III. O YE VOICES.

O YE voices round my own hearth singing!
As the winds of May to memory sweet,
Might I yet return, a worn heart bringing,
Would those vernal tones the wanderer greet,
Once again?

Never, never! Spring hath smiled and parted
Oft since then your fond farewell was said;
O'er the green turf of the gentle-hearted
Summer's hand the rose-leaves may have shed,
Oft again!

Or if still around my heart ye linger,

Yet, sweet voices! there must change have come; Years have quell'd the free soul of the singer,

Vernal tones shall greet the wanderer home,
Ne'er again!

IV.-I DREAM OF ALL THINGS FREE.

I DREAM of all things free!

Of a gallant, gallant bark,

That sweeps through storm and sea,
Like an arrow to its mark!
Of a stag that o'er the hills
Goes bounding in his glee;
Of a thousand flashing rills-
Of all things glad and free.

I dream of some proud bird,

A bright-eyed mountain king! In my visions I have heard

The rushing of his wing. I follow some wild river,

On whose breast no sail may be; Dark woods around it shiver

I dream of all things free!

Of a happy forest child,

With the fawns and flowers at play; Of an Indian 'midst the wild,

With the stars to guide his way:
Of a chief his warriors leading,
Of an archer's greenwood tree:-
My heart in chains is bleeding,
And I dream of all things free!

When evening calls the dove
Homewards to flee?

Where doth the orange gleam
Soft on my native stream?
Far o'er the sea!

Where are sweet eyes of love
Watching for me?

Where o'er the cabin roof
Waves the green tree?

Where speaks the vesper-chime
Still of a holy time?

Far o'er the sea.

Dance on, ye vintage bands,

Fearless and free!

Still fresh and greenly wave,
My father's tree!

Still smile, ye kind blue skies !
Though your son pines and dies
Far o'er the sea!

VI. THE INVOCATION.

OH! art thou still on earth, my love?
My only love!

Or smiling in a brighter home,
Far, far above?

Oh! is thy sweet voice fled, my love?
Thy light step gone?

And art thou not, in earth or heaven,
Still, still my own?

I see thee with thy gleaming hair,
In midnight dreams!

But cold, and clear, and spirit-like,
Thy soft eye seems.

Peace in thy saddest hour, my love!
Dwelt on thy brow;

But something mournfully divine
There shineth now!

And silent ever is thy lip,

And pale thy cheek;

Oh! art thou earth's, or art thou heaven's,
Speak to me, speak!

VII.-THE SONG OF HOPE.

DROOP not, my brothers! I hear a glad strainWe shall burst forth like streams from the winter night's chain;

A flag is unfurl'd, a bright star of the sea,
A ransom approaches-we yet shall be free!

Where the pines wave, where the light chamois leaps,
Where the lone eagle hath built on the steeps;
Where the snows glisten, the mountain-rills foam,
Free as the falcon's wing, yet shall we roam.
VOL. VII.- 7

Where the hearth shines, where the kind looks are

met,

Where the smiles mingle, our place shall be yet!
Crossing the desert, o'ersweeping the sea-
Droop not, my Brothers! we yet shall be free!

THE BIRD AT SEA.

BIRD of the greenwood!

Oh! why art thou here?
Leaves dance not o'er thee,
Flowers bloom not near.
All the sweet waters

Far hence are at play-
Bird of the greenwood!
Away, away!

Where the mast quivers,
Thy place will not be,

As 'midst the waving

Of wild rose and tree.
How should'st thou battle

With storm and with spray?
Bird of the greenwood!
Away, away!

Or art thou seeking

Some brighter land,
Where by the south wind

Vine leaves are fann'd?