FROM LIFE WITHOUT FREEDOM.
FROM life without freedom, say, who would not fly? For one day of freedom, oh! who would not die? Hark!-hark!-'tis the trumpet! the call of the brave,
The death-song of tyrants, the dirge of the slave. Our country lies bleeding-haste, haste to her aid; One arm that defends is worth hosts that invade.
In death's kindly bosom our last hope remains-
The dead fear no tyrants, the grave has no chains.
On, on to the combat; the heroes that bleed
For virtue and mankind are heroes indeed.
And oh, ev'n if Freedom from this world be driven,
Despair not-at least we shall find her in heaven.
HERE'S the bower she loved so much,
And the tree she planted;
Here's the harp she used to touch-
Oh, how that touch enchanted!
Roses now unheeded sigh;
Where's the hand to wreath them?
Songs around neglected lie;
Where's the lip to breathe them?
Here's the bower, &c.
Spring may bloom, but she we loved
Ne'er shall feel its sweetness;
Time, that once so fleetly moved,
Now hath lost its fleetness.
Years were days, when here she stray'd,
Days were moments near her;
Heav'n ne'er form'd a brighter maid,
Nor Pity wept a dearer!
Here's the bower, &c.
The gloom that winter cast
How soon the heart forgets,
When Summer brings, at last,
Her sun that never sets!
So dawn'd my love for you;
So, fix'd through joy and pain,
Than summer sun more true,
"Twill never set again.
YOUNG Love found a Dial once, in a dark shade, Where man ne'er had wander'd nor sunbeam play'd;
"Why thus in darkness lie," whisper'd young Love, "Thou, whose gay hours in sunshine should move?" "I ne'er," said the Dial, "have seen the warm sun, "So noonday and midnight to me, Love, are one."
Then Love took the Dial away from the shade, And placed her where Heaven's beam warmly play'd.
There she reclined, beneath Love's gazing eye, While, mark'd all with sunshine, her hours flew by. "Oh, how," said the Dial, "can any fair maid, "That's born to be shone upon, rest in the shade?"
But night now comes on, and the sunbeam's o'er,
And Love stops to gaze on the Dial no more.
Alone and neglected, while bleak rain and winds
Are storming around her, with sorrow she finds
That Love had but number'd a few sunny hours,-
Then left the remainder to darkness and showers!
I SAW THE MOON RISE CLEAR
I saw the moon rise clear
O'er hills and vales of snow,
Nor told my fleet reindeer
The track I wish'd to go.
Yet quick he bounded forth;
For well my reindeer knew
I've but one path on earth-
The path which leads to you.
'Tis said but whether true or not
Let bards declare who've seen 'em-
That Love and Time have only got
One pair of wings between 'em.
In courtship's first delicious hour,
The boy full oft can spare 'em ;
So, loit'ring in his lady's bower,
He lets the grey-beard wear 'em
Then is Time's hour of play;
Oh, how he flies, flies away!