THE GRAVES OF MY FATHERS.

Evergreen be the spot where in silence reposing,
The bones of my fathers so tranquilly sleep,
Let no hostile foot-step with rudeness imposing,
Disturb the fond vigils affection shall keep.

Leave to monarchs their pageants of pomp and of glory,
To heroes their laurels all dripping with tears,
Give to Jackson his fame in the pages of story,
Where the wrong of the Indian abhorrent appears;

Let the relics of princes whose names are enshrouded,
In the gloom and the darkness of Egypt's long night,
Be distinguish'd by tombs on whose summits beclouded,
The eagle seeks rest in her towering flight:

But spare, oh but spare me, that hallow'd enclosure,
Which spring will soon visit with aspect serene,
Where the earliest sunbeam to April's exposure,
Shall bespangle with flow'rets her favourite scene.

While the songsters of nature with voices in chorus,
Attuned to those feelings which nature inspires,
And that moss-cover'd temple arising before us,
Will quell all those rebels—our vicious desires:

Where the pure gospel fount so transparent in beauty,
Oft in silence refreshes with gladness the soul,
Which in humble devotion to heaven and duty,
Seeks through faith and repentance a glorious goal.

Evergreen be the spot where in silence reposing,
The bones of my fathers so tranquilly sleep,
Every tye of affection their virtues disclosing,
While the dew drops of eve shall in sympathy weep.