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Then like them ceas'd-and few could say
That he, or they had been.
THE LIGHT-HOUSE. The scene was more beautiful far to my eye, Than if day in its price liad array'd it; The land-breeze blew mild, and the azure arch'd sky Look'd pure as the spirit that made it. The murmur rose soft, as I silently gaz'd On the shadowy wave's playful motion, From the dim distant isle, will the light-house fire blaz'd Like a star in the midst of the veean. No longer the joy of the sailor-boy's breast, Was heard in his wildly breath'd numbers; The sea-bird had flown to her wave-girded nest, The fisherman sunk to his slumbers. One moment I look'd from the hill's geniłe slope, (All hush'd was the billows' commotion, ). and tho't that the light-house look'd lovely as hope, That star of life's tremulous ocean. The time is long past, and the scene is afar, Yet, when my head rests on its pillow Will memory sometimes rekindle the star That blaz'd on the breast of the billow. In life's closing hour, when the trembling soul flies, And death stills the heart's last emotion, Oh! then may the seraph of mercy arise, Like a star on eternity's ocean.
[From the German of Goethe.) The water roll’d, the water swell’d,
A Fisher sat beside;
Beside the fresh’ning tide.
And while his patient watch he keeps,
The parted waters rose,
A water maiden rose.
• Why lure'st thou so my brood,
From out their native flood ?
Our peaceful lives glide o'er,
To seek our happier shore.
The moon, too, in the sea,
More beautiful to see?
Within the waters blue,
In that eternal dew?'
It reach'd his naked feet;
His bounding bosom beat;
His short suspense is o'er ;-
And sunk to rise no more.
pe, s hope,
• THE INDIAN GIRL'S LAMENT. An Indian girl was sitting where
Her loyer slain in battle slept
Her maiden veil, her own black hair,
Came down o'er eyes that wept ; And wildly in her woodland tongue, This sad and simple lay she sung. • I've pulld away the shrubs that grew
Too close above thy sleeping head, And broke the forest boughs that threw
Their shadows o'er thy bed,
That led thee to the pleasant coast,
That shod thee for that distant land, 'Twas I the bow and arrows laid
Beside thy still cold hand; Thy bow in many a battle bent, Thy arrows never vainly sent. With wampum belts I cross'd thy breast,
And wrapp'd thee in the bison's hide, And laid the food that pleas'd thee best,
In plenty by thy side;
The long dark journey of the grave;
Hast join'd the good and brave;
Amid the flush'd and balmy air,
Thy thot's will sometimes earth ward stray, To her who sits where thou wert laid,
And weeps the hours away :
That in a shining cluster lie,
The image of the sky,
My spirit sent to join the blest,
From the bright land of restDost seem in every sound to hear The rustling of my footsteps near.
On the green banks of Shannon, when Sheelah was No blithe Irish lad was so happy as !;
(nigh, No harp like my own could so cheerily play, And wherever I went was my poor dog Tray. When at last I was forc'd from my Sheelah to part, She said, (while the sorrow was big at her heart,) Oh! remember your Sheelah when far, far away, And be kind, my dear Pai, to our poor dog Tray: Poor dog! he was faithful and kind, to be sure, And he constantly lov'd me, although I was poor; When the sour-looking folks sent me heartless away, I had always a friend in my poor dog Tray.
When the road was so dark, and the night was so cold,
A SOLDIER'S THE LAD I ADORE. A SOLDIER's the lad I adore,
Tho' he's far from his friends and his home, Love grant I may see him once more,
And march to the roll of his drum. With plume in his helm, and his sword
By his side, and a hero-like show, He march'd to the field at the glorious word,
And beat the retreat of the foe. Full many a youth have I seen,
Who has whisper'd affection to me: But give me the lad with a doublet of green,
Who can beat Freedom's reveille. Should he fall, but I hope he may not,
His spirit shall dwell with the brave, His deeds by his country shall ne'er be forgot,
While Freedom weeps over his grave. Then march to the roll of the drum,
It summons the brave to the plain, Where heroes contend for the home
Which perchance they may ne'er see again.