Graham's Magazine Vol XXXIII No. 1 July 1848

Comblez l'espoir unique
De France! en avant!
Vive la République!
A bas les tyrans!Vive, vive, &c.

TO AN ISLE OF THE SEA.[15 - Santa Cruz.]

BY MRS. J. W. MERCUR

Bright Isle of the Ocean, and gem of the sea,
Thou art stately and fair as an island can be,
With thy clifts tow'ring upward, thy valleys outspread,
And thy fir-crested hills, where the mountain deer tread,
So crowned with rich verdure, so kissed by each ray
Of the day-god that mounts on and upward his way,
While thy wild rushing torrent, thy streams in their flow,
Reflect the high archway of heaven below,
Whose clear azure curtains, so cloudless and bright,
Are here ever tinged with the red gold at night;
Then with one burst of glory the sun sinks to rest,
And the stars they shine out on the land that is blest.

Thy foliage is fadeless, no chilling winds blow,
No frost has embraced thee, no mantle of snow;
Then hail to each sunbeam whose swift airy flight
Speeds on for thy valleys each hill-top and height!
To clothe them in glory then die 'mid the roar
Of the sea-waves which echo far up from the shore!
They will rest for a day, as if bound by a spell,
They will noiselessly fall where the beautiful dwell,
They will beam on thy summits so lofty and lone,
Where nature hath sway and her emerald throne,
Then each pearly dew-drop descending at even,
At morn they will bear to the portals of Heaven.

Thou art rich in the spoils of the deep sounding sea,
Thou art blest in thy clime, (of all climates for me,)
Thou hast wealth on thy bosom, where orange-flowers blow,
And thy groves with their golden-hued fruit bending low,
In thy broad-leafed banana, thy fig and the lime,
And grandeur and beauty, in palm-tree and vine.
Thou hast wreaths on thy brow, and gay flowers ever bloom,
Wafting upward and onward a deathless perfume,
While round thee the sea-birds first circle, then rise,
Then sink to the wave and then glance tow'rd the skies!

While their bright plumage glows 'neath the sun's burning light,
And their screams echo back in a song of delight.
Thou hast hearts that are noble, and doubtless are brave,
Thou hast altars to bow at, for worship and praise,
Thou hast light when night's curtains around thee are driven
From the Cross which beams out in the far southern heaven,
Yet one spot of darkness remains on thy breast,
As a cloud in the depth of a calm sky at rest.

Like a queen that is crowned, or a king on his throne,
In grandeur thou sittest majestic and lone,
And the power of thy beauty is breathed on each gale
As it sweeps o'er thy hills or descends to the vale;
And homage is offered most boundless and free,
Oh, Isle of the Ocean, in gladness to thee,
So circled with waters, so dashed by the spray
Of the waves which leap upward then stop in their way.

And lo! thou art loved by a child of the West,
For the beauty and bloom of thy tropical breast,
Yet dearer by far is that land where the skies
Though colder bends o'er it and bleak winds arise,
Where the broad chart of Nature is boldly unfurled,
And a light from the free beameth out o'er the world.

Yes, dearer that land where the eagle on high
Spreads his wings to the wind as he cleaves the cold sky,
Where mountain, and torrent, and forest and vale,
Are swept by the path of the storm-ridden gale,
And each rock is an altar, each heart is a shrine,
Where Freedom is worshiped in Liberty clime,
And her banners float out on the breath of the gale,
Bright symbols of glory which proudly we hail,
And her bulwarks are reared where the heart of the brave
Refused to be subject, and scorned to be slave.

SONNET: – TO ARABELLA,

BY MRS. E. C. KINNEY

There is a pathos in those azure eyes,
Touching, and beautiful, and strange, fair child!
When the fringed lids upturn, such radiance mild
Beams out as in some brimming lakelet lies,
Which undisturbed reflects the cloudless skies:
No tokens glitter there of passion wild,
That into ecstasy with time shall rise;
But in the deep of those clear orbs are signs —
Which Poesy's prophetic eye divines —
Of woman's love, enduring, undefiled!
If, like the lake at rest, through life we see
Thy face reflect the heaven that in it shines,
No idol to thy worshipers thou'lt be,
For he will worship Heaven, who worships thee.