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TO THE EAGLE.

BY J. G. PERCIVAL.

BIRD of the broad and sweeping wing,
Thy home is high in heaven,

Where wide the storms their banners fling,
And the tempest clouds are driven.
Thy throne is on the mountain top;
Thy fields, the boundless air;
And hoary peaks, that proudly prop
The skies, thy dwellings are.

Thou sittest like a thing of light,
Amid the noontide blaze:

The midway sun is clear and bright;
It cannot dim thy gaze.

Thy pinions, to the rushing blast,

O'er the bursting billow, spread,

Where the vessel plunges, hurry past,
Like an angel of the dead.

Thou art perch'd aloft on the beetling crag,
And the waves are white below,
And on, with a haste that cannot lag,

They rush in an endless flow.

Again thou hast plumed thy wing for flight

To lands beyond the sea,

And away, like a spirit wreath'd in light,
Thou hurriest, wild and free.

TO THE EAGLE.

Thou hurriest over the myriad waves,

And thou leavest them all behind;

Thou sweepest that place of unknown graves,
Fleet as the tempest wind.

When the night-storm gathers dim and dark,

With a shrill and boding scream, Thou rushest by the foundering bark,

Quick as a passing dream.

Lord of the boundless realm of air,

In thy imperial name,

The hearts of the bold and ardent dare
The dangerous path of fame.
Beneath the shade of thy golden wings,
The Roman legions bore,

From the river of Egypt's cloudy springs,
Their pride, to the polar shore.

For thee they fought, for thee they fell,
And their oath was on thee laid;
To thee the clarions raised their swell,
And the dying warrior pray'd.

Thou wert, through an age of death and fears,
The image of pride and power,

Till the gather'd rage of a thousand years
Burst forth in one awful hour.

And then a deluge of wrath it came,

And the nations shook with dread;

And it swept the earth till its fields were flame,
And piled with the mingled dead.
Kings were roll'd in the wasteful flood,
With the low and crouching slave;
And together lay, in a shroud of blood,
The coward and the brave.

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TO THE EAGLE.

And where was then thy fearless flight?
"O'er the dark, mysterious sea,

To the lands that caught the setting-light,
The cradle of Liberty.

There, on the silent and lonely shore,
For ages, I watch'd alone,

And the world, in its darkness, ask'd no more
Where the glorious bird had flown.

"But then came a bold and hardy few,
And they breasted the unknown wave;
I caught afar the wandering crew;

And I knew they were high and brave.
I wheel'd around the welcome bark,
As it sought the desolate shore,
And up to heaven, like a joyous lark,
My quivering pinions bore,

"And now that bold and hardy few

Are a nation wide and strong;

And danger and doubt I have lead them through,
And they worship me in song;

And over their bright and glancing arms,
On field, and lake, and sea,

With an eye that fires, and a spell that charms,
I guide them to victory."

A NAME IN THE SAND.

BY HANNAH F. GOULD.

ALONE I walk'd the ocean strand;
A pearly shell was in my hand:
I stoop'd and wrote upon the sand

My name the year-the day.
As onward from the spot I pass'd,
One lingering look behind I cast:
A wave came rolling high and fast,
And wash'd my lines away.

And so, methought, 'twill shortly be
With every mark on earth from me;
A wave of dark oblivion's sea

Will sweep across the place,
Where I have trod the sandy shore
Of time, and been to be no more,
Of me—my day—the name I bore,
To leave nor track nor trace.

And yet, with Him who counts the sands,
And holds the waters in his hands,
I know the lasting record stands,
Inscribed against my name,

Of all this mortal part has wrought;
Of all this thinking soul has thought;
And from these fleeting moments caught
For glory, or for shame.

THE DAYS THAT ARE PAST.

BY EPES SARGENT.

WE will not deplore them, the days that are past;
The gloom of misfortune is over them cast;

They are lengthen'd by sorrow and sullied by care;
Their griefs were too many, their joys were too rare ;
Yet, now that their shadows are on us no more,
Let us welcome the prospect that brightens before!

We have cherish'd fair hopes, we have plotted brave schemes,
We have lived till we find them illusive as dreams;
Wealth has melted like snow that is grasp'd in the hand,
And the steps we have climb'd have departed like sand;
Yet shall we despond while of health unbereft,
And honour, bright honour, and freedom are left ?

Q! shall we despond, while the pages of time
Yet open before us their records sublime!

While, ennobled by treasures more precious than gold,
We can walk with the martyrs and heroes of old;
While humanity whispers such truths in the ear,
As it softens the heart like sweet music to hear?

O! shall we despond while, with visions still free,
We can gaze on the sky, and the earth, and the sea;
While the sunshine can waken a burst of delight,
And the stars are a joy and a glory by night:
While each harmony, running through nature, can raise
In our spirits the impulse of gladness and praise?

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