Let the pall, and the urn, and the nodding hearse-plume, His voice in the halls of the nation is stilled; His sword's in its scabbard; his corse 'neath the sod; AT VIII.-WASHINGTON'S NAME. JAMES G. PERCIVAL. T the heart of our country the tyrant was leaping, When Washington sprang from the watch he was keeping, Was a legend that told The brightness that circled our Washington's name. Long years have roll'd on, and the sun still has brighten'd And still on its fold Shine in letters of gold The glory and worth of our Washington's name. And so it shall be, while eternity tarries, And pauses to tread in the foot-steps of time ; They are careless and cold, IX. THE BATTLE OF NEW ORLEANS. CHILI THOMAS WELLS. HILL was the breeze, nor yet the herald light, Of loud artillery, and the dire alarms Fate gave the word! and now, by veterans led, In pride of chivalry, to conquest bred, The foe advanced-intrenched, the champion band Fearless their stars unfurled, and, as the rock, As near the bastioned wall the invader drew, Sublime in majesty-matchless in might-- High on his sceptred perch our mountain bird, Through clouds of rolling dun, and sheets of flame; His ample pinions o'er the conqueror's head The Hero of the West ;-to him assigned The glorious palm, and round his brows the guerdon twined. TH X.-E PLURIBUS UNUM.-OUR COUNTRY'S MOTTO. HOUGH many and bright are the stars that appear In that flag by our country unfurled, And the stripes that are swelling in majesty there, Their lights are unsullied as those in the sky, And they're leagued in as true and as holy a tie From the hour when those patriots fearlessly flung Ever true to themselves, to that motto they clung, By the bayonet traced at the midnight of war, O, perish the heart or the hand that would mar Our motto of "Many in one." 'Mid the smoke of the contest—the cannon's deep roar How oft it hath gathered renown ! While those stars were reflected in rivers of gore, When the cross and the lion went down. And though few were their lights in the gloom of that hour Had God for their bulwark, and truth for their power From where our green mountain-tops blend with the sky, To the waves where the balmy Hesperides lie, Like the dream of some prophet of old, The conquered, and, dying, bequeathed to our care, But that banner, whose loveliness hallows the air, We are many in one while there glitters a stàr, And tyrants shall quail 'mid their dungeons afar, It shall gleam o'er the sea, 'mid the bolts of the storm, And flame where our guns with their thunder grow warm, The oppressed of the earth to that standard shall fly, And the exile shall feel 't is his own native sky And those stars shall increase till the fulness of time Divide as we may in our own native land, Then up with our flag! let it stream on the air! They had hands that could strike, they had souls that could dare, And their sons were not born to be slaves! Up, up with that banner! where'er it may call, Our millions shall rally around; A nation of freemen that moment shall fall When its stars shall be trailed on the ground. XI. THE LANDING OF COLUMBUS. THE sails were furl'd; with many a melting close, Rose to the Virgin. 'Twas the hour of day To golden climes and islands of the blest; Went o'er the waves in songs of gladness there! XII.-SONG OF THE UNION. CUMMINGS. That word since then hath shone on high, It is our country's name! What impious hand shall rashly dare The spirits of the heroic dead, From vast Niagara's gurgling roar From east to western wave, The God of nations, in whose name Will bless our fond endeavor To dwell as brethren here below; The Union, then, come weal, come woe, We will preserve forever! XIII. MARION'S DINNER. EDWARD C. JONES. A British officer sent to negotiate an exchange of prisoners, was conducted into Marion's en campment. There the scene took place which is here commemorated The young officer was so deeply affected by the sentiments of Marion, that he subsequently resigned his commission and retired from the British service. THEY sat on the trunk of a fallen pine, and their plate was a piece of bark, And the sweet potatoes were super-fine, though bearing the embers' mark; But Tom, with the sleeve of his cotton shirt, the embers' had brushed away, And then to the brook, with a step alert, he hied on that gala day. The British officer tried to eat, but his nerves were out of tune, And ill at ease on his novel seat, while absent both knife and spoon, Said he, you give me but Lenten fare, is the table thus always slim? Perhaps with a Briton you will not share the cup with a flowing brim! Then Marion put his potato down, on the homely plate of bark-→ He had to smile, for he could not frown, while gay as the morning lark ;'Tis a royal feast I provide to-day, upon roots we rebels dine, And in Freedom's service we draw no pay, is that of ethics thine? Then, with flashing eye and with heaving breast, he looked to the azure sky, |