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THE LIGHT OF HOME.
My boy, thou wilt dream the world is fair,
And thy spirit will sigh to roam;
Forget the light of home.
It dazzles to lead astray :
When thou treadest the lonely way.
But the hearth of home has a constant flame,
And pure as vestal fire: ”Twill burn, 'twill burn, for ever the same,
For nature feeds the pyre.
The sea of ambition is tempest-tost,
And thy hopes may vanish like foam ;
Then look to the light of home;
And then, like a star through the midnight cloud,
Thou shalt see the beacon bright! For never, till shining on thy shroud,
Can be quench'd its holy light.
The sun of fame, 'twill gild the name ;
But the heart ne'er felt its ray;
Are but beams of a wint’ry day.
And how cold and dim those beams must be,
Should life's wretched wanderer come ! But, my boy, when the world is dark to thee, Then turn to the light of home.
MRS. HALE. THE AFRICAN CHIEF.:
CHAIN'd in the market-place he stood
A man of giant frame, Amid the gath’ring multitude
That shrunk to hear his nameAll stern of look and strong of limb,
His dark eye on the ground :And silently they gaz'd on him,
As on a lion bound.
Vainly, but well, that chief had fought,
He was a captive now,
Was written on his brow.
Show'd warrior true and brave; A prince among his tribe before,
He could not be a slave.
Then to his conqueror he spake
“ My brother is a king ; Undo this necklace from my neck,
And take this bracelet ring,
| The story of the African Chief, related in this ballad, may be found in the African Repository for April, 1825. The subject of it was a warrior, the brother of Yarradee, king of the Solima nation, a people who inhabit a country adjoining those rivers of Western Africa which enter the sea at or to the north of Sierra Leone. He had been taken in battle, and was brought in chains for sale to the Rio Pongas, where he was exhibited in the market-place, his ankles still adorned with the massy rings of gold which he wore when captured. The refusal of his captor to listen to his offers of ransom drove him mad, and he died a maniac.
And send me where my brother reigns,
And I will fill thy hands
And gold-dust from the sands."
“ Not for thy ivory nor thy gold
Will I unbind thy chain;
The battle-spear again.
Shall yet be paid for thee;
In lands beyond the sea.”
Then wept the warrior chief, and bade
To shred his locks away ;
Before the victor lay.
And deftly hidden there
The dark and crisped hair.
“Look, feast thy greedy eye with gold
Long kept for sorest need ;
that I am freed.
Weeps by the cocoa-tree, And my young children leave their play
And ask in vain for me.”
“ I take thy gold — but I have made
Thy fetters fast and strong, And ween that by the cocoa-shade
Thy wife will wait thee long."
Strong was the agony that shook
The captive's frame to hear,
Was chang’d to mortal fear.
His heart was broken - craz'd his brain :
At once his eye grew wild ;
Whisper'd, and wept, and smil'd;
And once, at shut of day,
" Why sitt'st thou by that ruin'd hall, Thou aged carle so stern and grey
? Dost thou its former pride recal,
Or ponder how it pass'd away?”
“ Know'st thou not me ?” the deep voice cried,
“ So long enjoy'd, so oft misus’d: Alternate, in thy fickle pride,
Desir'd, neglected, and accus'd ?
“Before my breath, like blazing flax,
Man and his marvels pass away; And changing empires wane and wax,
Are founded, flourish, and decay.
6 Redeem mine hours - the space is brief
While in my glass the sand-grains shiver ;
Scott. THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS IN
The breaking waves dash'd high
On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woods, against a stormy sky,
Their giant branches toss'd;
And the heavy night hung dark
The hills and waters o'er,
On the wild New England shore.
Not as the conqueror comes,
They, the true-hearted came;
And the trumpet that sings of fame :
In silence and in fear.
With their hymns of lofty cheer.
And the stars heard, and the sea, And the surrounding aisles of the dim wood rang
To the anthem of the free.
The ocean-eagle soar'd
From his nest by the white waves' foam, And the rocking pines of the forest roar'd
This was their welcome home!
| New England was colonised by a body of Puritans, who left England, 1620, that they might enjoy the full exercise of their religion.