May give thee welcome from thine own blue skies,
Daughter of victory!—A triumphant strain,
A proud rich stream of warlike melodies,
Gush'd thro' the portals of the antique fane,
And forth she came.—Then rose a nation's sound—
Oh! what a power to bid the quick heart bound,
The wind bears onward with the stormy cheer
Man gives to glory on her high career!
Is there indeed such power?—far deeper dwells
In one kind household voice, to reach the cells
Whence happiness flows forth!—The shouts that fill'd
The hollow heaven tempestuously, were still'd
One moment; and in that brief pause, the tone,
As of a breeze that o'er her home had blown,
Sank on the bright maid's heart.—"Joanne!" Who spoke
Like those whose childhood with her childhood grew
Under one roof?—"Joanne!"—that murmur broke
With sounds of weeping forth!—She turn’d—she knew
