Tho' stormy winds swept o'er the brine;
Or though the tempest's fiery breath
Rous'd me from sleep to wreck and death!
In ocean cave still safe with Thee,
The germ of immortality;
And calm and peaceful is my sleep,
Rock'd in the cradle of the deep.

_Mrs. Willard._




THE MINSTREL BOY.


The Minstrel boy to the war is gone,
In the ranks of death you'll find him;
His father's sword he has girded on,
And his wild harp slung behind him.--
"Land of song!" said the warrior-bard,
"Though all the world betrays thee,
_One_ sword, at least, thy rights shall guard,
_One_ faithful harp shall praise thee!"
The Minstrel fell!--but the foeman's chain
Could not bring his proud soul under;
The harp he loved ne'er spoke again,
For he tore its cords asunder;
And said, "No chains shall sully thee,
Thou soul of love and bravery!