They have borne him back to rest at last
Mid the scenes he loved to trace,
Where the sunset's dying gleams are cast
O'er his glorious burial-place.
Ay! bury him there by his own homestead,
Where his own hearth-light has shone,
Where the dirge may rise for the mighty dead
In the billow's midnight moan.
Tread lightly now!-he is with his God,
And free from life's wildest storm;
Evermore hallow'd shall be the sod
That rests o'er his sacred form!
THE AMERICAN HERO.
A Sapphic ode, written in the time of the American
WHY should vain mortals tremble at the sight
Of death and destruction in the field of battle,
Where blood and carnage clothe the ground in crimson,
Sounding with death-groans?
Death will invade us by the means appointed,
And we must all bow to the king of terrors;
Nor am I anxious, if I am prepared,
What shape he comes in.
Infinite Goodness teaches us submission,
Bids us be quiet under all his dealings;
Never repining, but forever praising
God, our Creator.
Well may we praise him: all his ways are perfect:
Though a resplendence, infinitely glowing,
Dazzles in glory on the sight of mortals,
Struck blind by lustre.
Good is Jehovah in bestowing sunshine,
Nor less his goodness in the storm and thunder.
Mercies and judgment both proceed from kindness,
Infinite kindness.
O, then, exult that God forever reigneth;
Clouds which, around him, hinder our perception,
Bind us the stronger to exalt his name, and
Shout louder praises.
Then to the wisdom of my Lord and Master
I will commit all that I have or wish for,
Sweetly as babes' sleep will I give my life up,
When call'd to yield it,
Now, Mars, I dare thee, clad in smoky pillars,
Bursting from bomb-shells, roaring from the cannon,
Rattling in grape-shot like a storm of hailstones,
Torturing ether.
Up the bleak heavens let the spreading flames rise,
Breaking, like Etna, through the smoky columns,
Lowering, like Egypt, o'er the falling city,
Wantonly burn'd down.*
Let oceans waft on all your fleeting castles,
Fraught with destruction, horrible to nature;
Then, with your sails fill'd by a storm of vengeance,
Bear down to battle.
* Charlestown, near Boston.
From the dire caverns, made by ghostly miners,
Let the explosion, dreadful as volcanoes,
Heave the broad town, with all its wealth and people,
Quick to destruction.
Still shall the banner of the King of Heaven
Never advance where I am afraid to follow:
While that precedes me, with an open bosom,
War, I defy thee.
Fame and dear freedom lure me on to battle,
While a fell despot, grimmer than a death-head,
Stings me with serpents, fiercer than Medusa's,
To the encounter.
Life, for my country and the cause of freedom,
Is but a trifle for a worm to part with;
And, if preserved in so great a contest,
Life is redoubled.
THE AMERICAN BOΥ.
BY J. H. HEWITT.
"FATHER, look up, and see that flag!
How gracefully it flies!
Those pretty stripes-they seem to be
A rainbow in the skies."
"It is your country's flag, my son,
And proudly drinks the light,
O'er ocean's wave-in foreign climes
A symbol of our might.”
"Father, what fearful noise is that,
Like thundering in the clouds?
Why do the people wave their hats,
And rush along in crowds ?"
"It is the voice of cannonry,
The glad shouts of the free: This is a day to memory dear'Tis Freedom's jubilee."
"I wish that I was now a man;
I'd fire my cannon too,
And cheer as loudly as the rest:
But, father, why don't you?"
"I'm getting old and weak: but still
My heart is big with joy;
I've witness'd many a day like this:
Shout you aloud, my boy."
"Hurrah, for Freedom's jubilee!
God bless our native land,
And may I live to hold the sword
Of freedom in my hand!"
"Well done! my boy: grow up and love
The land that gave you birth;
A home where Freedom loves to dwell
Is paradise on earth.”
Again, athwart the Atlantic.....
Arouse! Freedom's sons! 'tis your country that calls. 109 Arouse, sons of Freedom, ye patriots, arouse......... 255
Art thou a candidate for virtuous fame.
As near beauteous Boston lying..
As stars before the morning light..
All hail to Freedom's natal
All hail to the birth of the happiest land
All hail to the country, the fairest on earth
Amid the incense of a world's applause
At Freedom's call, see Arnold take the field
At length, with generous indignation fired
A wail! a plaintive, wide, and fearful wail.
Awake, awake! to glory wake...
Ay, leave him alone to sleep forever
Behold! behold! with generous hand
Beneath these banks, along this shore.
Bleak wintry blasts-relentless rain
Bless'd on his own paternal farm.....
Bless'd country of freedom! no longer my home
Blow, blow, ye breezes, o'er the western main..
Blush! Albion, blush! at the unmanly rage..
Born in the reach of splendour, pomp, and power
Brave sons of Columbia, your triumph behold..
Brave sons of Columbia, by valour inspired
Brave sons of the west, your deeds of renown.
Can wits or serious sages say..
Clime of the brave! the high heart's home...
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