Earth's compass round; Still rusted in their bony hands; In plague and famine some! Earth's cities had no sound nor tread, And ships were drifting with the dead To shores where all was dumb! Yet, prophet-like, that lone one stood, With dauntless words and high, That shook the sere leaves from the wood As if a storm passed by, Saying, "We are twins in death, proud Sun, Thy face is cold, thy race is run, "What though beneath thee man put forth His pomp, his pride, his skill; And arts that made fire, flood, and earth, The vassals of the will ? - Yet mourn I not thy parted sway, And your high priesthood shall make And triumphs that beneath thee sprang, Healed not a passion or a pang Entailed on human hearts. "Go, let oblivion's curtain fall Its piteous pageants bring not back, Of pain anew to writhe; Stretched in disease's shapes abhorred Or mown in battle by the sword, Like grass beneath the scythe. "Even I am weary in yon skies 66 My lips that speak thy dirge of death Their rounded gasp and gurgling breath To see thou shalt not boast. Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell. The eclipse of Nature spreads my And the stormy winds do blow. pall, The majesty of darkness shall "This spirit shall return to Him "Go, Sun, while Mercy holds me up Of grief that man shall taste — Go, tell the night that hides thy face, Thou saw'st the last of Adam's race, On Earth's sepulchral clod, The darkening universe defy To quench his Immortality, Or shake his trust in God!" YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND. A NAVAL ODE. YE Mariners of England! The battle and the breeze! The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave! And ocean was their grave; Britannia needs no bulwarks, Her march is o'er the mountain waves, Her home is on the deep. The meteor flag of England HOW DELICIOUS IS THE WIN- How delicious is the winning Yet, remember, 'midst your wooing, Love has bliss, but love has ruing; Other smiles may make you fickle, Tears for other charms may trickle. Love he comes, and Love he tarries, Bind the sea to slumber stilly, Bind its odor to the lily, For the deck it was their field of fame, Bind the aspen ne'er to quiver, Then bind Love to last for ever! Love's a fire that needs renewal Of fresh beauty for its fuel; But still as wilder blew the wind, And as the night grew drearer, Love's wing moults when caged and Adown the glen rode armèd men, Their trampling sounded nearer. "O haste thee, haste!" the lady cries, The boat has left a stormy land, When, oh! too strong for human hand, The tempest gathered o'er her. And still they rowed amidst the roar For sore dismayed, through storm and shade, His child he did discover; One lovely hand she stretched for aid, And one was round her lover. "Come back! come back!" he cried in grief, "Across this stormy water: And I'll forgive your Highland chief, My daughter!-O my daughter!" 'Twas vain: the loud waves lashed the shore, Return or aid preventing:The waters wild went o'er his child, And he was left lamenting. FIELD FLOWERS. YE field flowers! the gardens eclipse you, 'tis true, Yet, wildings of Nature, I dote upon you, For ye waft me to summers of old, When the earth teemed around me with fairy delight, And when daisies and buttercups gladdened my sight, Like treasures of silver and gold. 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 But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat at dead of night Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery. By torch and trumpet fast arrayed, Each horseman drew his battle-blade, And furious every charger neighed, To join the dreadful revelry. Made music that sweetened the Then shook the hills with thunder |