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201
AMOR PATRIAE—A FRAGMENT.
Dear as the life-blood of my heart,
My native land, to me thou art!
And till it cease to swell my veins,
While my last hold of life remains,
Till my last “minstrel lay” is sung
Thy name shall dwell upon my tongue.
My native land, to me thou art!
And till it cease to swell my veins,
While my last hold of life remains,
Till my last “minstrel lay” is sung
Thy name shall dwell upon my tongue.
What tho' imagination roam
O'er terra's face, o'er ocean's foam,
From where, red-streaming on their height,
Lone Hecla's fires illume the night,
To where mad mingling oceans span
The Land of Fire at Magellan,
And feeds upon the wondrous scene
That spreads the mighty space between—
Yet over thee her wings expand,
My own much-loved, much-honored land,
And, wearied, gently sink to rest
Upon thy kindred-throbbing breast!
O'er terra's face, o'er ocean's foam,
From where, red-streaming on their height,
Lone Hecla's fires illume the night,
To where mad mingling oceans span
The Land of Fire at Magellan,
And feeds upon the wondrous scene
That spreads the mighty space between—
Yet over thee her wings expand,
My own much-loved, much-honored land,
And, wearied, gently sink to rest
Upon thy kindred-throbbing breast!
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