HOPE. HE night is mother of the day, And ever upon old decay Behind the cloud the starlight lurks; ; J. G. WHITTIER. CONTENT. 'ER moorlands and mountains, rude, barren, and bare, As wildered and wearied I roam, A gentle young shepherdess sees my despair, And leads me o'er lawns to her home. Yellow sheaves from rich Ceres her cottage had crowned, Her casement sweet woodbines crept wantonly round We sat ourselves down to a cooling repast, Fresh fruits!-and she culled me the best; Whilst thrown from my guard by some glances she cast, Love slily stole into my breast. I told my soft wishes-she sweetly replied, (Ye virgins, her voice was divine!) Freedom. "I've rich ones rejected, and great ones denied ; Yet take me, fond shepherd-I'm thine." Her air was so modest, her aspect so meek, Now jocund together we tend a few sheep; Together we range on the slow-rising hills, Or rest on the rock whence the streamlet distils, To pomp or proud titles she ne'er did aspire, The cottager Peace is well known for her sire, 323 CUNNINGHAM. FREEDOM. S true Freedom but to break And, with leathern hearts, forget That we owe mankind a debt? No! true freedom is to share They are slaves who fear to speak They are slaves who will not choose Hatred, scoffing, and abuse, Rather than in silence shrink From the truth they needs must think; They are slaves who dare not be In the right with two or three. J. R. LOWELL. ON THE ABOLITION OF SLAVERY. ROUDLY on Creçy's tented wold The lion-flag of England flew ; As proudly gleamed its crimson fold O'er the dun heights of Waterloo : But other lyres shall greet the brave; Sing now, that we have freed the slave. The ocean plain, where Nelson bled, The gathered spoil of every shore: And eloquence in rushing streams Has flowed our halls and courts along, Or kindled 'mid yet loftier dreams The glowing bursts of glowing song: Abolition of Slavery. Bright science through each field of space Has urged her mist-dispelling car, Coy nature's hidden reign to trace, To weigh each wind, and count each star : And freedom has been long our own, And guard the labour of the plain : Your slaves-oh! could it be?-are freed. Ah! for the tale the slave could speak, 'Mid the drear haunts of force and strife, The ministers of peace shall stand, And pour the welling words of life Around a parched and thirsty land; While, spread beneath the tamarind tree, Rise "happy homes, and altars free." Ye isles, that court the tropic rays, In more than fable now-"the blest:" 325 O England, empire's home and head, Mighty to rule the battle hour,— Rejoice that thou hast freed the slave. EARL OF CARLISLE. THE SOLDIER'S DREAM. UR bugles sang truce-for the night-cloud had lowered, And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky; And thousands had sunk on the ground overpowered, The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die. When reposing that night on my pallet of straw, Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array, To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back. I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft In life's morning march, when my bosom was young; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft, And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung. |