FROM KÖRNER. BY CYRUS REDDING, ESQ. THOU Sword upon my belted vest, From thy bright beams?-Hurrah! A horseman brave supports my blade, Through blood and death.-Hurrah! Yes, my good sword, behold me free, Soldier of Freedom, I am thine! When the shrill trumpet's summons flies, When red guns flash upon the skies, Then will our bridal sun arise, And join our hands.-Hurrah! O welcome union! haste away, I long, my bridegroom, for the day Why restless in thy scabbard, why, So wild, as if the battle-cry Thou heardest now.-Hurrah! Impatient in my dread reserve, Restless in battle-fields to serve, I burn our freedom to preserve Thus with bright gleams.-Hurrah! Rest, but a little longer rest, In a short space thou shalt be blest, Within my ardent grasp comprest, Then let me not too long await— Then out, and from thy bondage fly, Thus be our glorious marriage tie,- Glitters my bride.-Hurrah! Then, forth for the immortal strife, While in thy scabbard at my side, Thee sparkling to my lips I press, Who parts us now!--Hurrah! "Come joy into thy polished eyes, Blackwood's Magazine. LINES WRITTEN AT THE HOT-WELLS, BRISTOL. BY LORD PALMERSTON. WHOE'ER, like me, with trembling anguish brings Whose virtue warmed me, and whose beauty blessed; TO THE POET WORDSWORTH. BY MRS. HEMANS. THINE is a strain to read among the hills, Or its calm spirit fitly may be taken To the calm breast, in some sweet garden's bowers, Where vernal winds each tree's low tones awaken, And bud and bell with changes mark the hours; There let thy thoughts be with me, while the day Sinks with a golden and serene decay. Or by some hearth where happy faces meet, When night hath hushed the woods, with all their birds, Or where the shadows of dark solemn yews Brood silently o'er some lone burial-ground, True bard and holy!-Thou art even as one In every spot beneath the smiling sun, Sees where the springs of living waters lie! Thou mov'st through nature's realm, and touched by thee, Literary Magnet. BY T. HOOD, ESQ. I remember, I remember I remember, I remember The lilacs, where the robins built, And where my brother set The labernum, on his birth-day,- I remember, I remember Where I was used to swing, And thought the air would rush as fresh To swallows on the wing; -My spirit flew in feathers, then, That is so heavy now, And summer pools could hardly cool The fever on my brow! I remember, I remember The fir trees, dark and high; I used to think their slender spires Were close against the sky! It was a childish ignorance, But now 't is little joy To know I'm further off from heaven, Than when I was a boy! Friendship's Offering. |