By the hope within us springing,
Herald of to-morrow's strife;
By that sun, whose light is bringing
Chains or freedom, death or life-
Oh! remember life can be
No charm for him, who lives not free!
Like the day-star in the wave,
Sinks a hero in his grave,
Midst the dew-fall of a nation's tears.
Happy is he o'er whose decline
The smiles of home may soothing shine, And light him down the steep of years:But oh, how blest they sink to rest, Who close their eyes on Victory's breast
O'er his watch-fire's fading embers
Now the foeman's cheek turns white, When his heart that field remembers, Where we tamed his tyrant might. Never let him bind again
A chain, like that we broke from then.
Hark! the horn of combat calls
Ere the golden evening falls,
May we pledge that horn in triumph round!
Many a heart that now beats high, In slumber cold at night shall lie, Nor waken even at victory's sound: But oh, how blest that hero's sleep, O'er whom a wond'ring world shall weep
NIGHT closed around the conqueror's way,
And lightnings show'd the distant hill,
Where those who lost that dreadful day,
Stood few and faint, but fearless still.
The soldier's hope, the patriot's zeal,
For ever dimm'd, for ever cross'd -
Oh! who shall say what heroes feel,
When all but life and honor's lost?
The last sad hour of freedom's dream,
And valor's task, moved slowly by,
While mute they watch'd, till morning's beam
Should rise and give them light to die.
There s yet a world, where souls are free,
Where tyrants taint not nature's bliss ;-
If death that world's bright opening be,
Oh! who would live a slave in this?
ONE bumper at parting! — though many
Have circled the board since we inet,
The fullest, the saddest of any,
Remains to be crown'd by us yet.
The sweetness that pleasure hath in it,
Is always so slow to come forth,
That seldom, alas, till the minute
It dies, do we know half its worth.
But come,
may our life's happy measure
Be all of such moments made up;
They're born on the bosom of Pleasure,
They die 'midst the tears of the cup.
As onward we journey, how pleasant
To pause and inhabit awhile
Those few sunny spots, like the present,
That 'mid the dull wilderness smile!
But Time, like a pitiless master,
Cries Onward!" and spurs the
gay hour-
Ah, never doth Time travel faster,
Than when his way lies among flowers.
But come,
may our life's happy measure
Be all of such moments made up;
They're born on the bosom of Pleasure,
They die 'midst the tears of the cup.
We saw how the sun look'd in sinking,
The waters beneath him how bright;
And now, let our farewell of drinking
Resemble that farewell of light.
You saw how he finish'd, by darting
His beam o'er a billow's brim
So, fill up, let's shine at our parting,
In full liquid glory, like him.
And oh! may our life's happy measure
Of moments like this be made up,
"T was born on the bosom of Pleasure,
It dies 'mid the tears of the cup
WHILE GAZING ON THE MOON'S LIGHT
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 foo far
For me to feel its warming flame,
Much more dear
That mild sphere,
Which near our planet smiling came;
Thus, Mary, be but thou my own;
While brighter eyes unheeded play,
I'll love those moonlight looks alone,
That bless my home and guide my way
The day had sunk in dim showers,
But midnight now, with lustre meet,
Illumined all the pale flowers,
Like hope upon a mourner's cheek.
I said (while
The moon's smile
Play'd o'er a stream, in dimpling bliss),
"The moon looks
The brook can see no moon but this;"
And thus, I thought, our fortunes run,
For many a lover looks to thee,
While oh! I feel there is but one,
One Mary in the world for me.
COME o'er the sea,
Maiden, with me,
Mine through sunshine, storm, and snows;
Seasons may roll,
But the true soul
Burns the same, where'er it goes.
Let fate frown on, so we love and part not;
Tis life where thou art, 't is death where thou 'rt not
Then come o'er the sea,
Maiden, with me,
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