. Literature, art and song: Moore's melodies and American poems; . ey lovd what they knew of so humble aname;And they told him, with flattery welcome and dear,That they found in his heart something better thanfame. Nor did woman—0 woman! whose form and whosesoul Are the spell and the light of each path we pursue;Whether sunnd in the tropics or chilld at the pole, If woman be there, there is happiness too:— // Nor did she her enamouring magic deny,—That magic his heart had relinquishd so long,- Like eyes he had lovd was Aer eloquent eye,Like them did it soften and weep at his song. ..s.:!^ 0, b
. Literature, art and song: Moore's melodies and American poems; . ey lovd what they knew of so humble aname;And they told him, with flattery welcome and dear,That they found in his heart something better thanfame. Nor did woman—0 woman! whose form and whosesoul Are the spell and the light of each path we pursue;Whether sunnd in the tropics or chilld at the pole, If woman be there, there is happiness too:— // Nor did she her enamouring magic deny,—That magic his heart had relinquishd so long,- Like eyes he had lovd was Aer eloquent eye,Like them did it soften and weep at his song. ..s.:!^ 0, blest be the tear, and in memory oft May its sparkle be shed oer the wanderersdream; Thrice blest be that eye, and may passion as soft,As free from a pang, ever mellow its beam! The stranger is gone—but he will not forget,When at home he shall talk of the toils he hasknown, To tell, with a sigh, what endearments he met. As he strayd by the wave of the Schuylkill alone. Residence of tfie lale Thomag .Jfoore, on ilie bnnJis of Ihe SchujlJiill. Oa RICHES 080. A ^ WRITTEN AT THE COHOES, OR FALLS OP THE MOHAWK RIVER. Gia era in loco ove s udia 1 rimbomboDeir acqua . Dante. MXtaXCHt rise of morn till set of sun I ve seen the mighty Mohawk run; And as I markd the woods of pine Along his mirror darkly shine, Like tall and gloomy forms that pass Before the wizards midnight glass; And as I viewd the hurrying pace With which he ran his turbid race, Rushing, alike untird and wild, Through shades that frownd and flowers that smild, l^ 386 yx/ Flying by every green recessThat wood him to its calm caress,Yet sometimes turning with the windAs if to leave one look behind,—Oft have I thought, and thinking sighd,How like to thee, thou restless tide,May be the lot, the life of himWho roams along thy waters brim;Through what alternate wastes of woeAnd flowers of joy my path may go;How many a shelterd, calm retreatMay woo the while my weary feet,While still pursuing, still unblest,I wander
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Keywords: ., bookauthormackenzi, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, bookyear1872
