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And of this, oh, my Father! be sure
That the blood of thy child is aş pure
As the blessing I beg ere it flow,
And the last thought that soothes me below.
Though the virgins of Salem lament,
When this blood of thy giving hath gush'd,
OH! SNATCH'D AWAY IN BEAUTY'S
H! snatch'd away in beauty's bloom,
But on thy turf shall roses rear
Their leaves, the earliest of the year; And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom:
And oft by yon blue gushing stream
Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head, And feed deep thought with many a dream, And lingering pause and lightly tread; Fond wretch! as if her step disturb'd the dead!
Away! we know that tears are vain,
That death nor heeds nor hears distress:
Will this unteach us to complain?
Or make one mourner weep the less?
MY SOUL IS DARK.
y soul is dark-Oh! quickly string
The harp I yet can brook to hear; And let thy gentle fingers fling
Its melting murmurs o'er mine ear. If in this heart a hope be dear,
That sound shall charm it forth again:
If in these eyes there lurk a tear,
'T will flow, and cease to burn my brain.
But bid the strain be wild and deep,
Or else this heavy heart will burst;
And break at once-or yield to song.
I SAW THEE WEEP.
SAW thee weep-the big bright tear
I saw thee smile-the sapphire's blaze
As clouds from yonder sun receive
Which scarce the shade of coming eve
Those smiles unto the moodiest mind
Their sunshine leaves a glow behind
THY DAYS ARE DONE.
HY days are done, thy fame begun;
The triumphs of her chosen Son,
The slaughters of his sword!
The deeds he did, the fields he won,
Though thou art fall'n, while we are free
The generous blood that flow'd from thee Disdain'd to sink beneath:
Within our veins its currents be,
Thy spirit on our breath!