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Mid plasures and palaces shough we may sram
Home, home, a sweet, seweet home!
John Stoward Fayne.
It freshens o'er thy thoughtful face,
THE POET'S FRIEND.
Fair Nature's book together read,
The hills we climbed, the river seen
Where'er I look, where'er I stray,
O'er lapse of time and change of scene,
That true sELF-LOVE and SOCIAL are the same ;
Thou lack'st not Friendship's spellword, nor
With these good gifts of God is cast
If, then, a fervent wish for thee
The sighing of a shaken reed, —
A GENEROUS friendship no cold medium knows,
But I've in vain essayed it,
And feel I cannot now.
FRIEND after friend departs :
Who hath not lost a friend ?
That finds not here an end ;
While memory bids me weep thee,
Nor thoughts nor words are free,
Beyond the flight of time,
The half-seen memories of childish days,
When pains and pleasures lightly came and went ; Whose sparks fly upward to expire. The sympathies of boyhood rashly spent
In fearful wand'rings through forbidden ways; There is a world above,
The vague, but manly wish to tread the maze Where parting is unknown;
Of life to noble ends, — whereon intent, A whole eternity of love,
Asking to know for what man here is sent, Formed for the good alone;
The bravest heart must often pause, and gaze, – And faith beholds the dying here
The firm resolve to seek the chosen end Translated to that happier sphere.
Of manhood's judgment, cautious and mature,
Each of these viewless bonds binds friend to friend Thus star by star declines,
With strength no selfish purpose can secure : Till all are passed away,
My happy lot is this, that all attend As morning high and higher shines, That friendship which first came, and which shall To pure and perfect day;
last endure. Nor sink those stars in empty night; They hide themselves in heaven's own light.
AUBREY DE VERE.
JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE.
[Died in New York, September, 1820.) GREEN be the turf above thee,
Friend of my better days! None knew thee but to love thee,
Nor named thee but to praise.
HAM. Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man
Hor. O my dear lord -
Nay, do not think I flatter :
be flattered ?
Tears fell, when thou wert dying,
From eyes unused to weep, And long, where thou art lying,
Will tears the cold turf steep.
When hearts, whose truth was proven,
Like thine, are laid in earth, There should a wreath be woven
To tell the world their worth ;
And I, who woke each morrow
To clasp thy hand in mine; Who shared thy joy and sorrow,
Whose weal and woe were thine, –
Whose blood and judgmentare so wellco-mingled,
It should be mine to braid it
Around thy faded brow,
"And here, on this delightful day,
I cannot choose but think How oft, a vigorous man, I lay
Beside this fountain's brink.
"My eyes are dim with childish tears,
My heart is idly stirred,
Which in those days I heard.
“Thus fares it still in our decay :
And yet the wiser mind Mourns less for what Age takes away
Than what it leaves behind.
FROM “ CORIOLANUS."
O Marcius, Marcius !
heart | A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter Should from yond' cloud speak divine things, and
say, “'T is true,"I'd not believe them more than thee, All-noble Marcius. — Let me twine Mine arms about that body, where against My grainéd ash an hundred times hath broke, And scared the moon with splinters ! Here I clip The anvil of my sword ; and do contest As hotly and as nobly, with thy love, As ever in ambitious strength I did Contend against thy valor. Know thou first, I loved the maid I married ; never man Sighed truer breath ; but that I see thee here,
"The blackbird amid leafy trees,
The lark above the hill, Let loose their carols when they please,
Are quiet when they will.
"With Nature never do they wage
A foolish strife; they see A happy youth, and their old age
Is beautiful and free:
Thou noble thing! more dances my rapt heart | Few are the hearts that have proved the truth
Be dear in their absence now.
Soft be the sleep of their pleasant hours, Unbuckling helms, fisting each other's throat,
And calm be the seas they roam ! And waked half dead with nothing. Worthy | May the way they travel be strewed with flowers, Marcius,
Till it bring them in safety home! Had we no other quarrel else to Rome, but that And when we whose hearts are o’ertlowing thus Thou art thence banished, we would muster all
Ourselves may be doomed to stray, From twelve to seventy; and, pouring war
| May some kind orison rise for us, Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome,
When we shall be far away!
THE MEETING OF THE SHIPS.
“ We take each other by the hand, and we exchange a few A thousand welcomes !
words and looks of kindness, and we rejoice together for a few
short moments; and then days, inonths, years intervene, and we And more a friend than e'er an enemy;
see and know nothing of each other." - WASHINGTON IRVING. Yet, Marcius, that was much.
Two barks met on the deep mid-sea,
When calms had stilled the tide ;
A few bright days of summer glee
And voices of the fair and brave
Rose mingling thence in mirth ;
And sweetly floated o'er the wave I summon up remembrance of things past,
The melodies of earth. I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
Moonlight on that lone Indian main And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste.
Cloudless and lovely slept ; Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
While dancing step and festive strain For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
Each deck in triumph swept. And weep afresh love's long since cancelled woe, And moan th' expense of many a vanished sight. And hands were linked, and answering eyes Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
With kindly meaning shone ; And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
O, brief and passing sympathies,
Like leaves together blown !
Over the deep's repose,
Like trumpet music rose.
And proudly, freely on their way
The parting vessels bore;
To meet -0, nevermore !
FRIENDS FAR AWAY.
Thus waft them in fairy flight;
Shall hallow the scene to-night.
And the colors of life are gay,
The Friends who are far away.
Never to blend in victory's cheer,
To aid in hours of woe ;