And silence watch, on woodland heights around,
The village curfew as it tolls profound-..
Truth shall pervade th' unfathom'd darkness there,
And light the dreadful features of despair.-
Hark! the stern captive spurns his heavy load,
And asks the image back that heaven bestow'd!
Fierce in his eye the fire of valour burns,
And, as the slave departs, the man returns.
COLUMBIA, Columbia, to glory arise;
The queen of the world and the child of the skies;
Thy genius commands thee with rapture behold,
While ages on ages thy splendours unfold.
Thy reign is the last, and the noblest of time,
Most fruitful thy soil, most inviting thy clime;
Let the crimes of the east ne'er encrimson thy name,
Be freedom, and science, and virtue, thy faine.
To conquest and slaughter let Europe aspire;
Whelm nations in blood, and wrap cities in fire;
Thy heroes the rights of mankind shall detend,
And triumph pursue them, and glory arend.
A world is thy realm: for a world be thy laws,
Enlarg'd as thine empire, and just as thy cause;
On freedom's broad basis thy empire shall rise,
Extend with the main, and dissolve with the skies.
Fair science her gates to thy sons shall unbar, And the east see thy morn hide the beams of her star; New bards, and new sages, unrivalled shall soar To fame unextinguish'd, till time is no more. To thee, the last refuge of virtue design'd, Shall fly from all nations the best of mankind: Here, grateful to Heaven, with transport shall bring Their incense, more fragrant than odours of spring.
Nor less shall thy fair ones to glory ascend, And genius and beauty in harmony blend; The graces of form shall awake pure desire, And the charms of the soul ever cherish the fire: Their sweetness unmingled. their manners refin'd, And virtue's bright image, instamp'd on the mind, With peace and soft rapture. shall teach life to glow, And light up a smile in the aspect of wo.
Thy fleets to all regions thy power shall display, The nations admire, and the ocean obey;
Each shore to thy glory its tribute unfold,
And the east and the south yield their spices and gold.
As the day spring unbounded, thy splendour shall flow,
And earth's little kingdoms before thee shall bow,
While the ensigns of Union, in triumph unfurl'd,
Hush the tumult of war, and give peace to the world.
Thus, as down a lone valley, with cedars o'erspread,
From war's dread confusion I pensively stray'd,
The gloom from the face of fair heaven retir'd;
The winds ceas'd to murmur; the thunders expir'd;
Perfumes, as of Eden, flow'd sweetly along,
And a voice as of angels, enchantingly sung,
"Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise,
The queen of the world, and the child of the skies."
Washington and Liberty.
OYE Sons of Columbia, who bravely have fought
For those rights, which unstain'd from your sires had descended! May you long taste the blessings your valour has bought,
And your sons reap the soil, which your fathers defended,
Mid the reign of mild peace, may your nation increase,
With the glory of Rome, and the wisdom of Greece;
For ne'er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves,
While the earth bears a plant, or the sea rolls its waves.
While the fame of our arms, of our laws the mild sway,
Had with justice ennobled our nation in story,
Till the dark clouds of faction obscur'd our young day,
And envelop'd the sun of America's glory.
But let traitors be told. who their country have sold,
And barter'd their God for an image of goll,
That ne'er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves,
While the earth bears a plant, or the sea rolls its waves.
'Tis the fire of the flint each American warms:
Then should Rome's haughty victors beware of collision! Let them bring all the vassals of Europe in arms,
We're a world by ourselves, and disdain a division!
While with patriot pride, to our laws we're allied,
There's no foe can subdue us, no faction divide;
For ne'er shall the sons of Columbia he slaves,
While the earth bears a plant, or the sea rolls its waves.
Lo! our mountains are crown'd with imperial oak,
Whose deep roots, like our liberties, ages have nourish'd;
But before our dear country submits to the yoke,
Not a tree shall be left on the fields where it flourish'd.
Should invasion impend, ev'ry grove would descend,
From the hill tops they shaded, our shores to defend;
For ne'er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves.
While the earth bears a plant, or the sea rolls its waves.
Let our patriots destroy anarch's pestilent worm,
Lest our liberty's growth should be check'd by corrosion; Then let clouds thicken round us, we heed not the storm;
For our realm fears no shock, but the earth's own explosion, Foes assail us in vain, though their fleets bridge the main, For our altars and laws with our lives we'll maintain;
And ne'er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves,
While the earth bears a plant, or the sea rolls its waves.
Should the tempest of war overshadow our land,
All its bolts could ne'er rend freedom's temple asunder;
For unmov'd at its portal would Washington stand,
And repulse, with his breast, the assaults of its thunder!
His sword from the sleep of its scabbard would leap,
And conduct, with its point, ev'ry flash to the deep;
For ne'er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves,
While the earth bears a plant, or the sea rolls its waves
Now my comates, and brothers in exile,
Hath not old custom made this life more sweet
Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods
More free from peril than the envious court?
Here feel we but the penalty of Adam,
The season's difference as the icy fang
And churlish chiding of the winter's wind,
Which, when it bites and blows upon my body
Ev'n till I shrink with cold, I smile and say,
This is no flattery; these are counsellors
That feelingly persuade me what I am.
Sweet are the uses of adversity;
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in its head;
And this our life, exempt from public haunts,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in every thing.
A FOOL!-a fool, I met a fool i' th' forest,
Amotley foola miserable varlet!-
As I do live by food, I met a fool;-
Who laid him down, and bask'd him in the sun,
And rail'd on lady Fortune in good terms;
In good set terms, and yet a motley fool;
Good morrow, fool, quoth I: No, sir, quoth he,
Call me not fool, till heav'n hath sent me fortune;
And then he drew a dial from his poke,
And looking on it with lacklustre eye,
Says very wisely, It is ten o'clock;
Thus may we see, quoth he, how the world wags; 'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine,
And after one hour more 'twill be eleven:
And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe,
And then from hour to hour we rot and rot,
And thereby hangs a tale. When I did hear
The motley fool thus moral on the time,
My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,
That fools should be so deep contemplative:
And I did laugh, sans intermission,
An hour by his dial. O noble fool!
A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear.
With mirth and laughter; so let wrinkles come,
And let my liver rather heat with wine,
Than my heart cool with mortifying groans.
Why should a man, whose blood is warm within,
Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster?
Sleep when he wakes, and creep into the jaundice
By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio,
(I love thee, and it is my love that speaks,)
There is a sort of men whose visages
Do cream and mantle like a standing pond,
And do a wilful stillness entertain,
With purpose to be drest in an opinion
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit,
As who should say, I am, sir, Oracle,
And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!
I'll tell thee more of this another time;
But fish not with this melancholy bait
For this fool's gudgeon, this opinion.
Come, good Lorenzo, fare ye well awhile,
I'll end my exhortation after dinner.
IMOINDA, Oh! this separation
Has made you dearer, if it can be so,
Than you were ever to me you appear
Like a kind star to my benighted steps,
To guide me on my way to happiness;
I cannot miss it now. Governor, friend,
You think me mad: but let me bless you all
Who any ways have been the instruments
Of finding her again. Imoinda's found!
And every thing that I would have in her.
I have a thousand things to ask of her,
And she as many more to know of me,
But you have made me happier, I confess,
Acknowledge it much happier, than I
Have words or power to tell you. Captain, you,
Ev'n you, who most have wrong'd me, I forgive:
I will not say you have betrayed me now,
I'll think you but the minister of fate
To bring me to my lov'd Imoinda here.
Let the fools
Who follow fortune live upon her smiles,
All our prosperity is plac'd in love,
We have enough of that to make us happy;
This little spot of earth you stand upon,
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