Lorn Echo of these mouldering walls,
To thee no festal measure calls;
No music through the desert halls,

Awakes thee to rejoice!

How still thy sleep! as death profound-
As if, within this lonely round,
A step-a note-a whisper'd sound

Had ne'er aroused thy voice!

Thou hear'st the zephyr murmuring, dying,
Thou hear'st the foliage waving, sighing;
But ne'er again shall harp or song,
These dark deserted courts along,
Disturb thy calm repose.

The harp is broke, the song is fled,
The voice is hush'd, the bard is dead;
And never shall thy tones repeat
Or lofty strain or carol sweet

With plaintive close!

Proud Castle! though the days are flown
When once thy towers in glory shone;
When music through thy turrets rung,
When banners o'er thy ramparts hung,
Though 'midst thine arches, frowning lone,
Stern Desolation rear his throne;
And Silence, deep and awful, reign
Where echo'd once the choral strain;
Yet oft, dark ruin! lingering here,
The Muse will hail thee with a tear;
Here when the moonlight, quivering, beams,
And through the fringing ivy streams,
And softens every shade sublime,
And mellows every tint of Time-
Oh here shall Contemplation love,
Unseen and undisturb'd, to rove;
And bending o'er some mossy tomb,
Where Valour sleeps or Beauties bloom,
Shall weep for Glory's transient day
And Grandeur's evanescent ray;
And listening to the swelling blast,
Shall wake the Spirit of the Past-
Call up the forms of ages fled,
Of warriors and of minstrels dead,

Who sought the field, who struck the lyre,
With all Ambition's kindling fire!

Nor wilt thou, Spring! refuse to breathe
Soft odours on this desert air;

Refuse to twine thine earliest wreath,

And fringe these towers with garlands fair!

Sweets of the wild, oh! ever bloom Unheeded on this ivied wall!

Lend to the gale a rich perfume, And grace the ruin in its fall!

Thus round Misfortune's holy head,

Would Pity wreaths of honour spread;

Like you, thus blooming on this lonely pile,

She seeks Despair, with heart-reviving smile!

CHRISTMAS CAROL.

FAIR Gratitude! in strain sublime,
Swell high to heaven thy tuneful zeal;
And, hailing this auspicious time,
Kneel, Adoration ! kneel!

CHORUS.

For lo! the day, th' immortal day,
When Mercy's full, benignant ray
Chased every gathering cloud away,
And pour'd the noon of light!
Rapture! be kindling, mounting, glowing,
While from thine eye the tear is flowing,
Pure, warm, and bright!

'Twas on this day-oh, love divine !— The Orient Star's effulgence rose; Then waked the Morn, whose eye benign Shall never, never close!

CHORUS.

Messiah be thy name adored,
Eternal, high, redeeming Lord!
By grateful worlds be anthems pour'd-
Emanuel! Prince of Peace!

This day, from heaven's empyreal dwelling,
Harp, lyre, and voice, in concert swelling,
Bade discord cease!

Wake the loud paan, tune the voice,

Children of heaven and sons of earth!

Seraphs and men ! exult, rejoice,

To bless the Saviour's birth!

CHORUS.

Devotion light thy purest fire! Transport! on cherub wing aspire! Praise! wake to Him thy golden lyre, Strike every thrilling chord ! While, at the Ark of Mercy kneeling, We own thy grace, reviving, healing, Redeemer! Lord!

THE DOMESTIC AFFECTIONS.

WHENCE are those tranquil joys in mercy given,
To light the wilderness with beams of heaven?
To soothe our cares, and through the cloud diffuse
Their temper'd sunshine and celestial hues?
Those pure delights, ordain'd on life to throw
Gleams of the bliss ethereal natures know?
Say, do they grace Ambition's regal throne,
When kneeling myriads call the world his own?
Or dwell with Luxury, in th' enchanted bowers
Where taste and wealth exert creative powers?

Favour'd of heaven! O Genius! are they thine, When round thy brow the wreaths of glory shine; While rapture gazes on thy radiant way, Midst the bright realms of clear and mental day? No! sacred joys! 'tis yours to dwell enshrined, Most fondly cherish'd, in the purest mind; To twine with flowers those loved, endearing ties, On earth so sweet-so perfect in the skies!

Nursed in the lap of solitude and shade, The violet smiles, embosom'd in the glade There sheds her spirit on the lonely gale, Gem of seclusion! treasure of the vale! Thus, far retired from life's tumultuous road, Domestic Bliss has fixed her calm abode Where hallow'd Innocence and sweet Repose May strew her shadowy path with many a rose. As, when dread thunder shakes the troubled sky, The cherub, Infancy, can close its eye, And sweetly smile, unconscious of a tear, While viewless angels wave their pinions near; Thus, while around the storms of Discord roll, Borne on resistless wing from pole to pole, While War's red lightnings desolate the ball, And thrones and empires in destruction fall; Then calm as evening on the silvery wave, When the wind slumbers in the ocean cave, She dwells unruffled, in her bower of rest, Her empire Home!-her throne, Affection's breast!

For her, sweet Nature wears her loveliest blooms, And softer sunshine every scene illumes. When Spring awakes the spirit of the breeze, Whose light wing undulates the sleeping seas; When Summer, waving her creative wand, Bids verdure smile, and glowing life expand; Or Autumn's pencil sheds, with magic trace, O'er fading loveliness, a moonlight grace; Oh! still for her, through Nature's boundless reign, No charm is lost, no beauty blooms in vain ;

While mental peace, o'er every prospect bright,
Throws mellowing tints and harmonising light!
Lo! borne on clouds, in rushing might sublime,
Stern Winter, bursting from the polar clime,
Triumphant waves his signal-torch on high,
The blood-red meteor of the northern sky!
And high through darkness rears his giant-form,
His throne the billow, and his flag the storm!
Yet then, when bloom and sunshine are no more,
And the wild surges foam along the shore,
Domestic Bliss, thy heaven is still serene,
Thy star unclouded, and thy myrtle green!
Thy fane of rest no raging storms invade—
Sweet peace is thine, the seraph of the shade!
Clear through the day, her light around thee
glows,

And gilds the midnight of thy deep repose!
-Hail, sacred Home! where soft Affection's hand
With flowers of Eden twines her magic band!
Where pure and bright the social ardours rise,
Concentring all their holiest energies !—
When wasting toil has dimm'd the vital flame,
And every power deserts the sinking frame,
Exhausted nature still from sleep implores
The charm that lulls, the manna that restores!
Thus, when oppress'd with rude, tumultuous cares,
To thee, sweet Home! the fainting mind repairs;
Still to thy breast, a wearied pilgrim, flies,
Her ark of refuge from uncertain skies!

Bower of repose! when, torn from all we love, Through toil we struggle, or through distance rove; To thee we turn, still faithful, from afarThee, our bright vista! thee, our magnet-star! And from the martial field, the troubled sea, Unfetter'd thought still roves to bliss and thee!

When ocean-sounds in awful slumber die, No wave to murmur, and no gale to sigh; Wide o'er the world when Peace and Midnight reign, And the moon trembles on the sleeping main; At that still hour, the sailor wakes to keep, Midst the dead calm, the vigil of the deep! No gleaming shores his dim horizon bound, All heaven-and sea-and solitude-around! Then, from the lonely deck, the silent helm, From the wide grandeur of the shadowy realm, Still homeward borne, his fancy unconfined, Leaving the worlds of ocean far behind, Wings like a meteor-flash her swift career, To the loved scenes, so distant, and so dear!

Lo! the rude whirlwind rushes from its cave, And Danger frowns-the monarch of the wave!

Lo rocks and storms the striving bark repel, And Death and Shipwreck ride the foaming swell!

Child of the ocean! is thy bier the surge, Thy grave the billow, and the wind thy dirge? Yes! thy long toil, thy weary conflict o'er, No storm shall wake, no perils rouse thee more! Yet, in that solemn hour, that awful strife, The struggling agony for death or life, E'en then thy mind, embittering every pain, Retraced the image so beloved-in vain! Still to sweet Home thy last regrets were true, Life's parting sigh-the murmur of adieu !

Can war's dread scenes the hallow'd ties efface, Each tender thought, each fond remembrance

chase?

Can fields of carnage, days of toil, destroy

The loved impression of domestic joy?

Ye daylight dreams! that cheer the soldier's breast,

In hostile climes, with spells benign and blest,
Soothe his brave heart, and shed your glowing ray
O'er the long march through Desolation's way;
Oh! still ye bear him from th' ensanguined plain,
Armour's bright flash, and Victory's choral strain,
To that loved Home where pure affection glows,
That shrine of bliss! asylum of repose!
When all is hush'd-the rage of combat past,
And no dread war-note swells the moaning blast;
When the warm throb of many a heart is o'er,
And many an eye is closed to wake no more;
Lull'd by the night-wind, pillow'd on the ground,
(The dewy deathbed of his comrades, round!)
While o'er the slain the tears of midnight weep,
Faint with fatigue, he sinks in slumbers deep!
E'en then, soft visions, hovering round, portray
The cherish'd forms that o'er his bosom sway;
He sees fond transport light each beaming face,
Meets the warm tear-drop and the long embrace!
While the sweet welcome vibrates through his
heart,

"Hail, weary soldier !-never more to part!"

And lo! at last, released from every toil, He comes the wanderer views his native soil! Then the bright raptures words can never speak Flash in his eye and mantle o'er his cheek! Then Love and Friendship, whose unceasing prayer

Implored for him each guardian-spirit's care; Who, for his fate, through sorrow's lingering year, Had proved each thrilling pulse of hope and fear;

In that blest moment, all the past forgetHours of suspense and vigils of regret !

And oh! for him, the child of rude alarms, Rear'd by stern danger in the school of arms! How sweet to change the war-song's pealing note For woodland-sounds in summer air that float! Through vales of peace, o'er mountain wilds to roam, And breathe his native gales, that whisper-Home!'

Hail, sweet endearments of domestic ties, Charms of existence ! angel sympathies ! Though Pleasure smile, a soft Circassian queen ! And guide her votaries through a fairy scene, Where sylphid forms beguile their vernal hours With mirth and music in Arcadian bowers; Though gazing nations hail the fiery car That bears the Son of Conquest from afar, While Fame's loud paan bids his heart rejoice, And every life-pulse vibrates to her voice ;Yet from your source alone, in mazes bright, Flows the full current of serene delight!

On Freedom's wing, that every wild explores, Through realms of space, th' aspiring eagle soars! Darts o'er the clouds, exulting to admire, Meridian glory-on her throne of fire! Bird of the Sun! his keen unwearied gaze Hails the full noon, and triumphs in the blaze; But soon, descending from his height sublime. Day's burning fount, and light's empyreal clime, Once more he speeds to joys more calmly blest, Midst the dear inmates of his lonely nest!

Thus Genius, mounting on his bright career
Through the wide regions of the mental sphere,
And proudly waving in his gifted hand,
O'er Fancy's worlds, Invention's plastic wand,
Fearless and firm, with lightning-eye surveys
The clearest heaven of intellectual rays!
Yet, on his course though loftiest hopes attend,
And kindling raptures aid him to ascend,
(While in his mind, with high-born grandeur
fraught,

Dilate the noblest energies of thought ;)
Still, from the bliss, ethereal and refined,
Which crowns the soarings of triumphant mind,
At length he flies, to that serene retreat,
Where calm and pure the mild affections meet;
Embosom'd there, to feel and to impart
The softer pleasures of the social heart!

Ah! weep for those, deserted and forlorn, From every tie by fate relentless torn;

See, on the barren coast, the lonely isle,
Mark'd with no step, uncheer'd by human smile,
Heart-sick and faint the ship-wreck'd wanderer
stand,

Raise the dim eye, and lift the suppliant hand!
Explore with fruitless gaze the billowy main,
And weep-and pray-and linger-but in vain !

Thence, roving wild through many a depth of shade,

Where voice ne'er echo'd, footstep never stray'd,
He fondly seeks, o'er cliffs and deserts rude,
Haunts of mankind midst realms of solitude!
And pauses oft, and sadly hears alone

The wood's deep sigh, the surge's distant moan!
All else is hush'd! so silent, so profound,
As if some viewless power, presiding round,
With mystic spell, unbroken by a breath,
Had spread for ages the repose of death!
Ah! still the wanderer, by the boundless deep,
Lives but to watch-and watches but to weep!
He sees no sail in faint perspective rise,
His the dread loneliness of sea and skies!
Far from his cherish'd friends, his native shore,
Banish'd from being-to return no more;
There must he die !-within that circling wave,
That lonely isle-his prison and his grave!

Lo! through the waste, the wilderness of snows, With fainting step, Siberia's exile goes! Homeless and sad, o'er many a polar wild, Where beam, or flower, or verdure never smiled; Where frost and silence hold their despot-reign, And bind existence in eternal chain ! Child of the desert! pilgrim of the gloom! Dark is the path which leads thee to the tomb! While on thy faded cheek the arctic air Congeals the bitter tear-drop of despair! Yet not that fate condemns thy closing day In that stern clime to shed its parting ray; Not that fair nature's loveliness and light No more shall beam enchantment on thy sight; Ah! not for this-far, far beyond relief, Deep in thy bosom dwells the hopeless grief; But that no friend of kindred heart is there, Thy woes to mitigate, thy toils to share; That no mild soother fondly shall assuage The stormy trials of thy lingering age; No smile of tenderness, with angel power, Lull the dread pangs of dissolution's hour; For this alone, despair, a withering guest, Sits on thy brow, and cankers in thy breast! Yes! there, e'en there, in that tremendous clime, Where desert grandeur frowns in pomp sublime;

Where winter triumphs, through the polar night,
In all his wild magnificence of might;
E'en there, affection's hallow'd spell might pour
The light of heaven around th' inclement shore !
And, like the vales with gloom and sunshine
graced,

That smile, by circling Pyrenees embraced,
Teach the pure heart with vital fires to glow,
E'en 'midst the world of solitude and snow!
The halcyon's charm, thus dreaming fictions feign,
With mystic power could tranquillise the main;
Bid the loud wind, the mountain billow sleep,
And peace and silence brood upon the deep!

And thus, Affection, can thy voice compose The stormy tide of passions and of woes; Bid every throb of wild emotion cease, And lull misfortune in the arms of peace!

Oh! mark yon drooping form, of aged mien, Wan, yet resign'd, and hopeless, yet serene! Long ere victorious time had sought to chase The bloom, the smile, that once illumed his face, That faded eye was dimm'd with many a care, Those waving locks were silver'd by despair! Yet filial love can pour the sovereign balm, Assuage his pangs, his wounded spirit calm! He, a sad emigrant! condemn'd to roam In life's pale autumn from his ruin'd home, Has borne the shock of Peril's darkest wave, Where joy and hope—and fortune - found a

grave! "Twas his to see Destruction's fiercest band Rush, like a Typhon, on his native land, And roll triumphant on their blasted way, In fire and blood, the deluge of dismay! Unequal combat raged on many a plain, And patriot-valour waved the sword in vain! Ah! gallant exile! nobly, long, he bled, Long braved the tempest gathering o'er his head! Till all was lost! and horror's darken'd eye Roused the stern spirit of despair to die!

Ah! gallant exile! in the storm that roll'd
Far o'er his country, rushing uncontroll'd,
The flowers that graced his path with loveliest
bloom,

Torn by the blast, were scatter'd on the tomb!
When carnage burst, exulting in the strife,
The bosom ties that bound his soul to life,
Yet one was spared! and she, whose filial smile
Can soothe his wanderings and his tears beguile,
E'en then could temper, with divine relief,
The wild delirium of unbounded grief;