And songs shall wake, and dancing footsteps gleam, Thy vengeance gave us to the stranger's hand, Envying our fathers in their peaceful graves. Thy mercy, Lord, shall lead thy children home; Yet, ere he die, to Salem's streets shall come. And Canaan's vines for us their fruit shall bear, And Hermon's bees their honied stores prepare, And we shall kneel again in thankful prayer Where, o'er the cherub-seated God, full-blazed th' irradiate dome. MILMAN. THE SOLDIER'S DREAM. Our bugles sang truce-for the night-cloud had lowered, When reposing that night on my pallet of straw, And thrice ere the morning I dreamt it again. Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array, To the home of my fathers that welcomed me back. I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft In life's morning march, when my bosom was young; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft, And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung. Then pledged we the wine cup, and fondly I swore, From my home and my weeping friends never to part; My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er, And my wife sobb'd aloud in her fulness of heart. CAMPBELL. THE MORNING OF LIFE. In the morning of life, when its cares are unknown, We can love, as in hours of less transport we may, Like a leaf on the stream that will never return; When our cup, which had sparkled with pleasure so high, Now tastes of the other, the dark-flowing urn; Then, then, is the moment affection can sway, With a depth and a tenderness joy never knew; Love nursed among pleasures is faithless as they, But the love born of sorrow, like sorrow is true! In climes full of sunshine, though splendid their dyes, Yet faint is the odour th' flowers shed about; 'Tis the clouds and the mist of our own weeping skies, That call their full spirit of fragrancy out. So the wild glow of passion may kindle from mirth, But 'tis only in grief true affection appears; To the magic of smiles it may first owe its birth, But the soul of its sweetness is drawn out-by tears! MOORE. THE AFFECTIONATE HEART. Let the great man, his treasures possessing, Tho' foibles may sometimes o'ertake him, Affection! thou soother of care, Even genius may weary the sight, By too fierce and too constant a blaze; It shall thrive when the flattering forms When time at the end of his race Shall expire with expiring mankind; MRS. COTTLE. NATURE'S MUSIC. Nay, tell me not of lordly halls! The moss and the rock are my tapestried walls, There's music sweeter to my soul, In the weed by the wild wind fanned; In the heave of the surge, than ever stole From mortal minstrel's hand. There's mighty music in the roar Of the oaks on the mountain's side; When the whirlwind bursts on their foreheads hoar, There's music in the city's hum, There's music in the forest stream, As its torrents struggle, and foam, and leap, There's music in the dawning morn, Ere the lark his pinion dries In the rush of the breeze, through the dewy corn, Through the garden's perfumed dyes. There's music in the twilight cloud, As the clanging wild swans spring; There's music in the depths of night, When the world is still and dim; And the stars flame out in their pomp of light, THE DROUGHT. What strange, what fearful thing hath come to pass? The ground is iron and the heavens are brass; Man on the withering harvests casts his eye, "Give me your fruits in season, or I die;" The timely Fruits implore their parent Earth, "Where is thy strength to bring us forth to birth?" The Earth, all prostrate, to the Clouds complains, "Send to my heart your fertilizing rains;" The Clouds invoke the Heavens,-Collect, dispense Through us your quickening, healing influence;" The Heavens to Him that made them raise their moan, "Command thy blessing and it shall be done;" The Lord is in his temple;-hush'd and still, The suppliant Universe awaits his will. He speaks; and to the clouds the Heavens dispense, With lightning speed, their genial influence; The gathering, breaking Clouds pour down their rains, Earth drinks the bliss through all her eager veins; From teeming furrows start the Fruits to birth, And shake their treasures on the lap of Earth; Man sees the harvests grow beneath his eye, Turns and looks up with rapture to the sky; All that have breath and being now rejoice, All Nature's voices blend in one great voice, 66 Glory to God, who thus Himself makes known!" -When shall all tongues confess Him God alone? Lord, as the rain comes down from Heaven ;---the rain Which waters Earth, nor thence returns in vain ; But makes the tree to bud, the grass to spring, And fill Earth's dreariest wilderness with flowers, Where thorns and thistles curse the infested ground, |