Another hand thy sword shall wield, The blast of triumph o'er thy grave. W. C. Bryant. CCXI. HALLOWED GROUND. WHAT'S hallowed ground! Has earth a clod Its Maker meant not should be trod By man, the image of his God, Unscourged by Superstition's rod To bow the knee? That's hallowed ground — where mourned and missed, The lips repose our love has kissed; But where's their memory's mansion? Is 't Yon churchyard's bowers? No; in ourselves their souls exist, What hallows ground where heroes sleep? Or genii twine beneath the deep But strew his ashes to the wind Whose sword or voice has served mankind And is he dead, whose glorious mind Lifts thine on high? To live in hearts we leave behind Is 't death to fall for freedom's right? And murder sullies in Heaven's sight What can alone ennoble fight? A noble cause! Give that! and welcome war to brace Her drums! and rend heaven's reeking space! The colors painted face to face, The charging cheer, Though Death's pale horse led on the chase, Shall still be dear! And place our trophies where men kneel my zeal! The cause of truth and human weal, O God above! Transfer it from the sword's appeal Peace, love the cherubim, that join The heart alone can make divine Religion's spot. To incantations dost thou trust, That man can bless one pile of dust Fair stars! are not your beings pure? Ye must be Heaven's that make us sure And in your harmony sublime I read the doom of distant time; That man's regenerate soul from crime Shall yet be drawn, And reason on his mortal clime Immortal dawn. - What's hallowed ground? 'Tis what gives birth And your high-priesthood shall make earth T. Campbell. CCXII. THE EXILE OF ERIN. HERE came to the beach a poor exile of Erin, THERE The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill; "Sad is my fate!" said the heart-broken stranger · Where my forefathers lived, shall I spend the sweet hours, And strike to the numbers of Erin go bragh!' "Erin! my country! though sad and forsaken, In dreams I revisit thy sea-beaten shore! But, alas! in a far, foreign land I awaken, And sigh for the friends who can meet me no more! O cruel fate, wilt thou never replace me In a mansion of peace, where no perils can chase me? They died to defend me! or live to deplore! "Where is my cabin-door, fast by the wild wood? "Yet all its sad recollections suppressing, And thy harp-striking bards sing aloud with devotion,'Erin mavournin Erin go bragh!'" T. Campbell CCXIII. LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER. A CHIEFTAIN to the Highlands bound, Cries, "Boatman, do not tarry! And I'll give thee a silver pound "Now who be ye, would cross Lochgyle, "O I'm the chief of Ulva's isle, And this, Lord Ullin's daughter. "And fast before her father's men Three days we've fled together, For should he find us in the glen, My blood would stain the heather. "His horsemen hard behind us rideShould they our steps discover, Then who will cheer my bonny bride, When they have slain her lover!" Out spoke the hardy highland wight, "I'll go, my chief, I'm ready: It is not for your silver bright, But for your winsome lady : : "And by my word! the bonny bird In danger shall not tarry; So, though the waves are raging white, I'll row you o'er the ferry." By this the storm grew loud apace, The water-wraith was shrieking; And, in the scowl of heaven, each face Grew dark as they were speaking. But still as wilder blew the wind, "O haste thee, haste!" the lady cries, 66 Though tempests round us gather; I'll meet the raging of the skies, But not an angry father." The boat has left a stormy land, When, O! too strong for human hand, The tempest gathered o'er her. |