'Tis how the Almighty would will that I Should close my career I'd wish to die. Oh, would you know why I'd wish to die ; Or the fairy dreams of my young days vanished? Sweep over my life's frail shallop? No; "Tis because my Redeemer hath willed that I Should liye for ever I'd wish to die. But ask me no more the when, the why, But as the dreadful hour will come, When man must hear his immortal doom, And as wise men say that "What can't be cured," By us, like Stoics, "should be endured; The best rule to die that I can give, Is for us to "live as we ought to live;" So when Death takes us our long "Good bye!" We may smile at his frown, nor fear to die. To my Sister, On the Anniversary of her Birthday, My sister dear, my only one! 'Tis all he hath to offer thee I'll pour tó Heaven my heart-born hopes On this thy natal day. I'm far from thee, my sister, No blossoms can I bring- May Autumn's blast ne'er waft thee And when thou meet'st, my sister, May fate approve thy bosom's choice, And ne'er inconstant shine. May thy wedded life be happy With one stranger more to greet thee The Caroline. She glided along like a bird on the water, Quick glancing eyes through the thick haze sought her, Beautiful, lovely thing. On dark Navy Island the icebergs were thronging, Hearts that beat high with patriot longing At dead of the starlight the foc came upon her, Cracked then the firelock, they boarded and won her; In flames to the rapids she drove. And there was a light like a meteor's streaming Seen o'er the vaulted blue; While crackled the planks, screaming and the maddened Echoed the wild woods through., The Rapids roar'd loud, as the victim approaching, Gathered the spreading foam; In the pride of their vigour they deemed her encroaching Too far on their rocky home. G The wraiths of the stream were wildly shrieking— Schlosser stood calmly by ; White-crested waves on her prow were breaking; Darker became the sky. Niagara laughed a hoarse laugh while sucking Caroline, for the first and last time ducking, Light was thy splash through the Lawrence river, Swan of the stream, Caroline; But the spray hath closed o'er thy form for ever, Unwashed by the ocean brine. Farewell! No more shall thy eagle pinion The tide thou hast rolled on-thy servile minion- |