Upon her infant's face,
When ardent hope to tender fear
And anxious love gives place.
But lo! the dewdrop flits away,
The sun salutes thee with a ray
Warm as a mother's kiss
Upon her infant's cheek,
When the heart hounds with bliss,
And joy that cannot speak!
When I meet thee by the way,
Like a pretty, sportive child,
On the winter-wasted wild,
With thy darling breeze at play,
Opening to the radiant sky
All the sweetness of thine eye;
Or bright with sunbeams, fresh with showers
O thou Fairy-Queen of Flowers!
Watch thee o'er the plain advance
At the head of Flora's dance;
Simple Snowdrop! then in thee
All thy sister-train I see:
Every brilliant bud that blows,
From the bluebell to the rose:
All the beauties that appear
On the bosom of the year:
All that wreathe the locks of Spring,
Summer's ardent breath perfume,
Or on the lap of Autumn bloom,
All to thee their tribute bring,
Exhale their incense at thy shrine,
Their hues, their odours all are thine!
For while thy humble form I view,
The Muse's keen prophetic sight
Brings fair Futurity to light,
And Fancy's magic makes the vision true.
There is a winter in my soul,
The Winter of despair;
O when shall spring its rage control!

When shall the Snowdrop blossom there?

Cold gleams of comfort sometimes dart

A dawn of glory on my heart,

But quickly pass away:

Thus Northern-lights the gloom adorn,

And give the promise of a morn

That never turns to day!

But hark ! methinks I hear

A still small whisper in mine eai:—

"Rash youth, repent!

Afflictions, from above,

Are angels sent

On embassies of love!

A fiery legion at thy birth,

Of chastening woes were given,

To pluck the flowers of Hope from earth,

And plant them high

O'er yonder sky,

Transform'd to stars,—and fix'd in heaven."

From the crest of the mountain I gaze upon thee;

I gaze,—and am changed at the sight;

For mine eye is illumined, my genius takes flight,

My soul, like the sun, with a glance

Embraces the boundless expanse,

And moves on thy waters, wherever they roll,

From the day-darting zone to the night-shadow'd pole

My spirit descends where the day-spring is born,

Where the billows are rubies on fire,

And the breezes that rock the light cradle of morn

Are sweet as the Phoenix's pyre:

O regions of beauty, of love, and desire .'

0 gardens of Eden! in vain,

Placed far on the fathomless main,

Where Nature with Innocence dwelt in her youth,

When pure was her heart, and unbroken her truth.

But now the fair rivers of Paradise wind
Through countries and kingdoms o'erthrown;
Where the giant of Tyranny crushes mankind,
Where he reigns,—and will soon reign alone;
For wide and more wide, o'er the sun-beaming zone,
He stretches his hundredfold arms,
Despoiling, destroying its charms;
Beneath his broad footstep the Ganges is dry,
And the mountains recoil from the flash of his eye.

Thus the pestilent Upas, the demon of trees,

Its boughs o'er the wilderness spreads,

And with livid contagion polluting the breeze,

Its mildewing influence sheds;

The birds on the wing, and the flowers in their beds,

Are slain by its venomous breath,

That darkens the noonday with death,

And pale ghosts of travellers wander around,

While their mouldering skeletons whiten the ground

Ah! why hath Jehovah, in forming the world,
With the waters divided the land,

Jiis ramparts of rocks rouud the continent hurl'd,

And cradled the deep of His hand,

If man may transgress His eternal command,

And leap o'er the bounds of his birth

To ravage the uttermost earth,

And violate nations and realms that should be

Distinct as the billows, yet one as the sea!

There are, gloomy Ocean! a brotherless clan,

Who traverse thy banishing waves,

The poor disinherited outcasts of man,

Whom avarice coins into slaves!

From the homes of their kindred,theirforefathers' graves,

Love, friendship, and conjugal bliss,

They are dragg'd on the hoary abyss;

The shark hears their shrieks, and ascending to day,

Demands of the spoiler his share of the prey!

Then joy to the tempest that whelms them beneath,

And makes their destruction its sport!

But woe to the winds that propitiously breathe,

And waft them in safety to port!

Where the vultures and vampires of Mammon resort;

Where Europe exultingly drains

The life-blood from Africa's veins;

Where man rules o'er man with a merciless rod.

And spurns at his footstool the image of God!

The hour is approaching,—a terrible hour!
And Vengeance is bending her bow;
Already the clouds of the hurricane lour,
And the rock-rending whirlwinds blow:
Back rolls the huge Ocean, hell opens below:
The floods return headlong,—they sweep
The slave-cultured lands to the deep;
In a moment entomb'd in the horrible void,
By their Maker Himself in His anger destroy'A

Shall this be the fate of the cane-planted isles,
More lovely than clouds in the west,

When the sun o'er the ocean descending in smiies

Sinks softly and sweetly to rest?

No !—Father of mercy! befriend the opprest;

At the voice of Thy gospel of peace,

May the sorrows of Africa cease;

And the slave and his master devoutly unite

To walk in Thy freedom, and dwell in Thy light !*

As homeward my weary-wing'd fancy extends

Her star-lighted course through the skies,

High over the mighty Atlantic ascends,

And turns upon Europe her eyes;

Ah me! what new prospects, new h irrors arise .

I see the war-tempested flood

AH foaming and panting with blood;

The panic-struck Ocean in agony roars,

Rebounds from the battle, and flies to his shores

For Britannia is wielding the trident to-day,

Consuming her foes in her ire,

And hurling her thunder with absolute sway

From her wave-ruling chariots of fire.

She triumphs ;—the winds and the waters conspire

To spread her invincible name;

The universe rings with her fame;

But the cries of the fatherless mix with her praise,

And the tears of the widow are shed on her bays!

O Britain! dear Britain! the land of my birth;

O Isle, most enchantingly fair!

Thou pearl of the ocean! thou gem of the earth!

O my mother! my mother! beware;

For wealth is a phantom, aud empire a snare:

O let not thy birthright be sold

For reprobate glory and gold:

Thy distant dominions like wild graftings shoot,

They weigh down thy trunk, they will tear up thy root

• Alluding to the Klonous success or the Moravian missionaries among the Negroes in the West Indies.