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With head up-rais'd, and look intent,
And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace
A Chieftain's daughter seem'd the maid;
Her kindness and her worth to spy,
THE PAUPER'S DEATH-BED.
TREAD softly- bow the head
In reverent silence bow -
Is passing now.
Stranger! however great,
With lowly reverence bow :
shed One by that paltry bed
Greater than thou.
Beneath that beggar's roof,
Lo! Death doth keep his state,
This palace gate.
That pavement, damp and cold,
No smiling courtiers tread;
A dying head.
No mingling voices sound
An infant wail alone;
The parting groan.
Oh! change-oh wondrous change!
Burst are the prison bars. —
Beyond the stars !
Oh! change - stupendous change!
There lies the soulless clod;
THE SHIP'S DEPARTURE.
STATELY yon vessel sails adown the tide,
To some far distant land adventurous bound ; The sailors' busy cries from side to side
Pealing among the echoing rocks resound; A patient, thoughtless, much-enduring band,
Joyful they enter on their ocean way, With shouts exulting leave their native land,
And know no care beyond the present day.
But is there no poor mourner left behind,
Who sorrows for a child or husband there? Who at the howling of the midnight-wind
Will wake and tremble in her boding prayer! So may her voice be heard, and Heaven be kind ! Go, gallant ship, and be thy fortune fair!
THE SHIP'S RETURN.
She comes majestic with her swelling sails,
The gallant bark! along her watery way Homeward she drives before the favouring gales ;
Now flirting at their length the streamers play, And now they ripple with the ruffling breeze.
Hark to the sailors' shouts ! the rocks rebound,
Thundering in echoes to the joyful sound. Long have they voyag'd o'er the distant seas,
And what a heart-delight they feel at last,
So many toils, so many dangers past, To view the port desir'd, he only knows,
Who on the stormy deep for many a day
Hath tost, aweary of his ocean way, And watch'd, all anxious, every wind that blows.
The stormy March is come at last,
With wind, and cloud, and changing skies ; I hear the rushing of the blast,
That through the snowy valley flies.
Ah, passing few are they who speak,
Wild stormy month! in praise of thee; Yet, though thy winds are loud and bleak,
Thou art a welcome month to me.
For thou to northern lands again
The glad and glorious sun dost bring, And thou hast join'd the gentle train,
And wear'st the gentle name of Spring.
And, in thy reign of blast and storm,
Smiles many a long, bright, sunny day, When the chang’d winds are soft and warm,
And heaven puts on the blue of May.
Then sing aloud the gushing rills
And the full springs, from frost set free, That, brightly leaping down the hills,
Are just set out to meet the sea.
The year's departing beauty hides
Of wintry storms the sullen threat ; But in thy sternest frown abides
A look of kindly promise yet.
Thou bring'st the hope of those calm skies,
And that soft time of sunny showers, When the wide bloom, on earth that lies, Seems of a brighter world than ours.