A friendless warfare! lingering long
Through weary day and weary year;
A wild and many-weaponed throng
Hang on thy front, and flank, and rear.

Yet nerve thy spirit to the proof,
And blench not at thy chosen lot;
The timid good may stand aloof,
The sage may frown

yet faint thou not.

Nor heed the shaft too surely cast,
The foul and hissing bolt of scorn;
For with thy side shall dwell, at last,
The victory of endurance born.

Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again
The eternal years of God are hers;
But Error, wounded, writhes in pain,
And dies among his worshippers.

Yea, though thou lie upon the dust,
When they who helped thee flee in fear,

Die full of hope and manly trust,

Like those who fell in battle here!

Another hand thy sword shall wield,
Another hand the standard wave,

Till from the trumpet's mouth is pealed
The blast of triumph o'er thy grave.

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.

BARBARA FRIETCHIE.1

UP from the meadows rich with corn,
Clear in the cool September morn,

The clustered spires of Frederick 2 stand
Green-walled by the hills of Maryland.

Round about them orchards sweep,
Apple and peach tree fruited deep,

Fair as a garden of the Lord

To the eyes of the famished rebel horde,

On that pleasant morn of the early fall
When Lee marched over the mountain wall, -

Over the mountains, winding down,
Horse and foot into Frederick town.

Forty flags with their silver stars,
Forty flags with their crimson bars,3

1 During the Civil War, early in September, 1862, General Lee of the Confederate army crossed the Potomac, took possession of Frederick City, Md., and prepared to move on to Baltimore or Philadelphia. The battle of Antietam (Sept. 17) compelled him to retreat into Virginia.

2 Frederick: the capital of Frederick County, Md.

Bars: for the sake of the rhyme "bars" is here used for stripes. The "forty flags," according to the story, were National flags displayed in Frederick; the Confederates hauled them down.

Flapped in the morning wind; the sun
Of noon looked down, and saw not one.

Up rose old Barbara Frietchie 1 then,
Bowed with her fourscore years and ten;

Bravest of all in Frederick town,

She took up the flag the men hauled down ;

In her attic-window the staff she set,
To show that one heart was loyal yet.

Up the street came the rebel tread,
"Stonewall" Jackson 2 riding ahead.

Under his slouched hat left and right
He glanced: the old flag met his sight.

"Halt!' - the dust-brown ranks stood fast;
"Fire!'" out blazed the rifle-blast.

It shivered the window, pane and sash;
It rent the banner with seam and gash.

1 Barbara Frietchie: the story of Barbara Frietchie is accepted as true by Lossing in his "Pictorial History of the War" (II. 466), and he gives a sketch of her house; but neither Greeley, Draper, nor the Comte de Paris mentions the incident.

2 "Stonewall" Jackson: Thomas J. Jackson, lieutenant-general in the Confederate army, was one of the bravest and most conscientious of the Southern men who came into prominence during the Civil War.

He received the name of "Stonewall" as a compliment to his courage at Bull Run, where during a furious charge of Union troops he stood "like a stone wall." His example inspired others on his side, and was one great cause of the South's winning the day.

"Stonewall" Jackson died in 1863, shortly after the battle of Chancellorsville; his English admirers, since the war, subscribed for a bronze statue of the general, which was erected in the city of Richmond, Va., Jackson's native State.

Quick, as it fell, from the broken staff Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf;

She leaned far out on the window-sill,
And shook it forth with a royal will.

"Shoot, if you must, this old gray head, But spare your country's flag," she said.

A shade of sadness, a blush of shame,
Over the face of the leader came;

The nobler nature within him stirred
To life at that woman's deed and word:

"Who touches a hair of
yon gray head
Dies like a dog! March on!" he said.

All day long through Frederick street
Sounded the tread of marching feet;

All day long that free flag tost
Over the heads of the rebel host.

Ever its torn folds rose and fell
On the loyal winds that loved it well;

And through the hill-gaps sunset light
Shone over it with a warm good-night,

Barbara Frietchie's work is o'er,

And the rebel rides on his raids no more.

Honor to her! and let a tear

Fall, for her sake, on "Stonewall's" bier.

Over Barbara Frietchie's grave,
Flag of freedom and union, wave!

Peace, and order, and beauty draw
Round thy symbol of light and law;

And ever the stars above look down
On thy stars below in Frederick town!

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER