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The fairy sports of infancy,
Youth's golden age, and manhood's prime,
Thrice welcome, little English flower!
Thrice welcome, little English flower!
THE STRANGER AND HIS FRIEND.
"Ye have done it unto me."-Matt. xxv. 40.
A POOR wayfaring man of grief
I spied him, where a fountain burst
I ran to raise the sufferer up;
Thrice from the stream he drain'd my cup,
'Twas night; the floods were out; it blew
I heard his voice abroad, and flew
To bid him welcome to my roof;
I warm'd, I clothed, I cheer'd my guest,
Stript, wounded, beaten, nigh to death,
I roused his pulse, brought back his breath,
Our star, in melancholy state,
And polyanthuses display'd
shine. Now, to return (for we have wander'd far) To what was nothing but a simple star; -Where all was jollity around, No fellowship the stranger found. Those low liest children of the earth, That never leave their mother's lap, Companions in their harmless mirth, Were smiling, blushing, dancing there, Feasting on dew, and light, and air, And fearing no mishap, Save from the hand of lady fair, Who, on her wonted walk, Pluck'd one and then another, A sister or a brother, From its elastic stalk; Happy, no doubt, for one sharp pang, to die On her sweet bosom, withering in her eye. Thus all day long that star's hard lot, While bliss and beauty ran to waste, Was but to witness on the spot Beauty and bliss it could not taste, At length the sun went down, and then Its faded glory came again, With brighter, bolder, purer light, It kindled through the deepening night, Till the green bower, so dim by day, Glow'd like a fairy-palace with its beams; In vain, for sleep on all the borders lay, The flowers were laughing in the land of
“ MAKE way for liberty !"--he cried; Made way for liberty, and died !
In arms the Austrian phalanx stood, A living wall, a human wood! A wall, where every conscious stone Seem'd to its kindred thousands grown; A rampart all assaults to bear, Till time to dust their frames should wear; A wood like that enchanted grove* In which with fiends Rinaldo strove, Where every silent tree possess'd A spirit prison'd in its breast, Which the first stroke of coming strife Would startle into hideous life, So dense, so still, the Austrians stood, A living wall, a human wood! Impregnable their front appears, All horrent with projected spears, Whose polish'd points before them shine, From flank to flank, one brilliant line, Bright as the breakers' splendours run Along the billows, to the sun.
Opposed to these a hovering band Contended for their native land: Peasants, whose new-found strength had broke From manly necks th'ignoble yoke, And forged their fetters into swords, On equal terms to fight their lords : And what insurgent rage had gain'd, In many a mortal fray maintain'd; .See Tasso's Jerusalem Delivered, canto xviii.
Marshall'd once more at freedom's call, They came to conquer or to fall, Where he who conquer'd, he who fell, Was deem'd a dead, or living Tell! Such virtue had that patriot breathed, So to the soil his soul bequeathed, That wheresoe'er his arrows flew, Heroes in his own likeness grew, And warriors sprang from every sod Which his awakening footstep trod.
And now the work of life and death Hung on the passing of a breath; The fire of conflict burnt within, The battle trembled to begin ; Yet, while the Austrians held their ground, Point for attack was nowhere found, Where'er the impatient Switzers gazed, The unbroken line of lances blazed; That line 'twere suicide to meet, And perish at their tyrants' feet,— How could they rest within their graves, And leave their homes, the homes of slaves? Would they not feel their children tread With clanging chains above their head?
It must not be: This day, this hour, Annihilates th' oppressor's power; All Switzerland is in the field, She will not fly, she cannot yieldShe must not fall; her better fate Here gives her an immortal date. Few were the number she could boast; But every freeman was a host, And felt as though himself were he On whose sole arm hung victory.
It did depend on one, indeed; Behold him,-Arnold Winkelried! There sounds not to the trump of fame The echo of a nobler name. Unmark'd he stood amid the throng. In rumination deep and long, Till you might see, with sudden grace, The very thought come o'er his face, And by the motion of his form Anticipate the bursting storm; And by th' uplifting of his brow Tell where the bolt would strike, and how.
But 'twas no sooner thought than done, The field was in a moment won :
"Make way for liberty!" he cried, Then ran, with arms extended wide, As if his dearest friend to clasp ; Ten spears he swept within his grasp.
"Make way for liberty!" he cried; Their keen points met from side to side: He bow'd amongst them like a tree, And thus made way for liberty.
Swift to the breach his comrades fly; "Make way for liberty!" they cry, And through the Austrian phalanx dart, As rush'd the spears through Arnold's heart; While, instantaneous as his fall, Rout, ruin, panic, scatter'd all:
An earthquake could not overthrow A city with a surer blow.
Thus Switzerland again was free: Thus death made way for liberty!
FOR THE FIRST LEAF OF A LADY'S ALBUM.
FLOWER after flower comes forth in spring, Bird after bird begins to sing;
Till copse and field in richest bloom, Sparkle with dew, and breathe perfume,— While hill and valley, all day long, And half the night, resound with song, So may acquaintance, one by one, Come like spring-flowers to meet the sun, And o'er these pages pure and white, Kind words, kind thoughts, kind prayers indite Which sweeter odour shall dispense Than vernal blossoms to the sense; Till woods and streams less fair appear Than autographs and sketches here: -Or like the minstrels of the grove, Pour strains of harmony and love, The music made by heart to heart, In which the least can bear a part, More exquisite than all the notes Of nightingales' and thrushes' throats. Thus shall this book, from end to end, Show in succession friend on friend, By their own living hands portray'd, In prose and verse, in light and shade, By pen and pencil,-till her eye, Who owns the volume shall descry On many a leaf some lovely trace, Reminding of a lovelier face! With here and there the humbler line, Recalling such a phiz as mine.
That fancy here may gaze her fill,
Some sweet hope, some hallow'd pleasure, Forming fresh scenes and shapes at will,
From remembrance pe'er to part; Where silent words alone appear,
Hourly blessings swell the treasure Or, borrowing voice, but touch the ear.
Hidden in her grateful heart;
And may every moment cast
Brighter glory on her last!
VOYAGE ROUND THE WORLD.
EMBLEM of eternity,
Let me launch my soul on thee.
Sail, nor keel, nor helm, nor oar,
Need I, ask I, to explore ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY FROM WHOM THE
Thine expanse from shore to shore. AUTHOR HAD RECEIVED AN ELEGANTLY WROUGHT WATCH-POCKET.
By a single glance of thought, WITHIN this curious case
Thy whole realm's before me brought Time's sentinel I place,
Like the universe, from naught. Who, while calm unconscious slumber
All thine aspects now I view, Shuts creation from mine eyes,
Ever old, yet ever new;
Time nor tide thy powers subdue.
All thy voices now I hear;
Sounds of gladness, grandeur, fear
Meet and mingle in mine ear.
All thy wonders are reveal'd:
Treasures hidden in thy fiel!!
From the birth of nature seal’d.
But thy depths I search not now,
Nor thy limpid surface plough All things hang beneath the sun.
With a foam-repelling prow.
Eager fancy, unconfined,
In a voyage of the mind
Sweeps along thee like the wind. Joy expands my throbbing breast;
Here a breeze, I skim thy plains
There a tempest, pour amain
Thunder, lightning, hail, and rain.
Where the billows cease to roll,
Round the silence of the pole,
Thence set out my venturous soul !
See, by Greenland cold and wild,
Rocks of ice eternal piled;
Yet the mother loves her child;
And the wildernesses drear
To the native's heart are dear;
All life's charities dwell here.
Next, on lonely Labrador,
Let me hear the snow-falls roar,
Devastating all before.
Yet even bere, in glens and coves,
Man, the heir of all things, roves, Time, for earth or heaven employ'd,
Feasts and fights, and laughs and loves. (Both have claims,) is time enjoy'd.
But a brighter vision breaks
O'er Canadian woods and lakes;
-These my spirit soon forsakes.