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• To rise no more," and what should damp the fire Of freedom in the soul, and quench the spark, The heaven-born spark of liberty divire?
Oh! what is life without the kindling glow
Of ev'ry child of earth! My native land!
May Heav'n soon wipe away the cloud that hides,
But see, Erina, with a sylphic tread,
And harp, light o'er her graceful shoulder thrown, The myrtle arbour seeks, where oft, amidst
The balmy ordour of umbrageous shrubs,
She loves to waste the peaceful hour, and dream
Of him, the tender youth, who bide her breast
With warmth enthusiastic swell. Hark! hark!
Her flying fingers touch the lyre, and thus,
Oh! what are the pleasures this bosom has known,
dear Oscar declared he was mine,
Since first I would languish to hear the sweet tone,
In which he would falter, “ Erina, I'm thine!"
How blest do I feel, when together we rove,
Amid the green arbour, or down the lone vale;
And my heart beats concordant to every soft tale.
But late when we wandered along by the shore,
Where grandeur and beauty the footstep invite; How talked he of blessings that love had in store,
And painted the joys of domestic delight!
So gallant is Oscar, his soul so sincere,
So raptured, yet modest, his looks when he sues,
That, oh! it is heaven his language to hear,
And when he solicits, what maid could refuse?
O Love, be propitious, attend to my sigh,
A maiden petitions thee, all-potent boy! . May the vows of my Oscar be written on high,
And no wayward fate their fulfilment destroy.
So, blest with my Oscar, a stranger to care,
The sweets of endearment thro' life we'll
Existence in stable enjoyments we'll wear,
And bid to the world and its nonsense adieu!
Scarce died upon the breeze the melting strain,
Ere Oscar, gently breaking thro' the shades,
Before the rosy-featured minstrel stands,
And love ineffable. But soon, alas!
Upon his thoughtful brow appears a cloud
Erina eyes the gathering gloom, that seems To blast her ev'ry fondest dream of bliss, To threat her Oscar's peace; and while her looks Beseech detail, the youth subjoins, “ My love, « The present safety of my native land, « The glory of my country bids me hence, “ To wield the sword against the cruel foe';
“ That now invades our favoured soil, and dares,
• To seize our independence, and despoil
“ With joy I hail the sacred call; with joy
“ This arm, once more, I raise in such a cause;
* For, oh! how sweet, when liberty invites
• Exertion for our country's good, to brave
“ The roughest toils, endure the worst of ills,
- And even waste our latest breath and die!
" But, ah! the thought, sweet maid! of leaving thee, “ In such a time, unguarded, and exposed
• To ev'ry chance of war, my courage chills,
And palls exertion.--Then, O grant me, Heaven, “ To bear this shock of fate with equal mind, " As should become Iveagh's chief; let not “ My hardy partners in the war, my brave
" Associates in the field of danger, say,
" That Oscar's high-born soul has sunk “ From former fame, by arts effeminate,
Unmanly grief. I go, my love, I rear “ Me from thy fascinating form, in which
“ Are centred all my hopes of happiness,