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To thee our willing thanks we raise,
For sacred hearths, for fearless days ;
The blooming field, the crowded mart,
Each guardian law, each graceful art.
But thy chief seat, thy place of rest,
Is in man's deep-recessed breast;
Thy chosen task, to call to light
Its unseen loveliness and might.
At thy approach the startled mind
Quakes, as before some stirring wind;
And with glad pain, sets wide her door
To the celestial visitor.
VI. And, chased before thy presence pure, Fly evil creeds and fears obscure; And flowers of hope before thee bloom, And new-born wisdom spreads its plume..
Blithe fancies, morning birds that sing
Around the soul's awakening;
Pure loves are thine, and darings high,
And frank and fearless purity.
Before thy, throne, a various band,
Of many an age, and class, and land,
Now waiting in the world's great hour,
We kneel for comfort and for power.
Our wills, O Freedom! are thine own,
Our trust is in thy might alone ;
But we are scattered far apart,
Feeble, and few, and faint of heart.
Look on us, Goddess ! chase away
Low-minded hopes, and weak dismay ;
That our exorcised souls may be
A living mansion, worthy thee!
Nor less in one our hearts unite
Unto that last and awful fight;
For mighty are the foes, that wage
Their warfare with thy heritage.
XII. Against thee league the powers of wrong, The bigot's sword, the slanderer's tongue; And thy worst foe, the seeming wise, Veiling his hate in friendship's guise.
But weak to thee the might of earth,
For thou art of ethereal birth ;
And they thou lov’st shall triumph still,
Despite blind wrath, or evil will.
In vain before thine altars crowd
The light, the sensual, and the proud :
The meek of mind, the pure of heart,
Alone shall see thee as thou art.
Sustained by thee, untired we go
Through doubt and fear, through care and woe;
O’er rough and smooth we toil along,
Led by thy far and lovely song.
We will not shrink,—we will not flee;
Though bitter tears have lowed for thee,
And bitterer tears are yet to flow;
Be thou but ours—come bliss, come woe!
Awake, 0 Queen! we call thee not
From favoured land, or hallowed spot;
Where'er man lifts to heaven his brow,
Where Love and Right are, there art thou !
Awake, 0 Queen! put forth that might
Wherewith thou warrest for the right;
Speed on, speed on the conquering hour,
Spirit of light, and love, and power!
By baffled hopes, by wrong, by scorn,
By all that man hath done and borne,
Oh, come ! let fear and falsehood fee,
And earth at length find rest in thee !
Whar phantoms of the past in mystery sleep,
Till memory (warder of the gloom profound)
Wake at a sight, an odour, or a sound,
And call the long-forgotten from the deep,
To sooth us or to sting : then sinners reap
The harvest of their guilt;-what cries astound,
What furies and what fiends environ round
Their death-bed anguish : grief that cannot weep,
Remorse that dare not hope! But how divine
The pledge of immortality, when bright
The lamp of conscience burns, and heavenly balm
And heavenly vision gladden the decline
Of age with images of rest and calm,-
The better Canaan's realm, the Solyma of light! H.
BY THE AUTHOR OF “LILLIAN.”
L'on n'aime bien qu'une seule fois : c'est la premiere. Les amours qui suivent sont moins involontaires !
How shall I woo her ?—I will stand
Beside her when she sings ;
And watch that fine and fairy hand
Flit o'er the quivering strings :
And I will tell her, I have heard,
Though sweet her song may be,
A voice, whose every whispered word
Was more than song to me!
How shall I woo her ?- I will gaze,
In sad and silent trance,
On those blue eyes, whose liquid rays
Look love in every glance :
And I will tell her, eyes more bright,
Though bright her own may beam,
Will fing a deeper spell to-night
Upon me in my dream.