WRITTEN during the difficulties of the boundary question in
Maine, when Sir JOHN HARVEY, Governor of the provinces of New
Brunswick and Nova Scotia was deterred from actual hostility by
the judicious conduct of General SCOTT, his personal friend.
PRESCOTT'S noble work of 'Ferdinand and Isabella' had just
appeared, and the 'Crayon Papers' were in course of publication.
GOD bless thee! and thy joyous throat!
Thy trill, thy churr, thy piercing note,
My sweet canary!
Thou gush of song, thou waterbrook
Of joy, thou poem, doctrine, book,
Vocabulary!
Thou caged-up treasure of delight!
That know'st to make a prison bright
Through music's mystery!
To swell thy rich notes in full tide,
Or highest reach of sound divide
Like Paganini!
Where didst thou gain this wondrous lore?
Where that, (which I admire yet more,)
The glad Philosophy,
That smiles at iron bars and doors?
In loneliness a spirit pours
Of mirthful minstrelsy?
Wert ever old? or broken-hearted?
Hast ever from thy mate been parted
To meet hereafter?
It cannot be; that gleesome strain
Springs from a heart that ne'er knew pain--
'Tis almost Laughter!
Now thou art still; thy chaunt is o'er;
Thou seem'st intent on something more
Important to thee.
Hast any thing to lose? or gain?
What think'st thou of the war in Maine?
And Sir John Harvey?
Would'st Scott, or Prescott, rather be?
The Cotton crop--is't aught to thee?
The Crayon Papers?
Art rich at heart? or yet to know--
But hark! thy strain again doth flow,
Again, in music, stirs!
Ah Rogue! I see thee, have thee now--
That leap from off the transverse bough,
That knowing look, inspires;
The sound _thou_ lov'st shall now be heard:
'Fresh seed and water for my bird,
And sugar for his wires!'
'Tis done--and here 'King, Cawdor, Glamis,'
Not more to Macbeth were, than this
Thy stock of seed renew'd
Is joy to thee!--would I might draw,
From thy bright gayety, a Law
Of confidence and good:
Forget my bars, forget my cage
Like thee; my wants, my cares, my age,
A lone and widow'd bed;
And raise to Heaven thy magic song
In words, that might to both belong,
'Thanks for our daily bread.'