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72
Original Poetry.
[April
Through the bright summer azure the north breezes blow,
That are cooled in their flight over regions of snow,
Or westerly gales, on whose wandering wings
The wave of the ocean its silver dew flings.
Bright, bright is the prospect, and teeming the soil
With the blessings of promise—with corn, wine, and oil,
Where the cypress, and myrtle, and orange combine,
And around the dark olive gay wantons the vine.
Woods leafy and rustling o'ershadow the scene,
With their forest of branches and changes of green;
And glossy their greenness where sunshine is glistening,
And mellow their music where Silence is listening,
And the streamlets glide through them with glassier hue,
And the sky sparkles o'er them with heavenlier blue.
How deep and how rich is the blush of the rose,
That spreading and wild o'er the wilderness grows!
What waftures of incense are filling the air!
For the bloom of a summer unbounded is there.
That are cooled in their flight over regions of snow,
Or westerly gales, on whose wandering wings
The wave of the ocean its silver dew flings.
Bright, bright is the prospect, and teeming the soil
With the blessings of promise—with corn, wine, and oil,
Where the cypress, and myrtle, and orange combine,
And around the dark olive gay wantons the vine.
Woods leafy and rustling o'ershadow the scene,
With their forest of branches and changes of green;
And glossy their greenness where sunshine is glistening,
And mellow their music where Silence is listening,
And the streamlets glide through them with glassier hue,
And the sky sparkles o'er them with heavenlier blue.
How deep and how rich is the blush of the rose,
That spreading and wild o'er the wilderness grows!
What waftures of incense are filling the air!
For the bloom of a summer unbounded is there.
The soft and voluptuous Spirit of Love
Rules in earth and in ether, below and above,
In the blue of the sky, in the glow of the beam,
In the sigh of the wind, and the now of the stream!
At his presence the rose takes a ruddier bloom,
And the vine-bud exhales a more wanton perfume;
E'en the hoarse surging billows have softened their roar,
And break with a musical fall on the shore.
Rules in earth and in ether, below and above,
In the blue of the sky, in the glow of the beam,
In the sigh of the wind, and the now of the stream!
At his presence the rose takes a ruddier bloom,
And the vine-bud exhales a more wanton perfume;
E'en the hoarse surging billows have softened their roar,
And break with a musical fall on the shore.
But less in this Eden has young Love his dwelling,
Than in that virgin's bosom, wild throbbing and swelling,
That bounds 'gainst her zone, and will not be represt,
Whilst full of the god that possesses her breast.
Love has kindled her cheek with his deep crimson dye,
And lit with his radiance her eloquent eye,
Ever restless and changing, and darkening, and brightening,
Now melting in dew, and now flashing in lightning.
O, black is her eye, black intensely; and black
Are the ringlets luxuriant that float down her back;
And equally sweet is her lip of the roses,
When it opens in smiles, or in silence reposes.
*****
O sooner the bird shall escape from the snare
Of the fowler, than man from her thraldom—beware!
If you meet but one glance of her magical eye,
From your bosom for ever must liberty fly!
Let there breathe but one thrilling and silvery tone
From the syren—your heart is no longer your own.
Than in that virgin's bosom, wild throbbing and swelling,
That bounds 'gainst her zone, and will not be represt,
Whilst full of the god that possesses her breast.
Love has kindled her cheek with his deep crimson dye,
And lit with his radiance her eloquent eye,
Ever restless and changing, and darkening, and brightening,
Now melting in dew, and now flashing in lightning.
O, black is her eye, black intensely; and black
Are the ringlets luxuriant that float down her back;
And equally sweet is her lip of the roses,
When it opens in smiles, or in silence reposes.
*****
O sooner the bird shall escape from the snare
Of the fowler, than man from her thraldom—beware!
If you meet but one glance of her magical eye,
From your bosom for ever must liberty fly!
Let there breathe but one thrilling and silvery tone
From the syren—your heart is no longer your own.
VERSES
Recited by the Author, in a Party of his Countrymen, on the Day that the News arrived of our final Victory over the French.
Now, Britain, let thy cliffs o' snaw
Look prouder o'er the merled main!
The bastard Eagle bears awa,
And ne'er shall ee thy shores again.
Look prouder o'er the merled main!
The bastard Eagle bears awa,
And ne'er shall ee thy shores again.
Bang up thy banners red an' riven!
The day's thy ain—the prize is won!
Weel may thy lions brow the heaven,
An' turn their gray beards to the sun.
The day's thy ain—the prize is won!
Weel may thy lions brow the heaven,
An' turn their gray beards to the sun.
Lang hae I bragged o' thine and thee,
Even when thy back was at the wa';
An' thou my proudest sang sail be,
As lang as I hae breath to draw.
Even when thy back was at the wa';
An' thou my proudest sang sail be,
As lang as I hae breath to draw.
Gae hang the coofs wha boded wae,
An' cauldness o'er thy efforts threw,
Lauding the fullest, sternest fae,
Frae hell's black porch that ever flew.
An' cauldness o'er thy efforts threw,
Lauding the fullest, sternest fae,
Frae hell's black porch that ever flew.
O he might conquer idiot kings,
These bars in nature's onward plan;
But fool is he the yoke that flings
O'er the unshackled soul of man.
These bars in nature's onward plan;
But fool is he the yoke that flings
O'er the unshackled soul of man.
'Tis like a cobweb o'er the breast,
That binds the giant while asleep,
Or curtain hung upon the east,
The day-light from the world to keep!
That binds the giant while asleep,
Or curtain hung upon the east,
The day-light from the world to keep!
Come, jaw your glasses to the brim!
Gar in the air your bonnets flee!
"Our gude auld king!" I'll drink to him,
As lang as I hae drink to pree.
Gar in the air your bonnets flee!
"Our gude auld king!" I'll drink to him,
As lang as I hae drink to pree.
This to the arms that well upbore
The Rose and Shamrock blooming still—
An' here's the burly plant of yore,
"The Thristle o' the Norlan' hill!"
The Rose and Shamrock blooming still—
An' here's the burly plant of yore,
"The Thristle o' the Norlan' hill!"
Auld Scotland! land o' hearts the wale!
Hard thou hast fought, and bravely won:
Lang may thy lions paw the gale,
And turn their dewlaps to the sun!
H.
Hard thou hast fought, and bravely won:
Lang may thy lions paw the gale,
And turn their dewlaps to the sun!
H.