Where, therefore, lies the German's land?
Name now at last that mighty land!
Where'er resounds the German's tongue
Where German hymns to God are sung
There, gallant brother, take thy stand!
That is the German's Fatherland.

That is his land, the land of lands,
Where vows bind less than claspèd hands,
Where Valor lights the flashing eye,
Where Love and Truth in deep hearts lie,
And Zeal enkindles Freedom's brand-
That is the German's Fatherland!

That is the German's Fatherland.

Great God! Look down and bless that land!
And give her noble children souls

To cherish while existence rolls,

And love with heart, and aid with hand,

Their Universal Fatherland.

(From the German.)

PATRIOTISM

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 burn'd,
As home his footsteps he hath turn'd

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, concentred all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust from whence he sprung,

Unwept, unhonor'd, and unsung.

SIR WALTER SCOTT (Lay of the Last Minstrel).

WARREN'S ADDRESS

STAND! the ground 's your own, my braves!

Will ye give it up to slaves ?

Wiil ye look for greener graves ?

Hope ye mercy still?

What's the mercy despots feel?

Hear it in that battle-peal!

Read it on yon bristling steel!

Fear

Ask it

ye who will.

ye foes who kill for hire ?
Will ye to your homes retire ?
Look behind you! — they're afire !
And, before you, see

Who have done it! From the vale
On they come! — and will ye quail ?
Leaden rain and iron hail

Let their welcome be !

In the God of battles trust!

Die we may

- and die we must!

But, O where can dust to dust

Be consign'd so well,

As where heaven its dews shall shed
On the martyr'd patriot's bed,

And the rocks shall raise their head,

Of his deeds to tell?

JOHN PIERPONT.

THE BATTLE OF LEXINGTON

THEN haste ye, Prescott and Revere !
Bring all men of Lincoln here;

Let Chelmsford, Littleton, Carlisle,
Let Acton, Bedford, hither file
Oh, hither file, and plainly see
Out of a wound leap Liberty.
Say, Woodman April! all in green,
Say, Robin April! hast thou seen
In all thy travel round the earth
Ever a morn of calmer birth?
But morning's eye alone serene
Can gaze across yon village-green
To where the trooping British run
Through Lexington.

Good men in fustian, stand ye still
;
The men in red come o'er the hill.

Lay down your arms, damn'd rebels ! cry
The men in red full haughtily.

But never a grounding gun is heard,
The men in fustian stand unstirr'd;

Dead calm, save may be a wise bluebird
Puts in his little heavenly word.
O men in red! if ye but knew

The half as much as the bluebirds do,

Now in this little tender calm

Each hand would out, and every palm

With patriot palm strike brotherhood's stroke
Or ere those lines of battle broke.

O men in red! if ye but knew

The least of the all that bluebirds do,
Now in this little godly calm

--

Yon voice might sing the Future's Psalm
The Psalm of Love with the brotherly eyes
Who pardons and is very wise

Yon voice that shouts, high-hoarse with ire,
Fire!

The red-coats fire, the homespuns fall;
The homespuns' anxious voices call,
Brother, art hurt? and Where hit, John?
And Wipe this blood, and Men, come on!
And Neighbor, do but lift my head,
And Who is wounded? Who is dead?
Seven are killed; my God! my God!
Seven lie dead on the village sod
Two Harringtons, Parker, Hadley, Brown,
Monroe, and Porter - these are down.
Nay, look! stout Harrington not yet dead!
He crooks his elbow, lifts his head;

He lies at the steps of his own house-door;
He crawls and makes a path of gore.

The wife from the window hath seen, and rush'd;
He hath reach'd the step, but the blood hath gush'ả,
He hath crawl'd to the step of his own house-door;
But his head hath dropp'd: he will crawl no more.
Clasp, wife, and kiss, and lift the head:
Harrington lies at his doorstep, dead.

But, O ye Six that round him lay,
And bloodied up that April day!
As Harrington fell, ye likewise fell

At the door of the House wherein ye dwell;

As Harrington came, ye likewise came,

And died at the door of your House of Fame.

SIDNEY LANIER (Psalm of the West).

HYMN

[SUNG AT THE COMPLETION OF THE CONCORD MONUMENT, APRIL 19, 1876.]

By the rude bridge that arch'd the flood,
Their flag to April's breeze unfurl'd,

Here once the embattled farmers stood,

And fired the shot heard round the world.

The foe long since in silence slept ;
Alike the conqueror silent sleeps;
And Time the ruin'd bridge has swept

Down the dark stream which seaward creeps.

On this green bank, by this soft stream,
We set to-day a votive stone;
That memory may their deed redeem,
When, like our sires, our sons are gone.
Spirit that made those heroes dare
To die, or leave their children free,
Bid Time and Nature gently spare

The shaft we raise to them and thee.

RALPH WALDO EMERSON.

ETERNAL SPIRIT OF THE CHAINLESS MIND

ETERNAL spirit of the chainless mind!
Brightest in dungeons, Liberty! thou art;
For there thy habitation is the heart-
The heart which love of thee alone can bind;
And when thy sons to fetters are consign'd-
To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom -
Their country conquers with their martyrdom,
And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind.
LORD BYRON (Prisoner of Chillon).

LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS

THE breaking waves dash'd high

On a stern and rock-bound coast,
And the woods against a stormy sky
Their giant branches toss'd.

And the heavy night hung dark

The hills and waters o'er,

When a band of exiles moor'd their bark
On the wild New England shore.

Not as the conqueror comes,

They, the true-hearted, came;

Not with the roll of the stirring drums,
And the trumpet that sings of fame :

Not as the flying come,

In silence and in fear;

They shook the depths of the desert gloom

With their hymns of lofty cheer.

Amidst the storm they sang,

And the stars heard, and the sea;

And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang

To the anthem of the free.

The ocean eagle soar'd

From his nest by the white wave's foam;
And the rocking pines of the forest roar'd
This was their welcome home!

There were men with hoary hair
Amidst that pilgrim band:
Why had they come to wither there,
Away from their childhood's land?

There was woman's fearless eye,
Lit by her deep love's truth;

There was manhood's brow serenely high,
And the fiery heart of youth.

What sought they thus afar?

Bright jewels of the mine?

The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?
They sought a faith's pure shrine!

Ay, call it holy ground,

The soil where first they trod;

They left unstain'd what there they found

Freedom to worship God.

FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS.

IN STATE

I

O KEEPER of the Sacred Key,
And the Great Seal of Destiny,
Whose eye is the blue canopy,

Look down upon the warring world, and tell us what the end will be.

"Lo, through the wintry atmosphere,
On the white bosom of the sphere,

A cluster of five lakes appear;

And all the land looks like a couch, or warrior's shield, or sheeted

bier.

"And on that vast and hollow field,

With both lips closed and both eyes seal'd,

A mighty Figure is revealed,

Stretched at full length, and stiff and stark, as in the hollow of

a shield.