The guardian angels of thy coast, Who watch the dear domestic Host, The Heart's Affections, pleased to roam Around the quiet heaven at home.

I love Thee,-when I mark thy soil Flourish beneath the peasant's toil, And from its lap of verdure throw Treasures which neither Indies know.

I love Thee,-when I hear around Thy looms, and wheels, and anvils sound, Thine engines heaving all their force, Thy waters laboring on their course, And arts, and industry, and wealth Exulting in the joys of health.

I love Thee, when I trace thy tale
To the dim point where records fail;
Thy deeds of old renown inspire
My bosom with our fathers' fire:
A proud inheritance I claim

In all their sufferings, all their fame;
Nor less delighted when I stray

Down history's lengthening, widening way,
And hail Thee in thy present hour,
From the meridian arch of power,
Shedding the lustre of thy reign,
Like sunshine, over land and main.

I love Thee,-when I read the lays Of British bards in elder days, Till, rapt on visionary wings, High o'er thy cliffs my spirit sings; For I, among thy living choir, I, too, can touch the sacred lyre.

I love Thee, when I contemplate
The full-orb'd grandeur of thy state;
Thy laws and liberties, that rise,
Man's noblest works beneath the skies,
To which the pyramids were tame,
And Grecian temples bow their fame :
These, thine immortal sages wrought
Out of the deepest mines of thought;
These, on the scaffold, in the field,
Thy warriors won, thy patriots seal'd;
These, at the parricidal pyre,
Thy martyrs, sanctified in fire,

And, with the generous blood they spilt,
Wash'd from thy soil their murderers' guilt,
Cancell'd the curse which vengeance sped,
And left a blessing in its stead.

-Can words, can numbers count the price
Paid for this little paradise?
Never, oh! never be it lost;
The land is worth the price it cost.

I love Thee, when thy sabbath dawns O'er woods and mountains, dales and lawns, And streams, that sparkle while they run, As if their fountain were the sun: When, hand in hand, thy tribes repair, Each to their chosen house of prayer, And all in peace and freedom call On Him, who is the Lord of all.

I love Thee, when my soul can feel
The seraph-ardors of thy zeal :
Thy charities, to none confined,
Bless, like the sun, the rain, the wind;
Thy schools the human brute shall raise,
Guide erring youth in wisdom's ways,
And leave, when we are turn'd to dust,
A generation of the just.

I love Thee,-when I see Thee stand
The hope of every other land;
A sea-mark in the tide of time,
Rearing to heaven thy brow sublime,-
Whence beams of gospel-splendor shed
A sacred halo round thine head;
And gentiles from afar behold
(Not as on Sinai's rocks of old),
GOD,-from eternity conceal'd,—-
In his own light, on Thee reveal'd.

I love Thee,—when I hear thy voice
Bid a despairing world rejoice,
And loud from shore to shore proclaim,
In every tongue, Messiah's name;
That name, at which, from sea to sea,
All nations yet shall bow the knee.

I love Thee :-next to heaven above,
Land of my fathers! Thee I love;
And, rail thy slanderers as they will,
"With all thy faults I love Thee still:"
For faults Thou hast, of heinous size;
Repent, renounce them, ere they rise
In judgment,-lest thine ocean-wall
With boundless ruin round Thee fall,
And that, which was thy mightiest stay,
Sweep all thy rocks like sand away.

Yes, Thou hast faults of heinous size,
From which I turn with weeping eyes;
On these let them that hate Thee dwell:
Yet one I spare not,-one I tell,
Tell with a whisper in thine ear;
Oh! might it wring thine heart with fear!
Oh! that my weakest word might roll,
Like heaven's own thunder, through thy soul!

There is a Lie in thy right handA Bribe, corrupting all the land; There is within thy gates a pest, -Gold and a Babylonish vest; Not hid in shame-concealing shade, But broad against the sun display'd. These, tell it not,-it must be told: These from thy LOTTERY-WHEELS are sold; Sold, and thy children, train'd to sin, Hazard both worlds these plagues to win; Nay, thy deluded statesmen stake Thyself, and lose Thee for their sake! Lose Thee?-they shall not:-He, whose will Is Nature's law, preserves thee still; And, while the uplifted bolt impends, One warning more his mercy sends.

O Britain! O my country! bring Forth from thy camp the accursed thing Consign it to remorseless fire,

Watch till the latest spark expire,

Then cast the ashes on the wind, Nor leave one atom-wreck behind.

So may thy wealth and power increase, So may thy people dwell in peace; On thee the Almighty's glory rest, And all the world in thee be blest.

THE ALPS.-A REVERIE.

PART I. Day..

THE mountains of this glorious land
Are conscious beings to mine eye,
When at the break of day they stand
Like giants, looking through the sky,
To hail the sun's unrisen car,
That gilds their diadems of snow;
While one by one, as star by star,
Their peaks in ether glow.

Their silent presence fills my soul,
When to the horizontal ray
The many-tinctured vapors roll
In evanescent wreaths away,

And leave them naked on the scene,
The emblems of eternity,

The same as they have ever been,
And shall for ever be.

Yet through the valley while I range,
Their cliffs, like images in dreams,
Color, and shape, and station change;

Here crags and caverns, woods, and streams,
And seas of adamantine ice,

With gardens, vineyards, fields embraced,
Open a way to Paradise

Through all the splendid waste.

The goats are hanging on the rocks,

Wide through their pastures roam the herds;
Peace on the uplands feeds her flocks,
Till suddenly the king of birds
Pouncing a lamb, they start for fear:
He bears his bleating prize on high;
The well-known plaint his nestlings hear,
And raise a ravening cry.

The sun in morning freshness shines:
At noon behold his orb o'ercast;
Hollow and dreary o'er the pines,
Like distant ocean, moans the blast:
The mountains darken at the sound,
Put on their armor, and anon,
In panoply of clouds wrapt round
Their forms from sight are gone.

Hark! war in heaven!-the battle-shout
Of thunder rends the echoing air;
Lo! war in heaven!-thick-flashing out
Through torrent-rains, red lightnings glare;
As though the Alps, with mortal ire,
At once a thousand voices raised;
And with a thousand swords of fire
At once in conflict blazed.

PART II. Night.

COME, golden Evening, in the west
Enthrone the storm-dispelling sun,
And let the triple rainbow rest
O'er all the mountain-tops :-'t is done;
The deluge ceases: bold and bright,
The rainbow shoots from hill to hill;
Down sinks the sun; on presses night;
-Mont Blanc is lovely still.

There take thy stand, my spirit;-spread
The world of shadows at thy feet;
And mark how calmly, overhead,
The stars like saints in glory meet:
While hid in solitude sublime,
Methinks I muse on Nature's tomb,
And hear the passing foot of Time
Step through the gloom.

All in a moment, crash on crash,
From precipice to precipice,
An avalanche's ruins dash
Down to the nethermost abyss;
Invisible, the ear alone
Follows the uproar till it dies:
Echo on echo, groan for groan,
From deep to deep replies.

Silence again the darkness seals,-
Darkness that may be felt;-but soon
The silver-clouded east reveals
The midnight spectre of the moon ;
In half-eclipse she lifts her horn,
Yet, o'er the host of heaven supreme,
Brings the faint semblance of a morn
With her awakening beam.

Ha! at her touch, these Alpine heights
Unreal mockeries appear;
With blacker shadows, ghastlier lights,
Enlarging as she climbs the sphere;
A crowd of apparitions pale!

I hold my breath in chill suspense,
-They seem so exquisitely frail,-
Lest they should vanish hence.

I breathe again, I freely breathe;
Lake of Geneva! thee I trace,
Like Dian's crescent far beneath,
And beautiful as Dian's face:
Pride of this land of liberty!
All that thy waves reflect I love;
Where heaven itself, brought down to thee,
Looks fairer than above.

Safe on thy banks again I stray,
The trance of poesy is o'er,
And I am here at dawn of day,
Gazing on mountains as before;
For all the strange mutations wrought
Were magic feats of my own mind:
Thus, in the fairy-land of thought,
Whate'er I seek I find.

Yet, O ye everlasting hills!

Buildings of God, not made with hands,

Whose word performs whate'er He wills,
Whose word, though ye shall perish, stands;
Can there be eyes that look on you,
Till tears of rapture make them dim,"
Nor in his works the Maker view,
Then lose his works in Him?

By me, when I behold Him not,
Or love Him not when I behold,
Be all I ever knew forgot;

My pulse stand still, my heart grow cold;
Transform'd to ice, 'twixt earth and sky,
On yonder cliff my form be seen,
That all may ask, but none reply,
What my offence hath been.

Time! whither dost thou flee?
-I travel to Eternity.

Eternity! what art thou?-say.

-Time past, time present, time to come,-to-day.

Ye Dead! where can your dwelling be?
-The house for all the living;-come and see.

O Life! what is thy breath?
-A vapor lost in death.

O Death! how ends thy strife?
-In everlasting life.

O Grave! where is thy victory?
-Ask Him who rose again for me.

QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS.

FLOWERS! wherefore do ye bloom?
-We strew thy pathway to the tomb.

Stars! wherefore do ye rise? -To light thy spirit to the skies.

Fair Moon! why dost thou wane? -That I may wax again.

O Sun! what makes thy beams so bright? -The Word, that said "Let there be light."

Planets! what guides you in your course? -Unseen, unfelt, unfailing force.

Nature! whence sprang thy glorious frame? -My Maker call'd me, and I came.

O Light! thy subtle essence who may know? -Ask not; for all things but myself I show.

What is yon arch which everywhere I see? -The sign of omnipresent Deity.

Where rests the horizon's all-embracing zone? -Where earth, God's footstool, touches heaven, his throne.

Ye clouds! what bring ye in your train!
-God's embassies,-storm, lightning, hail, or rain.

Winds! whence and whither do ye blow? -Thou must be born again to know.

Bow in the cloud! what token dost thou bear? -That Justice still cries" strike," and Mercy "spare."

Dews of the morning! wherefore were ye given? -To shine on earth, then rise to heaven.

Rise, glitter, break; yet, Bubble! tell me why? -To show the course of all beneath the sky.

Stay, Meteor! stay thy falling fire.

-No: thus shall all the host of heaven expire.

Ocean! what law thy chainless waves confined? -That which in Reason's limits holds thy mind.

YOUTH RENEWED.

SPRING-FLOWERS, spring-birds, spring-breezes,
Are felt, and heard, and seen;
Light trembling transport seizes
My heart, with sighs between :
These old enchantments fill the mind
With scenes and seasons far behind;
Childhood, its smiles and tears,
Youth, with its flush of years,
Its morning-clouds and dewy prime,
More exquisitely touch'd by Time.

Fancies again are springing,
Like May-flowers in the vales;
While hopes, long lost, are singing,
From thorns, like nightingales;
And kindly spirits stir my blood,
Like vernal airs, that curl the flood:
There falls to manhood's lot

A joy, which youth has not,

A dream, more beautiful than truth,
-Returning Spring, renewing Youth.

Thus sweetly to surrender
The present for the past;
In sprightly mood, yet tender,
Life's burthen down to cast,

-This is to taste, from stage to stage,
Youth on the lees refined by age:
Like wine well kept and long,
Heady, nor harsh, nor strong,
With every annual cup, is quaff'd
A richer, purer, mellower draught.

THE BRIDAL AND THE BURIAL. "BLESSED is the bride whom the sun shines on; Blessed is the corpse which the rain rains on."

I saw thee young and beautiful,
I saw thee rich and gay,
In the first blush of womanhood,
Upon thy wedding-day:
The church-bells rang,
And the little children sang,-
"Flowers, flowers, kiss her feet;
Sweets to the sweet!

FRIEND after friend departs;
Who hath not lost a friend?
There is no union here of hearts,
That finds not here an end:

Were this frail world our only rest,
Living or dying, none were blest.

Beyond the flight of Time,
Beyond this vale of death,

There surely is some blessed clime
Where life is not a breath,
Nor life's affections transient fire,
Whose sparks fly upward to expire.

There is a world above,
Where parting is unknown-
A whole eternity of love,
Form'd for the good alone;

And faith beholds the dying here
Translated to that happier sphere.

Thus star by star declines,
Till all are passed away,-

As morning high and higher shines

To pure and perfect day;

Nor sink those stars in empty night,
-They hide themselves in heaven's own light.

A MOTHER'S LAMENT

ON THE DEATH OF HER INFANT DAUGHTER.

I LOVED thee, Daughter of my heart!
My Child, I loved thee dearly;
And though we only met to part,
-How sweetly! how severely!-
Nor life nor death can sever
My soul from thine for ever.

Thy days, my little one! were few:

An Angel's morning visit,

That came and vanish'd with the dew;
'Twas here, 't is gone-where is it?
Yet didst thou leave behind thee
A clew for love to find thee.

The eye, the lip, the cheek, the brow, The hands stretch'd forth in gladness,

All life, joy, rapture, beauty now,Then dash'd with infant sadness; Till, brightening by transition, Return'd the fairy vision:

Where are they now?-those smiles, those tears, Thy Mother's darling treasure?

She sees them still, and still she hears

Thy tones of pain or pleasure,-
To her quick pulse revealing
Unutterable feeling.

Hush'd in a moment on her breast,
Life at the well-spring drinking;
Then cradled on her lap to rest,
In rosy slumber sinking:

Thy dreams-no thought can guess them;
And mine-no tongue express them.

For then this waking eye could see,

In many a vain vagary,

The things that never were to be,
Imaginations airy;

Fond hopes that mothers cherish,
Like still-born babes to perish.

Mine perish'd on thy early bier;
No-changed to forms more glorious,
They flourish in a higher sphere,
O'er time and death victorious;

Yet would these arms have chain'd thee,
And long from Heaven detain'd thee.

Sarah! my last, my youngest love,
The crown of every other!

Though thou art born in Heaven above,
I am the only Mother,
Nor will affection let me

Believe thou canst forget me.

Then, thou in Heaven and I on earth,

May this one hope delight us,
That thou wilt hail my second birth,

When death shall reunite us,

Where worlds no more can sever
Parent and child for ever.

THE WIDOW AND THE FATHERLESS.
WELL, thou art gone, and I am left:
But oh! how cold and dark to me
This world, of every charm bereft,
Where all was beautiful with thee!

Though I have seen thy form depart
For ever from my widow'd eye,

I hold thee in mine inmost heart;
There, there at least, thou canst not die.

Farewell on earth: Heaven claim'd its own;
Yet, when from me thy presence went,

I was exchanged for God alone:
Let dust and ashes learn content.

Ha! those small voices, silver sweet! Fresh from the fields my babes appear; They fill my arms, they clasp my feet: -"Oh! could your father see us here!"