ODE.

TO POLAND.

SINK not, devoted land,

In dark despair!

Though tyrants in thy halls command,

And Vengeance slumbers in his lair,
The tears thy sons have shed

O'er Kosciusko's grave,
Shall call a spirit from the dead,
To animate thy brave!
Thy fields will yet re-bloom,

And song thy forests wake;

And Freedom, starting from her tomb,
Thy children's fetters break:

And those now scatter'd o'er the earth,
Far from their natal home,

Shall meet around their fathers' hearth,

No more to roam.

The scenes of early youth,

Endear'd to fame,

Where hearts of love and truth

Nurture affection's flame,

They shall behold,

Fair as of old,

Ere step of tyrant near their threshold came!

SONNET.

MOONLIGHT.

NIGHT is around me; and the voice of man
Unheard within this blessed solitude;

And, through the openings of the moaning wood,
The harvest-moon peers softly, cold, and wan:
Sadly she looks on earth, as angel good,
Wooing our thoughts beyond this mortal span.
Oh! who can gaze on thee, and doubt the truth,
That an Almighty hand placed thee on high,
With all thy fair companions in the sky?
He who decks Nature in her annual youth,
Lending to earth in Spring the hues of heaven;
Who hath bestow'd a principle divine

On man,
Immortal as the Power by whom 'twas given.

which e'en the grave shall not confine,

ΤΟ

I.

LIKE a dream of delight,

From my vision thou'rt gone; Or a meteor of night,

Which transiently shone.

Too pure was thy spirit

To dwell upon earth;

It hath gone to inherit
The place of its birth !

II.

No more to this heart,

Once united to thine,

Can affection impart

Its spirit divine;

Like the flower of the vale,
When it feeleth decay,
'Neath adversity's gale
It hath wither'd away.

III.

The eyes which delighted
Thy beauty to see,
Can ne'er be relighted
With laughter and glee;
But now, unadorning,

And darken'd by tears, Like stars in the morning Their lustre appears!

AN INDIAN MAIDEN'S LAMENT

OVER HER DEAD LOVER.

FAREWELL! When morning's golden light
Made stream and forest glow,
In pride we deck'd thee for the fight,
With spear, and shield, and bow.
A warrior's joy lit up thine eye;
A patriot's hope thy breast:

Now on the green earth dost thou lie,
In deep, eternal rest!

Farewell, thou swiftest in the chase!

Our love, our pride, our stay.
Must thou, the noblest of thy race,
Fade as a dream away ?

Will not the hunter's voice awake
Thee from thy silent sleep?-
Ah! why so soon the earth forsake,
And leave thy love to weep?

L