Who, wedded to vengeance, a dread oath has sworn, THE HEROES OF THE WEST. I. How sweet is the song of the festal rite, When the bosom with rapture swells high; When the heart, at the soft touch of pleasure, beats light, And bright is the beam of the eye. In the dirge, that is poured o'er affection's bier, How holy an interest dwells, When the frequent drop, of the frequent tear, The heart-rending anguish tells; But sweeter the song that the minstrel should raise And livelier the tones of the heart-gendered praise, Whose arm wields the sword for his country no more, Who has died the death of the brave. II. There lives in the bosom a feeling sublime, Of all, 'tis the strongest tie; 'Tis the love that is borne for that lovely land, 'Tis the love, that is planted by nature's hand, 'Twas this that the patriot victor inspired, And hallowed the hour when he fell, III. When a thousand swords, in a thousand hands, When the blood of the West, in the battle was poured, When the blood of the East stained the point of the sword, At the Eastern king's behest: "Till the angel form of returning peace, O'er the plain and the mountain smiled— Bade the rude blast of war from its ravage to cease, IV. Then firm be its base, as the giant rock 'Midst the ocean waves alone, That the beating rain and the tempest shock, For numberless years has borne. And blasted the parricide arm, that shall plan But still may it sanction the rights of man, And liberty guardian to all. Then sweet be the song that the minstrel should raise, To the patriot victor's fame, And lively the tones of the heart-gendered praise, Whose hand wields the sword for his country no more, TURN NOT TO THE EAST. Can the heart, which first glow'd in a far foreign seat, For a different land feel its warm pulses beat? Can the eye, op'd not here, drop the heart-gender'd tear On the blood that was spilt for the blessings we bear? / Turn not to the East with the eye of desire, See the star of the West in its mild glories rise, That star, when the proud boasting sons of the East Have danc'd through their day, and have finished their feast That star then shall shine over millions more blest, Then look to the Eastern horizon's blue bound, Can the heart, which first glow'd in a far foreign seat, TO **** I. LADY, that form so slight and fair That must, from year to year, attend II. That heart, so pure, so soft, so good, III. Some happy island far removed, Whose groves of bliss an angel loved, I |