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Dear Harp of my Country! farewell to thy numbers,
This sweet wreath of song is the last we shall twine! Go, sleep with the sunshine of Fame on thy slumbers,
Till touch'd by some hand less unworthy than mine; If the pulse of the patriot, soldier, or lover,
Have throbb’d at our lay, 'tis thy glory alone; I was but as the wind passing heedlessly over,
And all the wild sweetness I wak'd was thy own.
OW sweet the answer Echo makes
To music at night,
Goes answering light!
Yet Love hath echoes truer far,
And far more sweet,
The songs repeat.
'Tis when the sigh, in youth sincere,
And only then,-
Breath'd back again !
OFT IN THE STILLY NIGHT.
(SCOTCH AIR.) FT, in the stilly night,
Ere Slumber's chain has bound me, Fond Memory brings the light Of other days around me;
The smiles, the tears,
Of boyhood's years,
The eyes that shone,
Now dimm'd and gone,
Ere Slumber's chain has bound me,
Of other days around me.
When I remember all
The friends, so link'd together,
I feel like one,
Who treads alone, Some banquet-hall deserted,
Whose lights are fled,
Whose garlands dead, And all but he departed ! Thus in the stilly night,
Ere Slumber's chain has bound me, Sad Memory brings the light
Of other days around me.
meden stood, disconsolate;
morn a Peri
And as she listen’d to the Springs
Of Life within, like music flowing, And caught the light upon her wings
Through the half-open portal glowing, She wept to think her recreant race Should e'er have lost that glorious place !
“How happy !” exclaim'd this child of air, “ Are the holy Spirits who wander there,
'Mid flowers that never shall fade or fali; Though mine are the gardens of earth and sea, And the stars themselves have flowers for me,
One blossom of heaven out-blooms them all!
Though sunny the Lake of cool Cashmere, With its plane-tree Isle reflected clear,
And sweetly the founts of that Valley fall ; Though bright are the waters of SING-SU-HAY, And the golden floods that thitherward stray, Yet-oh, 'tis only the Blest can say,
How the waters of Heaven outshine them all!
“Go, wing thy flight from star to star, From world to luminous world, as far
As the universe spreads its flaming wall : Take all the pleasures of all the spheres, And multiply each through endless years,
One minute of Heaven is worth them all !”
The glorious Angel, who was keeping
From Eden's fountain, when it lies
Blooms nowhere but in Paradise.
“Nymph of a fair, but erring line ! ” Gently he said—“One hope is thine. 'Tis written in the Book of Fate,
The Peri yet may be forgiven Who brings to this Eternal Gate
The Gift that is most dear to Heaven! Go, seek it, and redeem thy sin'Tis sweet to let the Pardon'd in!”
Rapidly as comets run
And, lighted earthward by a glance
Hung hovering o'er our world's expanse.
But whither shall the Spirit go
With human blood—the smell of death
Mingled his taint with every breath
Land of the Sun ! what fool invades