Adieu to thy scenes, adieu to thee now!
There is grief in my spirit--there is gloom on my brow--
Though Fancy may paint all thy beauty once more,
The days that have flitted, she cannot restore.




VIRGINIA.


Thy soil, Virginia! is all hallowed ground,
Made such by steps of patriots; thy high fame,
Alway unto our ears, a glorious sound,
Kindles, in all high hearts, heroic flame.

I walk beneath thy forests, high and lone,
I hear a voice that sinks into my heart,
The voice of fetterless Liberty; the tone
Which bids the flame of patriotism start.

Greece was the land of heroes, and her soil
Is sacred with the deathless memory
Of martyred virtue, which on Death could smile,
At Marathon and proud Thermopylæ:

Gray Rome shall never lose the magic charm,
That valor's fire can pour along a land;
That charm shall bid the hearts of mankind warm,