Thou shalt be coals of fire to those that hate thee, And warm the shins of all that underrate thee. Yea, they did wrong thee foully-they who mocked Thy honest face, and said thou wouldst not burn; Of hewing thee to chimney pieces talked And grew profane-and swore in bitter scorn, That men might to thy inner caves retire, And there, unsinged, abide the day of fire. Yet is thy greatness nigh. I pause to state, before him. And I have seen-not many months ago- Ride forth to visit the reviews, and ah ! How oft he smiled and bowed to Jonathan ! How many hands were shook and votes were won! 'Twas a great Governor-thou too shalt be Great in thy turn-and wide shall spread thy fame, And swiftly; furthest Maine shall hear of thee, And cold New Brunswick gladden at thy name, And, faintly through its sleets, the weeping isle That sends the Boston folks their cod shall smile. For thou shalt forge vast railways, and shalt heat The hissing rivers into steam, and drive Huge masses from thy mines, on iron feet, Thou shalt make mighty engines swim the sea, Like its own monsters-boats that for a guinea Will take a man to Havre-and shalt be The moving soul of many a spinning-jenny, And ply thy shuttles, till a bard can wear As good a suit of broadcloth as the mayor. Then we will laugh at winter when we hear The grim old churl about our dwellings rave; Thou, from that "ruler of the inverted year," Shalt pluck the knotty sceptre Cowper gave, And pull him from his sledge, and drag him in, And melt the icicles from off his chin. THE NEW MOON. WHEN, as the garish day is done, Heaven burns with the descended sun, 'Tis passing sweet to mark, Amid that flush of crimson light, The new moon's modest bow grow bright, As earth and sky grow dark. Few are the hearts too cold to feel Sees faintly in the evening blaze, The sight of that young crescent brings And childhood's purity and grace, The captive yields him to the dream And painfully the sick man tries On the soft promise there. Most welcome to the lover's sight, |