THE CULPRIT FAY. 47 Pure his wing and strong his chain, And doubly bright his fairy fire. Twine ye in an airy round, Brush the dew and print the lea: Skip and gambol, hop and bound, Round the wild witch-hazel tree. The beetle guards our holy ground, He hums in his ears and flaps his face; But hark! from tower on tree-top high, Shapes of moonlight! flit and fade! Ere yet the life-blood, warm and wet, Like shoots of flame on midnight's pall; Flag of the seas! on ocean wave Flag of the free heart's hope and home! The stars have lit the welkin dome, And all thy hues were born in heaven. For ever float that standard sheet! Where breathes the foe but falls before us, With Freedom's soil beneath our feet, And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us? SONG FROM "FANNY." BY F. G. HALLECK. YOUNG thoughts have music in them, love And happiness their theme; And music wanders in the wind That lulls a morning dream. There's music in the forest leaves, Has music in his song, and in The fluttering of his wing. SONG. There's music in the dash of waves, When the swift bark cleaves their foam; There's music heard upon her deck The mariner's song of home When moon and starbeams, smiling, meet, At midnight, on the sea; And there is music once a week In Scudder's balcony. But the music of young thoughts too soon Is faint, and dies away, And from our morning dreams we wake To curse the coming day. And childhood's frolic hours are brief, And oft, in after years, Their memory comes to chill the heart, To-day the forest leaves are green; They'll wither on the morrow, And the maiden's laugh be changed, ere long, Come with the winter snows, and ask Where are the forest-birds; The answer is a silent one, More eloquent than words. 51 |