« PreviousContinue »
THE DEATH OF AN INFANT.
* Cease here longer to detain me,
See yon orient streak appearing!
Lately launched, a trembling stranger,
Now my cries shall cease to grieve thee,
Weep not o'er these eyes that languish,
There, my mother, pleasures centre—
As through this calm, this holy dawning
Blessings endless, richest blessings,
Yet to leave thee sorrowing rends me,
On Linden, when the sun was low,
But Linden saw another sight,
By torch and trumpet fast arrayed,
Then shook the hills with thunder riven,
But redder yet that light shall glow,
'Tis morn; but scarce yon level sun
The combat deepens. On ye brave,
Few, few shall part where many meet!
CampbelL MY NATIVE LAND.
My native land,—land ofmy heart!
O'er thee yet lingers memory's spell; And though from thee I ever part,
On thy wild shores my heart will dwell; For there, in youth's bright dawn, I wove The sweet—the glittering dream of love.
My native land,—my happy home!
Endeared by friendship's holy tie, To other brighter realms I roam,
But far behind is lovers deep sigh;
My native land,—my earthly heaven!
And though misfortune's blast be driven,
On this lone heart may lower a while,
A thought of thee will right Hope's smile.