THE GREEK BOY. ONE are the glorious Greeks of old, G° Glorious in mien and mind; Their bones are mingled with the mould, Their dust is on the wind; The forms they hewed from living stone. And, scattered with their ashes, show Yet fresh the myrtles there; the springs Flowers blossom from the dust of kings, As many an age before. There Nature moulds as nobly now, As e'er of old, the human brow; That braved Platea's battle-storm. Boy! thy first looks were taught to seek Their heaven in Hellas' skies; Her airs have tinged thy dusky cheek, Her sunshine lit thine eyes; Thine ears have drunk the woodland strains Heard by old poets, and thy veins Swell with the blood of demigods, That slumber in thy country's sods. Now is thy nation free, though late; Broke, ere thy spirit felt its weight- And Greece, decayed, dethroned, doth see A shoot of that old vine that made The nations silent in its shade. New York, 1828. "Talisman," 1829. THE HUNTER'S SERENADE. HY bower is finished, fairest ! THY Fit bower for hunter's bride, The green savanna's side. I've wandered long, and wandered far, A spot so lovely yet. But I shall think it fairer When thou art come to bless, With thy sweet smile and silver voice, For thee the wild-grape glistens On sunny knoll and tree, The slim papaya ripens Its yellow fruit for thee. For thee the duck, on glassy stream, My rifle for thy feast shall bring VOL. I.-14 The forest's leaping panther, Fierce, beautiful, and fleet, I know, for thou hast told me, When our wide woods and mighty lawns The earth has no more gorgeous sight To show to human eyes. Murmurs, and loads his yellow thighs, Or wouldst thou gaze at tokens Of ages long ago Our old oaks stream with mosses, And sprout with mistletoe; And mighty vines, like serpents, climb The giant sycamore; And trunks, o'erthrown for centuries, Cumber the forest floor; And in the great savanna, The solitary mound, Built by the elder world, o'erlooks Come, thou hast not forgotten Thy pledge and promise quite, Come, the young violets crowd my door, Upon the mulberry near, And the night-sparrow trills her song New York, 1828. "Talisman," 1829. |