The Rhode-Island Republican. [volume] (Newport, R.I.) 1809-1841, 1826-02-09
YsS4 TRY.
MY OWN FIRESIDE.

Let others seek for empty joys,
Al ball, or concert. rout or play;
Whilst Gar from Fashions idle noise,
Her gilded doines and trappings gay,
while the wintry eve away
Twixt books and lute, the hours divide;
And marvel how e'er could stay
From thee-my own Fire-side!
Ny own frc-side; Those simple words
Can bid the sweetest dreams arise;
Awaken feelings tendcrest chords,
And I'll with tears Of Joy my eyes;
What is there nv wild heart can prize,
That doth not in thy srhere abide,
IIaunts of my home-bred sympathies,
My own-my own Firc-sde
A gentle form is near me now;
A small white hand is clasped in mine,
Igaze upon her placid brow,
And ask what joys can equal thine!
A babe, whose beauty's half divine,
In sleep his mother eyes doth hide
Where may Love seek filter shrine,
Than thou-my own Fire-sidc!
What care for the sullen roar
OF winds without, that rav0ge earth;
II doth but bid me prize the more,
The shelter of Thy hallowed hearth
Then let tho churlist tempest chfdc,
cannot check the biameless mlrth
That glads-my own F'irc-side!
Mv refuge ever from the storm
Ofthis worlds passion, strife, and care;
Though thunder-clouds the sky dcform,
Their fury cannot reach rie there.
There, all is cheerful, calm. and fair,
Wrath, Malice, Envy, Strife, or pride,
Have never made their hated lair,
BY theo-my own Fire-slde!
Thv precincts are n charming ring,
Where no harsh feelings dare intrude;
Where life's vexations lose their sting;
Where even griefis half subducd;
And Peace, the hacyon, loves to brood,
Then. let the paInpered fool derdei
III nav my debt Of gratitude
To thee-my own Fire-side!
Shrine Of my household dcitiesl
Fair scene Of homes unsullied Joys!
To thee my burthencd spirit flies,
When fortune frowns, or care annoys:
Thine is the bliss that never clogs;
The smile whose truth hath oft been tried
What then, are this worlds tinsel toys
To thee-my own Frre-side
Oh, may the yearnings, fond and sweet,
That bid nv thoughts be all Of thee,
Thus ever guide my wandering feet
To thy heart soothing sanctuary;
Whateer my future years may be;
Let 10y or GRIFFIN fate betide;
BE still an Eden bright 20 me
My own-my own FIRE-sIDE!
.."sAe-.-
From the Philadelphia Evening Post
THE. MUSIC OF POEsY.
mountain,
Where the thunder of cataract tumbles be-
low;
And she bathcs in the stream of the crystalline
fountain,
Unaw'd by the pillows that rapidly flow.
She is seen in the night, on tho lack tempest
driven,
When the soa-boy has given himselfto des.
pair;
When tie lightning illumincs the deep vault
hf Heaven,
Her form is beheld in the tremulous glare.
She is seen when the blasts on the bllowy o.
Heavcs the wide wastes ofwaters in noun.
tains of waves,
On the vortex of ruin she paws her devotion,
Whcnthe whirlwind of tempest distractedly
raves.
shc sleeps on the down Of the cygnet of Gan
gcs,
Her cradle the winds, and her curtain the
sky;
On her pillow offamo, in the wild dream, she
ranges,
And many ,ear-drop illumines her eye.
BY the pale light of Luna, in sorrow she wan
ders,
When Sol in his splendor sinks down in the
west,
Ger the tomb Of affection all lonely she pom
ders,
And sighs for tho heart that has sunk TO its
rest.
She is heard in the temples where proud gran
deur crumbles,
Where the owl and the raven pour forth their
wild strains,
Where slenco--dork silence, ctcrnally slum-
bcrs,
And the night of the tomb, in their solitude
reigns.
On the banks Of the stream, where the dash of
the blllow
Breaks over the rock in It's silvery foam
She plays on the harp meath the wind beaten
willow,
And 81 Jhs for the pleasure of country and