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Oh! on this far and foreign shore,
Long days and distance wafting o'er
The scene around me fades away,
As at the wave of magic wand— I see the glens, and mountains grey,
And wild woods of my native land.
The summer bower, the silent stream,
And peopled in my waking dream
As on my wanderings when a child,
That music comes at close of day, Along the dim and distant wild,
And wafts my spirit far away.
And on the heart as it distils,
Dear as the dew drop to the leaf, Oh how the rising bosom thrills
Beneath the mystic joy of grief.
So sweet—so hallowed 'tis to feel
That e'en in heaven, methinks 'twill steal
But hark !—that soothing strain is o'er,
And broken is the lovely spell;
The accents of a friend's farewell.
John Malcolm, Esq.
CHARACTER OF WOMAN.
Through many a land and clime a ranger,
A lonely unprotected stranger,
While steering thus my course precarious..
My fortune still has been to find Men's hearts and dispositions various,
But gentle woman, ever kind.
Alive to every tender feeling,
To deeds of mercy ever prone;
With soft compassion's sweetest tone.
No proud delay, no dark suspicion,
Stints the free bounty of their heart; They turn not from the sad petition,
But cheerful aid at once impart.
Formed in benevolence of nature,
Obliging, modest, gay, and mild, Woman's the same endearing creature,
In courtly town and savage wild.
When parched with thirst, with hunger wasted,
Her friendly hand refreshment gave; How sweet the coarsest food has tasted,
What cordial in the simple wave!
Her courteous looks, her words caressing,
Shed comfort on the fainting soul: Woman's the stranger's general blessing,
From sultry India to the Pole!
ON THE RECEIPT OF HIS MOTHER'S
Oh that those lips had language t Life has passed
0 welcome guest, though unexpected here!
1 will obey, not willingly alone,
But gladly, as the precept were her own r
My mother! when I learned that thou wast dead, Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed? Hovered thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son, Wretch even then, life's journey just begun? Perhaps thou gavest me, though unseen, a kiss; Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss— Ah that maternal smile! it answers—Yes. I heard the bell tolled on thy burial day, I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away, And, turning from my nursery window, drew A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu! But was it such ?—It was—Where thou art gone, Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown. May I but meet thee on that peaceful shore, The parting sound shall pass my lips no more! Thy maidens grieved themselves at my concern, Oft gave me promise of a quick return; What ardently I wished, I long believed, And, disappointed still, was still deceived. By disappointment every day beguiled, Dupe of to-morrow even from a child. Thus many a sad to-morrow came and went, Till all my stock of infant sorrow spent, I learned at last submission to my lot, But, though I less deplored thee, ne'er forgot.