Every deadly threat that swells
With the roar of gambling hells,
Every brutal jest and jeer,
Every wicked thought and plan
Of the cruel heart of man,

Though but whisper'd, He can hear!

We in suffering, they in crime,
Wait the just award of time,

Wait the vengeance that is due;
Not in vain a heart shall break,
Not a tear for Freedom's sake
Falls unheeded: God is true.

While the flag with stars bedeck'd
Threatens where it should protect,

And while Law shakes hands with Crime,

What is left us but to wait,

Match our patience to our fate,

And abide the better time?

Patience, friends! the human heart
Everywhere shall take our part,
Everywhere for us shall pray;
On our side are Nature's laws,
And God's life is in the cause
That we suffer for to-day.

Well to suffer is divine;

Pass the watchword down the line,
Pass the countersign: "ENDURE!"

Not to him who rashly dares,
But to him who nobly bears,

Is the victor's garland sure.

Frozen earth to frozen breast,
Lay our slain one down to rest,
Lay him down in hope and faith;
And above the broken sod,

Once again, to Freedom's God,

Pledge ourselves for life or death:

That the State whose walls we lay,
In our blood and tears, to-day,
Shall be free from bonds of shame;
And our goodly land untrod
By the feet of Slavery-shod
With cursing as with flame!
Plant the Buckeye on his grave,
For the hunter of the slave

In its shadow can not rest;
And let martyr mound and tree
Be our pledge and guarantee
Of the freedom of the West!

SONG OF THE NEGRO BOATMEN.

O, praise an' tanks! De Lord He come
To set de people free;

An' massa tink it day ob doom,
An' we ob jubilee.

De Lord dat heap de Red-Sea waves

He jus’ as ’trong as den;

He say de word: we las' night slaves ;
To-day, de Lord's freemen.

De yam will grow, de cotton blow,
We'll hab de rice an' corn;

O nebber you fear, if nebber

De driver blow his horn!

Ole massa on he trabbels gone;
He leaf de land behind:

De Lord's breff blow him furder on,
Like corn-shuck in de wind.
We own de hoe, we own de plough,

We own de hands dat hold;

We sell de pig, we sell de cow,

But nebber chile be sold.

De yam

you

hear

will grow, de cotton blow, We'll hab de rice an' corn:

O nebber you fear, if nebber hear

De driver blow his horn!

you

We pray de Lord: He gib us signs
Dat some day we be free;
De Norf-wind tell it to de pines,
De wild-duck to de sea;

We tink it when de church-bell ring,
We dream it in de dream;

De rice-bird mean it when he sing,
De eagle when he scream.

De yam will grow, de cotton blow,
We'll hab de rice an' corn:
O nebber you fear, if nebber

De driver blow his horn!

We know de promise nebber fail,

An' nebber lie de word; So like de 'postles in de jail,

We waited for de Lord: An' now He open ebery door, An' trow away de key;

He tink we lub Him so before,

We lub Him better free.

you

hear

De yam will grow, de cotton blow,
He'll gib de rice an' corn:

O nebber you fear, if nebber
De driver blow his horn!

you hear

BARBARA FRIETCHIE.

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

The cluster'd spires of Frederick stand,
Green-wall'd 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 famish'd rebel horde,

H

On that pleasant morn of the early Fall,
When Lee march'd 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,

Flapp'd in the morning wind: the sun
Of noon look'd down, and saw not one.
Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then,
Bow'd with her fourscore years and ten;
Bravest of all in Frederick town,
She took up the flag the men haul'd 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 riding ahead.

Under his slouch'd hat left and right
He glanced the old flag met his sight.

66

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

It shiver'd the window-pane and sash,
It rent the banner with seam and gash.
Quick, as it fell from the broken staff,·
Dame Barbara snatch'd the silken scarf.
She lean'd far out on the window-sill,
And shook it forth with a royal will.

66

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 stirr'd
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 toss'd
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.
Honour 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!

ICHABOD.

So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn

Which once he wore!

The glory from his

For evermore!

gray

hairs gone

Revile him not!—the Tempter hath

A snare for all;

And pitying tears, not scorn and wrath,
Befit his fall.

O! dumb be passion's stormy rage,
When he who might