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I love you for lulling me back into dreams
Of the blue Highland mountains and
echoing streams, And of birchen glades breathing
their balm, While the deer was seen glancing in
sunshine remote, And the deep mellow crush of the
wood-pigeon's note Made music that sweetened the
Not a pastoral song has a pleasanter tune
Than ye speak to my heart, little
beauties to find, When the magic of Nature first breathed on my mind, And your blossoms were part of her spell.
Even now what affections the violet awakes;
What loved little islands, twice seen in their lakes, Can the wild water-lily restore; What landscapes I read in the primrose's looks, And what pictures of pebbled and minnowy brooks, In the vetches that tangled their shore.
Earth's cultureless buds, to my heart
ye were dear, Ere the fever of passion, or ague of fear Had scathed my existence's bloom; Once I welcome you more, in life's
passionless stage, With the visions of youth to revisit my age, [tomb. And I wish you to grow on my
On Linden, when the sun was low,
But Linden saw another sight,
By torch and trumpet fast arrayed,
Then shook the hills with thunder riven,
Then rushed the steed to battle driven,
And louder than the bolts of heaven Far flashed the red artillery.
But redder yet that light shall glow On Linden's hills of stained snow, And bloodier yet the torrent flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly.
'Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds rollingdun, Where furious Frank and fiery Hun, Shout in their sulphurous canopy.
The combat deepens. On! ye brave, Who rush to glory, or the grave! Wave, Munich! all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry!
Few, few shall part where many meet! The snow shall be their windingsheet!
And every turf beneath their feet
EXILE OF ERIN.
There came to the beach a poor exile of Erin, The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill; For his country he sighed, when at twilight repairing To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill.
But the day-star attracted his eye's
sad devotion, For it rose o'er his own native isle of
Where once in the fire of his youthful emotion,
He sang the bold anthem of Erin go bragh!
"Sad is my fate!" said the heartbroken stranger;
"The wild deer and wolf to a covert can flee,
But I have no refuge from famine and danger, A home and a country remain not to me.
Never again, in the green sunny bowers,
Where my forefathers lived, shall I spend the sweet hours,
Or cover my harp with the wildwoven flowers, And strike to the numbers of Erin go bragh!
"Erin, my country! though sad and forsaken, In dreams I revisit thy sea-beaten shore;
But, alas! in a far foreign land I awaken,
And sigh for the friends who can meet me no more! [me O cruel fate! wilt thou never replace In a mansion of peace — where no
perils can chase me? Never again shall my brothers embrace me? They died to defend me, or lived to deplore!
"Where is my cabin-door, fast by the wild wood? Sisters and sire, did ye weep for its fall?
Where is the mother that looked on
my childhood? And where is the bosom-friend,
dearer than all? Oh, my sad heart! long abandoned
by pleasure, Why did it dote on a fast-fading
treasure? Tears, like the rain drop, may fall
without measure, But rapture and beauty they can
"Yet all its sad recollections suppressing, One dying wish my lone bosom can draw:
Erin! an exile bequeathes thee this blessing! Land of my forefathers! Erin go bragh!
Buried and cold when my heart stills
her motion, Green be thy fields, — sweetest isle of
the ocean! And thy harp-striking bards sing
aloud with devotion,— Erin mavournin—Erin go bragh!" *
TO THE RAINBOW.
Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky
I ask not proud Philosophy
Still seem, as to my childhood's sight,
A midway station given For happy spirits to alight
Betwixt the earth and heaven.
Can all that Optics teach, unfold
As when I dreamed of gems and gold
When Science from Creation's face Enchantment's veil withdraws,
What lovely visions yield their place To cold material laws!
And yet, fair bow, no fabling dreams, But words of the Most High,
Have told why first thy robe of beams Was woven in the sky.
When o'er the green, undeluged earth Heaven's covenant thou didst shine,
How came the world's gray fathers forth
To watch thy sacred sign! • Ireland my darling— Ireland forever.
And when it's yellow lustre smiled
Each mother held aloft her child
Methinks, thy jubilee to keep,
On earth delivered from the deep,
Nor ever shall the Muse's eye
Theme of primeval prophecy,
The earth to thee her incense yields,
The lark thy welcome sings, When glittering in the freshened fields
The snowy mushroom springs.
How glorious is thy girdle cast
Or mirrored in the ocean vast,
As fresh in yon horizon dark,
As when the eagle from the ark
For, faithful to its sacred page,
Nor lets the type grow pale with age
THE RIVER OF LIFE.
The more we live, more brief appear
A day to childhood seems a year,
The gladsome current of our youth,
Ere passion yet disorders. Steals lingering like a river smooth
Along its grassy borders.
But as the careworn cheek grows wan, And sorrow's shafts fly thicker,
Ye stars, that measure life to man. Why seem your courses quicker?
When joys have lost their bloom and breath,
And life itself is vapid, Why, as we reach the Falls of Death,
Feel we its tide more rapid?
It may be strange — yet who would change
Time's course to slower speeding, When one by one our friends have gone
And left our bosoms bleeding?
Heaven gives our years of fading
strength Indemnifying fleetness; And those of youth, a seeming
Proportioned to their sweetness.
BATTLE OF THE BALTIC.
Of Nelson and the North,
By each gun the lighted brand,
Like leviathans afloat,
Lay their bulwarks on the brine;
While the sign of battle flew
On the lofty British line:
It was ten of April morn by the chime:
As they drifted on their path.
There was silence deep as death;
And the boldest held his breath,
For a time.
But the might of England flushed
when each gun
Why do those cliffs of shadowy tint appear
More sweet than all the landscape
smiling near ? — "Pis distance lends enchantment to
And robes the mountain in its azure hue.
Thus, with delight, we linger to survey
The promised joys of life's unmeasured way; Thus, from afar, each dim-discovered
More pleasing seems than all the past hath been,
And every form, that Fancy can repair
From dark oblivion, grows divinely there
Auspicious Hope! in thy sweet garden grow
Wreaths for each toil, a charm for every woe;
Won by their sweets, in Nature's languid hour,
The wayworn pilgrim seeks thy summer bower;
There, as the wild bee murmurs on the wing.
What peaceful dreams thy handmaid
spirits bring! What viewless forms th' yEolian
organ play, And sweep the furrowed lines of
anxious thought away.
[From The Pleasures of Hope.]
Bright as the pillar rose at Heaven's command,
When Israel marched along the desert land,
Blazed through the night on lonely
wilds afar, And told the path,—a never-setting
So, heavenly Genius, in thy course divine,
Hope is thy star, her light is ever thine.
[From The Pleasures of Hope.]
Let winter come! let polar spirits sweep
The darkening world, and tempesttroubled deep!
Though boundless snows the withered heath deform,
And the dim sun scarce wanders through the storm,
Yet shall the smile of social love repay.
With mental light, the melancholy day!
And, when its short and sullen noon is o'er,
The ice-chained waters slumbering on the shore,
How bright the fagots in his little hall
Blaze on the hearth, and warm his pictured wall!
How blest he names, in Love's familiar tone,
The kind, fair friend, by nature
marked his own; And, in the waveless mirror of his
Views the fleet years of pleasure left behind,
Since when her empire o'er his heart began!
Since first he called her his before the holy man!
Trim the gay taper in his rustic dome, And light the wintry paradise of home;
And let the half-uncurtained window hail
Some way-worn man benighted in the vale!
Now, while the moaning night-wind rages high,
As sweep the shot-stars down the troubled sky,
While fiery hosts in Heaven's wide circle play,
And bathe in lurid light the milkyway,
Safe from the storm, the meteor, and
the shower, Some pleasing page shall charm the
solemn hour —