TO THE WEST.

Mountains, that pierce the bending sky,
And with the storm-cloud warfare wage,
Shooting their glittering peaks on high,
To mock the fierce, red lightning's rage;
Arcadian vales, with vine-hung bowers,
And grassy nooks, 'neath beechen shade,
Where dance the never-resting Hours,
To music of the bright cascade;
Skies softly beautiful, and blue
As Italy's, with stars as bright;
Flowers rich as morning's sunrise hue,
And gorgeous as the gemmed midnight.
Land of the West! green forest-land!
hus hath Creation's bounteous hand
Upon thine ample bosom flung

Charms such as were her gift when the gray world was young!
Land of the West !-where naught is old
Or fading, but tradition hoary-

Thy yet unwritten annals hold

Of many a daring deed the story!

Man's might of arm hath here been tried,
And woman's glorious strength of soul,
When war's fierce shout rang far and wide,
When vengeful foes at midnight stole
On slumbering innocence, and gave
Nor onset-shout, nor warning word,
Nor Nature's strong appealings heard
From woman's lips, to " spare and save
Her unsuspecting little one,

Her only child-her son! her son!
Unheard the supplicating tone,

Which ends in now a shriek, and now a deep death-groan!

Land of the West!-green forest-land!

Thine early day for deeds is famed

Which in historic page shall stand
Till bravery is no longer named.
Thine early day !-it nursed a band

Of men who ne'er their lineage shamed:
The iron-nerved, the bravely good,

Who neither spared nor lavished blood-
Aye, ready, morn, or night, or noon;

Fleet in the race, firm in the field,
Their sinewy arms their only shield-
Courage to death alone to yield;

The men of Daniel Boone!

Their dwelling place the "good green-wood;"
Their favorite haunts-the long arcade,

179

The murmuring and majestic flood,
The deep and solemn shade:
Where to them came the word of God,
When storm and darkness were abroad,
Breathed in the thunder's voice aloud,
And writ in lightning on the cloud.
And thus they lived: the dead leaves oft,
Heaped by the playful winds, their bed;
Nor wished they couch more warm or soft,
Nor pillow for the head,

Other than fitting root, or stone,

With the scant wood-moss overgrown.
Heroic band! But they have passed,
As pass the stars at rise of sun:
Melting into the ocean vast

Of Time, and sinking, one by one;
Yet lingering here and there a few,
As if to take a last, long view
Of the domain they won in strife
With foes who battled to the knife.

Peace unto those that sleep beneath us!

All honor to the few that yet do linger with us!
Land of the West !-thine early prime

Fades in the flight of hurrying Time;

Thy noble forests fall, as sweep

Europa's myriads o'er the deep;

And thy broad plains, with welcome warm,

Receive the onward-pressing swarm:

On mountain height, in lowly vale,
By quiet lake, or gliding river,-
Wherever sweeps the chainless gale,
Onward sweep they, and forever.
O, may they come with hearts that ne'er
Can bend a tyrant's chain to wear;
With souls that would indignant turn,

And proud oppression's minions spurn;

With nerves of steel, and words of flame,

To strike and sear the wretch who'd bring our land to shame!
Land of the West!-beneath the heaven

There's not a fairer, lovelier clime;
Nor one to which was ever given

A destiny more high, sublime.

From Alleghany's base, to where
Our western Andes prop the sky,

The home of Freedom's hearts is there,
And o'er it Freedom's eagles fly.
And here, should e'er Columbia's land

No. 15.-See Appendix.

THE FALLEN LEAVES.

Be rent with fierce intestine feud,
Shall Freedom's latest cohorts stand,
Till Freedom's eagles sink in blood,

And quenched are all the stars that now her banners stud!

183

THE FALLEN LEAVES.

NORTON.

The first stanza should be spoken in a fresh, joyous, light tone; the second in a rich, melodious, fuller voice; the third in a more manly set accent; the last in faint, faltering tones:

We stand among the fallen leaves,
Young children at our play,
And laugh to see the yellow things
Go rustling on their way:

Right merrily we hunt them down,
The autumn winds and we,

Nor pause to gaze where snow-drifts lie,
Or sunbeams gild the tree:

With dancing feet we leap along

Where withered boughs are strown,
Nor past nor future checks our song
The present is our own.

We stand among the fallen leaves
In youth's enchanted spring-
When Hope (who wearies at the last)
First spreads her eagle wing.

We tread with steps of conscious strength

Beneath the leafless trees,

And the color kindles in our cheek
As blows the winter breeze;

While, gazing towards the cold gray sky,'
Clouded with snow and rain,

We wish the old year all past by,
And the young spring come again.

We stand among the fallen leaves
In manhood's haughty prime—
When first our pausing hearts begin
To love "the olden time;
And, as we gaze, we sigh to think

How many a year hath pass'd
Since 'neath those cold and faded trees
Our footsteps wander'd last;