Against the world combined,
And friends a welcome--foes a grave,
Within our borders find.





Oh, Would that She were Here!




Oh, would that she were here,
These hills and dales among,
Where vocal groves are gayly mocked
By Echo's airy tongue:
Where jocund nature smiles
In all her boon attire,
And roams the deeply-tangled wilds
Of hawthorn and sweet-brier.
Oh, would that she were here--
The gentle maid I sing,
Whose voice is cheerful as the songs
Of forest-birds in spring!

Oh, would that she were here,
Where the free waters leap,
Shouting in sportive joyousness
Adown the rocky steep: