THAT SILENT MOON. Dispersed along the world's wide way, And start the tear for those we love! Who watch, with us, at night's pale noon, How powerful, too, to hearts that mourn, And oft she looks, that silent moon, Or couch, whence pain has banish'd sleep: On those who mourn, and those who die. But beam on whomsoe'er she will, And fall where'er her splendour may, What power The dewy morn let others love, Or bask them in the noontide ray ; There's not an hour but has its charm, From dawning light to dying day :--But oh! be mine a fairer boon That silent moon, that silent moon! 115 TO A CIGAR. BY SAMUEL LOW.- -1800. SWEET antidote to sorrow, toil, and strife, Who knows thee not, one solace lacks of life: And give a mourner happiness enough. Ah! what, dear sedative, my cares shall smother? If thou evaporate, the charm is broke, Till I, departing taper, light another. HOPE. BY J. R. DRAKE. SEE through yon cloud that rolls in wrath, To light along their trackless path The wanderers of the stormy deep. THE LAKE OF CAYOSTEA. And thus, oh Hope! thy lovely form In sorrow's gloomy night shall be The sun that looks through cloud and storm When heaven is all serene and fair, The rainbow, when the sun declines, And though Aurora's stealing beam "Tis only thy consoling gleam Will smile amid affliction's night. THE LAKE OF CAYOSTEA. BY ROBERT BARKER. Ob: 1831, at. 27. THY wave has ne'er by gondolier Nor festive train to music's strain Performed the dance upon thy shore. 117 But there, at night, beneath the light The Indian maid, in forest glade, Would it were mine to join with thine, In forest wild with nature's child, By the silent Cayostea. My joy with thee would ever be THE AMERICAN FLAG. BY J. R. DRAKE. WHEN Freedom from her mountain height Unfurled her standard to the air, She tore the azure robe of night, And set the stars of glory there. THE AMERICAN FLAG. She mingled with its gorgeous dyes Majestic monarch of the cloud. Who rear'st aloft thy regal form, And see the lightning lances driven, Flag of the brave! thy folds shall fly, The sign of hope and triumph high, When speaks the signal trumpet tone, And the long line comes gleaming on. Ere yet the life-blood, warm and wet, Has dimm'd the glistening bayonet, Each soldier eye shall brightly turn To where thy sky-born glories burn; And as his springing steps advance, Catch war and vengeance from the glance. And when the cannon-mouthings loud Heave in wild wreaths the battle shroud, 119 |