And flowers aloft Life's never dying tree,
Whither no evil thing can ever come;
Where now she blends her heart and harp to sing
A ceaseless song of praise to her Eternal King.

But oft the eye which scans yon ruin old,
Where Jamestown erst in simple grandeur rose,
Shall fill with tears--as there it doth behold--
For it will speak to him of heroes' woes,
Felt erewhile whence this river gently flows,--
And sprang this famous, Hero-bearing State;--
And while with pride his patriot bosom glows,
His heart her gentle history will relate,
And warmly laud her deeds, and mourn her early fate.


[Footnote A: Jamestown.]

[Footnote B: Whip-poor-will.]




A SONG.


Amid the tempest, wild and dark,
Upon Life's troubled sea;
One only star illumes the scene,
With heavenly brilliancy.