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Acadia.
17
When freedom's shrine, by lawless power profaned,
With many a gory sacrifice was stain'd,
While foul oppression o'er the spirit threw
The gloomy influence of its sombre huc.
He lifts his eye, and sees his flag unfurl'd,
The hope—the guide—the glory of a world,
Surveys the fabric, splendid and sublime,
With many a gory sacrifice was stain'd,
While foul oppression o'er the spirit threw
The gloomy influence of its sombre huc.
He lifts his eye, and sees his flag unfurl'd,
The hope—the guide—the glory of a world,
Surveys the fabric, splendid and sublime,
Whose arch, like Heaven's, extends from clime to clime—
Whose pillars, like the dreadful angel, stand
On the deep sea, as firm as on the land,
While 'neath the dome the sun of Science gleams.
Religion cheers—Imagination dreams,
The Muse's Lyre ennobling thoughts recalls,
And Art his treasures hangs around the walls.
Struck with the change, his tears embalm the dead
Whose patriot blood on many a field was shed,
Whose fervid eloquence the land awoke,
Whose gifted minds oppression's fetters broke,
Who, like the fire by night, the cloud by day,
Out from the realms of bondage led the way;
Who reared, by ceaseless toil, the glorious pilc
Bencath whose shade reposing millions smile.
Whose pillars, like the dreadful angel, stand
On the deep sea, as firm as on the land,
While 'neath the dome the sun of Science gleams.
Religion cheers—Imagination dreams,
The Muse's Lyre ennobling thoughts recalls,
And Art his treasures hangs around the walls.
Struck with the change, his tears embalm the dead
Whose patriot blood on many a field was shed,
Whose fervid eloquence the land awoke,
Whose gifted minds oppression's fetters broke,
Who, like the fire by night, the cloud by day,
Out from the realms of bondage led the way;
Who reared, by ceaseless toil, the glorious pilc
Bencath whose shade reposing millions smile.
Thus, while Acadia's charms my eye surveys,
My soul, unbidden, turns to other days,
When the stout-hearted rear'd amidst the wood,
Their sylvan Homes, and by their thresholds stood
With stern resolve the savage tribes to brave,
And win a peaceful dwelling, or a grave.
Gone are the Patriarchs—but we still may weep
Where "the forefathers of our Hamlets sleep."
My soul, unbidden, turns to other days,
When the stout-hearted rear'd amidst the wood,
Their sylvan Homes, and by their thresholds stood
With stern resolve the savage tribes to brave,
And win a peaceful dwelling, or a grave.
Gone are the Patriarchs—but we still may weep
Where "the forefathers of our Hamlets sleep."