Thy heart would ache, thy soul would long, To move the world, to sway the throng, Or be the hero of the song Of some great epic pen. 'Tis well O bird that thou art free To soar the air, 'tis well with thee, 'Tis well that thou hast eyes to see, But not the human ken. THE ICE-KING IN THE SOUTH He came, proud monarch of the Land of Snows, Triumphant, in his argent chariot, decked With jewels mined in regions of the polar zones! He came! his fifty snowy steeds were swift As howling north-winds, and their flowing manes Were flecked with diamonds brighter than Brazilian stones! He came! To celebrate his triumph, first He spread a fleecy mantle o'er the earth-- A frozen shroud symbolic of the Death he wrought. And then to every pendent branch he hung A glittering sword,--the tyrant's right to rule,-- Demanding greater homage than ever warrior sought. More brilliant pageant than the Ice-King's in The Land of Flowers, never graced return Of oriental monarch from victorious wars. But oh! beneath the sparkle and the gleam Of crystal beauty beats an icy heart, And a sullen silence his splendid triumph mars; The waterfalls that leap from jutting ledge In happy song, are speechless as the tomb, And every melody that haunts the woods and streams Has vanished from the earth, and Nature's voice That erstwhile woke the matin in the mead Is silent now as music of forgotten dreams. Back to thy home in the icy Land of Snows, O tyrant czar! No cringing southern heart Pays honor to thy rich magnificence and power. Back with thy splendor and thy glistening gems! This is the land where every freeman bows But to the Queen alone, whose sceptre is the flower. Back, that our sovereign may usher in The reign of love with sunshine and with song, And drive away the gloom from every southern hearth. Back rude invader! to Siberian climes! And let our royal daughter, Spring, return To fill with happiness and beauty all the earth. FETTERED Within the tented dome where pheasant rare, With brilliant plumage caught the public gaze, Or magpie won applause by vulgar phrase Picked up from idle crowd that thronged the fair, A pensive nightingale, unnoticed there, In silence sat and heard men's lavish praise Of these, yet all unmindful dreamed of lays, In freedom she might pour upon the air. HELEN OF TROY Helen of Troy thy face was fair, And fair thy radiant golden hair, Thy form, in every molded part, But not thy false and fickle heart, Helen of Troy. Betrayed by Aphrodite's wiles, Oenone's life lost all its smiles, And tasted sorrow to the lees, When Paris sailed for sunset seas, Where reigned the queen of all the isles.