In vain! in vain! Strike other chords,- And shed the blood of Scio's vine! You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet; The nobler and the manlier one? Where nothing, save the waves and I, XXXV.- - THE CRUCIFIXION. I ASKED the heavens ; · BYRON. What foe to God had done "Twas man; Disclosed the abyss, and from the center ran.” I asked the earth; the earth replied, aghast, "'T was man; and such strange pangs my bosom rent, That still I and shudder at the past." groan To man, gay, smiling, thoughtless man, I went, And asked him next: he turned a scornful eye, Shook his proud head, and deigned me no reply. MONTGOMERY. THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER. XXXVI.-THREE WORDS OF STRENGTH. Have HOPE!-Though clouds environ now, Have FAITH! Where'er thy bark is driven The calm's disport, the tempest's mirth- Have LOVE! Not love alone for one, But man, as man, thy brother call, Thus these lessons on thy soul, grave Hope, Faith, and Love, and thou shalt find 335 XXXVII. —THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER. Mr. Key, the author of the following noble stanzas, had left Baltimore in a cartel, or ship sent for exchange of prisoners, for the purpose of effecting the release of a friend on board the British fleet. He was compelled to remain on board the cartel, under the eye of the British, while the latter bombarded Fort Henry. Mr. Key paced the deck of his ship all night, fearing the effect of the attack on the American fort. He saw our flag waving as the sun went down, and occasionally, by the light of bursting shells, after dark; but, as the bombardment was continued during the night, he feared that we might have surrendered. What was his joy, "at the morning's first dawn," on seeing that "our flag was still there!" The attack on Baltimore had failed. He embodied his emotions, on the spur of the moment, in this immortal song. This was in the year 1814. O, SAY, can you see, by the dawn's early light, What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming? Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight, O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming; And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air, Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there? O! say, does that Star-Spangled Banner yet wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave? On that shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep, As it fitfully blows, now conceals, now discloses ? 'Tis the Star-Spangled Banner.O, long may it wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave! And where are the foes who so vauntingly swore That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion A home and a country should leave us no more? Their blood hath washed out their foul footstep's pollution! No refuge could save the hireling and slave From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave; O, thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand Between their loved homes and the war's desolation! Blessed with victory and peace, may the heaven-rescued land Praise the power that hath made and preserved us a nation. Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just, And this be our motto, "In God is our trust,' And the Star-Spangled Banner in triumph shall wave F. S. KEY. XXXVIII. - THE CHAMOIS* HUNTER. NIGHT gloomed apace, and dark on high Their awful width unfurled, When Pierre, the hunter, cheerly went Before the peep of day. He took his rifle, pole, and rope – * Pronounced sham'o-a; the last a broad, as in fall. THE CHAMOIS HUNTER. He crossed the vale- he hurried on The first rough terrace gained; And now he nears the chasmed ice ; His foot hath slipped! - O, heaven! But quick his clutching, nervous grasp He looked beneath, - a horrible doom! There two long dreadful hours he hung, Scarce can he cling one moment more His head grows dizzy he must drop: They call thee, Pierre ! See, see them here; 337 And so from out that terrible place, And home he went, an altered man, Through his poor heart that day: He thought how all through life, though young, Over a gulf midway: He thought what fear it were to fall Unwinged with hope and love: M. F. TUPPER. XXXIX. - ON THE LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE. SEPTEMBER, 1782. TOLL for the brave! the brave that are no more! Toll for the brave! Brave Kempenfelt is gone; Weigh the vessel up, once dreaded by our foes, And mingle with our cup the tear that England owes ! Full charged with England's thunder, and plow the distant main. But Kempenfelt is gone, his victories are o'er; And he and his eight hundred shall plow the wave no more. COWPER. |