Though burning for renown,

And the heart of sternest mettle quailed Beneath his deepening frown!

Why wait ye? I have done! Cravens! why shrink ye so? Among ye all is there not one Dares strike the deadly blow?' A moment-through the air

The death-charg'd bullet sung! He fell-In his eye a hideous glare, And a curse upon his tongue!

TO THE AURORA BOREALIS,

YE beautiful Spirits, that flit o'er the North, 15 Whence come ye in glory and loveliness forth? Whence draw ye those rose-tinted flashes of light, Which stream to the zenith, pure, dazzling and bright, Then fade, when the brightest they seem, from the

eye,

Like the beings Hope brings to charm us, and-die!

Say, are ye the souls of the happy and bless'd?
No more by care, sorrow and suffering oppress'd!
And sport ye around on your pinions of light,
In your robes of purity, lovely and bright,
That ye may catch the gaze of the wanderer's eye,
And beckon him up to your homes in the sky?

Or are ye those guardian Angels who keep
Their vigils o'er Earth, while her myriads sleep?
Or wait ye to marshal through yon azure dome

Some Spirit, that pants for its glorious home? Whence come ye? why burn ye? O breathe in my

ear,

If language ye have, that Mortal may hear!

A moment-then,-sweet as the strains that are sung
By harp of the Zephyr, the bright sky rung:-
'Like the dazzling stars-like the soft-beaming moon,
For ages and ages we've glitter'd and shone,
To publish, in unerring language, abroad,
The might of our Author—the glory of God!'

ODE,

FOR THE FIRST OF AUGUST,

MDCCCXXXVIII.

A VOICE went forth-a voice of wail!

From the Islands of the West;

Where the bloom of the orange perfumes the gale,
And the palm-tree waves its crest.
Across the deep it swept,

On the wings of the rushing blast,-
And the patriot sire, who long had slept,

And the matron old and maiden young,

And the youth, with heart to pleasure strung, From their death-like slumbers awoke and wept, Where'er its echoes pass'd!

A voice went forth-a mighty tone!

Yet no pealing cannon rang;

Not a flag to the fluttering breeze was thrown,

Not a swelling trumpet sang!

It roll'd across the main,

And burst on the isles of the sea!

"Twas the voice of Love-Rend every chain !-Will ye quench the spark of Heavenly birth? Will ye crush the deathless soul to earth ?— From the wave-wash'd strand to the verdant plain, O let th' oppress'd go free!'

A voice comes forth-a voice of song!

A burst of rapturous glee!

'Tis the shout, the glad shout of the ransom'd throng,

The loud anthem of the free!

Wide-wide the pæan rings,

O'er the land and the heaving main, And the craggy mount in thunder flings The chorus up, and a deep reply

Rolls back to earth from the joyous sky, And the chainless ocean leaps and sings, 'All hail, fair FREEDOM's reign!'

A voice-the voice of Echo-List!-
'Soon-soon will the morning break,