Here, safe returned from every stormy sea,
Waves the striped flag, the mantle of the free--
That star-lit flag, by all the breezes curled
Of yon vast deep whose waters grasp the world.
* * * * *
=_Robert C. Sands, 1799-1832._= (Manual, p. 504.)
From "Weehawken."
=_349._= HISTORICAL REMINISCENCES.
Eve o'er our path is stealing fast:
Yon quivering splendors are the last
The sun will fling, to tremble o'er
The waves that kiss the opposing shore;
His latest glories fringe the height
Behind us, with their golden light.
* * * * *
Yet should the stranger ask what lore
Of by-gone days, this winding shore,
Yon cliffs, and fir-clad steeps, could tell
If vocal made by Fancy's spell,
The varying legend might rehearse
Fit themes for high romantic verse.
O'er yon rough heights and moss-clad sod
Oft hath the stalwart warrior trod;
Or peered with hunter's gaze, to mark
The progress of the glancing bark.
Spoils, strangely won on distant waves.
Have lurked in yon obstructed caves.
When the great strife for Freedom rose,
Here scouted oft her friends and foes,
Alternate, through the changeful war,
And beacon-fires flashed bright and far;
And here, when Freedom's strife was won,
Fell, in sad feud, her favored son;--
Her son,--the second of the band,
The Romans of the rescued land.
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