A blush as of roses, 392. INDEX OF FIRST LINES A boy drove into the city, his wagon loaded down, A cheer and salute for the Admiral, and here's to A cliff-locked port and a bluff sea wall, 319. A cycle was closed and rounded, 196. A flash of light across the night, 517. A fleet with flags arrayed, 110. A gallant foeman in the fight, 524. A grand attempt some Amazonian Dames, 85. A hundred thousand Northmen, 419. A pillar of fire by night, 513. A score of years had come and gone, 74. A song unto Liberty's brave Buccaneer, 222. A story of Ponce de Leon, 21. A summer Sunday morning, 424. A transient city, marvellously fair, 649. A voice went over the waters, 608. A Yankee ship and a Yankee crew, 327. After the eyes that looked, the lips that spake, 497. Ah, you mistake me, comrades, to think that my All alone on the hillside, 585. All day long the guns at the forts, 475. All day the great guns barked and roared, 213. All hail! Unfurl the Stripes and Stars, 403. "All quiet along the Potomac," they say, 433. America! thou fractious nation, 138. An American frigate from Baltimore came, 224. An eye with the piercing eagle's fire, 560. "And now," said the Governor, gazing abroad on And they have thrust our shattered dead away Are these the honors they reserve for me, 17. Arms reversed and banners craped, 511. As billows upon billows roll, 524. As hang two mighty thunderclouds, 361. As men who fight for home and child and wife, 198. As near beauteous Boston lying, 137. As to kidnap the Congress has long been my aim, As vonce I valked by a dismal svamp, 401. At length 't is done, the glorious conflict's done, At the door of his hut sat Massasoit, 60. Avast, honest Jack! now, before you get mellow, Awake! arise, ye men of might, 363. Awake! awake! my gallant friends, 339. Ay! drop the treacherous mask! throw by, 476. Back from the trebly crimsoned field, 435. Be then your counsels, as your subject, great, 270. Behold her Seven Hills loom white, 658. Behold, we have gathered together our battle- Beneath our consecrated elm, 168. Blackened and bleeding, helpless, panting, prone, Bob Anderson, my beau, Bob, when we were first Born, nurtured, wedded, prized, within the pale, Boy Brittan - only a lad a fair-haired boy - Bright on the banners of lily and rose, 574. Bring cypress, rosemary and rue, 658. -- Bring the good old bugle, boys, we'll sing another Britannia's gallant streamers, 296. Britons grown big with pride, 173. By Cavité on the bay, 619. By Chickamauga's crooked stream the martial By the beard of the Prophet the Bashaw swore, 281. By the flow of the inland river, 563. By the rude bridge that arched the flood, 351. Cæsar, afloat with his fortunes, 462. Call Martha Corey, 92. Calm as that second summer which precedes, 507. Calm martyr of a noble cause, 545. "Chuff! chuff! chuff!" An' a mountain-bluff, 652. Cold, cold is the north wind and rude is the blast, Columbia, appear! To thy mountains ascend, Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise, 180. Columbus looked; and still around them spread, Come, all ye bold Americans, to you the truth I Come all ye lads who know no fear, 226. Come all ye Yankee sailors, with swords and pikes Come all you brave Americans, 237. Come all you brave soldiers, both valiant and free, Come, all you sons of Liberty, that to the seas Come, brothers! rally for the right, 413. Come, cheer up, my lads, like a true British band, 130. Come, come fill up your glasses, 132. Come, each death-doing dog who dares venture his Come, fill the beaker, while we chaunt a pean of Come, Freemen of the land, 509. Come, gentlemen Tories, firm, loyal, and true, 229. Come, listen all unto my song, 565. Come listen, good neighbors of every degree, 131. Come muster, my lads, your mechanical tools, 270. Come sheathe your swords! my gallant boys, 239. Come unto me, ye heroes, 202. Come, ye lads, who wish to shine, 287. Concentred here th' united wisdom shines, 269. Dark as the clouds of even, 500. Dawn of a pleasant morning in May, 518. Dawn peered through the pines as we dashed at Day of glory! Welcome day, 179. Daybreak upon the hills, 547. Dead! Is it possible? He, the bold rider, 582. Death, why so cruel? What! no other way, 45. Delusions of the days that once have been, 88. Dreary and brown the night comes down, 10. Ebbed and flowed the muddy Pei-Ho by the gulf Eight volunteers! on an errand of death, 626. El Emplazado, the Summoned, the Doomed One, Ere five score years have run their tedious rounds, Ere Murfreesboro's thunders rent the air, 459. Fair were our visions! Oh, they were as grand, Fallen? How fallen? States and empires fall, 376. Far spread, below, 3. Farewell! for now a stormy morn and dark, 650. Father and I went down to camp, 159. For him who sought his country's good, 280. Foreboding sudden of untoward change, 599. Four-and-eighty years are o'er me; great-grand. Four gallant ships from England came, 309. Four young men, of a Monday morn, 155. Free are the Muses, and where freedom is, 641. From the laurel's fairest bough, 307. From the Rio Grande's waters to the icy lakes of From this hundred-terraced height, 573. Furl that Banner, for 't is weary, 547. INDEX OF FIRST LINES 691 Gallants attend, and hear a friend, 208. "Give me but two brigades," said Hooker, frown- Glistering high in the midnight sky the starry Glorious the day when in arms at Assunpink, 189. God is shaping the great future of the Islands of God makes a path, provides a guide, 72. God send us peace, and keep red strife away, 447. Gone down in the flood, and gone out in the flame, Good Junipero, the Padre, 343. Goody Bull and her daughter together fell out, 130. Great Sassacus fled from the eastern shores, 70. Grown sick of war, and war's alarms, 261. Hail! Columbia, happy land, 277. Hail, great Apollo! guide my feeble pen, 111. Hail to Hobson! Hail to Hobson! hail to all the Hail to thee, gallant foe, 638. Hard aport! Now close to shore sail, 51. Hark! hark! down the century's long reaching Hark! I hear the tramp of thousands, 442. Hark! 't is Freedom that calls, come, patriots, Hark! 't is the voice of the mountain, 254. Have you heard the story that gossips tell, 493. Hear through the morning drums and trumpets Heard ye how the bold McClellan, 434. Heard ye that thrilling word, 439. Hearken the stirring story, 27. Here comes the Marshal, 76. Here halt we our march, and pitch our tent, 157. Here the oceans twain have waited, 651. Here's the spot. Look around you. Above on the Highlands of Hudson! ye saw them pass, 230. His echoing axe the settler swung, 329. His soul to God! on a battle-psalm, 457. How history repeats itself, 519. How sad the note of that funereal drum, 347. How sweetly on the wood-girt town, 105. Huzza, my Jo Bunkers! no taxes we'll pay, 269. I am a wandering, bitter shade, 146. I gazed, and lo! Afar and near, 454. I hear again the tread of war go thundering through I lay in my tent at mid-day, 440. I lift these hands with iron fetters banded, 561. I never have got the bearings quite, 378. I often have been told, 288. I pause not now to speak of Raleigh's dreams, 38. I read last night of the Grand Review, 548. I remember it well: 't was a morn dull and gray, Iberian! palter no more! By thine hands, 612. In a chariot of light from the regions of day, 141. June was green, 43. In battle-line of sombre gray, 621. In Cherbourg Roads the pirate lay, 525. In Hampton Roads, the airs of March were bland, In Paco town and in Paco tower, 644. In revel and carousing, 346. In seventeen hundred and seventy-five, 171. In spite of Rice, in spite of Wheat, 140. In that desolate land and lone, 583. In that soft mid-land where the breezes bear, 177. In the gloomy ocean bed, 602. In the stagnant pride of an outworn race, 633. In the tides of the warm south wind it lay, 25. In their ragged regimentals, 206. Into the thick of the fight he went, pallid, and sick, Into the town of Conemaugh, 599. Is it naught? Is it naught, 607. Is it the wind, the many-tongued, the weird, 496. Is this the price of beauty! Fairest, thou, 594. It cannot be that men who are the seed, 572. It don't seem hardly right, John, 430. It is done, 481. It is no idle fabulous tale, nor is it fayned newes, It is not the fear of death, 238. It was a noble Roman, 403. It was Captain Pierce of the Lion who strode the It was early Sunday morning, in the year of sixty- It was less than two thousand we numbered, 511. It was that fierce contested field when Chicka- It was the schooner Hesperus, 351. It wound through strange scarred hills, down John Brown died on the scaffold for the slave, John Brown in Kansas settled, like a steadfast John Brown of Ossawatomie spake on his dying John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the grave, John Bull, Esquire, my jo John, 432. Joy in rebel Plymouth town, in the spring of sixty- July the twenty-second day, 242. Just as the hour was darkest, 472. Just as the spring came laughing through the Just God! and these are they, 385. Just in the gray of the dawn, as the mists uprose Kind Heaven, assist the trembling muse, 217. Land of gold! - thy sisters greet thee, 346. Lay down the axe; fling by the spade, 410. Let the Nile cloak his head in the clouds, and defy, Light up thy homes, Columbia, 371. Lights out! And a prow turned towards the Like the tribes of Israel, 514. Listen, my children, and you shall hear, 144. Long lay the ocean-paths from man conceal'd, 8. Mad Berkeley believed, with his gay cavaliers, 44. Make room, all ye kingdoms, in history renown'd, Make room on our banner bright, 358. March! March! March! from sunrise till it's dark, Mater á Dios, preserve us, 24. Meanwhile the choleric Captain strode wrathful away to the council, 61. Men of the North and West, 409. Men said at vespers: "All is well," 568. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Mistress Penelope Penwick, she, 186. More ill at ease was never man than Walbach, that Morgan Stanwood, patriot, 151. Mute he sat in the saddle, -mute 'midst our full My country, 't is of thee, ii. My dear brother Ned, 228. My lords, with your leave, 182. Neglected long had been my useless lyre, 117. Never mind the day we left, or the way the women New England's annoyances, you that would know Night's diadem around thy head, 594. No beggar she in the mighty hall where her bay- No Berserk thirst of blood had they, 153. No more words, 410. No! never such a draught was poured, 136. No song of a soldier riding down, 571. No stately column marks the hallowed place, 135. Not as when some great Captain falls, 540. Not with slow, funereal sound, 603. O Boston wives and maids, draw near and see, 144. O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, O God of Battles, who art still, 612. O Land beloved, 660. O Land, of every land the best, 548. O little fleet! that on thy quest divine, 18. O lonely bay of Trinity, 565. O people-chosen! are ye not, 559. O say, can you see, by the dawn's early light, 317. O the pride of Portsmouth water, 311. O Thou, that sendest out the man, 262. O Thou, whose glorious orbs on high, 653. 224. Of the onset, fear-inspiring, and the firing and the INDEX OF FIRST LINES Of worthy Captain Lovewell I purpose now to Oft shall the soldier think of thee, 355. Oh, is not this a holy spot, 348. Oh! lonely is our old green fort, 300. Oh mother of a mighty race, 268. Oh, Northern men true hearts and bold, 427. Oh, who will follow old Ben Milam into San Old cradle of an infant world, 46. Old Ross, Cockburn, and Cochrane too, 315. On every schoolhouse, ship, and staff, 611. One summer morning a daring band, 487. Our camp-fires shone bright on the mountain, 512. Our sorrow sends its shadow round the earth, 589. Out and fight! The clouds are breaking, 409. Round Quebec's embattled walls, 171. 693 Rouse every generous, thoughtful mind, 139. Ruin and death held sway, 597. Saddle! saddle! saddle, 579. Said Burgoyne to his men, as they passed in Said my landlord, white-headed Gil Gomez, 370. Saint Patrick, slave to Milcho of the herds, 480. Santa Maria, well thou tremblest down the wave, Say, darkeys, hab you seen de massa, 522. "Silent upon a peak in Darien," 651. Since you all will have singing, and won't be said Sing, O goddess, the wrath, the ontamable dander Single-handed, and surrounded by Lecompton's Sir George Prevost, with all his host, 314. Smile, Massachusetts, smile, 172. So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn, 388. Soe, Mistress Anne, faire neighboure myne, 89. Sons of valor, taste the glories, 176. Southrons, hear your country call you, 411. Spain drew us proudly from the womb of night, Speak and tell us, our Ximena, looking northward "Speak! speak! thou fearful guest," 6. |