LXI
I do not see myself again
A wanderer o'er the Atlantic main;
I do not backward turn my eye
T'wards sleepless sea and stormy sky.
Oh no; these brighter visions vast
To woodlands of the west have past;
And there shall Hesperus arise
To watch my treasure where it lies.
The present lands, the present clime,
Forbid the dreams of olden time;
The present thoughts, the present hour,
Are rife with deeds of sterner power:
And who shall be my leading star
Amid the howling storm of war?
Hark! listen to the distant gun
From the battlefield of Edwordston;
It breaks upon the awful roar
Which stuns my ears around,
And makes the shout of victory
Strike with a hollow sound.
My struggles all are crowned with power,
And Fortune gives a glorious hour.
Men who hate me kneel before me,
Men who kneel are forced t'adore me;
My name is on a million tongues,
The million babble on my wrongs;
