From clime to clime the wanderer loved to roam, The waves his heritage, the world his home. Then first Columbus, with the mighty hand Of grasping genius, weigh'd the sea and land; The floods o'erbalanced: where the tide of light, Day after day, roll'd down the gulf of night, There seem'd one waste of waters: long in vain His spirit brooded o'er the Atlantic main; When sudden, as creation burst from naught, Sprang a new world, through his stupendous thought, Light, order, beauty! While his mind explored The unveiling mystery, his heart adored; Where'er sublime imagination trod, He heard the voice, he saw the face of God. Far from the western cliffs he cast his eye "Ah! on this sea of glory might I sail, Thoughtful he wander'd on the beach alone; Soft fell the shades, till Cynthia's slender bow Crested the farthest wave, then sunk below: "Tell me, resplendent guardian of the night, Now earth and ocean vanish'd, all serene Through the slow, silent hours, he watch'd the host [cried, Danced on the mountains: "Lights of heaven!" he HOME. THERE is a land, of every land the pride, Beloved by Heaven o'er all the world beside; Where brighter suns dispense serener light, And milder moons emparadise the night; A land of beauty, virtue, valour, truth, Time-tutor'd age, and love-exalted youth; The wandering mariner, whose eye explores The wealthiest isles, the most enchanting shores, Views not a realm so beautiful and fair, Nor breathes the spirit of a purer air; In every clime the magnet of his soul, Touch'd by remembrance, trembles to that pole; For in this land of Heaven's peculiar grace, The heritage of Nature's noblest race, There is a spot of earth supremely bless'd, A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest, Where man, creation's tyrant, casts aside Oh, thou shalt find, howe'er thy footsteps roam, THE GRAVE. THERE is a calm for those who weep, Low in the ground. The storm that wrecks the winter sky That shuts the rose. I long to lay this painful head For Misery stole me at my birth, Take home thy child. On thy dear lap these limbs reclined, Nor leave one wretched trace behind Hark! a strange sound affrights mine ear: "The GRAVE, that never spake before, Hath found at length a tongue to chide : Oh, listen! I will speak no more: Be silent, Pride! "Art thou a WRETCH of hope forlorn, "Do foul misdeeds of former times Wring with remorse thy guilty breast? And ghosts of unforgiven crimes Murder thy rest? "Lash'd by the furies of the mind, From Wrath and Vengeance wouldst thou flee? "By all the terrors of the tomb, "I charge thee LIVE! repent and pray, And sin no more. "Art thou a MOURNER? Hast thou known The joy of innocent delights, Endearing days for ever flown, And tranquil nights? "Oh LIVE! and deeply cherish still "Art thou a WANDERER? Hast thou seen "Though long of winds and waves the sport, "TO FRIENDSHIP didst thou trust thy fame, A surer blow? "LIVE! and repine not o'er his loss, A loss unworthy to be told: Thou hast mistaken sordid dross For friendship's gold. "Seek the true treasure, seldom found, "Did WOMAN's charms thy youth beguile, And sold thy love? "LIVE! "Twas a false, bewildering fire : Too often Love's insidious dart Thrills the fond soul with wild desire, But kills the heart. |