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3. They fought, like brave men, long and well:
They piled the ground with Moslem slain :
They conquered; but Bozzaris fell,
Bleeding at every vein.

His few surviving comrades saw

His smile, when rang their proud hurrah,
And the red field was won:

Then saw in death his eyelids close
Calmly, as to a night's repose,

Like flowers at set of sun.

4. Come to the bridal chamber, Death!
Come to the mother's when she feels
For the first time her first-born's breath:
Come when the blessed seals

That close the pestilence, are broke,
And crowded cities, wail its stroke:
Come in Consumption's ghastly form,
The earthquake shock, the ocean storm:
Come when the heart beats high and warm.

With banquet-song and dance, and wine,-
And thou art terrible-the tear,

The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier,
And all we know, or dream, or fear,

Of agony, are thine.

5. But to the Hero, when his sword

Has won the battle for the free,
Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word,
And in its hollow tones are heard

The thanks of millions yet to be.
Bozzaris, with the storied brave

Greece nurtured in her glory's time,
Rest thee: there is no prouder grave,
Even in her own proud clime.

We tell thy doom without a sigh;
For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's-
One of the few, the immortal names,

That were not born to die!

CLIII. THE PEN AND THE PRESS.

1. YOUNG GENIUS walked out by the mountain and streams, Entranced by the power of his own pleasant dreams,

Till the silent-the wayward-the wandering thing

Found a plume that had fallen from a passing bird's wing:
Exulting and proud, like a boy at his play,
He bore the new prize to his dwelling away,
He gazed for a while on its beauties, and then
He cut it, and shaped it, and called it—a PEN.

2. But its magical use he discovered not yet,

Till he dipp'd its bright lips in a fountain of jet;
And O! what a glorious thing it became,

For it spoke to the world in a language of flame:
While its master wrote on like a being inspired,
Till the hearts of the millions were melted or fired ;-
It came as a boon and a blessing to men,

The peaceful-the pure-the victorious PEN!

3. Young Genius went forth on his rambles once more,
The vast sinless caverns of earth to explore!

He searched the rude rock, and with rapture he found
A substance unknown, which he brought from the ground:
He fused it with fire, and rejoiced in the change,

As he molded the ore into characters strange,

Till his thoughts and his efforts were crown'd with success:
For an engine uprose, and he call'd it-the PRESS.

4. The Pen and the Press, blest alliance! combin'd
To soften the heart and enlighten the mind;
For that to the treasures of knowledge gave birth,
And this sent them forth to the ends of the earth:
Their battles for truth were triumphant indeed,
And the rod of the tyrant was snapp'd like a reed:
They were made to exalt us-to teach us to bless
Those invincible brothers-the PEN AND THE PRESS!

CLIV. THE BOYS.

OLIVER W. HOLMES.

This selection was addressed to the class of 1829, in Harvard College, some thirty years after their graduation. The author, who retains the freshness and joyousness of youth, addresses his classmates as "boys."

1. HAS there any old fellow got mixed with the boys?

If there has, take him out, without making a noise.
Hang the almanac's cheat and the catalogue's spite!
Old Time is a liar! we're twenty to-night!

2. We're twenty! We're twenty! Who says we are more? He's tipsy,-young jackanapes !-show him the door!

"Gray temples at twenty"?—Yes! white if we please:
Where the snow-flakes fall thickest there's nothing can freeze!

3. Was it snowing I spoke of? Excuse the mistake!

Look close, you will see not a sign of a flake!

We want some new garlands for those we have shed,
And these are white roses in place of the red.

4. We've a trick, we young fellows, you may have been told, Of talking (in public) as if we were old:

That boy we call "Doctor," and this we call "Judge":

It's a neat little fiction,-of course it's all fudge.

5. That fellow's the "Speaker," the one on the right: "Mr. Mayor," my young one, how are you to-night? That's our "Member of Congress," we say when we chaff: There's the "Reverend "-what's his name?-don't make me laugh.

6. That boy with the grave mathematical look Made believe he had written a wonderful book, And the Royal Society thought it was true!

So they chose him right in,—a good joke it was too!

7. There's a boy, we pretend, with a three-decker brain, That could harness a team with a logical chain;

When he spoke for our manhood in syllabled fire,

We called him "The Justice," but now he's the "Squire."

8. And there's a nice youngster of excellent pith: Fate tried to conceal him by naming him Smith; But he shouted a song for the brave and the free,Just read on his medal, "My country,' ""of thee"!

9. You hear that boy laughing? You think he's all fun; But the angels laugh, too, at the good he has done:

The children laugh loud as they troop to his call,

And the poor man that knows him laughs loudest of all!

10. Yes, we're boys,—always playing with tongue or with pen;
And I sometimes have asked, Shall we ever be men?
Shall we always be youthful, and laughing, and gay,
Till the last dear companion drops smiling away?

11. Then here's to our boyhood, its gold and its gray!
The stars of its winter, the dews of its May!
And when we have done with our life-lasting toys,
Dear Father, take care of Thy children, THE BOYs!

CLV.-ASPIRATIONS OF THE HEAVEN-BORN SPIRIT.

1. WHEN the young Eagle with exulting eye,
Has learned to dare the splendor of the sky,
And leave the Alps beneath him in his course,
To bathe his crest in morn's empyreal source;
Will his free wing, from that majestic hight,
Descend to follow some wild meteor's light,
Which, far below, with evanescent fire,
Shines to elude, and dazzles to expire?

MRS. HEMANS

2. No! still through clouds he wings his upward way,
And proudly claims his heritage of day!

And shall the spirit, on whose ardent gaze

The day-spring from on high hath poured its blaze,
Turn from that pure effulgence, to the beam

Of earth-born light, that sheds a treacherous gleam.
Luring the wanderer, from the star of faith?
To the deep valley of the shades of death?

What bright exchange, what treasure shall be given,
For the high birthright of its hope in Heaven?

CLVI.-THE UNION OF THE STATES.

EDMUND RANDOLPH.

1. I HAVE labored for the continuance of the unionthe rock of our salvation. I believe that as sure as there is a God in heaven, our safety, our political happiness, and existence, depend on the "UNION OF THE STATES;” and that, without this union, the people of this and other States, will undergo the unspeakable calamities which discord, faction, turbulence, war, and bloodshed, have produced in. other countries. The American spirit ought to be mixed with American pride—pride to see the union magnificently triumph.

2. Let it not be recorded of America, that, after having performed the most gallant exploits, after having overcome the most astonishing difficulties, and after having gained the admiration of the world by their incomparable valor and policy, they lost their acquired reputation,—their

national consequence and happiness,-by their own indiscretion. Let no future historian inform posterity that they wanted wisdom and virtue to concur in any regular, efficient government. Should any writer, doomed to so disagreeable a task, feel the indignation of an honest historian, he would reprehend and recriminate our folly with equal severity and justice.

3. Catch the present moment: seize it with avidity and eagerness; for it may be lost, never to be regained. If the union be now lost, I fear it will remain so forever. When I maturely weigh the advantages of the union, and the dreadful consequences of its dissolution: when I see safety on my right, and destruction on my left: when I behold respectability and happiness acquired by the one, but annihilated by the other, I can not hesitate to decide in favor of the UNION.

CLVII.-TO THE REVOLUTIONARY VETERANS.

DANIEL WEBSTER.

[At the laying of the corner-stone of the Bunker Hill Monument, June 17,

1825,]

1. WE hold still among us some of those who were active agents in the scenes of 1775, and who are now here, from every quarter of New England, to visit once more, and under circumstances so affecting,-I had almost said so overwhelming, this renowned theatre of their courage and patriotism. Venerable men! you have come down to us from a former generation. Heaven has bounteously lengthened out your lives, that you might behold this joyous day. You are now, where you stood, fifty years ago, this very hour, with your brothers, and your neighbors, shoulder to shoulder, in the strife for your country.

2. Behold, how altered. The same heavens are indeed over your heads: the same ocean rolls at your feet; but all else how changed! You hear now no roar of hostile cannon, you see now no mixed volumes of smoke and flame

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