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A woodman 'mid the forest-shade
Had found me in my rest,
It softly on his breast!”
The princes sat, and wondering heard,
Then said, as closed the story,
His people's love his glory!”
I CANNOT leave the busy strand !
I gaze upon you standing there,
Your household furniture and ware:
Men from their shoulders lifting down
Baskets of bread, with careful hand
From the old hearth in Fatherland;
Slim forms, and neatly-braided hair,
Her jugs and pitchers all with care.
At the familiar village spring-
Visions of home will round them cling;
The rustic well, with stones girt round,
The low stone wall they bended o'er,
The mantelpiece, with all its store;
All will be dear, when, in the west,
These pitchers deck the log-hut lone,
May quench his thirst, and travel on.
Tired in the chase, the Cherokees
Will drink from them on hunting-ground;
Shall come with German vine-leaves crowned !
Why, wanderers, must you leave
In Spessart sounds the Alper's horn.
For your paternal mountains green,
And hills of vines with purple sheen!
Of all you leave so far behind,
Will rise in dreams and haunt your mind.
God keep you—man, and wife, and child !
Your rice and maize in yonder wild !
THE DEAD IN THE SEA,
UNDER the sea-waves bright and clear,
Deep on the pearly gravelly sands,
Who joined the gay, and gallant bands
Deep on the pearly gravelly sands,
But not by the storm-king’s ruthless hands;
Graves in the mirror-sea to form;
Every swell of the heaving storm!
Could we descend into the deep,
On moss, and sand, and soft sea-weed;
Fishes in shoals around them breed; Swordfish polish their bony arms; Mermaids mutter their mystic charms, And deck them out to make them fair, With many a gift of ocean rare !
One anoints, while another kneeling,
Braids the long-neglected tresses, From the soft purple shell now stealing
Bloom for the wan and bony faces. One with a pearly necklace long, Weaving a wild and mournful song, Wanders among the dead in the sea, Glittering with ornaments wondrously.
There may you see the shrivelled arm
Gleaming in amber's golden glow; There the bright coral's crimson charm
Naked skull wreathing-blanched like snow. Pearls the most precious-pure and white Glare in those vacant orbs of light; And the sea-reptiles, loathsome, crawl In and out, and around them all, Sucking the marrow from the bones Greedily, of those shipwrecked ones.
There might we see the stately mast
Slumber they far from home and hall;
Flowers there are none to deck their bier ;
O'er their pale forms to shed the tear.
Matters it not! Though fall no tear
LOVE AND SUPERSTITION.
On never rudely will I blame this faith
And Venus who brings everything that's fair!
S. T. COLERIDGE. THE ABSENT.
LONELY—nay, that am I not !
Loving spirits and confiding,
Hover round me here.
Happy-nay, that am I not!
For these silent tears and burning
For the far and dear.
Mournful-nay, that am I not!
For the friends of my affections
And are ever near.
Hopeful-yes, that mood is mine!
Once again in home's sweet union
REV. H. THOMPSON.
SEE how the day beameth brightly before us !
Blue is the firmament, green is the earth;
Nature is ringing with music and mirth.
Gaze! and if beauty can capture thy soul,
Gladness, philosophy's guerdon and goal.
List! how she thrills in the nightingale's lay!
Feel! she is cool in the rivulet's play ;
Flows the red rill in the beams of the sun
Look! she is always and everywhere one.
Over the cheeks that should rosily bloom;
Suffer his lamp to be quenched in the tomb?