III.
Canst thou picture dried-up tears—
Eyes that wept no longer weeping—
Faithful woman's wrongs and fears,
Lonely, nightly, vigils keeping—
Listening ev'ry footfall nigh—
Hoping him she loves returning?
Canst thou, then, depict her joy,
That we may know the change from mourning?
IV.
Paint in colours strong but mild,
Our Isle's Redeemer, and Director—
Canst thou paint the man a child,
Yet shadow forth the mighty victor?
Let his path a rainbow span,
Every hue and colour blending—
Beaming "peace and love" to man,
And alike o'er all extending!
V.
Canst thou paint a land made free—
From its sleep of bondage, woken—
Yet, withal, that we may see
What 'twas before the chain was broken?
Seize the pencil, child of art!
Fame and fortune brighten o'er thee!
Great thy hand, and great thy heart,
If well thou do'st the work before thee!
TO THE PRESIDENT
OF THE ANTI-REPEAL OPERATIVE SOCIETY, GREETING.
Sterne mourns an ass, as though 'twere true
That "asses never die;"
But sure 'tis false, and Thrashem, you
Will some day give 't the lie.
