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Come in her crowning lour, -and then
Of sky and stars to prison'd men;
To the world-secking Genoese,
Blew o'er the Haytien seas.
Bozzaris! with the storied brave
Greece nurtured in her glory's time, Rest thee: there is no prouder grave,
Even in her own proud clime. She wore no funeral weeds for thee,
Nor bade the dark hearse wave its plume, Like torn branch from death's leafless tree, In sorrow's pomp and pageantry,
The heartless luxury of the tomb); But she remembers thee as one Long loved, and for a season gone; For thee her poet's lyre is wreathed, Her marble wrought, her music breathed; For thee she rings the birthday bells; Of thee her babes' first lisping tells; For thine her evening prayer is said, At palace conch and cottage bed; Uer soldier, closing with the foe, Gives for thy sake a deadlier blow; His plighted maiden, when she fears For him, the joy of her young years, Thinks of thy fate, and checks her tears;
And she, the mother of thy boys, Though in her eye and faded cheek Is read the grief she vill not speak,
The memory oi' her buried joys, And even she who gave thee birth, Will, by their pilgrim-circled hearth,
SOLDIERS AID SOCIETIES.
To the quiet nooks of home,
To the public halls so wide,
And sit down side by side,
With womanly weapons girt,
While they sing the song of the shirt.
O women with sons so dear,
O tender, loving wives,
But the saving of precious lives. 'Tis roused for the battle we feel
O for a thousand experts, Armed with tiny darts of steel,
To conquer iliousands of shirts !
Under the sheltering roof, Come to the rescue, poor and rich,
Nor stay from the work aloof; To the men who are shedding their blood,
To the brave, devoted band, Whose action is honor, whose cause is good,
We pledge our strong right hand.
With earnest heart and soul-
To keep the Union whole.
Where treason and cowardice lurk,
That we're doing this Christian work.
Brothers are fighting abroad,
Sisters will help them ere Ilusbands and wives with one accord
Serving the cause so dear. Stand by our colors to-day
Keep to the Union trueUnder our flag while yet we may
Hurrah for the Red, White, and Blue.
THE BALLAD OF ISHMAEL DAY.
ONE summer morning a daring band
Over the prosperous peaceful farms,
The clatter of hoofs and the clang of arms.
They swept the land like devouring surge,
Bare as the track of the locust-scourge “The rebels are coming," far and near Rang the tidings of dread and fear;
Some paled, and cowered, and sought to hide;
And women shuddered, and children cried.
Welcomed with triumph the thievish band,
As the rebels rode into Maryland, -
For rags and hunger to make amends, -
But gathered the cattle the farms across,
A sturdy veteran, gray and old,
Strong and steadfast-unbribed, unsold.
Fearless of danger, or death, or scars,
The dear old flag of the Stripes and Stars.
His withered hand, as he shook it freer,
While, shouting, the rebels drew more near.
One njust bleed for it-you or I!"
Ping! went the rifle-ball-down he came
Old Ishmael Day took careful aim !
But though cheeks may wither, and locks grow gray,
(T happened once that a young Yorkshire clown, but newly come to far-famed London town, was gaping round at many a Wondrous sight, grinning at all he saw, with vast delight; attended by his terrier Tyke, who was as sharp as sharp may be: and thus the master and the dog, d'ye see, were very much alike.
After wandering far and wide, and seeing every street and square,--the parks, the plays, the Queen, and the Lord Mayor, with all in which your “Cockneys" place their pride ;-and, being quizzed by many a city spark for coat of country cut and red-haired pate, he came at length to noisy Billingsgate. He saw the busy scene with mute surprise, opening his ears and wondering eyes at the loud clamor, une the monstrous fish, hereafter doomed to grace full my a dish.
Close by him was a turbot on a stall, which, with stretched mouth, as if to pant for breath, seemed in the agonies of death.' Said Lubin, “What name, zur, d'ye that, bish cabi?
* A turbot," answered the sarcastic elf; “a flat, you sce-50 something like yourself.” “D'ye think," said Lubin, "that lie'll bite?!! Why, said the fishman, with a roguish grin, “his mouth is open; put your finger'in ard then you'll know. 'Why, zur,'' replied the wight, “I shouldn't like to try; but there's my Tyke shall put his tail there, an' you like. Agreed,'' rejoined the man, and laughed delight.
Within the turbot's teeth was placed the tail, and the fish bit with all its might. The dog no sooner felt the bite, than off he ran, the dangling turbot holding tight.' The astonished man began most furiously to bawl and rail; but, after numerous escapes and dodgings, Tyke sately got to Master Lubin's lodyings. Thither the fishimonger in anger flew. Says Lubin,
Lwon tricks on me won't do! I ze come froin York to queer such tlats as you; and Tyke, my dog, is Yorkshire, too!” Then, laughing at the man, who sneaked away, he had the aslı for dinner that same day.
RIENZI'S ADDRESS.-By 11. R. Mitford
FRIENDS: I come not here to talk. Ye know too well