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Loose his beard and hoary hair

Streamed like a meteor to the troubled air; (From "Lalla Rookh.'')

And with a master's hand and prophet's fire, H for a tongue to curse the slave,

Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre.
Whose treason, like a deadly blight,

"Hark, how each giant oak and desert cave Comes o'er the councils of the brave,

Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath! And blasts them in their hour of might!

O'er thee, oh king, their hundred arms they May life's unblessed cup for bim

wave, Be drugged with treacheries to the brim,

Revenge on thee in hoarser With hopes, that but allure to fly,

breathe; With joys, that vanish while he sips,

Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day, Like Dead-Sea fruits, that tempt the eye,

To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's But turn to ashes on the lips.

lay. His country's curse, his children's shame; Outcast of virtue, peace and fame;

I. 3. May he, at last, with lips of flame,

6 Cold is Cadwallo's tongue On the parched desert thirsting die,

That hushed the stormy main; While lakes, that shine in mockery nigh,

Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed; Are fading off, untouched, untasted,

Mountains, ye mourn in vain Like the once glorious hopes he blasted ! Modred, whose magic song And, when from earth his spirit flies,

Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-topped Just Prophet, let the damned one dwell

head. Full in the sight of Paradise,

On dreary Arvon's shore they lie,
Beholding heaven, and feeling hell!

Smeared with gore, and ghastly pale;
THOMAS MOORE. Far, far aloof, the affrighted ravens sail,

The famished eagle screams and passes by.

Dear lost companions of my tuneful art,

Dear as the light which visits these sad (The following Ode is founded on a tradition current in

eyes, Wales, that Edward I., when he completed the conquest Dear as the ruddy drops which warm my of that country, ordered all the Bards that fell into his hands to be put to death.)


Ye died amidst your dying country's cries. UIN seize thee, ruthless king!

No more I weep. They do not sleep;
Confusion on thy banners wait;

On yonder cliffs, a grisly band,
Though fanned by conquest's crimson wing,

I see them sit; they linger yet, They mock the air with idle state!

Avengers of their native land; Helm nor hauberk's twisted mail,

With me in dreadful harmony they join, Nor e'en thy virtues, tyrant! shall avail

And weave with bloody hands the tissue of To save thy secret soul from nightly fears,

thy line. From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears." Such were the sounds that o'er the crested pride

“Weave the warp and weave the woof, of the first Edward scattered wild dismay,

The winding sheet of Edward's race; As down the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side

Give ample room and verge enough He wound with toilsome march his long

The characters of hell to trace. array ; Stout Glo'ster stood aghast in speechless When Severn shall re-echo with affright

Mark the year, and mark the night, trance;

The shrieks of death through Berkley's roofs “ To arms!” cried Mortimer, and couched his

that ring,
quivering lance.

Shrieks of an agonizing king!
I. 2.

She-wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs On a rock, whose haughty brow

That tear’st the bowels of thy mangled Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood,

mate, Robed in the sable garb of woe,

From thee be born who o'er thy country With haggard eye, the poet stood;



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The scourge of heaven! What terrors round Gone to salute the rising morn. him wait!

Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr
Amazement in his van, with flight combined, blows,
And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude be While proudly riding o’er the azure realm,

In gallant trim the golden vessel goes,
II. 2.

Youth at the prow, and Pleasure at the

helm; "Mighty victor, mighty lord,

Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, Low on his funeral couch he lies!


“. Robed in the sable garb of woe,
With baggard eye the poet


No pitying heart, no eye afford

A tear to grace his obsequies;
Is the sable warrior fled ?'
Thy son is gone; he rests among the dead.
The swarm that in thy noontide beam were

born ?

That hushed in grim repose expects his
evening prey.

II. 3.
“Fill high the sparkling bowl,

The rich repast prepare ;
Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast.

Close by a regal chair
Fell thirst and Famine scowl

A baleful smile upon the baffled guest.
Heard ye the din of battle bray,

Lance to lance, and horse to horse ?

III. 3. Long years of havoc urge their destined “The verse adorn again, course,

Fierce War, and faithful Love, And through the kindred squadrons mow And truth severe, by fairy Fiction dressed. their way.

In buskined measures move Ye towers of Julius! London's lasting shame! Pale grief, and pleasing Pain,

With many a foul and midnight murder fed, With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast. Revere his consort's faith, his father's fame, A voice as of the cherub-choir

And spare the meek usurper's holy head. Gales from blooming Eden bear, Above, below, the rose of snow,

And distant warblings lessen on my ear, Twined with her blushing foe, we spread; That lost in long futurity expire. The bristled Boar, with infant gore,

Fond, impious man! think'st thou yon sanWallows beneath the thorny shade.

guine cloud, Now, brothers, bending o'er the accursed Raised by thy breath, has quenched the orb loom,

of day? Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his Tomorrow he repairs the golden flood, doom.

And warms the nations with redoubled ray.

Enough for me; with joy I see
III. 1.

The different doom our fates assign : “Edward, lo! to sudden fate,

Be thine Despair and sceptered Care; (Weave we the woof; the thread is spun) To triumph and to die are mine!" Half of thy heart we consecrate;

He spoke; and, headlong from the moun(The web is wove; the work is done)

tain's height, Stay, oh stay! nor thus forlorn

Deep in the roaring tide, he plunged to endLeave me unblest, unpitied here to mourn.

less night. In yon bright tract, that fires the western

THOMAS GRAY. skies, They melt, they vanish, from my eyes. But oh! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height,

THE AMERICAN FLAG. . Descending slow, their glittering skirts HEN Freedom, from her mountain unroll!

height, Visions of glory! spare my aching sight! Unfurled her standard to the air,

Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul! She tore the azure robe of night, No more our long-lost Arthur we bewail ; And set the stars of glory there; All hail, ye genuine kings, Britannia's issue, She mingled with its gorgeous dyes hail !

The milky baldric of the skies,

And striped its pure celestial white
III. 2.

With streakings of the morning light; “Girt with many a baron bold;

Then from his mansion in the sun Sublime their starry fronts they rear, She called her eagle bearer down, And gorgeous dames and statesmen old

And gave into his mighty hand
In bearded majesty appear;

The symbol of her chosen land.
In the midst a form divine!
Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-line, Majestic monarch of the cloud,
Her lion-port, her awe-commanding face, Who rear'st aloft thy regal form,
Attempered sweet to virgin grace.

To hear the tempest-trumpings loud, What strings symphonious tremble in the air! And see the lightning-lances driven What strains of vocal transport round her When stride the warriors of the storm, play!

And rolls the thunder-drum of heaven, Hear from the grave, great Taliessin, hear!

Child of the sun! to thee 'tis given They breathe a soul to animate thy clay. To guard the banner of the free, Bright Rapture calls, and soaring as she sings, To hover in the sulphur smoke, Waves in the eye of heaven her many-colored To ward away the battle-stroke, wings.

And bid its blendings shine afar,

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Like rainbows on the clouds of war,

Gave proof, through the night, that our flag The harbingers of victory:

was still there.

Oh, say! does that star-spangled banner yet Flag of the brave! thy folds shall fly,

wave The sign of hope and triumph high,

O'er the land of the free and the home of the When speaks the signal trumpet tone,

brave? And the long line comes gleaming on, Ere yet the life-blood, warm and wet,

On that shore, dimly seen through the mists Has dimmed the glistening bayonet;

of the deep, Each soldier eye shall brightly turn

Where the foe's haughty host in dread siTo where thy sky-born glories burn;

lence reposes, And, as his springing steps advance,

What is that which the breeze, o'er the towerCatch war and vengeance from thy glance.

ing steep, And when the cannon mouthings loud

As it fitfully blows, now conceals, now disHeave in wild wreaths the battle-shroud,

closes ? And gory sabers rise and fall

Now it catches the gleam of the morning's Like shoots of flame on midnight's pall,

first beam, There shall thy meteor glances glow,

In full glory reflected, now shines on the And cowering foes shall shrink beneath stream. Each gallant arm that strikes below

'Tis the star-spangled banner-oh, long may it That lovely messenger of death.


O'er the land of the free and the home of the Flag of the seas! on ocean wave

brave! Thy stars shall glitter o'er the brave; When death, careering on the gale,

And where is that band who so vauntingly Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail,

Swore And frighted waves rush wildly back

That the havoc of war and the battle's conBefore the broadside's reeling rack,

fusion Each dying wanderer of the sea

A home and a country should leave us no Shall look at once to heaven and thee,

more ? And smile to see thy splendors fly

Their blood has washed out their foul footIn triumph o'er thy closing eye.

steps' pollution !

No refuge could save the hireling and slave Flag of the free heart's hope and home!

From the terror of flight or the gloom of the By angel hands to valor given !

grave; Thy stars have lit the welkin dome,

And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall And all thy hues were born in heaven.

wave Forever float that standard sheet!

O'er the land of the free and the home of the Where breathes the foe, but falls before us,

brave! With Freedom's soil beneath our feet, And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us?

Oh! thus be it ever when freemen shall stand JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE.

Between their loved home and the war's


Blessed with victory and peace, may the THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER.

heaven-rescued land H say! can you see, by the dawn's early Praise the Power that hath made and prelight,

served it a nation ! What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's Thus conquer we must, when our cause it is last gleaming,

just, Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through And this be our motto: “In God is our the perilous fight,

trust!" O’er the ramparts we watched were so gal. And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall

lantly streaming? And the rocket's red glare, the bombs burst- O'er the land of the free and the home of the ing in air,






She meets her sisters on the plain ; (Written when the whole country, North and South, was Sic semper, 'tis the proud refrain, anxiously awalting the action of the doubtful states, this That baffles minions back amain, poem, one of the finest lyrics the War produced, has lost none of its beauty as a passionate appeal, a stirring call to

Maryland ! arms. The allusion in the fifth stanza (" A new Key”) Arise in majesty again, is to the author of "The Star-Spangled Banner," who was a Marylander.)

Maryland, my Maryland! DHE despot's heel is on thy shore,

I see the blush upon thy cheek,

His torch is at thy temple door,

For thou wast ever bravely meek,

Avenge the patriotic gore

But lo! there surges forth a shriek, That flecked the streets of Baltimore,

From hill to hill, from creek to creek,
And be the battle-queen of yore,

Potomac calls to Chesapeake,
Maryland, my Maryland!

Maryland, my Maryland!
Hark to thy wandering son's appeal,

Thou wilt not yield the Vandal toll,

My mother state: to thee I kneel,

Thou wilt not crook to his control,

For life and death, for woe and weal,

Better the fire upon thee roll, Thy peerless chivalry reveal,

Better the blade, the shot, the bowl, And gird thy beauteous limbs with steel, Than crucifixion of the soul, Maryland, my Maryland !

Maryland, my Maryland !
Thou wilt not cower in the dust,

I hear the distant thunder hum,

Thy beaming sword shall never rust,

The old Line's bugle, fife and drum,

Remember Carroll's sacred trust;

She is not dead, nor deaf, nor dumb; Remember Howard's war-like thrust;

Huzza! she spurns the Northern scum! And all thy slumberers with the just,

She breathes! she burns! she'll come, she'll Maryland, my Maryland !


Maryland, my Maryland ! Come! 'tis the red dawn of the day,

Maryland !
Come with thy panoplied array,

Maryland !
With Ringgold's spirit for the fray,

WO armies covered hill and plain,
With Watson's blood at Monterey,

Where Rappahannock's waters
With fearless Lowe, and dashing May,

Ran deeply crimsoned with the stain
Maryland, my Maryland!

Of battle's recent slaughters.
Come! for thy shield is bright and strong,

The summer clouds lay pitched like tents,

In meads of heavenly azure,
Comel for thy dalliance does thee wrong,

And each dread gun of the elements

Slept in its hid embrasure.
Come to thine own heroic throng,

The breeze so softly blew, it made That stalks with Liberty along,

No forest leaf to quiver, And gives a new Key to thy song,

And the smoke of the random cannonade Maryland, my Maryland!

Rolled slowly from the river. Dear Mother! burst the tyrant's chain ! And now where circling hills looked down, Maryland!

With cannon grimly planted,
Virginia should not call in vain,

O'er listless camp and silent town

The golden sunlight slanted;

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