SOLDIERS7 AND SAILORS7
His eerriod ranks shall reel before
The arm that lays the panther low.
And ye who breast the mountain storm
By grassy steep or highland lake,
Come, for the land ye love, to form
A bulwark that no foe can break.
Stand, like your own gray cliffs that mock
The whirlwind; stand in her defence :
The blast as soon shall move the rock
As rushing squadrons bear ye thence.
And ye, whose homes are by her grand
Swift rivers, rising far away,
Come from the depth of her green land
As mighty in your march as they;
As terrible as when the rains
Have swelled them over bank and borne,
With sudden floods to drown the. plains
And sweep along the woods uptorn.
And ye who throng, beside the deep,
Her ports and hamlets of the strand,
In number like the waves that leap
On his long murmuring marge of sand,
Come, like that deep, when, o'er his brim
He rises all his floods to pour,
And flings the proudest barks that swim,
A helpless wreck, against his shore.
Few, few were they whose swords, of old,
Won the fair land in which we dwell;
But we are many, we who hold
The grim resolve to guard it well.
Strike for that broad and goodly land,
Blow after blow, till men shall see
That Might and Right move hand in hand
And glorious must their triumph be.
T IS GREAT FOR OUR COUNTRY TO DIE.
BY JAMES G. PERCIVAL.
)h ! it is great for our country to die, where
ranks are contending;
Bright is the wreath of our fame; glory
awaits us for aye—
Hory that never is dim, shining on with light
Glory that never shall fade, never, oh ! never,
th ! it is sweet for our country to die ! Uow
Warrior youth on his bier, wet by the tears
of his love,
Vet by a mother's warm tears; they crown him
with garlands of roses,
Weep, and then joyously turn bright where
he triumphs above.
tot to the shades shall the youth descend who
for country hath perished ;
Hebe awaits Mm in heaven, welcomes him
there with her smile;
here, at the banquet divine, the patriot-spirit
God loves the young who ascend pure from
the funeral pile.
Not to Elysian fields, by the still, oblivious
Not to the isles of the blest, over the blue,
But on Olympian heights shall dwell the devot¬
ed for ever;
There shall assemble the good, there the wise,
valiant, and free.
THE VOICE OF THE PENNSYLVANIA VOLUNTEERS.
BY BAYAED TAYLOR.
'Twas Friday morn, the train crew neat
The city and the shore:
Far through the sunshine, soft and clear
We saw the dear old flag appear,
And in our hearts arose a cheer
Across the broad Patapaco's wave,
Old Fort McHenry bore
The starry banner of the brave,
As when our fathers went to save,
Or in the trenches find a grave,
Before us, pillared in the sky,
We saw the statue soar
Of Washington, serene and high—
Could traitors view that form, nor fly ?
Could patriots see, nor gladly die
For Baltimore ?
" 0 city of our country's song,
By that swift aid we bore
When sorely pressed, receive the throng,
Who go to shield our flag from wrong,
And give us welcome, warm and strong,
In Baltimore! "
We had no arms; as friends we came,
As brothers everjiore.
To rally .ound one ea"r.?-1 r.ame,
The charter of our power and fame :
We never dreamed of guilt and shame
The coward mob upon us fell:
McHenry's flag they tore :
Surprised, borne backward by the swell,
Beat down with mad, iuhuman yell,
Before us yawned a traitorous hell
In BalttTtwre !
Oh ! then how great for our country to die—in
the front rank to perish,
Firm, with our breast to the foe, Victory's
shout in our ear !
Long they our statues shall crown, in songs our
We shall look forth from our heaven, pleased
the sweet music to bear.