Page images

Oh! fly to the prairiu, sweet maiden, with me,
The vine and the prairie-rose cluster for thee,
And hailing the moon in the prairie-propt sky,
The mocking-bird echoes the katydid's cry.
Oh! there's nothing to cloy in the wilds of the west,
Each day has its pleasure, each evening its rest:
Then fly to the prairie, sweet maiden, with me,
- "Tis as green and as wild and as wide as the sea.



AWAKE, awake, my own true love!

My lady bright, arise !
The sparkling orbs that roll above
Shall veil their light, afraid to prove

The lustre of thine eyes.
The air is bland, the eastern breeze,

O'er ocean's heaving bosom stealing,
Derives fresh fragrance from the trees
Of verdant isles that gem the seas,

Their spicy odours all revealing.

When sleep prevails thine eyelids o'er,

Dost ever dream of me?
Amidst the loud artillery's roar,
The savage voice of stormy war,

I ever thought on thee.


Whither, midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths , dost thou persue

Thy solitary way!

Page 99

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]
[graphic][ocr errors]
« PreviousContinue »