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Sunbeam proof, I hang like a roof,
The mountains its columns be.
With hurricane, fire, and snow,
Is the million-coloured bow;
While the moist earth was laughing below.
I am the daughter of earth and water,
And the nursling of the sky; •
I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores—
I change, but I cannot die.
The pavilion of heaven is bare,
Build up the blue dome of air,
And out of the caverns of rain,
I rise and upbuild it again.
THE SAXON TONGUE.
New gather all our Saxon bards,
Let harps and hearts be strung,
Our own good Saxon tongue;
With battle-flags unfurled,
To rouse and rule the world.
Stout Albion learns its household lays
On every surf-worn shore,
As Orkney's breakers roar;
It floats on every gale,
And warms with eloquence and song
On many a wide and swarming deck
It scales the rough wave's crest, Seeking its peerless heritage—
The fresh and fruitful West. It climbs New England's rocky steeps,
As victor mounts a throne; Niagara knows and .greets the voice,
Still mightier than its own.
It spreads where winter piles deep snows
On bleak Canadian plains;
Eternal summer reigns.
Jamaica's glowing isle;
Green Texan prairies smile.
It tracks the loud, swift Oregon,
Through sunset valleys rolled;
Wash down their sands of gold.
On seas of fierce Malay,
And towers of proud Bombay.
It wakes up Aden's flashing eyes,
Dusk brows, and swarthy limbs— The dark Liberian soothes her child
With English cradle hymns! Tasmania's maids are wooed and won
In gentle Saxon speech; Australian boys read Crusoe's life
By Sydney's sheltered beach.
It dwells where Afric's southmost cape Meets oceans broad and blue,
And Nieuveld's rugged mountains gird
The wide and waste Karroo.
That, while its praise you sing,
And those with flowers of spring.
It quickens lands whose meteor-lights
Flame in an arctic sky,
Hangs its orbed fires on high.
And righteous men desired;
And glorious Greeks admired;
With Shakspeare's deep and wondrous verse,
And Milton's loftier mind;
To cheer and bless mankind.
And error flies away,
Before the star of day!
But grand as are the victories
Whose monuments we see,
Of noontide yet to be!
Take heed! nor once disgrace,
Our noble tongue and race.
Go forth, prepared in every clime
And judge that they who counsel strife
Go forth, and jointly speed the time,
When Christian states, grown just and wise, Will scorn revenge and wrong;
When earth's oppressed and savage tribes
Shall cease to pine or roam,
Faith, Freedom, Heaven, and Home!
MAW WAS MADE TO MOUKH.
When chill November's surly blast
Made fields and forests bare,
Along the banks of Ayr,
Seemed weary, worn with care;
And hoary was his hair.
"Young stranger, whither wand'rest thou?"
Began the reverend sage;
Or youthful pleasure's rage?
Too soon thou hast began
The miseries of man!
The sun that overhangs yon moors
Out-spreading far and wide,
A haughty lordling's pride;—
Twice forty times return,
That man was made to mourn.
Oh, man! while in thy early years,
Misspending all thy precious hours,
Alternate follies take the sway;
Which tenfold force give Nature's law,
Look not alone on youthful prime,
Or manhood's active might;
Supported is his right:
With cares and sorrows worn;
Show man was made to mourn.
A few seem favourites of Fate,
Yet think not all the rich and great
But, oh! what crowds in every land,
Through weary life this lesson learn—
Many and sharp the num'rous ills
Inwoven with our frame!
Regret, remorse, and shame.
The smiles of love adorn—
Makes countless thousands mourn!
See yonder poor o'er-laboured wight,
So abject, mean, and vile, Who begs a brother of the earth
To give him leave to toil; And see his lordly fellow-worm
The poor petition spurn,