 | Ouâbi : or the virtues of nature |  |
52
LINES,
Addressed to the inimitable Author of the Poems under the Signature of DELLA CRUSCA.
Across the vast Atlantic tide,
Down Apalachia's grassy side,
What echoing sounds the soul beguile,
And lend the lip of grief a smile!
'Tis Della Crusca's heav'nly song,
Which floats the western shores along,
Breathing as sweet, as soft a strain,
As kindness to the ear of pain,
Splendid as noon, as morning clear,
And chaste as ev'ning's pearly tear;
Where cold despair in music flows,
While all the FIRE OF GENIUS glows.
Down Apalachia's grassy side,
What echoing sounds the soul beguile,
And lend the lip of grief a smile!
'Tis Della Crusca's heav'nly song,
Which floats the western shores along,
Breathing as sweet, as soft a strain,
As kindness to the ear of pain,
Splendid as noon, as morning clear,
And chaste as ev'ning's pearly tear;
Where cold despair in music flows,
While all the FIRE OF GENIUS glows.
Still thy enchanting pow'rs display,
Still charm me with the magic lay!
The Muses all thy soul inspire,
Apollo tunes thy matchless lyre!
O strike the lustral string again,
And o'er Columbia waft the strain.
Still charm me with the magic lay!
The Muses all thy soul inspire,
Apollo tunes thy matchless lyre!
O strike the lustral string again,
And o'er Columbia waft the strain.
Ah! would to light my clouded days,
One ray from thy unequall'd blaze,
Might thro my dark'ning fortunes shine,
And grace me with a note like thine!
But no, BRIGHT BARD, for thee alone
The Muses weave the LAUREL CROWN:
Ne'er can the timid, plaintive dove,
Soar with the DAUNTLESS BIRD OF JOVE;
Nor silv'ry Hesper's dewy ray
Beam like the GOLDEN ORB OF DAY.
One ray from thy unequall'd blaze,
Might thro my dark'ning fortunes shine,
And grace me with a note like thine!
But no, BRIGHT BARD, for thee alone
The Muses weave the LAUREL CROWN:
Ne'er can the timid, plaintive dove,
Soar with the DAUNTLESS BIRD OF JOVE;
Nor silv'ry Hesper's dewy ray
Beam like the GOLDEN ORB OF DAY.
| Ouâbi : or the virtues of nature | |