Still, from his noonday height, The sun looks down in light; The stars still run their midnight race; The same green valleys smile, the same rough shore Through many a bloody fray, In solitude and gloom, And dared a patriot's doom,- XXIII. All gone! the wild beast's lair is trodden out; Where once the death-whoop vex'd the air. The pilgrim-seek yon ancient mound of graves, Beneath that chapel's holy shade; Ask, where the breeze the long grass waves, The patriot-go, to Fame's proud mount repair; XXIV. All gone! 't is ours, the goodly land- See living vales by living waters bless'd; For all a treasure, and round all a shield; Then, if ye can, O, then forget To whom ye owe the sacred debt The pilgrim race revered! The men who set Faith's burning lights To guide their children through the years of time; And roused the nations with the truth sublime. XXV. Forget? No, never-ne'er shall die Those names to memory dear; I read the promise in each eye That beams upon me here. Descendants of a twice-recorded race! Long may ye here your lofty lineage grace. "T is not for you home's tender tie To rend, and brave the waste of waves; "T is not for you to rouse and die, Or yield, and live a line of slaves. The deeds of danger and of death are done: Upheld by inward power alone, Unhonour'd by the world's loud tongue, "T is yours to do unknown, And then to die unsung. To other days, to other men belong XXVI. Take then my prayer, ye dwellers of this spot! In the rank beams of vulgar fame; Poor, if Heaven will, but free! The leprosy that feeds within, XXVII. The sceptre's might, the crosier's pride, Ye do not fear; No conquest blade, in life-blood dyed, Let there not lurk a subtler snare, Our fathers fled; Ne'er may their children wake Ne'er may the craft that fears the flesh to bind, Quench'd be the fiercer flame The pilgrim's faith, the pilgrim's zeal, Leave to the heart, to heaven, the rest. XXVIII. So, when our children turn the page, To ask what triumphs mark'd our ageWhat we achieved to challenge praise, Through the long line of future daysThis let them read, and hence instruction draw: "Here were the many bless'd, Here found the virtues rest, Faith link'd with Love, and Liberty with Law; Here industry to comfort led; Her book of light here learning spread; By wisdom and by reverence crown'd. Here kindled pride, that should have kindled shame; That pour'd its sunlight o'er the heart, That crown'd their homes with peace and health, And weigh'd Heaven's smile beyond earth's wealth; Far from the thorny paths of strife They stood, a living lesson to their race, Rich in the charities of life, Man in his strength, and woman in her grace; In purity and truth their pilgrim path they trod, And when they served their neighbour, felt they served their GOD." XXIX. This may not wake the poet's verse, This souls of fire may ne'er rehearse In crowd-delighting voice; Yet o'er the record shall the patriot bend, His quiet praise the moralist shall lend, And all the good rejoice. ΧΧΧ. This be our story, then, in that far day, When we and ours have render'd up our trust, That time shall never shake: Ages sweep on, and empires sink and rise. To Him in reverence end; LINES TO A YOUNG MOTHER. YOUNG mother! what can feeble friendship say, To soothe the anguish of this mournful day? They, they alone, whose hearts like thine have bled, Know how the living sorrow for the dead; Each tutor'd voice, that seeks such grief to cheer, Strikes cold upon the weeping parent's ear; I've felt it all-alas! too well I know How vain all earthly power to hush thy wo! GoD cheer thee, childless mother! 'tis not given For man to ward the blow that falls from heaven. I've felt it all-as thou art feeling now; Like thee, with stricken heart and aching brow, I've sat and watch'd by dying beauty's bed, And burning tears of hopeless anguish shed; I've gazed upon the sweet, but pallid face, And vainly tried some comfort there to trace; I've listen'd to the short and struggling breath; I've seen the cherub eye grow dim in death; Like thee, I've veil'd my head in speechless gloom, And laid my first-born in the silent tomb. I SEE THEE STILL. "I rock'd her in the cradle, And laid her in the tomb. She was the youngest. I SEE thee still: Remembrance, faithful to her trust, In dreams I meet thee as of old: I see thee still, In every hallow'd token round; I see thee still: Here was thy summer noon's retreat, I see thee still: Thou art not in the grave confined- LINES ON THE DEATH OF M. S. C. I KNEW that we must part-day after day, I saw the dread Destroyer win his way; That hollow cough first rang the fatal knell, As on my ear its prophet-warning fell; Feeble and slow thy once light footstep grew, Thy wasting cheek put on death's pallid hue, Thy thin, hot hand to mine more weakly clung, Each sweet "Good night" fell fainter from thy tongue; I knew that we must part-no power could save Thy quiet goodness from an early grave; Those eyes so dull, though kind each glance they cast, Looking a sister's fondness to the last; Thy lips so pale, that gently press'd my cheek, The shaft had struck-I knew that we must part. Thine eyes one moment caught a glorious light, But we have parted, MARY-thou art dead! Years hurried back, and as they swiftly roll'd, Gon of wisdom, God of might, Fill it now! on every soul Shed the incense of thy grace, While the prayers Thou lovest ascend, Fill it now-O, fill it long! So, when death shall call us home, May our children's children come. Blot their sins, their sorrows dry; Sprogme was an adminthe miles. His Make this place to them the gate Leading to thy courts on high. There, when time shall be no more, When the feuds of earth are past, May the tribes of every shore Congregate in peace at last! Then to Thee, thou ONE all-wise, Shall the gather'd millions sing, Till the arches of the skies With their hallelujahs ring. TO MY CIGAR. YES, social friend, I love thee well, Thy clouds all other clouds dispel, What though they tell, with phizzes long, I would reply, with reason strong, Thou speak'st a lesson to my heart, Thou'rt like the man of worth, who gives The odour of whose virtues lives When, in the lonely evening hour, Oft as thy snowy column grows, I trace how mighty realms thus rose, A while, like thee, earth's masters burn, And mingle with the ground. Life's but a leaf adroitly roll'd, And time's the wasting breath, From beggar's frieze to monarch's robe, And what is he who smokes thee now? A little moving heap, That soon like thee to fate must bow, But though thy ashes downward go, HENRY WARE, JR. [Born, 1794. Died, 1843.] HENRY WARE, D. D., a son of HENRY WARE, D. D., and brother of WILLIAM WARE, D. D., author of "Probus," etc., was born in Hingham, Massachusetts, on the seventh of April, 1794; was graduated at Cambridge in 1812; completed his theological studies in 1815; was ordained minister of the Second Congregational Church, in Boston, in 1817; received RALPH WALDO EMERSON as his colleague, in 1829; for the recovery of his health soon after visited Europe; and on his return, in 1830, resigned his charge and entered TO THE URSA MAJOR. WITH what a stately and majestic step That glorious constellation of the north Treads its eternal circle! going forth Its princely way among the stars in slow And silent brightness. Mighty one, all hail! I joy to see thee on thy glowing path Walk, like some stout and girded giant; stern, Unwearied, resolute, whose toiling foot Disdains to loiter on its destined way. The other tribes forsake their midnight track, And rest their weary orbs beneath thy wave; But thou dost never close thy burning eye, Nor stay thy steadfast step. But on, still on, While systems change, and suns retire, and worlds Slumber and wake, thy ceaseless march proceeds. The near horizon tempts to rest in vain. Thou, faithful sentinel, dost never quit Thy long-appointed watch; but, sleepless still, Dost guard the fix'd light of the universe, And bid the north forever know its place. Ages have witness'd thy devoted trust, Unchanged, unchanging. When the sons of God Sent forth that shout of joy which rang through heaven, And echo'd from the outer spheres that bound Join'd the high chorus; from thy radiant orbs Their haughty honours in the face of heaven, And beauty still are thine; as clear, as bright, I wonder as I gaze. That stream of light, Undimm'd, unquench'd-just as I see it nowHas issued from those dazzling points through years That go back far into eternity. Exhaustless flood! forever spent, renew'd Yet what is this, which to the astonish'd mind |