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Feebler, yet subtler; he shall weave his snares,
And spring them on thy careless steps, and clap
His wither'd hands, and from their ambush call
His hordes to fall upon thee. He shall send
Quaint maskers, forms of fair and gallant mien,
To catch thy gaze, and uttering graceful words
To charm thy ear; while his sly imps, by stealth,
Twine round thee threads of steel, light thread on thread,
That grow to fetters or bind down thy arms
With chains conceal'd in chaplets. Oh! not yet
Mayst thou unbrace thy corslet, nor lay by
Thy sword; nor yet, O Freedom! close thy lids
In slumber; for thine enemy never sleeps.
And thou must watch and combat, till the day
Of the new Earth and Heaven. But wouldst thou rest
Awhile from tumult and the frauds of men,
These old and friendly solitudes invite
Thy visit. They, while yet the forest trees
Were young upon the unviolated earth,

And yet the moss-stains on the rock were new,
Beheld thy glorious childhood, and rejoiced.

ENTERPRISE AND BOXER.

On the 1st of September, the Enterprise, Captain Bur- . roughs, sailed from Portsmouth on a cruise. On the 5th, early in the morning, they espied a brig in-shore, getting under way. They reconnoitered her for awhile to ascertain her character, of which they were soon informed by her hoisting three British ensigns, and firing a shot as a challenge. The Enterprise then hauled upon a wind, stood out of the bay, and prepared for action. A calm for some time delayed the encounter; it was succeeded by a breeze from the southwest, which gave our vessel the weather-gage. After manœuvering for a while to the windward, in order to try her sailing with the enemy, and to ascertain his force, the Enterprise, about three, P. M., shortened sail, hoisted three ensigns, fired a gun, tacked and ran down with an intention to bring him to close quarters. When within half pistol-shot, the enemy gave three cheers, and commenced the action with his starboard broadside. The cheers and the broadside were returned on our part, and the action became general. In about five minutes after the battle had commenced, the gallant Burroughs received a musket-ball in his body and fell

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he, however, refused to be carried below, but continued on deck through the action. The active command was then taken by Lieutenant McCall, who conducted himself with great skill and coolness. The enemy was out-manoeuvered and cut up; his main-top-mast and topsail-yard shot away; a position gained on his starboard bow, and a raking fire kept up, until his guns were silenced and he cried for quarter, saying that as his colors were nailed to the mast he could not haul them down. The prize proved to be his Britannic majesty's brig Boxer, of fourteen guns. The number of her crew is a matter of conjecture and dispute.

We turn gladly from such an idle discussion to notice the last moments of the worthy Burroughs. There needs no elaborate pencil to impart pathos and grandeur to the death of a brave man. The simple anecdotes, given in simple terms by his surviving comrades, present more striking pictures than could be wrought up by the most refined attempts of art. "At twenty minutes past three P. M.," says one account, "our brave commander fell, and while lying on the deck, refusing to be carried below, raised his head and requested that the flag might never be struck." In this situation he remained during the rest of the engagement, regardless of bodily pain; regardless of the life-blood fast ebbing from his wound; watching with anxious eye the vicissitudes of battle; cheering his men by his voice, but animating them still more by his glorious example. When the sword of the vanquished enemy was presented to him, we are told that he clasped his hands and exclaimed, "I am satisfied, I die contented." He

now permitted himself to be carried below, and the necessary attentions were paid to save his live, or alleviate his sufferings. His wound, however, was beyond the power of surgery, and he breathed his last within a few hours after the victory.

THE PILGRIM FATHERS.

BY W. H. BURLEIGH.

BOLD men were they, and true, that pilgrim band,
Who plough'd with venturous prow the stormy sea,
Seeking a home for hunted Liberty

Amid the ancient forests of a land

Wild, gloomy, vast, magnificently grand!

Friends, country, hallow'd homes they left, to be
Pilgrims for CHRIST's sake, to a foreign strand-
Beset by peril, worn with toil, yet free!
Tireless in zeal, devotion, labor, hope;

Constant in faith; in justice how severe !

Though fools deride and bigot-skeptics sneer, Praise to their names! If call'd like them to cope, In evil times, with dark and evil powers,

O, be their faith, their zeal, their courage ours!

IT IS GREAT FOR OUR COUNTRY TO DIE.

BY J. G. PERCIVAL.

O! IT is great for our country to die, where ranks are contending :

Bright is the wreath of our fame; Glory awaits us for

aye

Glory, that never is dim, shining on with light never endingGlory that never shall fade, never, O! never away.

O! it is sweet for our country to die-how softly reposes

Warrior youth on his bier, wet by the tears of his love, Wet by a mother's warm tears; they crown him with garlands of roses,

Weep, and then joyously turn, bright where he triumphs above.

Not to the shades shall the youth descend, who for country hath perish'd

HEBE awaits him in heaven, welcomes him there with her

smile;

There at the banquet divine, the patriot spirit is cherish'd;

Gods love the young, who ascend pure from the funeral

pile.

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