My Mind and its Thoughts, in Sketches, Fragments, and Essays

Though on Columbia's bleak uncultured shore,
With languid step the ungenial muses rove,
'Tis her's, the bounds of ocean to explore,
And with the spirit of THINE Albion move.

Though not for her the stream of science flow,
'Tis her's the nobler virtues to command,
To seek the gems of genius WHERE they glow,
And deal her tribute with unsparing hand.

Liston, 'tis her's with truth's enamoured eye,
Like a near friend, whom fortune dooms to part,
Still at thy name to breathe affections sigh,
And wear thy graces graven on her heart.

For thou hast wisdom to attract the wise,
Temper, whose sun-shine with benignant ray
Commands the florid smile of joy to rise,
And bids the frowning storm of hate decay.

An empire's glory claims thy filial care,
While from thy dome the fiend of party flies,
For all the amities inhabit there,
And there the spirit of contention dies.

Still may Britannia on thy genius smile,
And still Columbia's kindred voice approve,
Rewards await thee from the GLORIOUS ISLE,
While younger nations crown them with their love.

University of Virginia Library

STANZAS.

TO THE HON. ROBERT LISTON, MINISTER PLENIPOTENTIARY FROM GREAT BRITAIN, UPON HEARING HIM AT HIS DEPARTURE, LAMENT THAT “AMERICA HAD NO POETS.”