their glory in darkness hath set,
And the flowers of the forest are faded away!
Oh! far from the scenes of their childhood they sleep,
No friend of their bosom, no loved one is near,
To add a gray stone to their cairns on the steep,
Or drop o'er their ashes a tear.

THE FIRST SHIP.

The sky in beauty arch'd
The wide and weltering flood,
While the winds in triumph march'd
Through their pathless solitude--
Rousing up the plume on ocean's hoary crest,
That like space in darkness slept,
When his watch old Silence kept,
Ere the earliest planet leapt
From its breast.

A speck is on the deeps,
Like a spirit in her flight;
How beautiful she keeps
Her stately path in light!
She sweeps the shining wilderness in glee--
The sun has on her smiled,
And the waves, no longer wild,
Sing in glory round that child
Of the sea.

'Twas at the set of sun
That she tilted o'er the flood,
Moving like God alone
O'er the glorious solitude--
The billows crouch around her as her slaves.
How exulting are her crew--
Each sight to them is new,
As they sweep along the blue
Of the waves!

Fair herald of the fleets
That yet shall cross the wave,
Till the earth with ocean meets
One universal grave,
What armaments shall follow thee in joy!
Linking each distant land
With trade's harmonious band,
Or bearing havoc's brand
To destroy!

WEEP NOT.

Though this wild brain is aching,
Spill not thy tears with mine;
Come to my heart, though breaking,
Its firmest half is thine.
Thou wert not made for sorrow,
Then do not weep with me;
There is a lovely morrow,
That yet will dawn on thee.

When I am all forgotten--
When in the grave I lie--
When the heart that loved thee 's broken,
And closed the sparkling eye;
Love's sunshine still will cheer thee,
Unsullied, pure, and deep;
For the God who 's ever near thee,
Will never see thee weep.

TO THE CLYDE.

When cities of old days
But meet the savage gaze,
Stream of my early ways
Thou wilt roll.
Though fleets forsake thy breast,
A