1830-40.] JOHN H. BRYANT. 197 The vaulted roof, the fretted aisle — He sleeps unhonored and alone. A scene he loved around him lies, These blooming plains outspreading far, River, and vale, and boundless skies, With sun, and cloud, and shining star. He knew each pathway through the wood. Each dell un warmed by sunshine's gleam, Where the brown pheasant led her brood. Or wild deer came to drink the stream. Oft hath he gazed from yonder height, When pausing mid the chase alone, On the fair realms beneath his sight. And proudly called them all his own. Then leave him still this little nook, Ye who have grasped his wide domain, The trees, the flowers, the grass, the brook, Nor stir his slumberine: dust again. WINTER. The day had been a calm and sunny day, And tinged with amber was the sky at even ; The fleecy clouds at length had rolled away. And lay in furrows on the eastern heaven ; — The moon arose and shed a glimmering ray. And round her orb a misty circle lay. The hoar-frost glittered on the naked heath. The roar of distant winds was loud and deep, The dry leaves rustled in each passing breath. And the gay world was lost in quiet sleep. Such was the time when, on the landscape brown. Through a December air the snows came down. The morning came, the dreary morn at last, And showed the whitened waste. The shivering herd Lowed on the hoary meadow-ground, and fast Fell the light flakes upon the earth un- stirred ; The forest firs with glittering snows o'er- laid, Stood like hoar priests in robes of white arrayed. UPWARD! ONWARD! Upward, onward is our watchword ; Though the winds blow good or ill, Though the sky be fair or stormy. These shall be our watchwords still. Upward, onward, in the battle Waged for freedom and the right, Never resting, never weary. Till a victory crowns the fight. Upward, onward, pressing forward Till each bondman's chains shall fall, Till the flag that floats above us, Liberty proclaims to all. Waking every morn to duty. Ere its hours shall pass away, Let some act of love or mercy Crown the labors of the day. Lo ! a better day is coming, Brighter prospects ope before ; Spread your banner to the breezes — Upward, onward, evermore !
