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FAREWELL ODE ON LEAVING SCOTLAND.

LAND of the North, farewell!

Thy mountains disappear,—

Thy streams no longer swell

Their voices on mine ear,

Sadly I turn me from thy strand,

Thou fair, thou wild, thou holy, land!

Science has often told

The treasures thou canst boast;

And song has often rolled

To sound thy patriot-host!

Tears can I only give the shore,

Where I, perchance, may rove no more.

I love thy purple mount,

Beneath a setting sun,

While many a bubbling fount

Its silvery course shall run;

And hill-side shadows stretch away,
As if to meet the rising day!

I love thy placid lake,

A mirror, mountain-bound,
When echo sports to wake

A jocund chorus round,

And rippling beauties o'er it play,

And music's sweetest murmurs stray!

I love thy deepmost glen,

Where timid wild-flowers blow,
And vanished streams again

Well up and gently flow,-
And in the concave of that dell,
To find some ancient hermit's cell!

I love thy loud cascade,

Thundering with endless foam, Gemming with dews the glade,

Then, truant, reckless roam Along a thousand devious ways, Yet threading skilfully the maze!

I love thy landscape wood,
By river and by knoll,
Where many a castle stood

O'er which dark ruin stole ;—
Perennial nature thus proclaims
Her triumph o'er the proudest names.

I love thy little isle,

Embosomed on the lake, And where o'er magic pile

The storms of ocean break; Then guide my skiff to fairy realm, Or 'mid dark billows hold my helm !

I love thy broad mist-wreath

That round the mountain creeps,
Feathering the blooming heath,
Pillared on riven steeps,

In every varying contour twine,
In every varying sun-light shine!

Yet ties far nobler bind

Thine image to mine heart,

And round it still shall wind,
When its own life-strings part ;-
Religion, pure and undefiled,
Thy noblest monument has piled!

Thine, mercies ever new!

Thine, statutes which are right ! Midian of blessed dew,

Goshen of heavenly light!

O people saved by the Lord,

Thy shield, thy banner, and thy sword!

Let pious sacrifice

Thy farthest valleys mark!

Let, too, again arise

Thy cotter-patriarch!

Let thy land keep her Sabbaths still,
Thy tribes still throng the holy hill!

Invoke thy Witness-cloud,

That awful, spectral, band,— Who ne'er to tyrants bowed,

The glory of thy land,—

Say, is their noble courage fled,
Or vainly was their life-blood shed?

Should evil days decline

O'er scenes their blood has nursed,— Angels forsake thy shrine!

The patriot's tie is burst!

And though thy soil shall still remain,
Thy country dies beneath the stain!

Thy hills might tower as high,
Thy crags as dreadly frown,

Thy streams as sweetly sigh,

Thy flowers still fringe thy crown,—

The glory of the Lord thy God
Departs, thy name is Ichabod !

Land of the North, farewell!

Small trust dost thou receive To guard each rock-built dell,— More solemn charge I leave,To claims, which earth accords thy due, Be strictly just, be greatly true!

AN ALLEGORY.

I WANDERED a fugitive Dove,
Impatient the waters to roam !
I fluttered their surface above,

Far, far from a refuge and home.
The billows heav'd sullen and dark,

And loud swept the tempest's wild din:

Ah where was the Covenant-Ark?

Where He who might draw me within?

Still onward the terrible surge

O'er barrier mountains was hurled ;
Not a peak yet began to emerge,—
So fathomless sunk was the world!
How trembled and ruffled my breast!
I fled on deserted and lone :
The sole of my foot had no rest,
And echo derided my moan.

Then heavily faltered my wing,

I drooped from my once buoyant flight;

I struggled a poor lifeless thing,

While mine eye floated darkling in night.

But when yielding up to my fate,

I saw with the look of despair,

The dread world of waters abate,

And the spray of the olive was there!

Sweet pledge of the Waters' decrease,
How gladly I gathered thy buds,
And bore them, the emblems of peace,
As I glanced o'er the quick ebbing floods.
My pinions their freedom regain!

I enter the safe-gliding nest ;-
There find I relief for each pain
On the bosom of Mercy caressed.

As a star rising out of the wave,
That Refuge as lovely appeared,
The weary and trembling to save

Through the tumult it only careered :
My plainings are murmurs of joy!
Rays of heaven illumine my head!

My quiet no storm can destroy,-
The Dove to his window has fled.

And now other regions I hail,

New earth and new heavens there glow: That verdure, that azure, ne'er fail, Nor are marr'd by the tempests below. To bask in the sunlight's broad ray! To shine in the rainbow's pure vest!

Oh that I could now flee away,

And there be for ever at rest!

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