Massachusetts spy and Worcester advertiser. [volume] ([Worcester, Mass.]) 1823-1825, 1825-01-05
For the Massachusetts, spy.]
NEW YEAR'S ODE.

| For the Massachusetts Spy.1
NEW YEARS ODE.
Once more, old Time, thy axle has roll'd
| IFS circle of changing months away,
And the mournful wintry winds have toll'd
The knell of its last departed day.
1t bends the heart, it awes our vaulting pride,
| Backward to gaze through thy long vista,
Time!
And view those weeks, which thy destroying
| tide
Has scatter'd DER full many a lovely cline.
We know thy silent track-'tis mark'd by
dust,
And where Decay is, thou hast surely trod !;
Still in thine awful delegated trust,
| Where'er thy presence leaves its eating rust,
Dark Ruin lifts aloft his Wondering rod.
Thou goest on in thy untirng march,
And earthly things all blench before thy
1rown
Powers pillar'd dome, and Strengths own
| massive arch
Reel at thy fingers touch, and crumble
down.
Away, away, in the dim distance far,
Imperial Rome, and Greece, and Carthage
rise:
Once, Glory's light, her highest zenith star
Was bright beacon-fire within their skies.
Where are they now? around each chssell'd
stone,
In silent solitude, the ivy clings,
And Desolation, vulture- like and lone,
Flaps DER their fallen walls her raven wings.
How the heart sickens, musing DER their
names,
Pale, fading records of glorious race;
Where Truths high shrine was light with
sacred flames,
And Learning made her home, her chosen
dwelling place.
And there, where Tyranny still reigns,
And Slavery hugs his iron chains,
Amid those clouds, dark, dark as night,
One only stars redeeming light
Shines on the thick surrounding gloom,
Like the lone FREELY on the tomb.
And it is thine, immortal Greece!
The herald of a coming time,
When DER thy land the sun of peace
Shall ride serenely and sublime.
Fair Scio when Distinctions star
| Glar'd on thee with terrific CLEAN,
And DER thy green fields Murders car
Roipd, warm and damp with bloody steam,
Then rose thy wild, implorng strain,
And Earth responded to its tone
And thou hast broke that servile chain
That bound thee to the Moslem's throne.
One master-spirit boldly swept
The Tyre, and rous'd thine ancient pride;
And freedoms Grecian children wept
When he, thy poet-hero, died.
He lov'd thee, Greece his earliest dreams
were thine,
The visions of his childhood were of thee;
And when young Genius call'd him to hel
shrine,
chosen, favour'd worshipper to be,
He fondly knelt in warm devotion there,
And thy lov'd name was mingled with hi
prayer.
For thee his song glorious need has won,
And round thy isles a magic charm ha
thrown;
Death has bequeath'd thee, thy adopted son
And made has name immortal as thine oaOn
New-England still, with patriot pride,
To thee thy sons shall fondly turn
Thou, blest DER all the earth beside
And long shall their warm bosoms burn
With pure and hallow'd love for thee,
Home of the good, the great, and free.
Fair Italy may boast her skies
OF sunny, deep, delicious blue
Her Alpine heights that proudly rise
To drink the heavens unfallen dew -
But pirates are on all her waves,
, And her rich gardens nourish slaves.
, What though the Queen of Ocean tells
The glores of her Wanting name,
And every wave, that round her swells,
Gives back the echo of her fame;
Her greatness wears a sckly glow,
The burning, hectic spot of wo.
Let men, in other chimes, call Kings divine
We bend in worship at no earthly shrine.
| Boast ye where vile legitimacy reigns-
We wear no princely diadems nor chains;
! No royal sceptre and no golden crown
; Bears with leaden weight our people down.
Land of our choice may ages yet to come
Still find thee freedoms consecrated home :;
On thy ten thousand hills may Peace still fin,
The quiet shadow Of her halcyon wing:
Here, to the living God, may temples rise,
Till the high sun shall be as blood, burnin;
scroll the skies. T..
r q r