Birthday

IN PRISON, APRIL 12, 1839.

This is the day that gave me birth In eighteen hundred seven; From worlds unseen I came to earth, Far from my native heaven.

Thirty and two long years have pass'd, To grief and sorrow given; And now to crown my woes at last I am confined in prison.

'Tis not for crimes that I have done That to my foes I'm given, But to the world I am unknown, And my reward's in heaven.

What troubled scenes may yet ensue To strew my path with sorrow, Is not for me to know, 'tis true, I boast not of to-morrow.

One thing is sure, this life at best Is like a troubled ocean; I often wish myself at rest From all its dire commotion.

But let its troubled bosom heave, Its surges beat around me; To truth, eternal truth, I cleave, Its floods can never drown me.

ZION IN CAPTIVITY.

A LAMENTATION.

WRITTEN IN PRISON.

Torn from our friends and captive led, 'Mid armed legions bound in chains, That peace for which our fathers bled Is gone, and dire confusion reigns.

Zion, our peaceful happy home, Where oft we joined in praise and prayer, A desolation has become, And grief and sorrow linger there.

Her virgins sigh, her widows mourn, Her children for their parents weep; In chains her priests and prophets groan, While some in deaths cold arms do sleep.

Exultingly her savage foes Now ravage, steal and plunder, where A virgin's, tears, a widow's woes, Became their song of triumph there.

How long, O Lord, wilt thou forsake The saints who tremble at thy word? Awake, O arm of God, awake-- And teach the nations thou art God.

Descend with all thy holy throng, The year of thy redeem'd bring near; Haste--haste the day of vengeance on-- Bid Zion's children dry their tears.

Deliver, Lord, thy captive saints, And comfort those who long have mourn'd; Bid Zion cease her dire complaints, And all creation cease to groan.

OUR COUNTRY.

AN EXTRACT.

WRITTEN IN PRISON.

Here nature too, her grandest works display; Sublimest themes inspire the Poet's lays, As if creative power in skill progressed, As onward still it moved towards the west.

Till here it finished with a master hand Its mightiest works--to excel all other lands. In awful majesty our mountains rise, O'erlook the clouds, and tower amid the skies, Their lofty summits bid defiance bold, They fear no rival heights in older worlds.

'Tis true Himmaleh, (Asia's highest peak,) Has dared with Chimborazo to compete; But then our rocky summits--scarce explored Some nameless rival heights may yet afford; Whose towering pride shall seize the starry crown, And cast Himmaleh, humbled, to the ground.

Our proud volcanoes, belching forth their flames, With smoke and lava, overwhelm the plains; Their lightnings play--their awful thunders roar, Convulse the earth and sea from shore to shore. Among them Cotopaxi's awful voice Would silence Etna,--drown Vesuvius' noise; While Europe wondering listens to admire The power superior of Columbia's fires.

Our lakes, like inland seas expanding wide, Have not a parallel on earth beside. Ontario, Erie, Huron, Michigan, And vast Superior form the mighty plan, Their waves like oceans wash the verdant shore, In western wilds too boundless to explore.

Can Europe, Africa, or Asia boast A lake compared with these in all their coasts? Our rivers too, pursue their lengthened way, From far off mountains to the distant sea, Through fertile vales,--the flowery meads along, And chiming still their gently murmuring song; Receiving grateful tribute as they run. From thousand streams all mingling into one.

Lo! wild Missouri's waters have their source In unknown regions to the west and north, From limpid lakes or from the mountain snows, From thousand springing streams its current flows; Mid vast prairies, winds its lengthened way, Two thousand miles where savage hunters stray, Then quits its wildly wanderings to receive The busy hum of commerce on its wave.

Two thousand more its rapid current flows, Receiving still large rivers as it goes, Young Empires flourish all along its tide, And joyous cities rise on every side. What is the boasted Nile compared with this? Its magnitude is lost in nothingness,

Asia and Europe's longest, proudest streams 'Longside Missouri's tide how short they seem! Our cataracts too, in grandeur far outvie, The noblest waterfalls beyond the sea. See grand Niagara's stream majestic glide, The venturous steamer floating on its tide: Its limpid waters draining half a world, Into the yawning gulf are headlong hurled, And for a moment lose the light of day,-- Dash on the rocks--then rise in misty spray.

The playful sunbeams trembling kiss its tears, And from this loved embrace the bow appears; Commingling colors of the liveliest hue From purple red, to yellow, pink, and blue. These mingling join the sportive, airy dance, Their beauty half concealed from vulgar glance; Now veil'd in clouds--now bursting to the view In blushing modesty, the dance renew; While music rolls in awful, solemn sound, Heard in the distance, many leagues around.

Or turn to Tequendama's awful steep, See wild Bogota's waters boldy leap, Down from the lofty Andes' heights of snow, To flowery plains, where spring's soft breezes blow: 'Mid scenes of majesty unrival'd stand, And view the wonders of Columbia's land. Our climate stretching far through every zone, Presents variety elsewhere unknown. Lo! in the North eternal winter reigns, And binds the ocean in his icy chains; Locked in the stupor of his cold embrace All nature seems to sleep:--yet here we trace Some signs of life,--of joy, and happiness, Some icy cottage of domestic bliss, Where love sits smiling, (from the blast secure) In native modesty,--with soul as pure, And chaste, and lovely, as their virgin snows, While to the chase her lord, or lover goes; And if per chance he takes a Bear, or Seal, Amid the dangers of the icy field, Returns in triumph to his humble cot Where lost in love his troubles are forgot. Our northern states present a clime severe, Where wintry blasts are howling half the year; But spring arising from its wintry tomb, Renew'd in freshness sheds a sweet perfume; Decked in pure robes of purple, white or green, Adorned with flowrets bright:--O, lovely scene! Melodious sounds of music, soft and sweet Thrill through the air,--it's joyous welcome greet. There autumn's richest blessings crown the year, And there the rose on beauty's cheek appears.

Our southern climes for mildness may compare, With Italy, and France, whose gentle air Became the subject of the Poet's dream, Or breathed in music soft, the lover's theme. There rapturous passions kindle in the soul Their warmest fires,--impatient of control: There love's soft graces beam in woman's eye And beauty's cheek is tinged with paler dye. There balmy sweets perfume the breath of morn, And shady groves the noonday walks adorn; While gentle zephyrs kiss the blushing flowers, And healthful breezes cool the evening hours. Our soil, with Eden's garden would compare, Nay more,--forbidden fruit was growing there; But here the trees of life and knowledge stand reveal'd, And free to all,--no poison is conceal'd In wisdom's fruit,--Our Eves may satisfy Their souls with knowledge here; nor fear to die.