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10. THE AMERICAN PATRIOT'S SONG.—Anonymous.

Hark! hear ye the sounds that the winds on their pinions
Exultingly roll from the shore to the sea,

With a voice that resounds through her boundless dominions? "Tis Columbia calls on her sons to be free!

Behold on yon summits, where heaven has throned her,
How she starts from her proud inaccessible seat;
With nature's impregnable ramparts around her,

And the cataract's thunder and foam at her feet!

In the breeze of her mountains her loose locks are shaken,
While the soul-stirring notes of her warrior-song
From the rock to the valley re-echo, "Awaken,
"Awaken ye hearts that have slumbered too long!"

Yes, despots! too long did your tyranny hold us,
In a vassalage vile, ere its weakness was known;
Till we learned that the links of the chain that controlled us
Were forged by the fears of its captives alone.

That spell is destroyed, and no longer availing,
Despised as detested-pause well ere ye dare
To cope with a people whose spirit and feeling
Are roused by remembrance and steeled by despair.

Go tame the wild torrent, or stem with a straw

The proud surges that sweep o'er the strand that confines them But presume not again to give freemen a law,

Nor think with the chains they have broken to bind them.

To hearts that the spirit of liberty flushes,

Resistance is idle,—and numbers a dream;—

They burst from control, as the mountain-stream rushes
From its fetters of ice, in the warmth of the beam.

11. THE VICTIM.-Anonymous.

"Hand me the bowl, ye jovial band,"
He said " 'twill rouse my mirth;"
But conscience seized his trembling hand,
And dashed the cup to earth.

He looked around, he blushed, he laughed,
He sipped the sparkling wave;
In it he read-" who drinks this draught,
Shall dig a murderer's grave!"

He started up, like one from sleep
And trembled for his life:
He gazed, and saw-his children weep,
He saw his weeping wife.

In his deep dream he had not felt
Their agonies and fears;

But now he saw them as they knelt,
To plead with prayers and tears.

But the foul fiend her hateful spell
Threw o'er his wildered mind,
He saw in every hope a hell;
He was to reason blind.

He grasped the bowl to seek relief;
No more his conscience said:
His bosom friend was sunk in grief,
His children begged for bread.

'Through haunts of horror and of strife,
He passed down life's dark tide;
He cursed his beggared babes and wife;
He cursed his God-and died!

12. THE CALL OF POLAND.-Campbell.

Have ye sharpened your swords? for the battle is nigh-
The morn of the conflict is breaking;

Oh dark is the dawn, but slaughter's red eye,
Shall enlighten the path you are taking,
Bright hope in your bosoms awaking,

That the vengeance which slept under muscovite sway,
The treasure of years, shall be kindled to-day.

"Tis freedom that calls you, though dim be the sun, The darkness around you dispelling;

Though death-fires enshroud you and waste is begun,

She to deeds of high worth compelling,

Points to every loved altar and dwelling,

And demands from the sons of the noble in fame

If the hell-mark of slave must still blacken their name ?

By the glory our tyrants would quench, but in vain—
By the shades of your heroes departed-
By him who, undaunted, again and again
For the gaol of victory started,
Kosciusko, the lion-hearted-

By all that is worthy in man's little day,
Go dare as your fathers, or perish as they.

Have ye sharpened your swords for the banquet of death?
Have ye made the blood-deep adjuration?
Have ye dared on the hazard the stake of your breath?
Again ye shall be a free nation-

Not vain shall be your invocation;

The call of each sword upon liberty's aid
Shall be written in gore on the steel of its blade!

13. THE OCEAN.-Anonymous.

Likeness of heaven! agent of power!
Man is thy victim! shipwrecks thy dower!
Spices and jewels, from valley and sea,
Armies and banners are buried in thee!

What are the riches of Mexico's mines,

To the wealth that far down in the deep water shines?
The proud navies that cover the conquering west-
Thou flingest them to death with one heave of thy breast!

From the high hills that view thy wreck-making shore, When the bride of the mariner shrieks at thy roar; When, like lambs in the tempest, or mews in the blast, O'er ridge-broken billows the canvass is cast;

How humbling to one with a heart and a soul,
To look on thy greatness and list to its roll;
To think how that heart in cold ashes shall be,
While the voice of eternity rises from thee'

Yes! where are the cities of Thebes and of Tyre?
Swept from the nations like sparks from the fire:
The glory of Athens, the splendor of Rome,
Dissolved-and for ever-like dew in the foam.

But thou art almighty-eternal-sublime—
Unweakened, unwasted-twin brother of time!
Fleets, tempests, nor nations, thy glory can bow;
As the stars first beheld thee, still chainless art thou!

But hold! when thy surges no longer shall roll,
And that firmament's length is drawn back like a scroll;
Then-then shall the spirit that sighs by thee now,
Be more mighty-more lasting, more chainless than thou!

14. THE WORLD.-Anonymous.

How beautiful the world is! The green earth covered with flowers-the trees laden with rich blossoms-the blue sky, and the bright water, and the golden sunshine. The world is, indeed, beautiful, and He who made it must be beautiful.

It is a happy world. Hark! how the merry birds singand the young lambs-see! how they gambol on the hillside. Even the trees wave, and the brooks ripple, in gladness. Yon eagle!—Ah! how joyously he soars up to the glorious heavens -the bird of liberty, the bird of America.

"His throne is on the mountain-top;
His fields the boundless air;
And hoary peaks, that proudly prop
The skies-his dwellings are.

He rises, like a thing of light,

Amid the noontide blaze:

The midway sun is clear and bright

It cannot dim his gaze."

It is happy-I see it and hear it all about me-nay, I feel it -here, in the glow, the eloquent glow of my own heart. He who made it must be happy.

It is a great world. Look off to the mighty ocean when the storm is upon it;-to the huge mountain, when the thunder and the lightnings play over it; to the vast forest—the interminable waste; the sun, the moon, and the myriads of fair stars, countless as the sands upon the seashore. It is a great, a

magnificent world, and He who made it,-Oh! He is the perfection of all loveliness, all goodness, all greatness, all gloriousness!

15.

CATILINE, ON HEARING HIS SENTENCE OF BANISHMENT.

-Croly.

Banished from Rome! what's banished but set free
From daily contact of the things I lothe?

"Tried and convicted traitor!"-Who says this?
Who'll prove it, at his peril, on my head?
Banished?-I thank you for't. It breaks my chain!
I held some slack allegiance till this hour-
But now my sword's my own. Smile on, my lords;
I scorn to count what feelings, withered hopes,
Strong provocations, bitter, burning wrongs,
I have within my heart's hot cells shut up,
To leave you in your lazy dignities.

But here I stand and scoff you :-here I fling
Hatred and full defiance in your face.

Your consul's merciful. For this all thanks.
He dares not touch a hair of Catiline.
"Traitor!" I go-but I return.

This trial!

Here I devote your senate! I've had wrongs,
To stir a fever in the blood of age,

Or make the infant's sinew strong as steel.

This day's the birth of sorrows!This hour's work

Will breed proscriptions.-Look to your hearths, my lords,

For there henceforth shall sit, for household gods,
Shapes hot from Tartarus !—all shames and crimes;
Wan treachery, with his thirsty dagger drawn ;
Suspicion, poisoning his brother's cup;
Naked rebellion, with the torch and axe,
Making his wild sport of your blazing thrones;
Till anarchy comes down on you like night,
And massacre seals Rome's eternal grave.

16. TO A CHILD.- -Yankee.

Things of high import sound I in thine ears,

Dear child, though now thou mayest not feel their power;

But hoard them up, and in thy coming years

Forget them not, and when earth's tempests lower,

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