The spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1840-1844, 1843-02-17
Now mount, for our bugle is ringing
70 marshall the host foI the fray,

70 marshall the host ioi the fray,
Were proudly our banner is tiingRg
Its folds o er The bal,le-array;
Ye gallants-One moment remember,
When your sahres the death blow would deal,
That MERcy wears her shape who's CHERISHED
BY lads Of the myrtle and steel.
Then hey for the mynle and steel,
Then ho fnr thy myrtle ard .iec,
Let every true blade, that e'er loved fair maid,
Fill round 10 Thy myrtle and steel!
more; and let it he "Rosalie CIare"-a friend be.
sides us insisting that il is orIhe finest Of loif-
mans songs. 1t sounds to us 10 Lochnvar.
ROSALIE CLARE.
" ho owns not she's peerless who call her not fair,
WIN questions the beauty nr RosALIE CLARE?
Let him saddle his courser and spur 10 the field,
And, though harness'd in proof he must perish and
Yield;
For no gnlent can splinter. no charge NAV dare
The lance that is cOuch'd tor young Rosalie Clare.
When gohles are flowing, and wit at the hoard
Sparklrs high, while the blood Of the red grape is
ponr'd.
And fond wishes for fair ones around oifer'd up
From each lip that's wei with the dew Of the cup,
What name on the brimner floats oGener there.
Or is whispered more warmly, Than Resale Care'
They may talk Of the land Of the olive and vine,
or the maids Of the Ehro, the Arno, or RI inc;
Of the hours that gladden. the East with their
smiles, isles;
Where the seas studded Ger with green summer
But what flower Of fir-away CLINE can compare
With the blossoms Of ours--bI gh, Rosalie Clare
WIN owns not she's peerless, who calls her moi fir'
Let him meet Int the glancrs Of Rosae Clare'
Let him list to her voice lot hun gaze on her FORM
And if, seeing and hearing, his soul do ROT warm,
Let him 20 breath i, on in snme less happy air,
Than that which is bless d by sweet Rosalie Clare
Gen. Morris has wide spread popularity as
song writer but in all the higher elements of the
vocation, he is inferior to Hoffman, and immcas.
urably below Pinkney. Ills most Eivori, songs have
won fame more on account Of the theme chosen
by the poet or from the music TO which, they wtr,
linked, than because Of their literary merit -
"Woodman spare that Tree! is familiar instance
in supper, Of our remark, Sill the songs of Gen
Morris are highly mcrilorious, and perhaps oilcne
found in our parlors Than Those Of more literar,
worth. One of the most spirited Of his songs i
"Land Hoo
LAND 10!
Fin high the brimmer!-i the land is in sight,
Wen be happy, If never again, boys, 10 night;
The cold, chcerless ocean in safety we've pissed
Aud the warm genial earth glads our vision at last
In the land Of the stranger true hearts we shn1ind
To soolhc us in absence ol those left behind.
Then ill high the hrinnler! the land is in sight,
Wen be happy, fnever again, boys, TO. night'
Fill high the hrnmcr-- iii morn wei remain
Then pirl in The hope 10 meet one day again.
Round the hearth. stone Of home, in the land o
our biuh,
The hottest spot on The face Of the earth. rhc,
Dear country! our thoughts are more constant Il
Than the steel To The star or the stream to the sea
Then Gil up the trimmer! Inc land is in sight.
Wen he happy, il never again, boys, to. night
Fill high the hrimncr,--le wine spaikIcs Use
Like tears, Gom the fountain Of JOY. 10 the eyes,
May rain drops that fall from the s,orn, clouds %
care,
Melt away in the sun hcaming smiles or the fair
Drunk deep 10 the chin Of The nautical bells
10 woman.--tind bless her. wherever she dwells
Wen be happy, ilncycr again, boys, tonight!
We must hurry on, however, for 10 enumera,,
all the popular songs Of Gen Morris would excud,
his contemporaries i:om place in our gallery
We come now to the "Flcrcnce Vunc" Of p. p
Coke. Beautiful exceedingly is this song, MS
dew-drop in the bosom Of The violet; and oveIiel
and more false than the Aphrodie must have been
she who inspired it. 1t fingers in our memoir,
with strange tenacity, as il i, were some strain
"once heard in heaven, now heard again"
FLORENCE vANE.
loved the long and dearly,
Florence Vane;
My HES bright dream and early
Hath come again;
renew, in my fond vision,
My hearts dear pain,
My hopes and Thy dersion,
Florence Vane.
The ruin, lone and hoary,
| The ruin old
Where thou dlisi bark my story,
Al event old,-
That spot-lhe hues Elysian
Of sky and p'nin--
| treasure in my vision,
Florence Vane.
Thou was lovcer than the roses
In their prime;
Tn, voice eSce'd the closes
Ofswee,est rh, me;
Thy heart WAS as river
Without n main.
Would had loved thee never,
Florence Vane!
But fairest, coolest wonder.
Thy glorious clay
Lielh the green sod under
Alas, the day!
And it boots not to remember
Thy disdajn-