Emblems of power and beauty! well may ther Shine brightest on our borders, and withdraw Toward the great Pacific, marking out

The path of empire. Thus in our own land.
Ere long, the better Genius of our race,
Having encompassed earth, and tamed its tribes.

Shall sit him down beneath the farthest west,
By the shore of that calm ocean, and look back
On realms made happy,

Light the nuptial torch,
And say the glad, yet solemn rite, that knits
The youth and maiden. Happy days to them
That wed this evening!-a long life of love,
And blooming sons and daughters! Happy they
Born at this hour, for they shall see an age
Whiter and holier than the past, and go

Late to their graves. Men shall wear softer hearts, And shudder at the butcheries of war,

As now at other murders.

Hapless Greece!

Enough of blood has wet thy rocks, and stained
Thy rivers; deep enough thy chains have worn
Their links into thy flesh; the sacrifice
Of thy pure maidens, and thy innocent babes,
And reverend priests, has expiated all

Thy crimes of old. In yonder mingling lights
There is an omen of good days for thee.

Thou shalt arise from midst the dust and sit
Again among the nations. Thine own arm
Shall yet redeem thee. Not in wars like thine
The world takes part. Be it a strife of kings,—
Despot with despot battling for a throne,—
And Europe shall be stirred throughout her realms,
Nations shall put on harness, and shall fall
Upon each other, and in all their bounds
The wailing of the childless shall not cease.
Thine is a war for liberty, and thou
Must fight it single-handed. The old world
Looks coldly on the murderers of thy race,
And leaves thee to the struggle; and the new,-
I fear me thou couldst tell a shameful tale
Of fraud and lust of gain;-thy treasury drained,
And Missolonghi fallen. Yet thy wrongs

Shall put new strength into thy heart and hand,
And God and thy good sword shall yet work out,
For thee, a terrible deliverance.

United States Literary Gazette," September, 1826.

THE DAMSEL OF PERU.

HERE olive-leaves were twinkling in every

WHE

wind that blew,

There sat beneath the pleasant shade a damsel of Peru. Betwixt the slender boughs, as they opened to the air, Came glimpses of her ivory neck and of her glossy hair; And sweetly rang her silver voice, within that shady nook,

As from the shrubby glen is heard the sound of hidden brook.

'Tis a song of love and valor, in the noble Spanish.

tongue,

That once upon the sunny plains of old Castile was

sung;

When, from their mountain-holds, on the Moorish rout

below,

Had rushed the Christians like a flood, and swept away

the foe.

Awhile that melody is still, and then breaks forth anew A wilder rhyme, a livelier note, of freedom and Peru.

For she has bound the sword to a youthful lover's side, And sent him to the war the day she should have

been his bride,

And bade him bear a faithful heart to battle for the right, And held the fountains of her eyes till he was out of

sight.

Since the parting kiss was given, six weary months

are fled,

And yet the foe is in the land, and blood must yet be shed.

A white hand parts the branches, a lovely face looks forth, And bright dark eyes gaze steadfastly and sadly toward the north.

Thou look'st in vain, sweet maiden, the sharpest sight would fail

To spy a sign of human life abroad in all the vale; For the noon is coming on, and the sunbeams fiercely

beat,

And the silent hills and forest-tops seem reeling in the

heat.

That white hand is withdrawn, that fair sad face is

gone,

But the music of that silver voice is flowing sweetly on, Not as of late, in cheerful tones, but mournfully and

low,

A ballad of a tender maid heart-broken long ago,