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2. He dreamt of his home, of his dear native bowers,
And pleasures that waited on life's merry morn; While memory stood sideways, half covered with flowers,
And restored every rose, but secreted its thorn. 3. Then fancy her magical pinions spread wide,
And bade the young dreamer in ecstacy rise : Now far, far behind him the green waters glide,
And the cot of his forefathers blesses his eyes. 4. The jessamine clambers in flower o'er the thatch,
And the swallow sings sweet from her nest in the wall ; All trembling with transport he raises the latch,
And the voices of loved ones reply to his call. 5. A father bends-o'er him with looks of delight,
His cheek is impearled with a mother's warm tear, And the lips of the boy in a love-kiss unite,
With the lips of the maid whom his bosom holds dear. 6. The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast,
Joy quickens his pulse-all his hardships seem o'er,
“O God, thou hast blessed me, I ask for no more." 7. Ah, what is that flame which now bursts on his eye!
Ah, what is that sound which now larums his ear!
'Tis the crash of the thunder, the groan of the sphere ! 8. He springs from his hammock-he flies to the deck,
Amazement confronts him with images dire;
The masts fly in splinters—the shrouds are on fire! 9. Like mountains, the billows tremendously swell;
In vain the lost wretch calls on Mary to save;
And the death-angel flaps his broad wing o'er the wave!
1. Tuan noble form, that glorious man, whose presence in the world has come to be almost a part of it, has gone
forever from us, as if we had fallen upon a night from which the most brilliant constellation of the heavens had forever withdrawn its beams. He has gone; he is dead; he who was the foremost man among us, the first American of his generation, whose mind has so long been the guide and guardian of a great country, now sleeps beneath the sod.
2. While living, but thoughtful of his latter end, he selected and prepared his own resting-place; and his friends and weeping neighbors have laid him in it. How fitting is that place! Great in life, great in death, he is greatly fortunate in having found a spot so entirely in harmony with his greatness. On his native soil, in his own New England, which his lips had immortalized, near the home and the scenes he loved so well, and not far from the shore of the ever-resounding sea, they have laid him down to rest, where his countrymen can visit him amid the scenes where he used to dwell.
3. Nowhere else in the wide world could he have found a more suitable place of burial. Buried within the limits of a city--the city might have crumbled away, as all cities must, and left him lost amidst the heaps of deserted rubbish. Buried near the capitol, where his greatness had been most conspicuous—in the revolving fortunes of such a country as this the capitol itself might be taken down and removed, leaving his glorious dust in neglect and solitude. Laid upon the bank of his native river, where his forefathers sleep — rivers themselves, in the progress of civilization, have changed their courses, or have been dried up within their rocky bed.
4. Nowhere, nowhere could the great man have been laid to rest in a place so consonant to his character., There, within sight of his cherished home, and on the ocean shore, he lies. That home will guard him well; and that ocean, the best earthly emblem of his greatness, and image of the eternity of his fame, will roll along his requiem, when many a river shall have ceased to flow, and when cities and capitols shall have mingled their ashes with the dust of earth!
A MOTHER'S LOVE.
1. Hast thou sounded the depths of yonder sea,
And counted the sands that under it be?
Then mayest thou mete out the mother's love.
To the throne of God some wandering son ?
Then mayest thou speak of a mother's joy.
Go forth, on her errands of industry?
But the mother's cares are all for her child.
From pole to pole, from star to star ?
The heart of a mother has gone with thee. 5. There is not a grand, inspiring thought,
There is not a truth, by wisdom taught,
There is not a feeling, pure and high,
That may not be read in a mother's eye.
The heavens the glory of God declare;
1. STAND! the ground's your own, my braves,
Will ye give it up to slaves ?
look for greener graves ?
Ask it-ye who will.
homes retire ?
And before you, see
Let their welcome be!
Die we may—and die we must;
Be consigned so well,
As where heaven its dews shall shed,
Of his deeds to tell!
LIBERTY AND UNION.
1. I PROFESS, sir, in my career hitherto, to have kept steadily in view the prosperity and honor of the whole country, and the preservation of our federal Union. It is to that Union we owe our safety at home, and our consideration and dignity abroad. It is to that Union that we are chiefly indebted for whatever makes us most proud of our country.
2. That Union we reached only by the discipline of our virtues in the severe school of adversity. It had its origin in the necessities of disordered finance, prostrate commerce and ruined credit. Under its benign influences, these great interests immediately awoke, as from the dead, and sprang forth with newness of life. Every year of its duration has teemed with fresh proofs
. of its utility and its blessings; and although our territory has stretched out wider and wider, and our population spread farther and farther, they have not outrun its protection or its benefits. It has been to us all a copious fountain of national, social and personal happiness.
3. I have not allowed myself, sir, to look beyond the Union, to see what might lie hidden in the dark recess behind. I have not coolly weighed the chances of preserving liberty when the bonds that unite us together shall be broken asunder. I have not accustomed myself to hang over the precipice of disunion,