The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it far above our power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the living, rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work they have thus far so nobly carried on. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us, that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to the cause for which they gave the last full measure of de. votion, that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain, and that the nation shall, under God, have a new birth of freedom, and that the government of the people, by the people, and for the people shall not perish from the earth. So, when the summer calleth, Waiting the judgment day; Wet with the rain, the Gray. Sadly, but not with upbraiding, The generous deed was done; In the storm of the years that are fading, No braver battle was won :Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment day; Under the blossoms, the Blue, Under the garlands, the Gray. No more shall the war cry sever, PATRIOTISM. HAT is patriotism? W F. M. FINCH. Is it a narrow affection for the spot where a man was born? Are the very clods where we tread entitled to this ardent preference because they are greener? No, sir: this is not the character of the virtue, and it soars higher for its object. It is an extended self-love, mingling with all the enjoyments of life, and twisting itself with the minutest filaments of the heart. It is thus we obey the laws of society, because they are the laws of virtue. In their authority we see, not the array of force and terror, but the venerable image of our country's honor. Every good citizen makes that honor his own, and cherishes it not only as precious, but as sacred. He is willing to risk his life in its defence, and is conscious that he gains protection while he gives it; for what rights of a citizen will be deemed inviolabie when a State renounces the principles that constitute their security? Or, if his life should not be invaded, what would its enjoyments be in a country odious in the eyes of strangers and dishonored in his own? Could he look with affection and veneration to such a country as his parent? The sense of having one would die within him; he would blush for his patriotism, if he retained any, and justly, for it would be a vice. He would be a banished man in his native land. FISHER AMES. LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS. HE breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the heavy night hung dark The hills and waters o'er, When a band of exiles moored their bark Not as the conqueror comes, They, the true-hearted came; Not as the flying come, In silence and in fear; They shook the depths of the desert gloom Amidst the storm they sang, And the stars heard, and the sea; And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang To the anthem of the free. The ocean eagle soared From his nest by the white wave's foam; There were men with hoary hair Lit by her deep love's truth; Bright jewels of the mine? The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?— Ay, call it holy ground, The soil where first they trod; a FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS. seech of you, my Lord-you who preside on that bench-when the passions and prejudices of this hour have passed away, to appeal to your own conscience, and to ask of it, was your charge as it ought to have been, impartial and indifferent between the subject and the crown? My Lords, you may deem this language unbecoming in me, and perhaps it will seal my fate. But I am here to speak the truth, whatever it may cost; I am here to regret nothing I have ever done,—to retract nothing I have ever said. I am here to crave, with no lying lip, the life I consecrate to the liberty of my country. Far from it, even here-here, where the thief, the libertine, the murderer, have left their footprints in the dust; here on this spot, where the shadows of death surround me, and from which I see my early grave in an unanointed soil opened to receive me even here, encircled by these terrors, the hope which has beckoned me to the perilous sea upon which I have been wrecked, still consoles, animates, enraptures me. No; I do not despair of my poor old country—her peace, her liberty, her glory. For that country, I can do no more than bid her hope. To lift this island up; to make her a benefactor to humanity, instead of being the meanest beggar in the world; to restore her to her native powers and her ancient constitution, -this has been my ambition, and this ambition has been my crime. Judged by the law of England, I know this crime entails the penalty of death; but the history of Ireland explains this crime, and justifies it. Judged by that history, I am no criminal-I deserve no punishment. Judged by that history, the treason of which I stand convicted loses all its guilt, is sanctioned as a duty, will be ennobled as a sacrifice. With these sentiments, my Lord, I await the sentence of the court. Having done what I felt to be my duty, having spoken what I felt to be the truth-as I have done on every other occasion of my short career-I now bid farewell to the country of my birth, my passion, and my death; the country whose misfortunes have invoked my sympathies; whose factions I have sought to still; whose intellect I have prompted to a lofty aim; whose freedom has been my fatal dream. I offer to that country, as a proof of the love I bear her, and the sincerity with which I thought and spoke and struggled for her freedom, the life of a young UN BEING FOUND GUILTY OF TREASON. heart, and with that life all the hopes, the honors, the endearments, of a happy and an honored home. JURY of my countrymen have found me Pronounce, then, my Lords, the sentence which the guilty of the crime for which I stood in-laws direct, and I will be prepared to hear it. I trust dicted. For this I entertain not the slightest I shall be prepared to meet its execution. I hope to feeling of resentment towards them. Influ- be able, with a pure heart and perfect composure, to enced, as they must have been, by the charge of the appear before a higher tribunal, a tribunal where a lord chief justice, they could have found no other Judge of infinite goodness as well as of justice will verdict. What of that charge? Any strong obser- preside, and where, my Lords, many, many of the vations on it I feel sincerely would ill befit the judgments of this world will be reversed. solemnity of this scene; but I would earnestly beTHOMAS FRancis Meagher. AN INCIDENT OF THE CRIMEAN WAR. APTAIN GRAHAM, the men were sayin' Ye would want a drummer lad, Strike in truer time than he?" "I give ye thanks-but, Captain, maybe Then, her rough hand gently laying She blessed her boy. The tent was silent, For Captain Graham was sadly dreaming Breathed above his head, then golden, After battle. Moonbeams ghastly Death's dark wave to yonder shore. Death and daisies from the sod- "Is it thus I find you, laddie? Wounded, lonely, lying here, See-the morning is not near." A moment paused the drummer boy, And lifted up his drooping head: "Oh, Captain Graham, the light is coming, 'Tis morning, and my prayers are said. "Morning! See, the plains grow brighterMorning-and I'm going home; That is why I play the measure, But you'll tell her, won't you, Captain-" To him the day has dawned forever, SCOTLAND. AND of my fathers!—though no mangrove here O'er thy blue streams her flexile branches rear; Nor scaly palm her fingered scions shoot; Nor luscious guava wave her yellow fruit; Nor golden apples glimmer from the tree ;Land of dark heaths and mountains, thou art free! Untainted yet, thy stream, fair Teviot! runs, With unatonèd blood of Gambia's sons: No drooping slave, with spirit bowed to toil, Grows, like the weed, seif-rooted to the soil, Nor cringing vassal on these pansied meads Is bought and bartered, as the flock he feeds. Free as the lark that carols o'er his head, At dawn the healthy ploughman leaves his bed, Binds to the yoke his sturdy steers with care, And, whistling loud, directs the mining share: Free as his lord, the peasant treads the plain, And heaps his harvest on the groaning wain; Proud of his laws, tenacious of his right, And vain of Scotia's old unconquered might. JOHN LEYDEN. In arms the Austrian phalanx stood, A living wall, a human wood; Peasants, whose new-found strength had broke And now the work of life and death Hung on the passing of a breath; Yet, while the Austrians held their ground It must not be: this day, this hour, It did depend on one, indeed; Swift to the breach his comrades fly"Make way for liberty!" they cry, And through the Austrian phalanx dart, Rout, ruin, panic seized them all. Thus Switzerland again was free- JAMES MONTGOMERY. For Teutons brave, inured by toil, Dear Fatherland, thou need'st not fear- The heart may break in agony, Dear Fatherland, thou need'st not fear- When heavenward ascends the eye, THE PATRIOT'S BRIDE. H! give me back that royal dream When I have seen your sunny eyes And fondly hoped, dear love, your heart from mine Its spell had caught; And laid me down to dream that dream divine, Of how my life's long task would be, to make yours blessed as it ought. To learn to love sweet nature more For your sweet sake, To watch with you-dear friend, with you! Its wonders break; The sparkling spring in that bright face to see On summer morns to hear the sweet birds sing And know your voice, your magic voice, could still a grander music wake! To wake the old weird world that sleeps In Irish lore; The strains sweet foreign Spenser sung By Mulla's shore; Dear Curran's airy thoughts, like purple birds Tone's fiery hopes, and all the deathless vows The songs that once our own dear Davis sung-ah me! to sing no more. And all those proud old victor-fields Whose memories are the stars that light Long nights of shame; The Cairn, the Dan, the Rath, the Power, the Keep, That still proclaim In chronicles of clay and stone, how true, how deep Was Eire's fame; Oh! we shall see them all, with her, that dear, dear friend we two have loved the same. Yet ah! how truer, tenderer still That scene of tranquil joy, that happy home' The morning smile, that grew a fixéd star The ringing laugh, locked hands, and all the far Of daily love, that made our daily life diviner than a dream. For still to me, dear friend, dear love, Your image comes with serious thoughts, No idle plaything to caress or chide In sport or strife, But my best chosen friend, companion, guide, To walk through life, Linked hand in hand, two equal, loving friends, true husband and true wife. SIR CHARLES GAVAN DUFFY. THE PILGRIMS. 'OW slow yon tiny vessel ploughs the main ! Amid the heavy billows now she seems A toiling atom-then from wave to wave Leaps madly, by the tempest lashed-or reels Half wrecked, through gulfs profound. -Moons, wax and wane. But still that lonely traveler treads the deep.I see an ice-bound coast, toward which she steers With such a tardy movement, that it seems Stern winter's hand hath turned her keel to stone, And sealed his victory on her slippery shrouds.— They land!-They land!-not like the Genoese, With glittering sword and gaudy train, and eye Kindling with golden fancies.-Forth they come From their long prison-hardy forms, that brave The world's unkindness-men of hoary hair, And virgins of firm heart, and matrons grave, |