On that shore dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep, As it fitfully blows, now conceals, now discloses? Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam, In full glory reflected now shines on the stream; That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion A home and a country should leave us no more? Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution. No refuge could save the hireling and slave wave O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave. O thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand Between their loved homes and the war's desolation! Blest with vic'try and peace, may the heavenrescued 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 O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave. HOW'S MY BOY? By SYDNEY DOBELL O, sailor of the sea! "H How's my boy my boy?" "What's your boy's name, good wife, And in what ship sailed he?" "My boy John— He that went to sea What care I for the ship, sailor? My boy's my boy to me. "You come back from the sea, And not know my John? I might as well have asked some landsman Yonder down in the town. There's not an ass in all the parish But he knows my John. "How's my boy-my boy? And unless you let me know I'll swear you are no sailor, Brass buttons or no, sailor, Anchor and crown, or no! Sure his ship was the 'Jolly Briton—”” "Speak low, woman, speak low!" "And why should I speak low, sailor, About my own boy John? If I was loud as I am proud Why should I speak low, sailor?" "That good ship went down." "How's my boy-my boy? Be she afloat or be she aground, I say, how's my John?" "Every man on board went down, Every man aboard her." "How's my boy-my boy? What care I for the men, sailor? I'm not their mother How's my boy-my boy? Tell me of him and no other! How's my boy-my boy?" O THE SOLDIER'S DREAM By THOMAS CAMPBELL UR bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud had lower'd, And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky; And thousands had sunk on the ground over power'd, The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die. When reposing that night on my pallet of straw By the wolf-scaring fagot that guarded the slain, At the dead of the night a sweet Vision I saw; Methought from the battlefield's dreadful array Far, far, I had roam'd on a desolate track: "Twas Autumn-and sunshine arose on the way To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back. I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft In life's morning march, when my bosom was young; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft, And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung. Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore From my home and my weeping friends never to part; My little ones kiss'd me a thousand times o'er, And my wife sobb'd aloud in her fulness of heart. "Stay-stay with us!-rest!-thou art weary and worn!" And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay;But sorrow return'd with the dawning of morn, And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away. MAKE WAY FOR LIBERTY! By JAMES MONTGOMERY NOTE. In the fourteenth century the Swiss people rose against their Austrian oppressors, and at Sempach they won, on July 9, 1386, a complete victory over an army which greatly exceeded them in numbers. According to tradition, a Swiss hero, Arnold Winkelried, seeing that the Austrian line was well-nigh unbreakable, gathered the spears of several of his enemies in his arms and pressed the points against his breast, thus making a way for his companions. A monument was erected in his honor five centuries after the battle. grown; AKE way for Liberty!"-he cried; Made way for Liberty, and died! In arms the Austrian phalanx stood. A wall, where every conscious stone A rampart all assaults to bear, Till time to dust their frames should wear; A wood, like that enchanted grove In which with fiends Rinaldo strove, Which the first stroke of coming strife So dense, so still, the Austrians stood, |