So speaks affection, ere the infant eye
Can look regard', or brighten in reply`;
But when the cherub lip hath learnt to claim
A mother's ear by that endearing name';
Soon as the playful innocent can prove
A tear of pity', or a smile of love';
Or cons his murmuring task beneath her care',
Or lisps with holy look his ev'ning prayer',
Or gazing, mutely pensive', sits to hear
The mournful ballad warbled in his ear';
How fondly looks admiring Hope the while',
At every artless tear', and every smile'!
How glows the joyous parent to descry
A guileless bosom', true to sympathy!
Where is the troubled heart', consigned to share
Tumultuous toils', or solitary caré,
Unblest by visionary thoughts that stray
To count the joys of Fortune's better day'?
Lo! nature, life', and liberty' relume
The dim-eyed tenant of the dungeon gloom';
A long-lost friend, or hapless child restored',
Smiles at his blazing hearth and social board';
Warm from his heart the tears of rapture flow',
And virtue triumphs o'er remembered wo.
Chide not his peace, proud Reason', nor destroy
The shadowy forms of uncreated joy',
That urge the lingering tide of life', and pour
Spontaneous slumber on his midnight hour.
Hark! the wild maniac sings', to chide the gale
That wafts so slow her lover's distant sail';
She, sad spectatress', on the wintry shore
Watched the rude surge his shroudless corse that bore`,
Knew the pale form', and, shrieking in amaze',
Clasped her cold hands', and fixed her maddening gaze':
Poor widowed wretch'! 'twas there she wept in vain',
Till memory fled her agonizing brain':-
But mercy gave, to charm the sense of wo',
Ideal' peace, that truth' could ne'er bestow`;
Warm on her heart the joys of Fancy beam',
And aimless Hope delights her darkest dream.
Oft when yon moon has climbed the midnight sky', And the lone seabird wakes its wildest cry',
Piled on the steep', her blazing faggots burn
To hail the bark that never can return';
And still she waits', but scarce forbears to weep'
That constant love can linger on the deep.
And, mark the wretch, whose wanderings never knew The world's regard', that soothes', though half untrue'; Whose erring heart the lash of sorrow bore', But found not pity when it erred no more. Yon friendless man', at whose dejected eye Th' unfeeling proud one looks-and passes by'; Condemned on Penury's barren path to roam', Scorned by the world', and left without a home'E'en he', at evening should he chance to stray Down by the hamlet's hawthorn-scented way', Where', round the cot's romantic glade are seen The blossomed beanfield', and the sloping green', Leans o'er its humble gate', and thinks the while'Oh! that for me some home like this would smile', Some hamlet shade', to yield my sickly form' Health in the breeze', and shelter in the storm'! There should my hand no stinted boon assign' To wretched hearts with sorrow such as mine'! That generous wish can soothe unpitied care', And Hope half mingles with the poor man's prayer.
Hope', when I mourn, with sympathizing mind',
The wrongs of fate', the woes of human kind',
Thy blissful omens bid my spirit see
The boundless fields of rapture yet to be';
I watch the wheels of Nature's mazy plan',
And learn the future' by the past' of man.
Come, bright improvement', on the car of Time',
And rule the spacious world from clime to clime';
Thy handmaid arts shall every wild explore`,
Trace every wavé, and culture every shore.
On Erie's banks, where tigers steal along',
And the dread Indian chants a dismal song',
Where human fiends on midnight errands walk',
And bathe in brains the murderous tomahawk';
There shall the flocks on thymy pasture stray',
And shepherds dance at Summer's opening day';
Each wand'ring genius of the lonely glen
Shall start' to view the glittering haunts of men';
And silent watch, on woodland heights around',
The village curfew', as it tolls profound.
Where barb'rous hordes on Scythian mountains roam',
Truth, Mercy, Freedom', yet shall find a home';
Where'er degraded Nature bleeds and pines',
From Guinea's coast to Sibir's dreary mines',
Truth shall pervade th' unfathomed darkness theré,
And light the dreadful features of despair'.-
Hark! the stern captive spurns his heavy load',
And asks the image back that Heaven bestowed':
Fierce in his eyes the fire of valor burns',
And, as the slave departs', the man returns!
SING no more, thou prisoned bird',
Hail not thus the rising day';
Lighter lay was never heard
O'er the valleys far away.
Sing not thus-I cannot bear
Here to listen to thy song';
I would meet thee, wandering, where'
Woodland waters glide along-
O'er the vale', and through the grove',
Sporting like a summer bee-
Warbling to thy lady-love'
Flattering tales of constancy
Mounting on the morning air',
High above the flowery fields',
Searching all things, sweet and fair',
For the joy that nature yields'—
Or, when evening's solemn call
Brings the wanderer home to rest',
Where the lengthening shadows fall',
Brooding o'er thy leafy nest'.
Such, thou warbler of the wild',
Such should be thy happy doom';
Ne'er should Nature's freeborn child'
Pine within a gilded tomb.
Like a lute that once was strung
For the light and jocund lay',
Echoing where a festive throng
Laughed the midnight hours away'
Like the self-same lute', when heard
Far from scenes of revelry',
Is thy song, thou prisoned bird',
Sweet', but oh how sad', to me!
FAIR nature smiled in all her bowers';
But man', that master work of God',
Unconscious of his latent powers',
The tangled forest trod';
Without a hope', without an aim',
Beyond the sloth's', the tiger's life',
His only pleasure sleep', or strife-
And war his only fame.
Furious alike, and causeless, beamed'
His lasting hate', his transient love':
And e'en the mother's fondness seemed
The instinct of the dove'.
The mental world was wrapt in night';
Though some', the diamonds of the miné,
Burst through the shrouding gloom', to shine
With self-emitted light.
Then did the glorious dawn unfold
The brighter day that lurked behind'.
The march of armies may be tōld-
But not the march of Mind.
Instruction', child of Heaven and Earth',
As heat expands the vernal flower',
So Wisdom, Goodness, Freedom, Power',
From thee derive their birth.
From thee all mortal bliss we draw`;
From thee-Religion's blessed fruit';
From thee-the good of social law',
And man redeemed from brutè ;
From thee-all ties to virtue dear',
The father's', brother's', husband's' namè;
From thee the sweet and holy famé
That never cost a tear.
SELECTIONS FROM THE PROVERBS OF SOLOMON.
Be not a witness against thy neighbor without cause', and deceive not with thy lips. Say not, I will do so to him as he hath done to me-I will render to the man according to his work.
I went by the field of the slothful, and by the field of the man void of understanding', and lo`, it was all grown over with thorns', and nettles had covered the face of it', and the stone wall thereof was broken down. Then I saw and considered it well'; I looked upon it and received instructionYet a little sleep', a little slumber', a little folding of the hands to sleep', so shall thy poverty come as one who traveleth, and thy want as an armed man.
If thine enemy be hungry', give him bread to eat`; and if he be thirsty', give him water to drink'; for thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head', and the LORD will reward thee.
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