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FROM THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS.
Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle
Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle,
Know ye the land of the cedar and vine,
Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine;
Where the light wings of Zephyr, oppressed with perfume,
Wax faint o'er the gardens of Gul in their bloom;
Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit,
And the voice of the nightingale never is mute;
Where the tints of the earth, and the hues of the sky,
In colour, though varied, in beauty may vie,
And the purple of ocean is deepest in die;
Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine,
And all, save the spirit of man, is divine f
'lis the clime of the east, 'tis the land of the sun—
Can he smile on such deeds as his children have done?
Oh! wild as the accents of lovers' farewell,
Are the hearts which they bear, and the tales which they tell.
ANSWER TO THE PRECEDING,
AS APPLIED TO SCOTLAND.
Knowest thou the land where the hardy green thistle,
Is heard in the gloaming so sweetly to sound?
Where the wild fire of genius first caught thy young soul,
Let Phoebus' bright ray gild iEgean wave,
And is there no charm in thine own native earth?
Then strike thy wild lyre,—let it swell with the strain;
IN MEMORY OF A BELOVED PARENT.
Who hushed my infant cares to rest,
Who stilled my wailing infant cries,
Who prayed my dawning thoughts might rise,
Above earth's empty vanities?
Who taught my half-formed words the way,
Who strove to teach my heart to glow
Who taught my bosom pity's sigh,
In early youth who soothed my woe,
Who pitied me when I lay low,
Who whispered mercy dealt the blow?
Who lived in peace, and died in faith,
Who blest me with her latest breath,
Who grasped my hand, and smiled in death?