"All the seasons must come and go Over the hill with footsteps slow,Autumn and winter, summer and spring: Oh, for a bridge of gold to fling "Ten years may be long," he said, Slow raising his stately head, "But there's much to win, there is much to lose; A man must labor, a man must choose, And he must be strong to wait! The years may be long, but who would wear The crown of honor, must do and dare! No time has he to toy with fate Who would climb to manhood's high estate!" "Ah! life is not long!" he said, Bowing his grand white head. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven! Seven times ten are seventy. Or golden gleams at even. AT DAWN. AT dawn when the jubilant morning broke, And its glory flooded the mountain side, I said, "'Tis eleven years to-day, Eleven years since my darling died!" JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE. THE AMERICAN FLAG. 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; Then from his mansion in the sun Majestic monarch of the cloud! Who rear'st aloft thy regal form, To hear the tempest-trumpings loud, And see the lightning lances driven, When strive the warriors of the storm, And rolls the thunder-drum of heaven; Child of the sun! to thee 'tis given To guard the banner of the free, To hover in the sulphur smoke, To ward away the battle-stroke, And bid its blendings shine afar, Like rainbows on the cloud of war, The harbingers of victory! Flag of the brave! thy folds shall fly, The sign of hope and triumph ligh, When speaks the signal trumpet tone, And the long line comes gleaming on; Ere yet the life-blood, warm and wet, Has dimmed the glistening bayonet, Each soldier eye shall brightly turn To where thy sky-born glories burn, Flag of the seas! on ocean wave And frighted waves rush wildly back And smile to see thy splendors fly Flag of the free heart's hope and home, By angel hands to valor given; Thy stars have lit the welkin dome, And all thy hues were born in heaven. For ever float that standard sheet! Where breathes the foe but falls before us, With Freedom's soil beneath our feet, And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us? JOHN DRYDEN. ALEXANDEr's feast; or, the power of MUSIC. AN ODE IN HONOR OF ST. CECILIA'S DAY. 'Twas at the royal feast, for Persia won On his imperial throne: His valiant peers were placed around, Sate like a blooming Eastern bride None but the brave, None but the brave, None but the brave deserves the fair. CHORUS. Happy, happy, happy pair! None but the brave, None but the brave, None but the brave deserves the fair. Timotheus placed on high, Amid the tuneful choir, With flying fingers touched the lyre: The song began from Jove, A dragon's fiery form belied the god: When he to fair Olympia pressed: And while he sought her snowy breast: Then round her slender waist he curled, And stamped an image of himself, a sovereign of the world. The listening crowd admire the lofty sound, A present deity! they shout around: A present deity! the vaulted roofs rebound. Affects to nod, And seems to shake the spheres. CHORUS. With ravished ears And seems to shake the spheres. The praise of Bacchus then the sweet musician sung, The jolly god in triumph comes; He comes! he comes! He shows his honest face; Sweet the pleasure, Sweet is pleasure after pain. CHORUS. Bacchus' blessings are a treasure, Sweet the pleasure, Sweet is pleasure after pain. Soothed with the sound the king grew vain; Fought all his battles o'er again; And thrice he routed all his foes; and thrice he slew the slain. The master saw the madness rise; His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes; And, while he heaven and earth defied, Soft pity to infuse: He sung Darius, great and good; By too severe a fate, Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen, And weltering in his blood; With downcast looks the joyless victor sate, The various turns of chance below; |