OH, the sight entrancing,
When morning's beams are glancing
O'er files array'd

With helm and blade,

And plumes, in the gay wind dancing!
When hearts are all high beating,
And the trumpet's voice repeating
That song, whose breath

May lead to death,

But never to retreating.

Oh, the sight entrancing,

When morning's beam is glancing

O'er files array'd

With helm and blade,

And plumes in the gay wind dancing.

Yet, 'tis not helm or feather-
For ask yon despot, whether
His plumed bands

Could bring such hands

And hearts as ours together.

Leave pomps to those who need 'em----
Give man but heart and freedom,

And proud he braves

The gaudiest slaves

That crawl where monarchs lead 'em.
The sword may pierce the beaver,
Stone walls in time may sever,
"Tis mind alone,

Worth steel and stone,

That keeps men free for ever.
Oh, that sight entrancing,

When the morning's beam is glancing
O'er files array'd

With helm and blade,

And in Freedom's cause advancing!

SING-SING-MUSIC WAS GIVEN.

SING-sing-Music was given,

To brighten the gay, and kindle the loving; Souls here, like planets in Heaven,

By harmony's laws alone are kept moving. Beauty may boast of her eyes and her cheeks,

But Love from the lips his true archery wings; And she, who but feathers the dart when she speaks, At once sends it home to the heart when she sings. Then sing-sing-Music was given,

To brighten the gay, and kindle the loving;

Souls here, like planets in Heaven,

By harmony's laws alone are kept moving.

When Love, rock'd by his mother,

Lay sleeping as calm as slumber could make him, "Hush, hush," said Venus, "no other

Sweet voice but his own is worthy to wake him." Dreaming of music he slumber'd the while

Till faint from his lip a soft melody broke, And Venus, enchanted, look'd on with a smile, While Love to his own sweet singing awoke. Then sing-sing-Music was given,

To brighten the gay, and kindle the loving; Souls here, like planets in Heaven,

By harmony's laws alone are kept moving.

I WISH I WAS BY THAT DIM LAKE.

I WISH I was by that dim Lake,
Where sinful souls their farewell take
Of this vain world, and half-way lie
In death's cold shadow, ere they die.
There, there, far from thee,

Deceitful world, my home should be;

Where, come what might of gloom and pain,

False hope should ne'er deceive again.

The lifeless sky, the mournful sound
Of unseen waters falling round;
The dry leaves, quiv'ring o'er my head,
Like man, unquiet ev'n when dead!
These, ay, these shall wean

My soul from life's deluding scene,

And turn each thought, o'ercharg'd with gloom,

Like willows, downward tow'rds the tomb.

As they, who to their couch at night
Would win repose, first quench the light,
So must the hopes, that keep this breast
Awake, be quench'd ere it can rest.

Cold, cold, this heart must grow,

Unmov'd by either joy or woe,

Like freezing founts, where all that's thrown
Within their current turns to stone.

OH FOR THE SWORDS OF FORMER TIMA!

Он for the swords of former time!

Oh for the men who bore them,
When arm'd for Right, they stood sublime.
And tyrants crouch'd before them:

When free yet, ere courts began

With honours to enslave him,

The best honours worn by Man,

Were those which Virtue gave him.
Oh for the swords of former time!
Oh for the men who bore them,
When arm'd for Right, they stood sublime,
And tyrants crouch'd before them!

Oh for the Kings who flourish'd then!
Oh for the pomp that crown'd them,
When hearts and hands of freeborn men

Were all the ramparts round them.
When, safe built on bosoms true,

The throne was but the centre,
Round which Love a circle drew,
That Treason durst not enter,
Oh for the Kings who flourish'd then!
Oh for the pomp that crown'd them,
When hearts and hands of freeborn men
Were all the ramparts round them!

WHILE gazing on the moon's light,
A moment from her smile I turn'd,
To look at orbs, that, more bright,
In lone and distant glory burn'd.
But too far

Each proud star,

For me to feel its warming flame;

Much more dear

That mild sphere,

Which near our planet smiling came ;