Or that the laurel shades us, since it grows
In chief luxuriance where the brave repose?
Say, will its leaves assuaging balm impart
To ease the anguish of the wounded heart?
Say, will the honors, that on fame attend,
Console the widow, or restore the friend?
In victory's day, the shout is all we hear;
The sob of sorrow reaches not the ear.
The dazzling pomp is all that meets the light;
The toil, the suffering, is concealed from sight.
But could we tell how vast th' amount of woe
Behold the wounded, and their tortures know
Go to the chamber where the widow sighs,
And see the orphans' tears, and hear their cries-
Mark all the frantic transports of despair,

The piercing shriek, the mingled curse and prayer-
O, we should bleed at heart, when Victory's voice
Rang through the crowd, and bade the land rejoice;
Should shrink with shuddering from war's iron sound,
And tread its proudest trophies to the ground.

Then hail, sweet Peace, man's high, yet injured friend! No gloomy terrors on thy steps attend;

No forms of woe, no demons armed with wrath,
But quiet, hope, and plenty wait thy path.
War wastes around him with consuming breath;
Our comforts fade, our friendships sink in death.
He treads along a track of living fire,
And science, arts, and happiness expire.
Demon, be gone! we hate thy savage mien;

But Peace, sweet nymph, be thou our lovely queen.
Come, soothe our sorrows with thy cheerful song;
Bring all thy blessings, and continue long.

Lo, Plenty springs beneath thy verdant tread, And Art, reviving, lifts to heaven her head. White o'er the billows moves th' adventurous sail, And riches pour to land with every gale. The city sees its splendid domes increase, With all the grandeur and the fame of Greece; The country smiles in richer verdure crowned, While cheerful toil and rustic mirth resound; And Science sees her favorite mansions rise, Till Harvard's turrets tremble in the skies; Till other Miltons stretch a loftier flight, And other Newtons tread new fields of light. Hail, hail, the distant beauty of our land, That Hope has pictured with a glowing hand! Roll on, ye happy years, in rapture roll; Pour all your promise on th' impatient soul The brilliant promise of a lovelier day, Of purer light, and clear, unclouded ray. Fathers, your sons shall then in virtues shine, That raise the human nearer the divine. Mothers, your daughters, more accomplished then, Shall smile with sweeter smiles on worthier men. Then public good, on private virtue built, Shall stand unmoved by vice, unstained by guilt. Then, guided by the wisdom from above, We all shall harmonize in perfect love; Shall cast the trophies of our wars away, And nobler honors to the world display.

LINES FOR MUSIC.

IMITATED FROM THE GERMAN WORDS TO A CANON FOR THREE VOICES, BY J. H. C. BOMHARDT.

November, 1837.

THE day of life is not all desolate;
Paternal Love o'er all presideth;
And though the doubting heart
May mourn when hopes depart,
Serenely Faith amid the storm abideth.
The darkest clouds of Fate

Are bright when Love confideth.

TO E. A. W.,

ON HER MARRIAGE.

Concord, N. H., August 22, 1831.

ABSENT!

We

e are not absent, dear. Of all the happy throng you see, Not one in spirit is more near,

Or breathes a heartier wish, than we. So take our kiss, and with it share A brother's, sister's love and prayer.

May He who blessed your early lot

With all that makes a happy home, O'erwatch, with equal love, the spot That waits your life in years to come. Trust Him, let weal or woe betide;

and what can you ask beside?

HYMN,

FOR THE DEDICATION OF A CHURCH.

April, 1839.

Tune, LYONS.

WE rear not a temple, like Judah's of old,
Whose portals were marble, whose vaultings were gold;
No incense is lighted, no victims are slain,
No monarch kneels praying to hallow the fane.

More simple and lowly the walls that we raise,
And humbler the pomp of procession and praise,
Where the heart is the altar whence incense shall roll,
And Messiah the King who shall pray for the soul.

O Father, come in! but not in the cloud

Which filled the bright courts where thy chosen ones bowed; But come in that spirit of glory and grace,

Which beams on the soul and illumines the race.

O, come in the power of thy life-giving Word,
And reveal to each heart its Redeemer and Lord;
Till Faith bring the peace to the penitent given,
And Love fill the air with the fragrance of heaven.