Birth-land of Freedom! from thy mountain-height,
From thy deep vales and forests fair and wide,
Along thy sounding shores where ocean's might
Expends itself in tide's returning tide,
Rising, sublime, beyond the tempest's flight,
The immortal sounds of Liberty abide!
And, oh! how far along from shore to shore
They meet and mingle with the sea's loud roar!
IV.
Oh! there are hearts that turn in pride to thee,
Thou glorious land of blossom and of shower!
Gathering sweet incense from each blooming tree,
And tears of balm and freshness from each flower;
And at thy altars gloriously and free
The chainless spirit worships, hour by hour!
While round thee all our holiest thoughts entwine;
The fragrance of the heart, dear land! is thine.
V.
Radiant with rosy light are thy blue skies,
Fair Italy! thou land of love and song!
And thou, bright Isle of Erin! whence arise
The avenging spirits of a nation's wrong,
Thou too art fair, and worshipped in the eyes
Of men and nations to whom tears belong;
But yet, oh! yet we feel, blest land and free,
One pulse more strongly beating, still for thee!
VI.
Autumn hath crowned thee glorious, radiant clime!
Autumn, the holiest season to the heart,
Making thy sunsets with all hues sublime,
The faultless picture of the Eternal art!
To love thee less, New-England! 'twere a crime,
More could we not, ourselves of thee a part;
Tears are thine offering; prayers unceasing be
Poured from the heart Imperial Land! for thee.
New-York, July 1, 1843
E. B. G.