 | Forest leaves |  |
LAY OF THE LYRE.
How like a glorious dream
That flies before the tide of busy day,
From the eternal mountain, vale, and stream,
The crown has pass d away!
That flies before the tide of busy day,
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The crown has pass d away!
Like some deep mystery
Seems that wild race, that through the forest rov'd,
Inseparable in its history,
From the green bowers they lov'd.
Seems that wild race, that through the forest rov'd,
Inseparable in its history,
From the green bowers they lov'd.
None knoweth whence they came;
Coeval with the forest they have been;
In glory, and in destiny the same,
They held their glorious reign.
Coeval with the forest they have been;
In glory, and in destiny the same,
They held their glorious reign.
But, as the forest fell,
Yielding the sceptre of its ancient sway,
Leaving each tender flower, and fairy dell,
To the broad blaze of day.
Yielding the sceptre of its ancient sway,
Leaving each tender flower, and fairy dell,
To the broad blaze of day.
And when the green-rob'd crowd,
Departed from the plains, and valley lands;
When patriarch beech, and giant hemlock bow'd
Beneath the axe-man's hand.
Departed from the plains, and valley lands;
When patriarch beech, and giant hemlock bow'd
Beneath the axe-man's hand.
When the majestic pine,
The living banner Freedom's hand had flung,
Above her mighty altars, where the shrine
Of heaven's pure gladness hung.
The living banner Freedom's hand had flung,
Above her mighty altars, where the shrine
Of heaven's pure gladness hung.
When these were rudely riven
From the high places where their giant forms,
Had brav'd the thunders, and the winds of heaven,
And wrestled with the storms.
From the high places where their giant forms,
Had brav'd the thunders, and the winds of heaven,
And wrestled with the storms.
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With them fell down the pride,
The vital glory of those free-born breasts;
The forest fell; the dark-brow'd hunter died,
Mingling their fallen crests.
The vital glory of those free-born breasts;
The forest fell; the dark-brow'd hunter died,
Mingling their fallen crests.
And still the sweeping tide
Of cultivation, holds its swift career,
And soon from this broad land rich Nature's pride,
And sons, will disappear.
Of cultivation, holds its swift career,
And soon from this broad land rich Nature's pride,
And sons, will disappear.
I wail in pensive strain
With her own tuneful voice, and plaintive tone,
The desecration of her ancient reign;
Her noble children gone.
With her own tuneful voice, and plaintive tone,
The desecration of her ancient reign;
Her noble children gone.
Art with his steel and fire,
Has swept her glorious majesty away;
But Art can never teach the wild wood lyre,
To love her heartless sway.
Has swept her glorious majesty away;
But Art can never teach the wild wood lyre,
To love her heartless sway.
While wild flowers blossom here,
Within the balmy bosom of the shade,
And the free song-birds congregate, to hear
From every sunny glade.
Within the balmy bosom of the shade,
And the free song-birds congregate, to hear
From every sunny glade.
While these old trees bend down,
And sighing listen to my fitful song,
And limpid streams pour forth a plaintive tone,
Each cadence to prolong.
And sighing listen to my fitful song,
And limpid streams pour forth a plaintive tone,
Each cadence to prolong.
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The wild wood lyre shall wail,
The forest-wreath of glory pass'd away;
And mourn the noble race whose tragic tale,
Shall fill in years to come the thrilling lay.
The forest-wreath of glory pass'd away;
And mourn the noble race whose tragic tale,
Shall fill in years to come the thrilling lay.
| Forest leaves | |