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GREAT God, at midnight's solemn hour,
I own thy goodness and thy power;
But bending low before thy throne,
I pray not for myself alone.

I pray for her, my dearest friend,
For her, my fervent prayers ascend;
And while to thee my vows I bring,

For her my warmest wishes spring.

While dark and silent rolls the night, Protect her with thy heavenly might; Thy curtain round her pillow spread, And circling angels guard her bed.

Let peaceful slumbers press her eyes, Till morning beams in splendor rise; And pure and radiant as that beam,

Be the light vision of her dream.

Let each succeeding morn impart
New pleasures to her tranquil heart;
And richer blessings crown the night,

Than met the view at morning light.

Whate'er my swelling heart desires,
When fervent prayer to Heaven aspires,
Whate'er has warmed my fancy's glow,
May she, with tenfold richness, know.

O God, may she thy laws fulfil,

And live, and die, thy favorite still; Live, to enjoy thy bounteous hand, And die, to join the seraph band.


FAREWELL to the year that is passing away,
Farewell to its hopes and its fears ;
It matters not now whether sober or gay,
For alike are its smiles and its tears.

Ere Spring's early blush had the blossom unclosed,
From the home of my father I strayed;

On ocean's wild billows I safely reposed,
For stronger than man was my aid.

I wandered from cities of wealth and repose,
To Glory's all-desolate scene;

Where Carnage sits bloated, and Havock still glows,
Where Murder and Rapine had been.

From garden to castle, from dungeon to bower,

My eyes were delighted to roam;

But stray where I would, through palace or tower, My heart was still beating for home.

Then hail to the home which receives me again,
And hail to the friends who endear it!

And hail the New Year! with its pleasure and pain
And blessings on her who's to cheer it!

December 31, 1815.


I LOVE the dews of night,
I love the howling wind;
I love to hear the tempests sweep
O'er the billows of the deep!

For nature's saddest scenes delight
The melancholy mind.

Autumn! I love thy bower

With faded garlands drest;

How sweet, alone to linger there,
When tempests ride the midnight air!
To snatch from mirth a fleeting hour,
The sabbath of the breast!

Autumn! I love thee well;

Though bleak thy breezes blow,

I love to see the vapors rise,

And clouds roll wildly round the skies,

Where from the plain, the mountains swell,

And foaming torrents flow.

Autumn! thy fading flowers

Droop but to bloom again;

So man, though doomed to grief awhile,
To hang on Fortune's fickle smile,

Shall glow in heaven with nobler powers,
Nor sigh for peace in vain.

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