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Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore,
And my wife sobbed aloud in her fulness of heart.
Stay, stay with us―rest, thou art weary and worn ;
4. THE FEMALE EXILE.
YE hills of my country, soft fading in blue ;
That mingles its tide with the blood of the brave;
Ye scenes of remembrance that sorrow beguiled,
Ye shall bloom to the morn, though ye bloom not for me;
But never to me shall the summer renew
The bowers where the days of my happiness flew;
To me ye are lost!-but your summits of green
Ye hills of my country! farewell evermore,
As I leave the dark waves of your rock-rugged shore,
6. THE BATTLE OF BUSACO.
High on the heath our tents were spread,
The banners flapped incessantly.
"Arouse for death or victory!"
Hung on the bold declivity!
Reeled in the flickering canopy.
Rushed to the dreadful revelry.
7.-THE VISIONS OF FANCY.
OH! yet, ye dear, deluding visions, stay!
Ah! no the sunshine o'er each object spread
By flattering hope,-the flowers that blew so fair,Like the gay gardens of Armida fled,
And vanished from the powerful rod of care.
So the poor pilgrim, who, in rapturous thought,
Ambrosial blossoms,-such of old as blew
By those fresh founts on Eden's happy plain, And Sharon's roses,-all his passage strew:
So fancy dreams; but fancy's dreams are vain. Wasted and weary on the mountain's side,
His way unknown, the hapless pilgrim lies; Or takes some ruthless robber for his guide,
And prone beneath his cruel sabre dies.
Life's morning landscape gilt with orient light,
In radiant colours youth's free hand portrays,
Then holds the flattering tablet to his eye; Nor thinks how soon the vernal grove decays,
Nor sees the dark cloud gathering o'er the sky. Hence fancy, conquered by the dart of pain,
And wandering far from her Platonic shade, Mourns o'er the ruins of her transient reign,
Nor unrepining sees her visions fade.
Their parent banished, hence her children fly,
Their fairy race that filled her festive train; Joy rears his wreath, and hope inverts her eye, And folly wonders that her dream was vain.
8.-CONFIDENCE IN GOD.
How are hy servants blest, O Lord!
In foreign realms, and lands remote,
Through burning climes I passed unhurt, And breathed in tainted air.
Thy mercy sweetened every soil,
And smoothed the Tyrrhene seas.
Think, O my soul, devoutly think,
Thou sawest the wide-extended deep
Confusion dwelt in every face,
When waves on waves, and gulfs in gulfs, O'ercame the pilot's art.
Yet then from all my griefs, O Lord,
While in the confidence of prayer
For though in dreadful whirls we hung
I knew thou wert not slow to hear,
The storm was laid, the winds retired,
The sea, that roared at thy command,
In midst of dangers, fears, and deaths,
And praise thee for thy mercies past,