Out from the shady woodland,
With song and laughter free;
Down from the sunny hillside,
And over the flow’ry lea,
Floweth the restless river,
On its journey to the sea.
Over the silvery pebbles,
Sparkling like morning dew,
Whether in light or darkness,
Doth ever its course pursue,
Till it gains the mighty ocean
With waters vast and blue.
And thus are WE traveling onward,—
’Tis Hope by which we’re borne,
And our hearts beat with triumphant gladness,
As we dream of some brighter dawn
With sights that are nobler and grander,
And we journey on and on.
And up from the earth’s dark bosom,
Like the homeward flight of a dove,
On Hope’s majestic pinions
We soar to the realms above,
To lave forever and ever,
In the sea of Eternal Love.
THE CROWN OF FAME.
What toils and hardships oft confront man’s sight,
When first ascending fame’s immortal height:
What cares, vexations, worriments prevail,
What deep-laid plans, repeated efforts, fail;
Yet who would dwell in hermit den, obscure,
To shun the toils that hero-gods endure!
Bestir thyself, O man, for soon—too soon,
As youth recedes, shall fade life’s golden noon!
If thou wouldst make thyself undying name,
Direct thy efforts to one worthy aim;
Let each exertion then be wrought with zeal,
Nor faint if woe come where thou look’st for weal;
But toil thou on, nor fear the world’s dark frown,
Till firm upon the summit of renown.
Whatever good, perchance, thy toils, may greet,
Lose not thyself in folly’s vain conceit:
False pride to lowest degradation tends—
It leads to vice and vice to crime descends;
As tiny rills, that from the mountain flow,
Pursue their course to larger streams below,
Till seas are joined where mighty billows roll,
So pride goes onward till it wrecks the soul;
Thus by degrees the downward course begins,
And greatest evils rise from little sins.
Nor seek thy fame ’mid pompous scenes of art,
Where vice and folly oft inure the heart:
’Tis Right eternal kindles honor’s flame,
And crowns Man’s efforts with immortal Fame.