Hers was the enviable pride to bear The unselfish hero's well-beloved exemplar,

A Paladin, whose heart was full of prayer

For freedom's Palestine-his soul was there.

Forever honored be the good knighttemplar.

O Gratitude, forget not the ovations Due to a noble country's nobler scion.

Let Lafayette, before the gaze of nations,

Stand canonized amidst our constellations,

Belted with starry fame, like brave Orion.

Old Europe's waters bore her graceful keel,

And heard the rolling of her threatening thunder;

She taught the insolent buccaneer to

kneel

And sue for quarter,-taught their

homes to feel

Stop all her leaks, make all her rigging fast,

And bring her homeward, a pentant rover.

re

And when anon our battle-flag is furled,

If that no insolent gauntlet lies before us,

sea,

They march, and their tread wakes
the earth with its jar,
Under the stripes and stars,
Each with the soul of Mars,

True to its native sky,
Still shall our eagle fly,
Casting his sentinel glances afar,

Though bearing the olive-branch, Still in his talons stanch Grasping the bolts of the thunders of War!

Hark to the sound! there's a foe on our border,

A foe striding on to the gulf of his doom; Freemen are rising and marching in order,

Leaving the plough and the anvil and loom;

Rust dims the harvest sheen

Of scythe and of sickle keen; The axe sleeps in peace by the tree it would mar;

Veteran and youth are out, Swelling the battle-shout, Grasping the bolts of the thunders of War!

Our brave mountain eagles swoop from their eyrie;

Our lithe panthers leap from forest and plain;

Out of the West flash the flames of the prairie;

Out of the East roll the waves of

the main.

War!

won,

Swift as Niagara pours,

Transmitted from sire to son.

THE EAGLE AND VULTURE.

IN Cherbourg Roads the pirate lay One morn in June, like a beast at bay,

Feeling secure in the neutral port, Under the guns of the Frenchman's fort;

A thieving vulture; a coward thing; Sheltered beneath a despot's wing.

But there outside, in the calm blue bay,

Our ocean eagle, the Kearsarge, lay; Lay at her ease on the Sunday morn, Holding the Corsair ship in scorn; With captain and crew in the might of their right,

Willing to pray, but more eager to fight.

Four bells are struck, and this thing of night,

Like a panther, crouching with fierce affright,

Must leap from his cover, and, come what may,

Must fight for his life, or steal away! So, out of the port, with his braggart

air,

With flaunting flags, sailed the proud Corsair.

The Cherbourg cliffs were all alive With lookers-on, like a swarming hive;

While, compelled to do what he dared not shirk,

The pirate went to his desperate work; And Europe's tyrants looked on in glee,

As they thought of our Kearsarge sunk in the sea.

But our little barque smiled back at them

A smile of contempt, with that Union gem,

The American banner, far-floating and free,

Proclaiming her champions were out on the sea

Were out on the sea, and abroad on the land,

Determined to win under God's command.