The Massachusetts spy, and Worcester County advertiser. [volume] ([Worcester, Mass.]) 1825-1831, 1828-01-02
FOR TIE MASSACHUSETTS, SPY.
NV YEARS o z.

On feeting pinions borne, again the sun,
True to his task, his annual course has run
Then, as we see its last rays fade away,
Its twilight hues low sinking in decay,
Let's pause and view, in Justice light severe,
The lights and shadows" Of the bye--gone
year.
Look we to nature,-find we not decay
Still grasping firm the sceptre of his sway
Yes, brooding still DER mans precarlous form,
Link'd unto death, and deaths destroying
worm,
We see his herald on the night-wind hurld,
A dreaded mandate to a shuddering world.
Such was the summons, whose unerrIng call
Babe Greece, Assyria, Rome, and Carthage
And such the mandate which destroys the trust
Of mans career, and lays him low in dust.
Departed year upon thy mirror'd page,
Sorrow is mark'd which tears cannot assuage
How many beings, since thy morn begun,
Have sunk in death-this feeting journey run ;
The heart which grief and woe had swallow d
up,
And that which drank at pleasures sparkling
cup,
Age, infancy and youth, alike have sped,
To that dark bourne, the mansion of the dead.
Degraded Greece! Land of illustrious lore
Still, sounds of sorrow swell along thy shore
Still, desolation spreads his bloody stains,
And famine broods upon thy fertile plains
." Is there no hand on high to shield the brave p
No friendly arm to succour and to save
Still must thy blood be drawn from every pore,
Till ruins self shall seem to ask no more /?
Hank! from the shore, where NaVarino lies,
The mingled sounds of wall and triumph rise !;
There, as the allied forces from the north,
Pour'd their whole volley of destruction forth ;
Proud leagued oppression curb'd his iron sway,
And freedoms clarion-trumpet clos'd the day ];
High DER the, blood-stain'd pillows crimson
foam,
Where death and carnage mark'd their fatal
home,
The WITHSTAND standard, with its laurels
grac'd,
Slow rustling in the whispering wind, was
PLACID
And hope, prophetic still, and undislnay'd,
Grav'd on that flag, glorious sight displayed,
Proclaiming, as its heightened folds unfurl'd,
F" PEACE to the Greeks and FREEDOM TO the
ac0rid "
Where art thou SPAIN Still grovelling in
the dust,
Destroyed by bigot-faction's cankering rust,
Slave to tyrant, whose benumbing breath
Spreads o'er thy land the sickly hue of death
Chimes of the Andes Regions of the Sun
" hOiO iidtulO D sedSOuS HllU1le InLO one,
Burst are the letters which have bound you
down,
Dependant on despots smile or frown,
Still may you hail the light of freedoms star,
And find patriot in your Bolivar.
Last, though not Ls0St,--'s Our CeUNTRY, -
still to thee
Turns the fond heart--Land of the fair and
free!
We see thee rising, and, along thy fight,
Still gaining strength, accumulating might;
No hostile hand retards thy onward car,
Which steers :" where fame high temple shines
afar."
Long may thou flourish in thy bright career,
More wise, more happy each successive year,
Rejoicing still in youths perennial prime,
And bid defiance to the waste of time;
From countless hearts may grateful incense
rise,
Like morning exhalations, to the skies
But still to say thou'rt faultless, were in vain,
We own thee stigmatiz'd with many stain
The mourning wall which bondage first begun
Still rends the air beneath thy southern sun;
Still the poor SiaUe in letters wears away,
With dismal signs, the melancholy day;
Still on the Ocean-zephyr's lowly moan,
He hears the voices of his kindred blown
And, when reluctant Nature Yields her sleep,
His home-bred arbors, DER the ocean S deep,
Burst, like sunbeam, on his languid brain,
And he, in fancy, treads his home again
But ah, too feetng vision could st thou not,
But aggrayate the sleeper's waking lot
No, morning brings the tyrants canking chain
And he must grovel with the brutes again.
And will our country-freedom' chosen land
Look on thee, servile still, nor free the band
Shall man still doom his fellow man to toll,
TO feed his gltterng pageantry awhile
Forbid it justice Let the high decree,
+" Thy chains are broken, Africa be Free"
Be usher'd forth, my country, and thy name
Shall then begreeted with high acclaim.
Lo! on our plains, where millions freely
tread,
The ancient forest screen'd the Indians head
This was his home until the alien came,
To rob his lands-exterminate his name
His own dominion, where his people run,
9 Stretched from the rising, to the setting sun
But now, alas where is be? yet no more,
He hunts the beaver on the Atlantic shore.
Pil'd on the ocean, as the pillows form,
And rush TO distant shores before the Storm
Thus, like the wave, his race has roll'd, to res
Along the gloomy deserts of the west.
Were we the aggressors 3-the polluting stall
Falls on us, and demands redress again.
Columbia yet revoke the wrongs thoust done
Prove thyself worthy Of thy Washington
Then may thou prosper, when redress is DER,
| Till time shall cease and tide shall be no more