obi flies--the veil is rent in twain.


Where barbarous hordes on Scythian mounThat constant love can linger on the deep.

tains roam, And, mark the wretch, whose wanderings Truth, Mercy, Freedom, yet shall find a never knew

home; The world's regard, that soothes, though Where'er degraded Nature bleeds and pines,

half untrue, From Guinea's coast to Sibir's dreary mines, Whose erring heart the lash of sorrow bore, Truth shall pervade th’ unfathomed darkness But found not pity when it erred no more.

there, Yon friendless man, at whose dejected eye And light the dreadful features of despair. Th’unfeeling proud one looks—and passes by; Hark! the stern captive spurns his heavy load, Condemned on Penury's barren path to roamn, And asks the image back that Heaven Scorned by the world, and left without a

bestowed ! home

Fierce in his eye the fire of valour burns, Even he, at evening, should he chance to And, as the slave departs, the man returns.


Oh! sacred Truth! thy triumph ceased a Down by the hamlet's hawthorn-scented way,

while, Where, round the cot's romantic glade, are And Hope, thy sister, ceased with thee to

smile; The blossomed bean-field, and the sloping When leagued Oppression poured to northern green,

wars Leans o'er its humble gate, and thinks the Her whiskered pandoors and her fierce hussars,


Waved her dread standard to the breeze of Oh! that for me some home like this would

morn, smile,

Pealed her loud drum, and twanged her trumSome hamlet shade, to yield my sickly form

pet-horn; Health in the breeze, and shelter in the Tumultuous horror brooded o'er her van,

Presaging wrath to Poland -- and to man!




Warsaw's last champion from her height Then bade the deep in wild commotion flow,

And heaved ? Wide o'er the fields, a waste of ruin laid,-- AbDeparted spirits of the mighty dead! Oh! Heaven! he cried, my bleeding country Ye that at Marathon and Leuctra bled!


Friends of the world! restore your swords Is there no hand on high to shield the brave?

to man, Yet, though destruction sweep these lovely Fight in his sacred cause and lead the van!


Yet for Sarmatia's tears of blood atone, Rise, fellow-men! our country yet remains ! And make her arm puissant as your own! By that dread name, we wave the sword on Oh! once again to freedom's cause return


The patriot TELL—the BRUCE OF BANNOCKAnd swear for her to live!-- with her to die!

BURN! He said, and on the rampart-heights arrayed Yes! thy proud lords, unpitied land! shall His trusty warriors, few, but nndismayed; Firm-paced and slow, a horrid front they That man hath yet a soul—and dare be free!


A little while, along thy saddening plains, Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm; The starless night of desolation reigns; Low murmuring sounds along their banners Truth shall restore the light by Nature given,


And, like Prometheus, bring the fire of Revenge, or death,-the watch-word and

Heaven! reply ;

Prone to the dust Oppression shall be hurled, Then pealed the notes, omnipotent to charm, Her name, her nature, withered from the And the loud tocsin tolled their last alarm !

world! In vain, alas! in vain, ye gallant few! Ye that the rising morn invidious mark, From rank to rank your volleyed thunder And hate the light- because your deeds are flew:

dark; Oh, bloodiest picture in the book of Time, Ye that expanding truth invidious view, Sarmatia fell, unwept, without a crime ; And think, or wish, the song of Hope untrue; Found not a generous friend, a pitying foe, Perhaps your little hands presume to span Strength in her arms, nor mercy in her woe! The march of Genius, and the powers of man; Dropped from her nerveless grasp the shat- Perhaps ye watch, at Pride's unhallow'd tered spear,

shrine, Closed her bright eye, and curbed her high Her victims, newly slain, and thus divine :


“Here shall thy triumph, Genius, cease, and Hops, for a season, bade the world farewell,

here And Freedom shriek das Kosciusko fell! Truth, Science, Virtue, close your short The sun went down, nor ceased the car


Tyrants! in vain ye trace the wizard-ring; Tumultuous murder shook the midnight- In vain ye limit Mind's unwearied spring :


What! can ye lull the winged winds asleep, On Prague's proud arch the fires of ruin Arrest the rolling world, or chain the deep?


No:--the wild wave contemns your sceptred His blood-dyed waters murmuring far below;

hand :The storm prevails, the rampart yields a It rolled not back when Canute gave way,

command ! Bursts the wide cry of horror and dismay! Man! can thy doom no brighter soul allow? Hark! as the smouldering piles with thunder Still must thou live a blot on Nature's brow?


Shall War's polluted banner ne'er be furled ? A thousand shrieks for hopeless mercy call! Shall crimes and tyrants cease but with the Earth shook-red meteors flashed along the

world? sky,

What! are thy triumphs, sacred Truth, And conscious Nature shuddered at the cry!

belied ? Oh! righteous Heaven! ere Freedom found Why then hath Plato lived-or Sidney died? a grave,

Ye fond adorers of departed fame, Wby slept the sword, omnipotent to save? Who warm at Scipio's worth, or Tully's Where was thine arm, oh Vengeance! where

pame! thy rod,

Ye that, in fancied vision, can admire That amote the foes of Zion and of God; The sword of Brutus, and the Theban lyre! That crushed proud Ammon, when his iron Wrapt in historic ardour, who adore

Each classic haunt, and well-remembered Was yoked in wrath, and thundered from

shore, afar?

Where Valour tuned, amid her chosen throng, Where was the storm that slumbered till The Thracian trumpet and the Spartan song;

the host

Or, wandering thence, behold the later of blood-stain'd Pharaoh left their trembling

charnis coast;

Of England's glory, and Helvetia's arms!

nage there,


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