Here art shall lift her laurelled head, These gifts, great Liberty, are thine: Let foes to freedom dread the name; But should they touch this sacred tree, Thrice fifty thousand swords shall flame, For Jefferson and Liberty! O'er yast Columbia's varied clime, Her cities, forests, shores, and dales, In rising majesty sublime, Immortal liberty prevails. From Georgia to Lake Champlain, To tyrants never bend the knee, The Return of Spring, A SONG. TUNE," Happy Clown." COME join with me, ye rural swains, No more the furious blust'ring sky, With dark'ning rage o'er yon rude Forth, Thick thro' the black'ning sky; Till o'er each hill and sullen vale, An universal white prevail, And deep beneath the snowy veil, The sad creation lie. The hoary tyrant now has fled, Young blooming Spring our fields o'erspread, Hope, wealth, and joy are by her led, An all-enliv'ning train. Along yon dale, or daisied mead, Soon as young Morn uplifts her head, Blithe whist'ling o'er the lawn; The stately grove and thick'ning wood, High waving in the air; While o'er the mountain's grassy steep, Around the wanton lambkins leap, At once their joy and care. O Amid the bower, with wood-bines wove, Gay bloomy sweets among; The cheerful birds, of varied hue, The wand'ring brook-the glitt❜ring rill, Then join the choir, each nymph and swain, Harmonious to each tree. Matilda, a Song. TUNE," Her Sheep all in clusters." YE dark rugged rocks, that recline o'er the deep, Here shelter me under your cliffs, while I weep, For distant, alas! from my native dear shores, And wide is the merciless ocean that roars, How blest were the times when together we strayed, While Phoebe shone silent above; Or leaned by the border of Cartha's green side, T Around us all nature lay wrapt up in peace, Nor noise could our pleasures annoy, Save Cartha's hoarse brawling, conveyed by the breeze, That soothed us to love and to joy. If haply some youth had his passion exprest, For where is the eye that could view her alone, Nor wish the adorable nymph for his own, Nor double the pangs I sustain ? Thou moon! that now brightens those regions above, I sealed each kind vow with a kiss. Ah! then, how Ijoyed, while I gazed on her charms! But now from the dear, from the tenderest maid, 'Midst strangers, who wonder to see me so sad, And oft when drear midnight assembles her shades, And Silence pours sleep from her throne, Pale, lonely, and pensive, I steal through the glades, And sigh 'midst the darkness my moan. In vain to the town I retreat for relief; In vain to the groves I complain; Belles, coxcombs, and uproar, can ne'er soothe my grief, And solitude nurses my pain. Ο Still absent from her whom my bosom loves best, Her presence could banish each woe from my breast, Ye dark rugged rocks, that recline o'er the deep; Oh! shelter me under your cliffs, while I weep, And wide is the merciless ocean, that roars NOTES TO THE POEMS. ALEXIS' COMPLAINT.- Page 4. In this poem, Alexis, which name Wilson has here employed to personate himself, mourns the death of his friend (W. Wotherspoon), "young Damon." There are some pretty lines in this piece, particularly the following, for the sentiment : "Short is the span Of fleeting time allowed to feeble man! No sooner born, he fills the air with cries; EPISTLE TO MR. DAVID BRODIE.- Page 7. This friend of Wilson was, at the time he borrowed from him ID |