THE SPELLS OF HOME. There blend the ties that strengthen Our hearts in hours of grief, The silver links that lengthen Joy's visits when most brief. BERNARD BARTON. By the soft green light in the woody glade, On the banks of moss where thy childhood play'd; By the household tree thro' which thine eye By the dewy gleam, by the very breath Holy and precious-oh! guard it well! By the sleepy ripple of the stream, Which hath lull'd thee into many a dream; To the wind of morn at thy casement-eaves, By the gathering round the winter hearth, In that ring of happy faces told, By the quiet hour when hearts unite In the parting prayer and the kind "Good-night;" By the smiling eye and the loving tone, Over thy life has the spell been thrown. And bless that gift!-it hath gentle might, It hath led the freeman forth to stand In the mountain-battles of his land; Yes! when thy heart in its pride would stray When the sullying breath of the world would come O'er the flowers it brought from its childhood's home; Think thou again of the woody glade, And the sound by the rustling ivy made, Think of the tree at thy father's door, And the kindly spell shall have power once more! They that thy mantle wore, As gods were seen— Rome, Rome! thou art no more As thou hast been! Rome! thine imperial brow Never shall rise: What hast thou left thee now?— Thou hast thy skies! Blue, deeply blue, they are, Gloriously bright! Veiling thy wastes afar With colour'd light. Thou hast the sunset's glow, Rome, for thy dower, Flushing tall cypress-bough, Temple and tower! |