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Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1854, by

* BERBGRT LANCEY; in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Maine.

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BAZIN & CHANDLER,

PRINTERS, 37 Cornhill, Boston.

BY PERMISSION,

* The Native Poets of Maine,

IS DEDICATED

TO

HENRY WADS WORTH LONGFELLOW.

THE

MOST GIFTED OF AMERICAN POETS,

AND

A DISTINGUISHED

SON OF MAINE.

M107563

OUR VOLUME.

o 'Tis like the books that silently among

Our household treasures take familiar places, And are to us as if a living tongue

Spoke from the printed leaves and pictured faces.

• Therefore we hope, as no unwelcome guest,

At your warm fireside when the lamps are lighted, Twill have its place reserved among the rest,

Nor stand as one unsought and uninvited.'

PRO EM.

BY WILLIAM BELCHER GLAZIER.

HARP of the dark Pine forest-land !

Harp, that the Poets' birth-place owns ! How bold becomes the timorous hand,

When once it wakes thy tones.

Here, where the broadest rivers sweep,

Here, where the dimmest woods are found, Our fondest memories start from sleep,

Aroused by thy dear sound.

Come, let me strike thy chords once more,

And, while my fingers o'er them roam, Return the strain beloved of yore,

And murmur, Harp, of Home.

Yes, this is Home! its tasseled pines,

Its rugged hills, its short-lived flowers, Its fields where Winter late reclines,

Are cheerless, but are ours.

Hearts have beat, warmly here as where

The Summer-lingers late and long, And here have brows found strength to bear

The laurel wreath of Song.

The strains that fill with Hope the heart,

The lays that cheer us in the strife, The songs that make young Love a part,

The dearest part of Life;

The fancies that the Poets find

In buds, in streams, in forests sere, In spells that master every mind,

Have all been uttered here.

And thou who readest, if a strain

Brings joy or makes one care to flee, Let it, too, bear the low refrain,

• This song was sung for thee.'

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