once reconciled to his brethren, and the sons of Carolina were all seen crowding together to the temple, bringing their gifts to the altar of their common country.

What was the conduct of the South during the Revolution? I honor New England for her conduct in that glorious struggle. But, great as is the praise which belongs to her, I think at least equal honor is due to the South. They espoused the quarrel of their brethren with a generous zeal which did not suffer them to stop to calculate their interest in the dispute. Favorites of the mother-country, possessed of neither ships nor seamen to create a commercial rivalship, they might have found, in their situation, a guarantee that their trade would be forever fostered and protected by Great Britain. But, trampling on all considerations, either of interest or of safety, they rushed into the conflict; and, fighting for principle, perilled all in the sacred cause of freedom. Never was there exhibited in the history of the world higher examples of noble daring, dreadful suffering, and heroic endurance than by the Whigs of Carolina during the Revolution! The whole State, from the mountains to the sea, was overrun by an overwhelming force of the enemy. The fruits of industry perished on the spot where they were produced, or were consumed by the foe. The "Plains of Carolina" drank up the most precious blood of her citizens. Black and smoking ruins marked the places which had been the habitations of her children. Driven from their homes, into the gloomy and almost impenetrable swamps, even there the spirit of liberty survived, and South Carolina, sustained by the example of her Sumters and her Marions, proved, by her conduct, that, though her soil might be overrun, the spirit of her people was invincible.

ROBERT YOUNG HAYNE

AMERICA'S GREETING TO ENGLAND.

ALL hail! thou noble land,

Our fathers' native soil!
O! stretch thy mighty hand,
Gigantic grown by toil,

O'er the vast Atlantic wave to our shore'
For thou, with magic might,

Canst reach to where the light
Of Phœbus travels bright
The world o'er!

The genius of our clime,

From pine-embattled steep,
Shall hail the guest sublime;

While the tritons of the deep

With their conchs the kindred league shall proclaim.
Then let the world combine,-

O'er the main, our naval line,
Like the Milky Way, shall shine
Bright in fame!

Though ages long have passed

Since our fathers left their home,
Their pilot in the blast,

O'er untravelled seas to roam,—

Yet lives the blood of England in our veins!
And shall we not proclaim

That blood of honest fame,
Which no tyranny can tame
By its chains?

While the language free and bold,
Which the bard of Avon sung,
In which our Milton told

How the vault of heaven rung,

When Satan, blasted, fell with all his host,--
While this, with reverence meet,

Ten thousand echoes greet,

From rock to rock repeat

Round our coast;

While the manners, while the arts,

That mould a nation's soul,

Still cling around our hearts,

Between let ocean roll,

Our joint communion breaking with the Sun:
Yet, still, from either beach

The voice of blood shall reach,
More audible than speech,

"We are One !"

WASHINGTON ALLSTON.

AMERICA.

O MOTHER of a mighty race,
Yet lovely in thy youthful grace!
The elder dames, thy haughty peers,
Admire and hate thy blooming years;
With words of shame

And taunts of scorn they join thy name.

They know not, in their hate and pride,
What virtues with thy children bide,-
How true, how good, thy graceful maids
Make bright, like flowers, the valley shades;
What generous men

Spring, like thine oaks, by hill and glen.

Thine eye with every coming hour

Shall brighten, and thy fame shall tower;

And when thy sisters, elder born,

Would brand thy name with words of scorn,

Before thine eye

Upon their lips the taunt shall die.

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.

227

PART VI.

PATRIOTIC AND NATIONAL HYMNS, SONGS, AND

ODES.

MY COUNTRY.

I LOVE my country's pine-clad hills,
Her thousand bright and gushing rills,
Her sunshine and her storms;

Her rough and rugged rocks that rear
Their hoary heads high in the air
In wild fantastic forms.

I love her rivers, deep and wide,
Those mighty streams that seaward glide
To seek the ocean's breast;

Her smiling fields, her pleasant vales,
Her shady dells, her flowery dales,
The haunts of peaceful rest.

I love her forests, dark and lone,
For there the wild bird's merry tone
Is heard from morn till night,
And there are lovelier flowers, I ween,
Than e'er in Eastern lands were seen,
In varied colors bright.

Her forests and her valleys fair,

Her flowers that scent the morning air,
Have all their charms for me;

But more I love my country's name,
Those words that echo deathless fame,-
"The land of liberty."