Beauties of the mind, a poetical sketch With lays, historical and romantic. By Charles Swain |
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LIBERTY. |
 | Beauties of the mind, a poetical sketch |  |
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LIBERTY.
“Oh! if there be, on this earthly sphere,
A boon, an offering heaven holds dear,
'Tis the last libation liberty draws
From the heart that bleeds and breaks in her cause!”
Moore.
A boon, an offering heaven holds dear,
'Tis the last libation liberty draws
From the heart that bleeds and breaks in her cause!”
Moore.
Blest be the land, where'er it lies,
'Neath brilliant blue Arcadian skies;
Or far in dreary solitude,
'Mid cataract and forest rude,
It shores a desert sea:
To me it shall be holy ground,
If in its air there lives one sound,
And that glad sound is Liberty!
Dear Liberty!—thou ray of Heaven!
Bright emanation from our God!
Spirit, to whom a power is given
Co-equal with the prophet's rod;
Where'er! thou touchest—flows a stream
Of grace and grandeur, brightening all!
Beauty awakes as from a dream—
Wealth hears, and straight obeys thy call!
'Neath brilliant blue Arcadian skies;
Or far in dreary solitude,
'Mid cataract and forest rude,
It shores a desert sea:
To me it shall be holy ground,
If in its air there lives one sound,
And that glad sound is Liberty!
155
Bright emanation from our God!
Spirit, to whom a power is given
Co-equal with the prophet's rod;
Where'er! thou touchest—flows a stream
Of grace and grandeur, brightening all!
Beauty awakes as from a dream—
Wealth hears, and straight obeys thy call!
Brave are thy youths, and fair thy maids,
The very soul of love pervades
Their every word and sigh;
Around thou turn'st thine eagle gaze,
And tyrants wither in the blaze
Of thine insulted eye!
There is no attribute of mind
No glow of faculties refined,
No charm (that genius gave)
But grows and strengthens in thy light:
And lives there one such gifts to blight?
Go!—cast the traitor from thy sight,
To crawl an abject slave!
Yes! by whatever ocean bound,
That land to me is hallowed ground,
If from its heart there springs one sound,
The lofty sound of Liberty!
The very soul of love pervades
Their every word and sigh;
Around thou turn'st thine eagle gaze,
And tyrants wither in the blaze
Of thine insulted eye!
There is no attribute of mind
No glow of faculties refined,
No charm (that genius gave)
But grows and strengthens in thy light:
And lives there one such gifts to blight?
Go!—cast the traitor from thy sight,
To crawl an abject slave!
156
That land to me is hallowed ground,
If from its heart there springs one sound,
The lofty sound of Liberty!
| Beauties of the mind, a poetical sketch | |