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Dear native river, I am on thy shore-When 'erst I wander'd in youth's joyous days,And with what rapture, he, who gaz'd before,In after years reviews again thy ways,Thy sweeping elms, each lofty sycamoreIn whose broad shade he stole from Phoebus'…

Spring hath bless'd us with its flowersBlooming on the woodland sod;Birds have caroll'd o'er our bowersMusic wheresoe'er we've trod.Gone! they've fled, and summer smilingCame with sylphid step o'er earth,All our fancied ills beguiling,Wings to care…

How sweetly sinks the setting sunO'er yon blue mountain in the west,And man his daily labour done,Betakes him to his home and rest.Behold the scene! how soft and fair;Not yet hath twilight wheel'd her car,But o'er the valley, through the air,The…

My harp has long neglected laid, And very little music made; My Muse, at length, has fann'd the fire, And Freedom sweet attunes my lyre. FREEDOM's embalm'd in every heart, And oh! how loath with it we part! Pursu'd by all, by all desir'd, Caress'd by…

Methinks I fain would lie by the lone sea,
And hear the waters their music weave!
Methinks it were a pleasant thing to grieve,
So that our sorrows might companioned be
By that strange harmony
Of winds and billows, and the living sound
Sent down…

The Son of God is gone to war.
A kingly crown to gain.
His blood-red banner streams afar!
Who follows in his train?
Who best can drink his cup of woe,
Triumphant over pain?
Who boldest leaves his cross below?
He follows in his train.

The…

Beneath our feet, and o'er our head, Is equal warning given; Beneath us lie the countless dead, Above us is the heaven! Their names are graven on the stone, Their bones are in the clay; And ere another day is done, Ourselves may be as they. Death…

"Our task is done! on Gunga's breastThe sun is sinking down to rest;And, moored beneath the tamarind bough,Our bark has found its harbor now.With furled sail, and painted side,Behold the tiny frigate ride.Upon her deck, `mid charcoal gleams,The…

Like to the falling of a star,
Or as the flights of eagles are;
Or like the fresh spring's gaudy hue,
Or silver drops of morning dew;
Or like a wind that chafes the flood,
Or bubbles which on water stood;
Ev'n such is man, whose borrow'd…

When first my bosom glowed with hope, I gaz'd as from a mountain top On some delightful plain; But oh! how transient was the scene --- It fled as though it had not been, And all my hopes were vain. How oft this tantalizing blaze Has led me through…