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Kissing the hand that guides you to your scars, Which, if it waned and dwindled, earth may thank
The name of freedom to her glorious struggles;
But knows what all-and, most of all, we know-
A sceptre, and endures the purple robe;
If the free Switzer yet bestrides alone Heavyand sore,—in which long yoked they plougli'd His chainless mountains, 'tis but for a time, The sand,-or, if there sprung the yellow grain, For tyranny of late is cunning grown, 'Twas not for them, their necks were too much And in its own good season tramples down bow'd,
The sparkles of our ashes. One great clime,
Bequeath'd--a heritage of heart and hand,
As if his senseless sceptre were a wand
Full of the magic of exploded scienceCities and generations—fair, when free
Still one great clime, in full and free defiance, For, tyranny, there blooms no bud for thee!
Yet rears her crest, unconquer'd and sublime,
Above the far Atlantic!-She has taught
Her Esau-brethren that the haughty flag,
Rights cheaply earn’d with blood. Sull, still, forever
And loved their hostess, nor could learn to hate, Through thousand lazy channels in our veins,
Where the extinguish'd Spartans still are free,
In their proud charnel of Thermopylæ,
Oh! Woul How Thrd Is th
No, Iwi By
Than stagnate in our marsh,--or o'er the deep
T In N
Though lonely and far from the light of her smile,
TO THE INVISIBLE GIRL. 2:32. They try to persuade me, my dear little sprite,
That you are not a daughter of ether and light, D. Nor have any concern with those fanciful forms
That dance upon rainbows and ride upon storms; en That, in short, you're a woman; your lip and your 2.3. As mortal as ever were tasted or prest! ** But I will not believe them-no, science! to you =%" I have long bid a last and a careless adieu: 2003 Still flying from nature to study her laws,
And dulling delight by exploring its cause,
Is the fiction they dream to the truth that they know. Eto Oh! who, that has ever had rapture complete, an. Would ask how we feel it, or why it is sweet;
How rays are confus’d, or how particles fly
I will swear, you are one of those spirits, that rove - By the bank where, at twilight, the poet reclines,
When the star of the west on his solitude shines,
with a veil of seclusion between,
to the world let him utter unseen;
Oh! come and be near me, for ever be mine,
TO NEA. Well—peace to thy heart, though another's it be, And health to thy cheek, though it bloom not for me! To-morrow, I sail for those cinnamon groves, Where nightly the ghost of the Carribee roves, And, far from thine eye, oh! perhaps, 1 may yet Its seduction forgive and its splendour forget! Farewell to Bermuda, and long may the bloom Of the lemon and myrtle its valleys perfume ; May spring to eternity hallow the shade, Where Ariel has warbled and Waller has stray'd ! And thou—when, at dawn, thou shalt happen to roam Through the lime-cover'd alley that leads to thy
home, Where oft, when the dance and the revel were done, And the stars were beginning to fade in the sun, I have led thee along, and have told by the way What my heart all the night had been burning to
sayOh! think of the past-give a sigh to those times, And a blessing for me to that alley of limes!
TO JOSEPH ATKINSON, ESQ.
“ The daylight is gone-but, before we depart,
'Twas thus, by the shade of a calabash tree, With a few, who could feel and remember like me, The charm, that to sweeten my goblet I threw, Was a tear to the past and a blessing on you !
Oh! say, do you thus, in the luminous hour Of wine and of wit, when the heart is in flower And shoots from the lip, under Bacchus's dew,
Where streets should run and sages ought to be!
The dying sun prepares his golden grave!
In blossoms of thought ever springing and new! Nay-look not thus, with brow reproving;
The world would be in strange confusion !
If ladies' eyes were, every one,
As lovers swear, a radiant sun, Put the magical springs of my fancy in play,
Astronomy should leave the skies, And oh!-such a vision as haunted me then
To learn her lore in ladies' eyes! I could slumber for ages to witness again!
Oh no!-believe me, lovely girl, The many I like, and the few I adore,
When nature turns your teeth to pearl, The friends, who were dear and beloved before,
Your neck to snow, your eyes to fire, But never till now so beloved and dear,
Your yellow locks to golden wire, At the call of my fancy surrounded me here!
Then, only then, can heaven decree Soon, soon did the flattering spell of their smile
That you should live for only me, To a paradise brighten the blest little isle;
Or I for you, as, night and morn,
We've swearing kist, and kissing sworn!
And now, my gentle hints to clear,
For once, I'll tell you truth, my dear! Where the song of the shepherd, primæval and wild,
Whenever you may chance to meet Was taught to the nymphs by their mystical child,)
A loving youth, whose love is sweet, Could display such a bloom of delight, as was given
Long as you're false and he believes you,
Long as you trust and he deceives you,
And while he lies, his heart is yours:
But, oh! you've wholly lost the youth,
truth! Or blooms there a prospect in nature or art, Like the vista that shines through the eye to the heart?
TO THOMAS HUME, ESQ. M.D. Alas! that a vision so happy should fade!
FROM THE CITY OF WASHINGTON, That, when morning around me in brilliancy play'd,
'Tis evening now; the heats and cares The rose and the stream I had thought of at night In twilight dews are calmly wept away. Should still be before me, unfadingly bright; The lover now, beneath the western star, While the friends, who had seem'd to hang over the
Sighs through the medium of his sweet segar, stream,
And fills the ears of some consenting she
But see, through the harbour, in floating array,
There These Wool Andet Benea Casto
Hot Thou Toof
Natur But, Whil Thy Yet Her Fouc Prou less
With puffs and vows, with smoke and constancy!
In fancy now, beneath the twilight gloom,
If 0 W
And look, how soft in yonder radiant wave,
You mighty scenes in nature's
Jor yet had learn’d to stoop, with humbler care, Thus let us meet, and mingle converse dear 'rom grand to soft, from wonderful to fair!
By Thames at home, or by Potowmac here! jay were your towering hills, your boundless floods, O’er lake and marsh, thro' fevers and thro' fogs, Tour rich savannas and majestic woods,
Midst bears and yankees, democrats and frogs, Where bards should meditate and heroes rove, Thy foot shall follow me, thy heart and eyes Ind woman charm and man deserve her love! With me shall wonder, and with me despise ! Oh! was a world so bright but born to grace While I, as oft, in witching thought shall rove ts own half-organiz'd, half-minded race
To thee, to friendship, and that land I love, Of weak barbarians, swarming o'er its breast, Where, like the air that fans her fields of green, Like vermin gender'd on the lion's crest ?
Her freedom spreads, unfever'd and serene; Were none but brutes to call that soil their home, Where sovereign man can condescend to see Where none but demi-gods should dare to roam ? The throne and laws more sovereign still than he! Or worse, thou mighty world! oh! doubly worse, Did heaven design thy lordly land to nurse Che motley dregs of every distant clime,
CLORIS AND FANNY. Cach blast of anarchy, and taint of crime,
Cloris! if I were Persia's king, Which Europe shakes from her perturbed sphere,
I'd make my graceful queen of thee; in full malignity to rankle here?
While Fanny, wild and artless thing, Zut hush!-observe that little mount of pines,
Should but thy humble handmaid be. Where the breeze murmurs and the fire-fly shines, There let thy fancy raise, in bold relief,
There is but one objection in itThe sculptur'd image of that veteran chief,
That, verily, I'm much afraid Vho lost the rebel's in the hero's name,
I should, in some unlucky minute,
Forsake the mistress for the maid!
4 CANADIAN BOAT SONG. How shall we rank thee upon glory's page ?
Et remigem cantus hortatur.
Faintly as tolls the evening chime,
Soon as the woods on shore look dim, But, ere she cast thee, let the stuff
cold! We'll sing at St. Ann's our parting hymn. While warmer souls command, nay make their fate, Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast, Thy fate made thee and forc'd thee to be great. The rapids are near, and the daylight's past ! Yet Fortune, who so oft, so blindly sheds
Why should we yet our sail unfurl?
There is not a breath the blue wave to curl !
But, when the wind blows off the shore,
Oh! sweetly we'll rest our weary oar,
Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast,
The rapids are near, and the daylight's past! Far less than all thou hast forborne to be!
Utawa's tide! this trembling moon
Shall see us float over thy surges soon. Now turn thine eye where faint the moonlight falls
Saint of this green isle! hear our prayers, On yonder dome—and in those princely halls,
Oh! grant us cool heavens and favouring airs. If thou can'st hate, as, oh! that soul must hate,
Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast, Which loves the virtuous and reveres the great,
The rapids are near, and the daylight's past! If thou canst loath and execrate with me That Gallic garbage of philosophy, That nauseous slaver of those frantic times,
FROM THE TWOPENNY POST-BAG. With which false liberty dilutes her crimes !
LETTER II. If thou hast got, within thy free-born breast,
FROM COLONEL MM-H-N TO GLD FR-NC-S
Have taken much lately to whispering in door-ways;
Which-consid'ring, you know, dear, the size of
A much more independent trade
(While Y-rm-th's sketching out a plan In short, until the House of Guelph
Of new Moustaches a l'Ottomane) Lays Lords and Commons on the shelf,
And all things fitting and expedient And boldly sets up for itself!
To turkify our gracious R–g-ot! All, that can well be understood
You, therefore, have no time to wasteIn this said Book, is vastly good;
So, send your System.And, as to what's incomprehensible,
Your's, in haste. I dare be sworn 'tis full as sensible.
POSTSCRIPT. Butấto your work's immortal credit
Before I send this scrawl away, The P-e, good Sir, the P-e has read it;
I seize a moment, just to say, (The only Book, himself remarks, Which he has read since Mrs. Clarke's).
There's some parts of the Turkish system Last Levee-moru he look'd it through,
So vulgar, 'twere as well you miss'd 'em.
For instance in Seraglio mattersDuring that awful hour or two
Your Turk, whom girlish fondness flatters, Of grave tonsorial preparation,
Would fill his Haram (tasteless fool!) Which, to a fond, admiring nation,
With tittering, red-cheek'd things from schoolSends forth, announc'd by trump and drum,
But here (as in that fairy land, The best-wigg'd P-e in Christendom!
Where Love and Age went hand in hand; He thinks with you, th' imagination
Where lips, till sixty, shed no honey, Of partnership in legislation
And Grandams were worth any money)
Our Sultan has much riper notions-
So, let your list of she-promotions
Include those only, plump and sage, They ev'n must have a King and Co.
Who've reach'd the regulation-age; And hence, too, eloquently show forth
That is as near as one can fix
From Peerage dates—full fifty-six.
This rule's for fav’riles—nothing more-
For, as to wives, a Grand Signor, “ Whip me those scoundrels, C-sl-r-gh!"
Though not decidedly without them, Or_“ Hang me up those Papists, Eld—n,"
Need never care one curse about them! And 'twill be done-aye, faith, and well done.
LETTER V. With view to which, I've his command
FROM THE COUNTESS DOWAGER OF C To beg, Sir, from your travellid hand, (Round which the foreign graces swarm)
My dear Lady
- ! I've been just sending out A Plan of radical Reform; Compil'd and chos'n as best you can,
About five hundred cards for a snug little RoutIn Turkey or at Ispahan,
(By the bye, you've seen Rokeby ?—this moment And quite upturning, branch and root, Lords, Commons, and Burdett to boot !
The Mail-Coach Edition-prodigiously fine!) But, pray, whate'er you may impart, write
But I can't conceive how, in this very cold weather, Somewhat more brief than Major C-rtwr-ght;
I'm ever to bring my five hundred together; Else, though the Prebe long in rigging,
As, unless the thermometer's near boiling heat, 'Twould take, at least, a fortnight's wigging,
One can never get half of one's hundreds to meetTwo wigs to every paragraph
(Apropos —you'd have laugh'd to see Tow asend Before he well could get through half.
Escort to their chairs, with his staff so polite, You'll send it also speedily
The “ three maiden Miseries," all in a fright! As, truth to say, 'twixt you and me,
Poor Townsend, like Mercury, filling two posts,
Supervisor of thieves, and chief-usher of ghosts!)
notion, When (ou his Lordship's entering puff’d) he
At least for one night to set London in motion ? Slapp'd his back and call'd him “ Mufti!"
As to having the R-gent-that show is gone by The tailors too have got commands,
Besides, I've remarked that (between you and I) To put directly into hands
The Marchesa and' he, inconvenient in more ways, All sorts of Dulimans and Pouches, With Sashes, Turbans, and Paboutches,
-! can't you hit on soine