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Then ask I not for crown and plume

To nod above my land ;
The victor's footsteps point to doom,

Graves open round his hand !

Rome I with thy pillard palaces,

And sculptured heroes all,
Snatch'd, in their warm, triumphal days,

To Art's high festival;
Rome! with thy giant sons of power,

Whose pathway was on thrones,
Who built their kingdoms of an hour

On yet unburied bones,-
I would not have my land like thee,

So lofty-yet so cold!
Be hers a lowlier majesty,

In yet a nobler mould.

Thy marbles--works of wonder!

In thy victorious days,
Whose lips did seem to sunder

Before the astonishid gaze;
When statue glared on statue there,

The living on the dead,
And men as silent pilgrims were

Before some sainted head !
O, not for faultless marbles yet

Would I the light forego

That beams when other lights have set,

And Art herself lies low !

0, ours a holier hope shall be

Than consecrated bust, Some loftier mean of memory

To snatch us from the dust. And ours a sterner art than this,

Shall fix our image here,— The spirit's mould of loveliness—

A nobler BELVIDERE !

Then let them bind with bloomless flowers

The busts and urns of old,
A fairer heritage be ours,

A sacrifice less cold !
Give honor to the great and good,

And wreathe the living brow,
Kindling with Virtue's mantling blood,

And pay the tribute now !

So, when the good and great go down,

Their statues shall arise,
To crowd those temples of our own,

Our fadeless memories !
And when the sculptured marble falls,

And art goes in to die,
Our forms shall live in holier halls,

The Pantheon of the sky !



EARLY in the war, the inhabitants on the frontier of Burke county, North Carolina, being apprehensive of an attack by the Indians, it was determined to seek protection in a fort in a more densely populated neighborhood in an interior settlement. A party of soldiers was sent to protect them on their retreat. The families assembled, the line of march was taken towards their place of destination, and they proceeded some miles unmolested—the soldiers marching in a hollow square, with the refugee families in the centre. The Indians, who had watched these movements, had laid a plan for their destruction. The road to be travelled lay through a dense forest in the fork of a river, where the Indians concealed themselves, and waited till the travellers were in the desired spot. Suddenly the war-whoop sounded in front, and on either side ; a large body of painted warriors rushed in, filling the gap by which the whites had entered, and an appalling crash of fire-arms followed. The soldiers, however, were prepared ; such as chanced to be near the trees darted

; behind them, and began to ply the deadly rifle; the others prostrated themselves upon the earth, among the tall grass,


and crawled to trees. The families screened themselves as best they could. The onset was long and fiercely urged ; ever and anon amid the din and smoke, the warriors would rush, tomahawk in hand, towards the centre ; but they were repulsed by the cool intrepidity of the back-woods riflemen. Still they fought on, determined on the destruction of the victims who offered such desperate resistance. All at once an appalling sound greeted the ears of the women and children in the centre ; it was a cry from their defenders—a cry for powder! "Our powder is giving out !" they exclaimed. “Have you any ? Bring us some, or we can fight no longer 1" A woman of the party had a good supply. She spread her apron on the ground, poured her powder into it, and going round, from soldier to soldier, as they stood behind the trees, bade each who needed powder put down his hat, and poured a quantity upon it. Thus she went round the line of defence, till her whole stock, and all she could obtain from others, was distributed. At last the savages gave way, and, pressed by their foes, were driven off the ground. The victorious whites returned to those for whose safety they had ventured into the wilderness. Inquiries were made as to who had been killed, and one running up cried, "Where is the woman that gave us the powder ? I want to see her !” “Yes yes !-let us see her!” responded another and another ; “without her we should have been all lost !" The soldiers ran about among the women and children, looking for her and making inquiries. Directly came in others from the pursuit, one of whom observing the commotion, asked the cause, and was told. “You are looking in the wrong place,he replied. “Is she killed ? Ah, we are afraid of that !" exclaimed many voices. “Not when I saw her,” answered the soldier, “When the Indians ran off, she was on her knees in prayer at the root of yonder tree, and there I left her.” There was a simultaneous rush to the tree

and there, to their great joy, they found the woman safe, and still on her knees in prayer. Thinking not of herself, she received their applause without manifesting any other feeling than gratitude to heaven for their great deliverance.


THERE is a spirit working in the world,

Like to a silent subterranean fire ;
Yet, ever and anon, some monarch hurld

Aghast and pale, attests its fearful ire.

The dungeon'd nations now once more respire
The keen and stirring air of Liberty.
The struggling giant wakes and feels he's free.

By Delphi's fountain cave, that ancient choir,
Resume their song ; the Greek astonished hears ;
And the old altar of his worship rears.

Sound on, fair sisters / sound your boldest lyre,
Peal your old harmonies as from the spheres.

Unto strange gods too long we've bent the knee,
The trembling mind, too long and patiently.

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