No more let the minstrel
Sing enraptured of May; Thy beauties, fair season, Shall waken his lay; Thy morn is serener, And brighter thy noon; Thy evening more lovely, O come smiling JUNE.
I marked him once, and that dim eye,
Methought could tell of hidden wo;
I saw no tear, I heard no sigh;
The sigh was hushed, no tear could flow.
His form was decked in misery's garb, That idly mocked the storm's control; His heart was torn-neglect's keen barb, With cruel fang, had pierced his soul.
Yet no sad tale the veteran told,
His prayer, my country, was for thee;
Meekly resigned, though basely sold
To grief, contempt and POVERTY.
Yes, those that never met the foe,
That never warmed with freedom's flame,
Could bravely crush the warrior low,
Could spurn the hoary veteran's claim.
I saw the passing flood of years
Bear him to some forgotten grave;
For him affection had no tears,
No sigh was given to the brave..
Here doth the war-worn veteran sleep,
And soft is now the soldier's bed;
Mourn not his fate; your country weep,
Lament; her gratitude is dead.
You ask'd, I remember, if those that have flown
To the regions of sunshine, would visit again
The scenes of past grief, to mortality known,
The dream of anxiety, chequered with pain?
Should from courts beatific, the spotless e'er bend,
And delights, once endeared, unimpassioned descry;
Is there aught that could bid the wrapt spirit descend,
Or a wish rise unbidden, to waken the sigh?
If so, 'tis the thought of that innocent bliss,
The sun-ray, expanding affection's young flower,
Which, caught from yon region, beams brightly on this,
And to Time lends the hue of Eternity's hour.
If so, 'tis remembrance of love's plighted vow,
The sweets of communion, once ardent and true;
And the wish that those veiled in mortality now,
Should soar disembodied, and friendship renew.
SPIRIT OF SONG, with impulse true,
I offer at thy viewless shrine;
Thou canst the throb of grief subdue;
For bliss serene and pure, is thine.
SPIRIT OF SONG, in early days,
"Twas thou that whispered'st joy to me;
In manhood, I invoke thy lays,
For thou alone art all to me.
SPIRIT OF SONG, I ask no boon
Of earth, to gild my youthful day;
And when I enter life's calm noon,
Shall never crave ambition's ray:
But, sweet INSPIRER, still do thou,
Life's rugged path, with smiles illume;
And as thou guid'st and charm'st me now,
Descend and cheer me to the tomb.
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