MOTHER! thou bidd'st me touch the lyre, And wake its sweetest tones for thee; To kindle fancy's dying fire, And light the torch of poetry.
Mother! how sweet the word, how pure, As if from heaven the accents came; If aught can rouse the dormant soul, It is that cherish'd, honour'd name.
Deep in the heart's recess it dwells; It lives with being's earliest dawn; With reason's light expands and swells, And dies with parting life alone.
Mother! 'tis childhood's first essay,
Breathed in its trembling tones of love; It lights the heart, through life's long way, And points to holier worlds above!
It is a name, whose mighty spell
Can draw the chain'd affections forth, Can rouse the feelings from their cell, And give each purer impulse birth.
Then will I wake my sleeping muse, And strive to breathe my thoughts in song, Though sweetest strains must fail to speak The heart's affections, deep and strong.
Just where a wild and rapid stream Roll'd back its waves in seeming pride, Flowers of each softly varying hue Were sweetly blooming, side by side.
Shaded by many a bending tree,
Their glowing cups with dew-drops fill'd, Nature's fair daughters blushing stood, And all their fragrant sweets distill'd.
Oh, 'twas a wild and lovely spot,
Which well might seem a spirit's home! A lone retreat, a noiseless grot,
Where earth's rude blasts could never come.
Within a broad and open glade,
A tulip spread its gaudy hue,
While, 'neath the myrtle's clustering shade, A sweetly-drooping lily grew.
As the light zephyrs o'er them swept, And heighten'd many a rosy glow, A strange, deep murmur round them crept, Like distant music, wild and low.
'Twas the gay tulip's fragrant breath, Which many an answering echo woke, As to her lowly neighbour, thus, With proud and haughty mien, she spoke :
"Away! frail trembling flower! nor dare To droop beside my glittering form! Behold how bright my garments are, And mark each sweetly varying charm !
"Then hie thee to some lonely nook, Nor show thy pallid features here; Go, murmur to some babbling brook, Where like thyself each scene is drear!
"Hast thou assurance thus to gaze On one who nature's self beguiles ? Hence! haste thee hence! and hide that face, Where parent nature never smiles."
She ceased-a sad, sweet whisper rose, Which thrill'd the zephyr's list'ning ear; Soft as an angel's gentlest tone, Too heavenly for this mortal sphere.
'Twas the pale lily's silvery voice, Which rose in low and thrilling tone, Like breath of wild Eolian lyre, Moved by the wind-god's tenderest moan:
"Great queen!" the lovely gem replied, "I view thy charms, I own their power, And void of envy, shame, or pride, Admire thy beauties of an hour.
"Full well I know my pallid brow Can never match the hues of thine; Nor my white robes the colours wear, Which on thy dazzling garments shine.
"But the same hand hath form'd us both; And heaven-born nature smiled as sweet As on thy form, when the low flower Was peeping from its green retreat.
"Here was I planted! let me here Still live in purity and peace; The lily's eye shall never weep To gain the tulip's gaudy grace.
"But oh, forget not, 'mid the pomp Of earthly kingdom, pride, and joy, That boasted beauty must decay, And withering age thy pleasures cloy.
"Receive the lily's kind advice, - Retire from scenes of public life, And pass thy days in solitude, Apart from vanity and strife."
While the sweet murmur past away, The stately rose as umpire came; The lily shunn'd her proud survey, The lordly tulip bent for shame.
In accents bland, but nobly firm,
The queen-like flow'ret soon replied, In tones which charm'd the tender flower, And humbled more the tulip's pride.
"Come hither, pure and lovely one, With thee no garden plant can vie; Not e'en the tulip's gaudy hues Match with thy stainless, spotless dye.
"Come to my bosom, emblem fair
Of heavenly virtue's fairer form! Here let me learn each modest grace, While here I hush each wild alarm.
"Come to my bosom ! what so pure, So lovely as a modest one, Who flies from folly's glittering lure, And shuns the bright meridian sun !
"Let the proud tulip glitter still,
Robed in her scarf of varying hue;
Alone 'neath nature's eye we'll rest,
Cheer'd by her smile, and nurtured by her dew."
THE vessel lightly skims the wave,
And bounds across the waters blue, Near shores where trees luxuriant spread, And roses wildly blooming grew.
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