Identifier: poeticalworksoff001hall (find matches)
Title: The poetical works of Fitz-Greene Halleck : Now first collected ; illustrated with steel engravings, from drawings by American artists
Year: 1850 (1850s)
Authors: Halleck, Fitz-Greene, 1790-1867
Subjects: Halleck, Fitz-Greene, 1790-1867
Publisher: New York : D. Appleton
Contributing Library: Brandeis University Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: Boston Library Consortium Member Libraries

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estiny ;Men who swayed senates with a statesmans soul, And looked on armies with a leaders eye ;Names that adorn and dignify the scroll, Whose leaves contain their countrys history,And tales of love and war—listen to oneOf the Green-Mountaineer—the Stark of Bennington. 100 CONNECTICUT. VIII. When on that field his band the Hessians fought,Briefly he spoke before the fight began: Soldiers ! those German gentlemen are boughtFor four pounds eight and sevenpence per man, By Englands king ; a bargain, as is thought. Are we worth more ? Lets prove it now we can ; For we must beat them, boys, ere set of sun, Or Mary Starks a widow. It was done. IX.Hers are not Tempes nor Arcadias spring, Nor the long summer of Cathayan vales,The vines, the flowers, the air, the skies, that fling Such wild enchantment oer Boccaccios talesOf Florence and the Arno; yet the wing Of lifes best angel, Health, is on her galesThrough sun and snow; and in the autumn timeEarth has no purer and no lovelier clime. m
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MAJ GEN. JOHN STARK ^^At^L : CONNECTICUT. 101 X. Her clear, warm heaven at noon—the mist that shroudsHer twilight hills—her cool and starry eves, The glorious splendor of her sunset clouds,The rainbow beauty of her forest leaves, Come oer the eye, in solitude and crowds,Whereer his web of song her poet weaves; And his minds brightest vision but displays The autumn scenery of his boyhoods days. XI. And when you dream of woman, and her love; Her truth, her tenderness, her gentle power ;The maiden, listening in the moonlight grove, The mother smiling in her infants bower;Forms, features, worshipped while we breathe or move, Be by some spirit of your dreaming hourBorne, like Lorettos chapel, through the airTo the green land I sing, then wake, youll find them there. MUSIC TO A BOY OF FOUR YEARS OLD, ON HEARING HIM PLAY ONTHE HARP. Sweet boy ! before thy lips can learnIn speech thy wishes to make known, Are thoughts that breathe and words that burnHeard in thy musics tone. Were Genius t

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