The spirit of democracy. [volume] (Woodsfield, Ohio) 1844-1994, 1847-02-27
A BRIDAL.
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Who never to himself hath said,
This is my own, my native land'
Whose heart has ne'er within him burned,
AS home his footsteps he hath turned.
From wandering in foreign strand'
,1fsuch there breathe, go, mark him well;
For him no minstrel rsptures swell:
High though his titles, proud his name,
sBoundless his wealth rs wish can claim:
Despite those titles, power, and peif,
The wretch, concentered all in self,
Living. shalt forfeit fair renown,
And. doably dying, shall 60 down
To thsvile dust from whence he sprung,
Unwcpt. uahonored, and unsupg.
- o Caiedc mia! stern and wild,
Nest nurse for poetic child!
Land of brs.n heath and shaggy wood,
Laai Of tho mountain and ths food,
Lssd my sirss! what mortal ha0A
Caa s'sr unite the filial band
Thatknits me TO thy rugged strand!
Still, a. I view each we'll kaown scene,
Think what 10 now, and what hath bsee,
Scene, a. to me, of all bereft,
Sole friends thy woods and streams were eft;
And thus love them better still,
Even in extremity ill.
By Yarrows's stream still let me stray.
Though none should guide my feeble way;
Still feel the breeze down Ettrick breat,
Although it chill my withered cheek;
Still lay my head by reviot stone,
Though there. forgotten and alone,
The bard may draw his parting sroan.
Nor scorn'dlike me, to Branksoms hall
Ths MINISTRIES came, at festive call;
Trsoping they came from near and Tar,
The jovial priests Of mirth and war;
Alike for feast and fight prepared.
Battle and banquet both they shared.
OF late, before each martial clan,
They blew their dealhnote in the van,
Butpow for every merry mate,
Rose the portcui.' iron gate:
They sound the pipe. they strike the string,
They dance they revel, and they sing,
Till the rude turrets shake and ring.
Me lists not at this tide declare
The spendor of the spoussl rite,
How muster'd in the chapel fair
Both maid and matron, squire and knight;
Me lists not tell OF owches rare,
OF mantles green, and braided hair,
And kirtles fured with minlver;
What plumage waved the altar round:
And hard it were for bard to speak
The changeful hue Of Marsaret's cheek,
That lovely hue which comes and flies,
AS awe and shame alternate rise
Some bards have sung, the Iadye high
Chapel or altar came not nigh;
Nor burst the rites of sponsal grace,
So much she feared each holy place.
False ISLANDERS these. trust right we'll
She wrought not by forbidden spell:
For mighty words and signs have power
O'ersprites in planetary hour
Yet scarce praised their venturous part
Who tamper with such dangerous art
But this for faithful truth say,
The ladye by the altar stood.
Of sable velvet her array,
And on her head crimson hood,
With pearls embroidered and entwined,
Guarded with gold, with ermine lined;
A merlin sat upon her wrist,
Held by leash of sillsen twist
The spousal rites were ended soon:
Twas now the merry hour ofnoop,
And in the lofty arched hall
Was spread the gorgeous festival.
Steward and squire, with heedful haste,
Marshall'd the rank of every guest;
Pages, with ready blade, were there,
The mighty meal to carve and share;
Ger capon. heron-shew, and crane,
And princey peacock's gilded train,
And DER the boar-head, garnish'd brave,
And cygnet from St. Mary'swave,
O'erptar msgsn and venison,
The priest had spoke hi, benson.
Then rose the riot and the din,
Above, beneath, without, within!
For, from the lofty balcony,
Rung trumpet, shalm, and psaltery:
Their changing bowl, old warriors quaff'd,
Loudly they spoke, and loudly laugh'd
Whispered young knights, in tone moro mild,
To ladies fair, and ladies smiled.
The hooded hawks, high perch'd on beam,
The clamor join'd with whistling scream,
And fiapp'd their wings and shook their bells,
In concert with the stag-hounds' yels.
Round go the flask, Of ruddy wine,
From Bordeaux, Orle ans or the Rhine:
Their tasks the busy sewers ply.
All Is mirth and revslry.
The Condition of Ireland.
The condition of the people Of lr