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THE BREEZE FROM LAND.
"As when to them who sail
Beyond the Cape of Hope, and now are past
Of Araby the Blest; with such delay
Well pleas'd they slack their course, and many a league, Cheer'd with the grateful smell, old Ocean smiles."
Joy is upon the lonely seas,
When Indian forests pour
Their fragrance from the shore;
Oh! welcome are the winds that tell
Where far away the jasmines dwell,
And where the myrrh-trees weep! Bless'd, on the sounding surge and foam, Are tidings of the citron's home!
The sailor at the helm they meet,
And hope his bosom stirs, Upspringing, 'midst the waves to greet The fair earth's messengers, That woo him, from the mournful main, Back to her glorious bowers again.
They woo him, whispering lovely tales
And fount's bright gleam in island-vales
And oh! ye masters of the lay!
Come not e'en thus your songs,
Their power is from the brighter clime
They call us with a voice divine
Our vows of youth at many a shrine
-Welcome, high thought and holy strain,
* Written immediately after reading the "Remarks on the Character and Writings of Milton," in the Christian Examiner.
TO ONE OF THE AUTHOR'S CHILDREN
ON HIS BIRTHDAY, 27 AUGUST, 1825.
THOU wak'st from happy sleep to play
With bounding heart, my boy! Before thee lies a long bright day Of summer and of joy.
Thou hast no heavy thought or dream
Yet ere the cares of life lie dim
So in the onward vale of tears,
When strength hath bow'd to evil years-
TO A YOUNGER CHILD
ON A SIMILAR OCCASION, 17 SEPTEMBER, 1825.
WHERE sucks the bee now ?-Summer is flying,
Violets are gone
With the cowslip-cups, where the fairies dwell;
Yet happy, fair boy! is thy natal day.
For love bids it welcome, the love which hath smil'd
Ever around thee, my gentle child!
Watching thy footsteps, and guarding thy bed,
And pouring out joy on thy sunny head.