« PreviousContinue »
That House with many a funeral-garland hung *
Nor at the fragrant hour-at early dawn-
Thus, while the world but claims its proper part,
Soon through the gadding vine the sun looks in,
* A custom in some of our country-churches.
Blend as they rise; and (while without are seen,
the bustle and the strife!
'Twas morn—the sky-lark o'er the furrow sung As from his lips the slow consent was wrung; As from the glebe his fathers tilled of old, The plough they guided in an age of gold, Down by the beech-wood side he turned away And now behold him in an evil day Serving the State again—not as before, Not foot to foot, the war-whoop at his door,But in the Senate; and (though round him fly The jest, the sneer, the subtle sophistry,) With honest dignity, with manly sense, And every charm of natural eloquence, Like HAMPDEN struggling in his Country's cause, The first, the foremost to obey the laws,
The last to brook oppression. On he moves,