Of how he shared their wants and woes, and with them death defied.

They looked back to that fearful night when 'mid the storm he stood

Beside the icy Delaware, to guide them o'er the floodBack to red fields where, thick as leaves upon an Autumn

day,

The tawny savage warriors and British foemen lay.

They thought of many a cheerless camp where lay the sick and dead,

And where that stately form was bent o'er many a sufferer's bed;

Well had he won the deathless love of all that patriot

band

Their friend and guide, their nation's hope, the savior of their land.

He, too, saw all they had endured to break their country's chains,

Their naked footprints stamped in blood on Jersey's frozen plains.

The gloomy huts at Valley Forge, where Winter's icy

breath

Froze many a brave heart's crimson flow, chained many an arm in death.

And, looking on their war-thinned ranks, he sighed for those who fell;

It stirred the depths of his great heart to say the word "Farewell;"

He saw strong men who, facing death, had never thought

of fear,

Dash from their scarred and sun-browned cheeks the quickly gushing tear.

He stood in the receding boat, his noble brow laid bare, And the wild fingers of the breeze tossing his silv'ry hair, While to his trusty followers, the sternly tried and true, Whose sad eyes watched him from the shore, he waved a last adieu.

Earth shows no laureled conqueror so truly great as he Who laid the sword and power aside when once his land was free,

Who calmly sought his quiet home when Freedom's fight was won,

While with one voice the Nation cried: "God bless our Washington!"

-AUTHOR UNKNOWN.

THE SHIP OF STATE

Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State!
Sail on, O Union, strong and great!
Humanity, with all its fears,
With all the hopes of future years,
Is hanging breathless on thy fate!
We know what Master laid thy keel,
What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel,
Who made each mast, and sail, and rope,
What anvils rang, what hammers beat,
In what a forge and what a heat

Were shaped the anchors of thy hope!
Fear not each sudden sound and shock,
'Tis of the wave and not the rock;
'Tis but the flapping of the sail,
And not a rent made by the gale!
In spite of rock and tempest's roar,
In spite of false lights on the shore,
Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea!

Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee,

Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, Our faith triumphant o'er our fears,

Are all with thee-are all with thee!

-HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.

LOVE OF COUNTRY

I love my country's pine-clad hills,
Her thousand bright and gushing rills,
Her sunshine and her storms;
Her rough and rugged rocks that rear
Their hoary heads high in the air
In wild, fantastic forms.

I love her rivers, deep and wide,

Those mighty streams that seaward glide

To seek the ocean's breast;

Her smiling fields, her pleasant vales,
Her shady dells, her flowery dales,
Her haunts of peaceful rest.

I love her forest, dark and lone,
For there the wild bird's merry tone

Is heard from morn till night,
And there are lovelier flowers I ween,
Than e'er in Eastern land was seen
In varied colors bright.

Her forest, and her valleys fair,

Her flowers that scent the morning air,
Have all their charms for me;
But more I love my country's name,
Those words that echo deathless fame,-
"The land of liberty."

AUTHOR UNKNOWN.

"BREATHES THERE THE MAN"

Breathes there the man, with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,

This is my own-my native land!
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned,
As home his footsteps he hath turned,

From wandering on a foreign strand!
If such there breathe, go, mark him well;
For him no minstrel raptures swell;
High though his titles, proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim,—
Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
The wretch, concentered all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonored, and unsung.

-SIR WALTER SCOTT.

KING HENRY'S ADDRESS TO HIS

SOLDIERS

Once more into the breach, dear friends, once more;

Or close the wall up with our English dead!

In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility:

But when the blast of war blows in our ears
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favored rage:
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect,

Let it pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galléd rock

O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swilled with the wild and wasteful ocean.

Now set the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide;
Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit
To his full height!-On, on, you noble English,
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!—
Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought,
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument:-
Dishonor not your mothers,

Be copy now to men of grosser blood,

And teach them how to war!—And you, good yoemen, Whose limbs were made in England, show us here,

The mettle of your pasture; let us swear

That you were worth your breeding: which I doubt not; For there is none of you so mean and base,