That dared assert their birth-right, and displayed
Deeds half-divine, returning Good for Ill;
That in the desert sowed the seeds of life,
Framing a band of small Republics there,
Which still exist, the envy of the World!
Who would not land in each, and tread the ground; Land where Tell leaped ashore; and climb to drink Of the three sacred fountains? He, that does, Comes back the better; and relates at home
That he was met and greeted by a race
Such as he read of in his boyish days;
Such as Miltiades at Marathon
Led, when he chased the Persians to their ships.
There, while the well-known boat is heaving in,
Piled with rude merchandize, or launching forth,
Thronged with wild cattle for Italian fairs,
There in the sun-shine, mid their native snows,
Children, let loose from school, contend to use
The cross-bow of their fathers; and o'er-run
The rocky field where all, in every age,
Assembling sit, like one great family,
Forming alliances, enacting laws;
No cliff or head-land or green promontory
But echoing back strains of their father-land,
Graven to their eyes with records of the past
That prompt to hero-worship, and excite
Even in the least, the lowliest, as he toils,
A reverence no where else or felt or feigned;
Their chronicler great Nature; and the volume
Vast as her works-above, below, around!
The fisher on thy beach, Thermopylæ,
Asks of the lettered stranger why he came,
First from his lips to learn the glorious truth!
And who that whets his scythe in Runnemede,
Tho' but for them a slave, recalls to mind
The barons in array with their great charter?
Among the everlasting Alps alone,
There to burn on as in a Sanctuary,
Bright and unsullied lives the' ethereal flame.
"Twas Freedom kindled it; Religion guards it. And mid those scenes unchanged, unchangeable, Why should it ever die?
ON thee, blest youth, a father's hand confers
The maid thy earliest, fondest wishes knew.
Each soft enchantment of the soul is hers;
Thine be the joys to firm attachment due.
As on she moves with hesistating grace,
She wins assurance from his soothing voice;
And, with a look the pencil could not trace,
Smiles thro' her blushes, and confirms the choice.
Spare the fine tremors of her feeling frame!
To thee she turns-forgive a virgin's fears!
To thee she turns with surest, tenderest claim;
Weakness that charms, reluctance that endears!
At each response the sacred rite requires,
From her full bosom bursts the unbidden sigh.
A strange mysterious awe the scene inspires;
And on her lips the trembling accents die.
O'er her fair face what wild enotions play!.
What lights and shades in sweet confusion blend!
Soon shall they fly, glad harbingers of day,
And settled sunshine on her soul descend!
Ah soon, thine own confest, ecstatic thought!
That hand shall strew thy summer-path with flowers;
And those blue eyes, with mildest lustre fraught,
Gild the calm current of domestic hours!
HE sun-beams streak the azure skies, And line with light the mountain's brow: With hounds and horns the hunters rise,
And chase the roebuck thro' the snow.
From rock to rock, with giant-bound,
High on their iron poles they pass;
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