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“ Take thy banner! But when night
Closes round the ghastly fight,
“ Take thy banner! - and if e'er
Thou shouldst press the soldier's bier,
The warrior took that banner proud,
And it was his martial cloak and shroud!
SUNRISE ON THE HILLS.
I stood upon the hills, when heaven's wide arch Was glorious with the sun's returning march, And woods were brightened, and soft gales Went forth to kiss the sun-clad vales.
The clouds were far beneath me; bathed in
light, They gathered midway round the wooded
height, And, in their fading-glory, shone Like hosts in battle overthrown,
As many a pinnacle, with shifting glance, Through the gray mist thrust up its shattered
lance, And rocking on the cliff was left The dark pine blasted, bare, and cleft. The veil of cloud was lifted, and below Glowed the rich valley, and the river's flow Was darkened by the forest's shade, Or glistened in the white cascade; Where upward, in the mellow blush of day, The noisy bittern wheeled his spiral way.
I heard the distant waters dash, I saw the current whirl and flash,And richly, by the blue lake's silver beach, The woods were bending with a silent reach. Then o'er the vale, with gentle swell, The music of the village bell Came sweetly to the echo-giving hills;
And the wild horn, whose voice the woodland
fills, Was ringing to the merry shout, That faint and far the glen sent out, Where, answering to the sudden shot, thin
smoke, Through thick-leaved branches, from the dingle
If thou art worn and hard beset
With sorrows, that thou wouldst forget,
Dim the sweet look that Nature wears.
THE SPIRIT OF POETRY.
THERE is a quiet spirit in these woods,