In every clime the magnet of his soul, O, thou shalt find, howe'er thy footsteps roam, SLAVERY THAT WAS. Ages, ages have departed, Since the first dark vessel bore She, like Rachel, Millions, millions have been slaughter'd, Where their bones till doomsday sleep. Mercy, mercy, vainly pleading, Rent her garments, smote her breast, Till a voice from Heaven proceeding, Gladden'd all the gloomy west, "Come, ye weary, Come, and I will give you rest!" Tidings, tidings of salvation! Britons rose with one accord, Slaves no longer, NIGHT. Night is the time for rest! How sweet, when labours close, To gather round an aching breast The curtain of repose, TO A DAISY. There is a flower, a little flower, With silver crest and golden eye, That welcomes every changing hour, And weathers every sky. The prouder beauties of the field In gay but quick succession shine, Race after race their honours yield, They flourish and decline. But this small flower, to nature dear, While moons and stars their courses run, Wreathes the whole circle of the year, Companion of the sun. It smiles upon the lap of May, To sultry August spreads its charm, Lights pale October on his way, And twines December's arm. The purple heath and golden broom On moory mountains catch the gale, O'er lawns the lily sheds perfume, The violet in the vale. But this bold floweret climbs the hill, Within the garden's cultured round It shares the sweet carnation's bed; And blooms on consecrated ground In honour of the dead. The lambkin crops its crimson gem, 'Tis Flora's page;-in every place, On waste and woodland, rock and plain, EVENING IN THE ALPS. Come, golden evening! in the west And let the triple rainbow rest O'er all the mountain tops. 'Tis done: The tempest ceases; bold and bright, The rainbow shoots from hill to hill; Down sinks the sun; on presses night;Mount Blanc is lovely still! There take thy stand, my spirit; spread The world of shadows at thy feet; And mark how calmly overhead The stars, like saints in glory, meet. While hid in solitude sublime, Methinks I muse on Nature's tomb, And hear the passing foot of time Step through the silent gloom. All in a moment, crash on crash, From precipice to precipice, An avalanche's ruins dash Down to nethermost abyss. Invisible, the ear alone Pursues the uproar till it dies; Echo to echo, groan for groan, From deep to deep replies. Silence again the darkness seals, Darkness that may be felt;-but soon The silver-clouded east reveals The midnight spectre of the moon. In half eclipse she lifts her horn, Yet o'er the host of heaven supreme Brings the faint semblance of a morn, With her awakening beam. Ah! at her touch these Alpine heights I hold my breath in child suspense- I breathe again, I freely breathe; Safe on thy banks again I stray; And I am here at dawn of day, Gazing on mountains as before, Where all the strange mutations wrought |