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Our hearths shall be kindled in gladness,
THE LOVER TO HIS MISTRESS
ON HER BIRTHDAY.
If any white winged Power above
My joys and griefs survey,
of beauty's magic powers,
And changed its weeds to flowers.
But thought I earth had one
Like stars before the sun ?
Th’ unfinished accents hang:
To rapture changed each pang.
Those tranced moments flew,
But duly shall my raptured song,
And gladly shall my eyes,,
As thou shalt see it rise.
MEN OF ENGLAND."
men of England! who inherit
Rights that cost your sires their blood Men whose undegenerate spirit
Has been proved on-land and flood :By the foes ye've fought uncounted,
By the glorious deeds ye've done, 'Trophies captured-breaches mounted,
Navies conquered-kingdoms won! Yet, remember, England gathers
Hence but fruitless wreaths of fame, If the patriotism of your
fathers Glow not in your hearts the same. What are monuments of bravery,
Where no public virtues bloom? What avail in lands of slavery,'
Trophied temples, arch and tomb? Pageants !--Let the world revere us
For our people's rights and laws, And the breasts of civic heroes
Bared in Freedom's holy causc. Yours are Hampden's, Russell's glory,
Sydney's matchless shade is yours.--
Martyrs in heroic story,
Worth a hundred Agincourts ! We're the sons of sires that baffled
Crowned and mitred tyranny: They defied the field and scaffold
For their birthrights-so will we!
And sad pale Adelgrtha came,
And slew the slangerer of her fame.
But when he knelt to claim her glove “Seek not,” she cried, " oh! gallant stranger.
For hapless Adelgitla's love. “ For he is in a foreign far land
Whose arm should now have set me free; And I must wear the willow garland
For him that's dead, or false to me.” “ Nay! say not that his faith is tainted !”
Ye raised his vizor-At the sight She fell into his arms and fainted;
It was indeed her own true knight!
Drink ye to her that each loves best,
And if you nurse a flame
We will not ask her name.
Enough, while memory tranced and glad
Paints silently the fair,
Or yet may hope to share.
From hallowed thoughts so dear:
As they would love to hear.
When Napoleon was flying
From the field of Waterloo, A British soldier dying,
To his brother bade adieu ! " And take,” he said, “this token
To the maid that owns my faith, With the words that I have spoken
In affection's latest breath." Sore mourned the brother's heart,
When the youth beside him fell; But the trumpet warned to part,
And they took a sad farewell. There was many a friend to lose him,
For that gallant soldier sighed; But the maiden of his bosom
Wept when all their tears were dried.
False, unkind, or found too late
And sing Wo's me- -Wo's me!
And still more solemn flee Suspense's thorns, Suspicion's stings; Yet somehow Love a something brings
That's sweet-ev'n when we sigh Wo’s me!
Earl March looked on his dying child,
And smit with grief to view herThe youth, he cried, whom I exiled,
Shall be restored to woo her.
His coming to discover:
And she looked on her lover-
Though her smile on him was dwelling
It broke the heart of Ellen.
Her cheek is cold as ashes;
To lift their silken lashes.