In smiles upon her ruins lie. 
But I would woo the winds to let us rest
  O’er Greece long fettered and oppressed,
Whose sons at length have heard the call that comes
  From the old battle-fields and tombs,
And risen, and drawn the sword, and on the foe
  Have dealt the swift and desperate blow,
And the Othman power is cloven, and the stroke
  Has touched its chains, and they are broke. 
Ay, we would linger till the sunset there
  Should come, to purple all the air,
And thou reflect upon the sacred ground
  The ruddy radiance streaming round.

Bright meteor! for the summer noontide made! 
  Thy peerless beauty yet shall fade. 
The sun, that fills with light each glistening fold,
  Shall set, and leave thee dark and cold: 
The blast shall rend thy skirts, or thou mayst frown
  In the dark heaven when storms come down;
And weep in rain, till man’s inquiring eye
  Miss thee, for ever, from the sky.

The murdered traveller. deg.

When spring, to woods and wastes around,
  Brought bloom and joy again,
The murdered traveller’s bones were found,
  Far down a narrow glen.

The fragrant birch, above him, hung
  Her tassels in the sky;
And many a vernal blossom sprung,
  And nodded careless by.

The red-bird warbled, as he wrought
  His hanging nest o’erhead,
And fearless, near the fatal spot,
  Her young the partridge led.

But there was weeping far away,
  And gentle eyes, for him,
With watching many an anxious day,
  Were sorrowful and dim.

They little knew, who loved him so,
  The fearful death he met,
When shouting o’er the desert snow,
  Unarmed, and hard beset;—­

Nor how, when round the frosty pole
  The northern dawn was red,
The mountain wolf and wild-cat stole
  To banquet on the dead;—­

Nor how, when strangers found his bones,
  They dressed the hasty bier,
And marked his grave with nameless stones,
  Unmoistened by a tear.

But long they looked, and feared, and wept,
  Within his distant home;
And dreamed, and started as they slept,
  For joy that he was come.

Long, long they looked—­but never spied
  His welcome step again,
Nor knew the fearful death he died
  Far down that narrow glen.

HYMN TO THE NORTH STAR.

    The sad and solemn night
  Hath yet her multitude of cheerful fires;
    The glorious host of light
  Walk the dark hemisphere till she retires;
  All through her silent watches, gliding slow,
Her constellations come, and climb the heavens, and go.

    Day, too, hath many a star
  To grace his gorgeous reign, as bright as they: 
    Through the blue fields afar,
  Unseen, they follow in his flaming way: 
  Many a bright lingerer, as the eve grows dim,
Tells what a radiant troop arose and set with him.