In the long night, the still night, 'Neath the blue morn, the sunny morn, He dies upon the tree; And he mourns that he can lose But one life for liberty: And in the blue morn, the sunny morn, His spirit wings are free. From the Fame leaf and Angel leaf, The sad of earth, the glad of heaven, And on Fame leaf and on Angel leaf THE WATCH ON THE RHINE MAX SCHNECKENBURGER NOTE TO THE PUPIL.· Max Schneckenburger, the author of the following song, was born at Thalheim in 1819, and died in 1849. In the Franco-Prussian War "The Watch on the Rhine " became a national song, and when the war was over an annual pension of $750 was settled on his family, and also on the composer of the melody, Karl Wilhelm. A VOICE resounds like thunder peal, 'Mid dashing wave and clang of steel: "The Rhine, the Rhine, the German Rhine! Who guards to-day my stream divine?" Dear Fatherland! no danger thine, Dear Fatherland! no danger thine; Firm stand thy sons to watch, to watch the Rhine, They stand a hundred thousand strong, Firm stand thy sons to watch, to watch the Rhine, While flows one drop of German blood, Firm stand thy sons to watch, to watch the Rhine, Our oath resounds, the river flows, In golden light our banner glows, Our hearts will guard thy stream divine, Dear Fatherland! no danger thinė; Firm stand thy sons to watch, to watch the Rhine, THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET SAMUEL WOODWORTH NOTE TO THE PUPIL. - Samuel Woodworth was born in Scituate, Mass., in 1785. His education was meager. He learned the trade of a printer and did much editorial work. He was associated with George P. Morris in the publication of the New York Mirror. He wrote patriotic songs on the victories of the War of 1812 which were very popular. Of all his writings "The Old Oaken Bucket" is by far the best and is likely always to remain popular. Ho OW dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection presents them to view! The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wild wood, And every loved spot which my infancy knew: The wide-spreading pond, and the mill that stood by it; The bridge and the rock where the cataract fell; The cot of my father, the dairy house nigh it, And e'en the rude bucket which hung in the well; The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket which hung in the well. That moss-covered vessel I hail as a treasure; The purest and sweetest that nature can yield. The moss-covered bucket arose from the well. How sweet from the green, mossy brim to receive it, As fancy reverts to my father's plantation, And sighs for the bucket which hangs in the well; THE SONG OF THE CAMP BAYARD TAYLOR NOTE TO THE PUPIL.- Bayard Taylor, traveler, descriptive writer, novelist, and poet, was born in Chester Co., Penn., in 1825. He made a pedestrian tour of Europe, and after his return, published "Views Afoot." He afterwards published several other volumes of travels. He wrote several novels, the most noted being "Hannah Thurston," and a large number of poems, the one that follows being most often seen in print. 66 "GIV IVE us a song!" the soldiers cried, When the heated guns of the camps allied Grew weary of bombarding. The dark Redan, in silent scoff, Lay, grim and threatening, under; And the tawny mound of the Malakoff No longer belched its thunder. There was a pause. A guardsman said: "We storm the forts to-morrow; Sing while we may, another day They lay along the battery's side, Brave hearts, from Severn and from Clyde, They sang of love, and not of fame; Voice after voice caught up the song, Until its tender passion Rose like an anthem, rich and strong, Their battle eve confession. Dear girl, her name he dared not speak, |