JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE. 1795-1820.

When Freedom from her mountain height

Unfurled her standard to the air,

She tore the azure robe of night,
And set the stars of glory there.
She mingled with its gorgeous dyes
The milky baldric of the skies,
And striped its pure, celestial white
With streakings of the morning light.

Flag of the free heart's hope and home!
By angel hands to valour given!

Thy stars have lit the welkin dome,

And all thy hues were born in heaven. Forever float that standard sheet!

Where breathes the foe but falls before us,

With Freedom's soil beneath our feet,
And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us?

And the cold marble leapt to life a god.

1791-1868.

The Belvedere Apollo.
Ibid.

Too fair to worship, too divine to love.

O'MEARA. - BARRETT. - SPRAGUE.

499

B. E. O'MEARA. 1778-1836.

March to the battle-field,

The foe is now before us;

Each heart is Freedom's shield,

And heaven is shining o'er us. March to the Battle-Field.

EATON S. BARRETT. 1785-1820.

Not she with trait'rous kiss her Saviour stung,
Not she denied him with unholy tongue;
She, while apostles shrank, could danger brave,
Last at his cross, and earliest at his grave.

Woman. (Ed. 1822.) Part i.

CHARLES SPRAGUE. 1791-1874.

Lo, where the stage, the poor, degraded stage,
Holds its warped mirror to a gaping age.

Curiosity.

Through life's dark road his sordid way he wends,
An incarnation of fat dividends.

Ibid.

Behold! in Liberty's unclouded blaze
We lift our heads, a race of other days.

Centennial Ode. Stanza 22.

Yes, social friend, I love thee well,
In learned doctors spite;
Thy clouds all other clouds dispel,
And lap me in delight.

To my Cigar.

FITZ-GREENE HALLECK. 1790-1867.

Strike

- for your altars and your fires; Strike-for the green graves of your sires; God, and your native land!

Come to the bridal chamber, Death!

Come to the mother's, when she feels, For the first time, her first-born's breath; Come when the blessed seals

Marco Bozzaris.

That close the pestilence are broke,
And crowded cities wail its stroke;
Come in consumption's ghastly form,
The earthquake shock, the ocean storm;
Come when the heart beats high and warm,

With banquet song, and dance, and wine;
And thou art terrible, the tear,

The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier,

And all we know, or dream, or fear

Of agony are thine.

Ibid.

One of the few, the immortal names,
That were not born to die.

Such graves as his are pilgrim shrines,
Shrines to no code or creed confined, -

The Delphian vales, the Palestines,
The Meccas of the mind.

Ibid.

Burns.

HALLECK. —LOCKHART.— PHILLIPS. 501

Green be the turf above thee,

Friend of my better days;

None knew thee but to love thee,1

Nor named thee but to praise.

On the Death of Joseph Rodman Drake.

There is an evening twilight of the heart,

When its wild passion-waves are lulled to rest. Twilight.

They love their land, because it is their own,
And scorn to give aught other reason why;

Would shake hands with a king upon his throne,
And think it kindness to his majesty.

This bank-note world.

Lord Stafford mines for coal and salt,

The Duke of Norfolk deals in malt,

The Douglas in red herrings.

Connecticut.

Alnwick Castle.

Ibid.

JOHN G. LOCKHART. 1794-1854.

Rise up, rise up, Xarifa! lay your golden cushion down; Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the town. The Bridal of Andalla.

CHARLES PHILLIPS. 1789-1859.

Grand, gloomy, and peculiar, he sat upon the throne a sceptred hermit, wrapped in the solitude of his own originality. The Character of Napoleon.

1 Compare Rogers, Jacqueline. Page 401.

JOHN KEATS.1 1795-1821.

Its loveliness increases; it will never

A thing of beauty is a joy forever;

Pass into nothingness.

Endymion. Line 1.

Philosophy will clip an angel's wings. Lamia. Part ii.

Music's golden tongue

Flattered to tears this aged man and poor.

The Eve of St. Agnes.

Stanza 3.

Asleep in lap of legends old.

Stanza 15.

Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose,
Flushing his brow.

Stanza 16.

A poor, weak, palsy-stricken, churchyard thing.

Stanza 18.

As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again.

Stanza 27.

And lucent sirups, tinct with cinnamon.

Stanza 30.

That large utterance of the early gods! Hyperion. Book i.

Those green-robed senators of mighty woods,
Tall oaks, branch-charmed by the earnest stars,
Dream, and so dream all night without a stir.

O for a beaker full of the warm South,
Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene!

Ibid.

Ode to a Nightingale.

Charmed magic casements, opening on the foam
Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.

Ibid.

1 He asked to have this epitaph inscribed upon his gravestone:Here lies one whose name was writ in water.

Lowell's Life of Keats.