WASHINGTON'S STATUE.

SENT FROM ENGLAND TO AMERICA.

YES! rear thy guardian hero's form
On thy proud soil, thou western world!
A watcher through each sign of storm,
O'er freedom's flag unfurl'd.

There, as before a shrine, to bow,
Bid thy true sons their children lead:
The language of that noble brow
For all things good shall plead.

The spirit rear'd in patriot fight,

The virtue born of home and hearth,
There calmly throned, a holy light
Shall pour o'er chainless earth.

And let that work of England's hand,

Sent through the blast and surge's roar, So girt with tranquil glory stand, For ages on thy shore!

Such, through all time, the greetings be, That with the Atlantic billow sweep!

Telling the mighty and the free

Of brothers o'er the deep.

TO THE MEMORY OF A SISTER-IN-LAW. 161

TO THE MEMORY OF A SISTER-IN-LAW.

WE miss thy voice while early flowers are blowing, And the first flush of blossom clothes each bough, And the Spring sunshine round our home is glowing Soft as thy smile. Thou should'st be with us now.

With us? we wrong thee by the earthly thought. Could our fond gaze but follow where thou art, Well might the glories of this world seem nought To the one promise given the pure in heart.

Yet wert thou blest e'en here-oh! ever blest
In thine own sunny thoughts and tranquil faith!
The silent joy that still o'erflow'd thy breast,
Needed but guarding from all change, by death.

So is it seal'd to peace!-on thy clear brow
Never was care one fleeting shade to cast;
And thy calm days in brightness were to flow,
A holy stream, untroubled to the last.

Farewell! thy life hath left surviving love

A wealth of records, and sweet "feelings given," From sorrow's heart the faintness to remove,

By whispers breathing "less of earth than heaven."

Thus rests thy spirit still on those with whom
Thy step the paths of joyous duty trod,
Bidding them make an altar of thy tomb,

991

Where chasten'd thought may offer praise to God. April 1826.

'Alluding to the lines she herself quoted but an hour before her death:

"Some feelings are to mortals given,

With less of earth in them than heaven."

TO AN ORPHAN.

163

ΤΟ ΑΝ ORPHAN.

THOU hast been rear'd too tenderly,
Beloved too well and long,

Watch'd by too many a gentle eye-
Now look on life-be strong!

Too quiet seem'd thy joys for change,
Too holy and too deep;

Bright clouds, through summer skies that range,
Seem oft-times thus to sleep:-

To sleep in silvery stillness bound,
As things that ne'er may melt;
Yet gaze again-no trace is found
To show thee where they dwelt.

This world hath no more love to give
Like that which thou hast known;
Yet the heart breaks not—we survive
Our treasures-and bear on.

But oh! too beautiful and blest

Thy home of youth hath been!
Where shall thy wing, poor bird, find rest,
Shut out from that sweet scene?

Kind voices from departed years

Must haunt thee many a day;

Looks that will smite the source of tears,
Across thy soul must play.

Friends-now the altered or the dead,
And music that is gone-

A gladness o'er thy dreams will shed,
And thou shalt wake-alone.

Alone! it is in that deep word
That all thy sorrow lies;

How is the heart to courage stirr'd
By smiles from kindred eyes!

And are these lost? and have I said

To aught like thee-be strong?

-So bid the willow lift its head
And brave the tempest's wrong!

Thou reed! o'er which the storm hath pass'd-
Thou shaken with the wind!

On one, one friend thy weakness cast-
There is but One to bind !

HYMN BY THE SICKBED OF A MOTHER.

FATHER! that in the olive shade

When the dark hour came on,
Didst, with a breath of heavenly aid,
Strengthen thy Son;

O! by the anguish of that night,
Send us down bless'd relief;

Or to the chasten'd, let thy might
Hallow this grief!