II. Three little moons, how short, amidst the grove, And pastoral savannas they consume! While she, beside her buskin'd youth to rove, Her lovely brow to shade with Indian plume; And interchange of hearts unknown, unseen to share. III. What though the sportive dog oft round them note, Or fawn, or wild bird bursting on the wing; Yet who, in love's own presence, would devote To death those gentle throats that wake the spring; Or writhing from the brook its victim bring? Vows. IV. Now labyrinths, which but themselves can pierce, V. And in the visions of romantic youth, But mortal pleasure, what art thou in truth! When where of yesterday a garden bloom'd, 1 Death overspread his pall, and black'ning ashes gloom'd. VI. Sad was the year, by proud oppression driv'n, When Transatlantic Liberty arose, Not in the sunshine, and the smile of heav'n, But wrapt in whirlwinds, and begirt with woes: Amidst the strife of fratricidal foes, Her baptism is the weight of blood that flows From kindred hearts the blood of British veins And famine tracks her steps, and pestilential pains. VII. Yet, ere the storm of death had rag'd remote, Who now each dreadful circumstance shall note, Portentous light! and music's voice is dumb; Save where the fife its shrill reveillè screams, Or midnight streets re-echo to the drum, That speaks of mad'ning strife, and bloodstain'd fields war. to come. Alluding to the miseries that attended the American civil VIII. It was in truth a momentary pang; Yet how comprising myriad shapes of woe! • Nay meet not thou, (she cries), thy kindred foe! IX. But shame-but flight-a recreant's name to prove, • To hide in exile ignominious fears; • Say, ev'n if this I brook'd, the public love Thy father's bosom to his home endears: |