And my soul mingles with the ocean's roar
That hymns around thee! Birthplace of the brave!
My own--my glorious home!--the very wave,
Rolling in strength and beauty, leaps on high,
As if rejoicing on thy beach to die!
My loved--my father-land! thy faults to me
Are as the specks which men at noontide see
Upon the blinding sun, and dwindle pale
Beneath thy virtue's and thy glory's veil.
Land of my birth! where'er thy sons may roam,
Their pride--their boast--their passport is their home!"


IV.

'Twas early spring; and winter lingered still
On the cold summit of the snow-capt hill;
The day was closing, and slow darkness stole
Over the earth as sleep steals on the soul,
Sealing the eyelids up--unconscious, slow,
Till sleep and darkness reign, and we but know,
On waking, that we slept--but may not tell;
Nor marked we when sleep's darkness on us fell.
A lonely stranger then bent anxious o'er
A rustic gate before the cottage door--
The snow-white cottage where the chestnuts grew,
And o'er its roof their arching branches threw.
It was young Edmund, gazing, through his tears,
On the now cheerless home of early years--
While as the grave of buried joys it stood,