Delve deep in thine own bosom, O man!
Pluck gems of thought that dormant lie;
Let thy fiery energy and deathless zeal
Move the hearts of men, lift their souls on high.
If thou canst not o’er the mountain go,
Penetrate it to the vale beyond;
Look upward and onward, brave, pure soul,
And Fortune may touch thee with her wand.
But if o’ertaken by an adverse fate,
And thy dreams of greatness fade away,
Front thou the storm and battle’s fiery rage;
Yield but to death—death’s lurid, fatal day!
If all thy years should lead by lowly ways,
Where wealth and fame ne’er ope their shining wings,
Be comforted, do thy humble duty well,
In heaven thou mayst be honored more than kings.
LAURA SECORD; OR, THE BATTLE OF BEAVER DAMS.
Fought June 24th, 1813. British, 47 Regulars and 200 Indians Americans, 570, with 50 Cavalry and 2 Guns.
She knew, and her heart beat faster,
The foe would march that day;
And resolved, though only a woman,
To silently steal away
And warn the outpost at Beaver Dams;
Alone, and on foot, to go
Through the dim and awesome forest,
To evade the vigilant foe.
No one thought of a woman,
And she gained a path she knew
In the lonesome, stately forest,
And over the dark way flew.
On and on with a beating heart,
And never a pause for rest;
Twenty miles of dim and distance,
And the sun low down the west.
Startled sometimes to terror
By the blood-curdling cry
Of wolves from the faint far distance,
And sometimes nearer by;
And hollow sounds and whispers
That rose from the forest deep;
Ghostly and phantom voices
That caused her nerves to creep.
But she pauses not, nor falters,
But presses along the way;
Noiselessly through the distance,
Through the shadows weird and gray.
In time must the warning be given,
She must not, must not fail;
Though rough is the path and toilsome,
Her courage must prevail.