FREMONT'S BATTLE-HYMN. BY JAMES G. CLARK. Oh, spirits of Washington, Warren, and Wayze! And smile on the banner ye cherished of old; When the white fleets, like snowflakes, are drankly the seas. As the red lightnings run on the black jagged cost, Ere the thunder-king speaks from his wind-re shroud, So gleams the bright steel along valley and shore, Ere the combat shall startle the land with its roar. As the veil which conceals the clear starlight is river, When clouds strike together, by warring winds driver, So the blood of the race must be offered like ra Ere the stars of our country are ransomed again. Proud sons of the soil where the Palmetto grews, And stolen from man the best gift of his God; And the eyes of humanity blinded with crime. The hounds of oppression were howling the knel Of martyrs and prophets, at gibbet and cell, While Mercy despaired of the blossoming years When her harp strings no more should be rusted with tears. But God never ceases to strike for the right, And the ring of His anvil came down through the night, Though the world was asleep, and the nations seemed dead, And Truth into bondage by Error was led. Will the banners of morn at your bidding be furled, When the day-king arises to quicken the world? Can ye cool the fierce fires of his heat-throbbing breast, Or turn him aside from his goal in the West? Ah! sons of the plains where the orange tree blooms, Ye may come to our pine-covered mountains for tombs ; But the light ye would smother was kindled by One Who gave to the universe planet and sun. Go, strangle the throat of Niagara's wrath, Go, cover his pulses with sods of the ground, hound; Then swarm to our borders and silence the notes That thunder of freedom from millions of throats. Come on with your "chattels," all worn, from the soil They die unlamented by people and laws, Who have blocked up the track of Humanity's car; The mem'ry of wrong from the souls of the race. The streams may forget how they mingled our gore, And the myrtle entwine on their borders once more; The song-birds of Peace may return to our glades, And children join hands where their fathers joined blades: Columbia may rise from her trial of fire, More pure than she came from the hand of her sire; "MY MARYLAND.”* [WORDS ALTERED.] BY J. F. WEISHAMPEL, JR. AIR-"My Normandy." The traitor's foot is on thy shore, His touch is on thy Senate door, Avenge the patriotic gore That flecked the streets of Baltimore, Hark to the nation's loud appeal, For life and death, for woe and weal, Maryland, my Maryland! Thou shouldst not cower in the dust, Maryland, my Maryland! Shake off thy sloth, wipe off thy rust, Maryland, my Maryland! Remember Washington's great trust, Preserve it from the foeman's thrust, And hope in God-thy cause is just! Maryland, my Maryland! Some months ago, a Secession song, set to a fine piece of music, and entitled "My Maryland," appeared in Southern papers, and was played and sung with great pleasure by the Secession ladies. The song had a line of real nerve running through it which rendered it very popular; but the sentiment was so false, and founded upon such gross misrepresentations, that it was offensive to any one not absorbed in the prevailing madness. The song was remodelled-its fire was turned against the enemy-and here we have it, the true utterance of a patriotism that still lives among the people of Maryland-as time will show. Seo page 93, Poetry and Incidents, vol. 1. Hark, how the bells of Freedom toll, Maryland, my Maryland! Better the ocean over thee roll, I hear the distant thunder hum, Maryland, my Maryland ! Maryland, my Maryland! Drum out thy phalanx brave and strong, Maryland, my Maryland! Drum forth to balance Right and Wrong, Maryland, my Maryland! Drum to thy old heroic song, When forth to fight went Liberty's throng, And bore the Spangled Banner along, Maryland, my Maryland ! BY A. J. H. DUGANNE. Oh, how the past comes over me- Marching the legions by, With the drums of the Old Time beating, Out of the streets of Lexington And, back from the lines of Bunker, And pray, with their iron musketry, And, reddening all the greensward, Hearken to Stark, of Hampshire: "Ho, comrades all!" quoth he"King George's Hessian hirelings On yonder plains ye see! We'll beat them, boys! or Mary Stark He broke upon the foe, And he won the battle of Bennington- Down from the wild Green Mountains Bold Ethan Allen stooped, He gained without a blow, "In the name of the Great Jehovah !" Eighty-five years ago! Out from the resonant belfry Of Independence Hall, Sounded the tongue of a brazen bell, To give the oppressed their freedom, And the voice of brave John Hancock, And out from Sullivan's Island, And the rifle-shots again; Snatched from the ditch below, Forests in front of them, Filled with the rebel host- Hung the fell marksmen, Here, in the field of death III. Bravely they fought, and well, Fought Nineteen Hundred. IV. Threefold outnumbered, Thinner and thinner grew Ranks without fear and true, Falling where firm they stood, Drenching the earth with blood, Wrapped in the smoke of deathNo more Nineteen Hundred; The river behind them, Forests to right of them, Forests to left of them, Forests in front of them, Filled with the storm of hell, Flashing with death-strokes. Bravely the gunners fell, Facing that storm of hellFighting till all went down; Then stood the guns alone, Silent their thunders. Still loud their leader's cry Cheered to the onset ; Still bravely made reply All that remained yet Of Nineteen Hundred. Towered that noble form, Still aloft that gray head, Beacon 'mid the battle's storm. Dashed by a traitor's hand, Down sunk that beacon light. Crushed by the rushing mass, Threefold outnumbering, Charging on front of them, Charging on flank of them, Borne to the rugged bluffs, Nothing to stay them; Swamped in the crazy boats, Plunged in the roaring flood, Wounded and dying; Pelted by leaden hail, Fierce and unsparing, Making their passage good, Many bold swimmers; Oh, the wild dash they made Ne'er shall their glory fade; Sons of St. Tammany! Joined here your glorious bands Old men, with gushing tears, How from their blood there sprang Till the Stars and Stripes on high, As a lawyer bold Convinced you'll not yield; You are just the man for the place. Be true to your trust, And bring to the dust The rebels, where'er they are found; Inform them, dear Ben, They've mistaken the men, If they think the North is not sound. We know you are right, In upholding the Stripes and Stars; Who follow the Stripes and Bars. See to it, our flag Symbolic of despot and slave; It must wave again, "O'er the land of the free and the brave." We will anxiously wait Entreating God's blessing on you; To the Union you'll ever be true. -Boston Traveller VI. Honor the living and dead, Who dashed o'er the river; Ne'er can their names be sundered,Honor the Nineteen Hundred; By the blood that was shed, By the souls of the dead, TO GENERAL BUTLER. BY "BAY STATE." Ben. Butler, my boy, Of your brave words and acts to hear; Knowing not the meaning of fear. A MONARCH DETHRONED. BY MRS. E. VALE SMITH. "Old Cotton, the King, boys-aha !— With his locks so fleecy and white," Descends, like a falling star, To the sceptre he had no right,- To the sceptre he had no right. Old Cotton, the King, was so bold, With injustice to prop up his throne, That now he's left out in the coldThe nations all leave him alone,— Boys, alone! The nations all leave him alone. Old Cotton, the King, built his throne Old Cotton no more holds the reins He's dismembered as well as dead; His cold heart in the South remains, But his limbs are mangled and red,Boys, and red! But his limbs are mangled and red. Old Cotton, the once potent King, Is struck from his impotent throne; "There is no safety for European monarchical Governments, if the progressive spirit of the Democracy of the Elect Lincoln, and United States is allowed to succeed. the first blow to the separation of the United States is effected."-London Morning Chronicle. "I hold, further, that there is no evil in this country for which the Constitution and laws will not furnish a remedy. Then we must maintain our rights inside of the Union in conformity with the Constitution, and not break up the Union."-Douglas at Memphis, October, 1860. Brothers, there are times when nations So, friends, fill up And GOD PRESERVE THE UNION! There are factions passion-goaded, In brotherly communion, Cry" North and South," And GOD PRESERVE THE UNION! While the young Republic's bosom Of the speech within it born: Where its white slaves may unbend them, So, friends, let's all, 'Gainst the kingly crowd,- |