So met the sons of many lands,
Parted by mount and main;
So did they sing in brotherhood,
Made kindred by the chain.

I. THE BROTHER'S DIRGE.

In the proud old fanes of England
My warrior-fathers lie,

Banners hang drooping o'er their dust
With gorgeous blazonry.

But thou, but thou, my brother!
O'er thee dark billows sweep,
The best and bravest heart of all
Is shrouded by the deep.

In the old high wars of England
My noble fathers bled;

For her lion-kings of lance and spear,
They went down to the dead.

But thou, but thou, my brother!
Thy life-drops flow'd for me-
Would I were with thee in thy rest,
Young sleeper of the sea.

In a shelter'd home of England

Our sister dwells alone,

With quick heart listening for the sound

Of footsteps that are gone.

She little dreams, my brother!

Of the wild fate we have found; I, 'midst the Afric sands a slave,

Thou, by the dark seas bound.

II. THE ALPINE HORN.

THE Alpine horn! the Alpine horn!
Oh! through my native sky,
Might I but hear its deep notes borne
Once more-but once-and die!

Yet, no! 'midst breezy hills thy breath, So full of hope and morn,

Would win me from the bed of deathO joyous Alpine horn!

But here the echo of that blast,
To many a battle known,
Seems mournfully to wander past,
A wild, shrill, wailing tone!

Haunt me no more! for slavery's air
Thy proud notes were not born;
The dream but deepens my despair-
Be hush'd, thou Alpine horn!

III. O YE VOICES.

O YE voices round my own hearth singing!
As the winds of May to memory sweet,
Might I yet return, a worn heart bringing,
Would those vernal tones the wanderer greet,
Once again?

Never, never! Spring hath smiled and parted
Oft since then your fond farewell was said;
O'er the green turf of the gentle-hearted
Summer's hand the rose-leaves may have shed,
Oft again!

Or if still around my heart ye linger,

Yet, sweet voices! there must change have come; Years have quell'd the free soul of the singer, Vernal tones shall greet the wanderer home,

Ne'er again!

IV.-I DREAM OF ALL THINGS FREE.

I DREAM of all things free!

Of a gallant, gallant bark,

That sweeps through storm and sea,
Like an arrow to its mark!
Of a stag that o'er the hills
Goes bounding in his glee;
Of a thousand flashing rills-
Of all things glad and free.

I dream of some proud bird,

A bright-eyed mountain king! In my visions I have heard

The rushing of his wing. I follow some wild river,

On whose breast no sail may be; Dark woods around it shiver

I dream of all things free!

Of a happy forest child,

With the fawns and flowers at play; Of an Indian 'midst the wild,

With the stars to guide his way:
Of a chief his warriors leading,
Of an archer's greenwood tree:-
My heart in chains is bleeding,
And I dream of all things free!

V.-FAR O'ER THE SEA.

WHERE are the vintage songs
Wandering in glee?

Where dance the peasant bands

Joyous and free?

Under a kind blue sky,

Where doth my birthplace lie?

-Far o'er the sea.

Where floats the myrtle-scent

O'er vale and lea,

When evening calls the dove
Homewards to flee?

Where doth the orange gleam
Soft on my native stream?
Far o'er the sea!

Where are sweet eyes of love
Watching for me?

Where o'er the cabin roof
Waves the green tree?

Where speaks the vesper-chime
Still of a holy time?

Far o'er the sea.

Dance on, ye vintage bands,

Fearless and free!

Still fresh and greenly wave,

My father's tree!

Still smile, ye kind blue skies!
Though your son pines and dies
Far o'er the sea!

VI. THE INVOCATION.

OH! art thou still on earth, my love?
My only love!

Or smiling in a brighter home,
Far, far above?

Oh! is thy sweet voice fled, my love?
Thy light step gone?