I saw the Persian fly.
I woke—the sudden trumpet’s blast
Call’d to another fight:
From visions of our glorious past,
Who doth not wake in might?
TO MISS F. A. L. ON HER BIRTH-DAY.
What Wish can Friendship form for thee,
What brighter star invoke to shine?—
Thy path from every thorn is free,
And every rose is thine!