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In Eastern lands they talk in flowers,
And they tell in a garland their loves and cares; Each blossom that blooms in their garden bowers
On its leaves a mystic language bears. The rose is a sign of joy and love
Young blushing love in its earliest dawn; And the mildness that suits the gentle dove
From the myrtle's snowy flower is drawn. Innocence shines in the lily's bell,
Pure as the heart in its native heaven; Fame's bright star' and glory's swell
In the glossy leaf of the bay are given. The silent, soft, and humble heart,
In the violet's hidden sweetness breathes; And the tender soul that cannot part,
A twine of evergreen fondly wreathes. The cypress that darkly shades the grave,
In sorrow that mourns her bitter lot ; And faith that a thousand ills can brave, Speaks in thy blue leaves, forget-me-not.
- Percival. MIRIAM'S SONG.—THE POWER OF GOD.
His chariots and horsemen, all splendid and brave. How vain was their boasting ! the Lord hath but spoken,
And chariots and horsemen are sunk in the wave.
Of those she sent forth in the hour of her pride?
And all her brave thousands are dashed in the tide.
THE POWER OF GOD.
Of all this wondrous world we see ;
Are but reflections caught from Thee ;
Among the opening clouds of even,
Through golden vistas into heaven,
O'ershadows all the earth and skies,
Is sparkling with a thousand eves,
Where youthful Spring around us breathes,
Thy Spirit warms her fragrant sigh,
Is born beneath that kindling eye.
SONNET. LIKE as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end; Each changing place with that which goes before In sequent toil all forwards do contend. Nativity, once in the main of light, Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory fight, And Time that gave doth now his gift confound. Time doih transfix the flourish set on youth, And delves the parallels in beauty's brow, Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth, And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow; And yet, to times in hope my verse shall stand, Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.
SONG OF THE DANISH SEA-KING. OUR bark is on the waters deep, our bright blades in our hand, Our birthright is the ocean vast, we scorn the girdled land ; And the hollow wind is our music brave, and none can bolder
be Than the hoarse-tongued tempest raving o'er a proud and swell
ing sea! Our bark is dancing on the waves, its tall masts quivering bend Before the gale, which hails us now with the holloa of a friend ; And its prow is shearing merrily the up-curled billow's foam, While our hearts with throbbing gladness cheer old ocean as Our eagle-wings of might we stretch before the gallant wind, And we leave the tame and sluggish earth a dim, mean speck
behind. We shoot into the untracked deep as earth-freed spirits soar, Like stars of fire through boundless space-through realms
without a shore ! Lords of this widespread wilderness of waters, we bound free, The haughty elements alone dispute our Sovereignty; No landmark doth our freedom let, for no law of man can mete The sky which arches o'er our head, the waves which kiss our
feet! The warrior of the land may back the wild horse in his pride, But a fiercer steed we dauntless breast-- the untamed ocean
tide; And a nobler tilt our bark careers, as it quells the saucy wave, While the herald storm peals o'er the deep the glories of the
brave. Hurrah! hurrah! the wind is up, it bloweth fresh and free, And every cord, instinct with life, pipes loud its fearless glee; Big swell the bosomed sails with joy, and they madly kiss the
spray As proudly through the foaming surge the Sea-King bears away.
GOD'S WATCHFUL CARE.
The insect that with puny wing
Just shoots along one summer ray,
Wakes into life for half a day,
He tends to view His earthly ball ;
Loves one as if that one were all ;