ROMANCE.
Reading edition
FROM THE FRENCH.
How thrillingly remembrance clings, My native France, to thee! Oh, sister! life had joyous wings, When by the deep-blue sea, In the free light of childhood’s day, We sported childhood’s hours away. And thou rememb’rest too, when near The fire side’s glimmering light, Our mother chained the listening ear With tales that charmed the night; And smoothed our glossy locks, and prest Us fondly to her matron breast. And the old tower, where thou and I Together knelt to pray; Where matin voices swelled on high To hail the coming day; And vesper hymn, of praise and prayer, Rose sweetly on the Summer air. And the blue tranquil lake, with bank Rich with the gifts of Spring— Whose transient bubbles rose and sank, Touched by the swallow’s wing; When the sun swept across the deep In glory to his ocean sleep. And she—the loved, the lost, the friend Of youth’s unclouded years— Alas! remembrances but tend To dim the past with tears: Yet still my latest sigh shall be Sacred, my native land! to thee!