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PERSEVERANCE.

73

PERSEVERANCE.

CLOSE to his destined habitation, lies
One whose endeavours did at length achieve
A victory less worthy of regard,

Though marvellous in its kind. A place exists,
High in these mountains, that allured a band
Of keen adventurers to unite their pains

In search of treasure there by Nature formed,

And there concealed; but they who tried were foiled, And all desisted, all save him alone,

Who, taking counsel of his own clear thoughts,

And trusting only to his own weak hands,

Urged unremittingly the stubborn work,
Unseconded, uncountenanced; then, as time
Passed on, while still his lonely efforts found
No recompense, derided, and at length
By many pitied, as insane of mind;
By others dreaded as the luckless thrall
Of subterranean spirits, feeding hope
By various mockery of sight and sound;
Hope after hope encouraged and destroyed.

But when the Lord of Seasons had matured The fruits of earth through space of twice ten years,

प्र

T

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THE CYCLE OF LIFE.

The mountain's entrails offered to the view
Of the old man, and to his trembling grasp,
His bright, his long-deferred, his dear reward.

Not with more transport did Columbus greet
A world, his rich discovery! But our swain,—
A very hero till his point was gained,—
Proved all unable to support the weight

Of prosperous fortune. On the fields he looked
With an unsettled liberty of thought,

Of schemes and wishes; in the daylight walked
Giddy and restless; ever and anon

Quaffed in his gratitude immoderate cups;
And truly might be said to die of joy!

He vanished; but conspicuous to this day
The path remains that linked his cottage-door
To the mine's mouth: a long and slanting track,
Upon the rugged mountain's stony side,
Worn by his daily visits to and from
The darksome centre of a constant hope.
This vestige, neither force of beating rain,
Nor the vicissitudes of frost and thaw,
Shall cause to fade, till ages pass away;
And it is named, in memory of the event,
The PATH OF PERSEVERANCE.

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The deer across their greensward bound
Through shade and sunny gleam,

And the swan glides past them with the sound
Of some rejoicing stream.

The merry homes of England!

Around their hearths by night,

What gladsome looks of household love
Meet in the ruddy light!

There woman's voice flows forth in song,
Or childhood's tale is told;
Or lips move tunefully along
Some glorious page of old.

The cottage homes of England!

By thousands on her plains,
They are smiling o'er the silvery brook,
And round the hamlet-fanes.

Through glowing orchards forth they peep,
Each from its nook of leaves;

And fearless there the lowly sleep,
As the bird beneath their eaves.

The free, fair homes of England!
Long, long, in hut and hall
May hearts of native proof be rear'd
To guard each hallow'd wall!

THE HOMES OF ENGLAND.

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And green for ever be the groves,

And bright the flowery sod,

Where first the child's glad spirit loves
Its country and its God!

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