Famished, very

Rebel, one who shakes
off, or fights against,
lawful authority.
Horde, company.
The early fall, the
beginning of autumn.
Lee, the heroic leader
of the Southern forces

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, 10
Over the mountains winding down,

Horse and foot, into Frederick town,

in the American civil Forty flags

war, which commenced in 1861 and continued till 1865. Forty flags, &c. The American flag


composed of thirteen bars or stripes alternately red and white, and thirteen white stars on a blue ground in the upper corner next the staff, Hence the allusion to stars, and bars or stripes.

Hauled, pulled, dragged with lence.


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* with their silver stars,

Forty flags with their silver bars,
Flapped in the morning wind: the sun
Of noon looked down and saw not one.

Up rose old Barbara Fritchie then,
Bowed with her fourscore years and ten,
Bravest of all in Frederick town,


She took up the flag the men hauled* down; 20

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 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,
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 grey 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 noble nature within him stirred
To life at that woman's deed and word.

“Who touches a hair of yon grey head,
Dies like a dog. March on!" he said.
All day long through Frederick street
Sounded the tread of marching feet;






45 All day long the free flag tossed 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 50 Shone over it with a warm good-night Barbara Fritchie's work is o'er,

And the rebel rides on his raid * no more.
Honour to her! and let a tear

Fall, for her sake, on Stonewall's bier!'
55 Over Barbara Fritchie's
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
60 On thy stars below, in Frederick town!

Rebel host, the Southern or Confederate Army.

Raid, invasion, expedition.

Bier, a carriage or frame of wood, for bearing the dead to the grave.

Symbol, emblem,



OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES (1809- ) was born at Cambridge, Massachusetts, U.S. He is a doctor of medicine, and a professor at Harvard College. Among his chief works may be mentioned The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table.

THE Sun stepped* down from his golden throne, The sun stepped, &c.,
And lay in the silent sea,

And the Lily* had folded her satin leaves,
For a sleepy thing was she;

5 What is the Lily dreaming of?


Why crisp the waters blue?

See, see, she is lifting her varnished lid!
Her white leaves are glistening* through!

The Rose is cooling his burning cheek
In the lap of the breathless tide;
The Lily hath sisters fresh and fair,
That would lie by the Rose's side;

He would love her better than all the rest,
And he would be fond and true;
15 But the Lily unfolded her weary lids
And looked at the sky so blue.
Remember, remember, thou silly one,
How fast will thy summer glide,*
And wilt thou wither a virgin pale,
Or flourish a blooming bride?


the sun set.

Lily, a water-lily is a water plant like a lily, and is remarkable for its beautiful flowers and large floating leaves.

Glistening, shining.

Glide, pass by.

"Oh, the Rose is old, and thorny, and cold,
And he lives on earth," said she;
"But the Star is fair, and he lives in the air,
And he shall my bridegroom be."

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One ray from his far-off throne;


The winds shall blow and the waves shall flow,

And thou wilt be left alone.

There is not a leaf on the mountain top,
Nor a drop of evening dew,

Nor a golden sand on the sparkling shore,


Nor a pearl in the waters blue,

Fickle, inconstant, changeable.

Pallid, pale, white.

That he has not cheered with his fickle * smile,

And warmed with his faithless beam

And will he be true to a pallid * flower,
That floats on the quiet stream?


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"Though something I might plain," he said, "Of cold respect to stranger guest, 15 Sent hither by your king's behest,*


While in Tantallon's * towers I stayed, Part we in friendship from your land, And, noble earl, receive* my hand."But Douglas round him drew his cloak, 20 Folded his arms, and thus he spoke :


"My manors, halls, and bowers, shall still Be open, at my sovereign's will, To each one whom he lists,* howe'er Unmeet* to be the owner's peer: 25 My castles are my king's alone, From turret to foundation * stone ;The hand of Douglas is his own, And never shall in friendly grasp The hand of such as Marmion clasp."



30 Burned Marmion's swarthy* cheek like fire,
And shook his very frame for ire,*
And-"This to me !" he said ;-
"An 'twere not for thy hoary* beard,
Such hand as Marmion's had not spared
To cleave* the Douglas' head!
And, first, I tell thee, haughty * peer,
He who does England's message here,
Although the meanest * in her state,
May well, proud Angus, be thy mate!
40 And, Douglas, more I tell thee here,
Even in thy pitch of pride,


Here in thy hold, thy vassals * near,
(Nay, never look upon your lord,
And lay your hands upon your sword),--
I tell thee thou'rt defied!

And if thou saidst I am not peer
To any lord in Scotland here,
Lowland or Highland, far or near,
Lord Angus, thou hast lied!".

50 On the earl's cheek the flush of rage O'ercame the ashen hue * of age.

Fierce he broke forth :-" And darest To beard the lion in his den,

The Douglas in his hall?

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55 And hop'st thou hence unscathed* to go?— No! by Saint Bride of Bothwell, no!—

Up drawbridge, grooms!-what, warder,* ho!
Let the portcullis * fall.”-

Beneath, &c., written by the king, and having his seal affixed to it. Douglas, Archibald Douglas, Earl of Angus, was remarkable for his strength of body and mind. Clara, an English heiress, whose hand Marmion had sought in marriage, but had been unsuccessful. He had tried to ruin her lover, De Wilton, but had failed in this also. Palfrey, a small horse for a lady. His prey is flown, De Wilton, who, in the disguise of a pilgrim from the Holy Land, had guided Lord Marmion in Scotland, had left the castle at daybreak.

Adieu, farewell. Plain, complain. Behest, command. Tantallon, the castle of Douglas on the coast of East Lothian. Receive, accept.

He lists, he pleases or chooses. Unmeet, unworthy. Peer, an equal. Turret, a tower on a building.

Foundation, basement.

Swarthy, tawny,dark. Ire, wrath.

Hoary, white or grey with age.

Cleave, to split.
Haughty, proud.

Meanest, poorest,

Vassal, one who holds lands from, and pays

homage to a superior. Defied, dared. Ashen hue, pale in colour.

Unscathed,unharmed. Warder, a watchman, Portcullis, a sliding door of cross timbers

pointed with iron, hung over a gateway

so as to be let down

in a moment to keep out an enemy.

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PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY (1792-1822) was an English poet of great genius, and a man of very pure life and loving nature; but it was not till after his death that he received the high place which he now holds among the poets. Chief works: The Cenci, and odes to The Cloud, and The Skylark.

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I BRING fresh showers for the thirsting flowers,

From the seas and the streams;

I bear light shade for the leaves when laid
In their noon-day dreams;

From my wings are shaken the dews that


The sweet buds every one,

When rocked to rest on their mother's breast,*
As she dances * about the sun.

I wield the flail of the lashing* hail,


And whiten the green plains under;
And then again I dissolve it in rain,
And laugh as I pass in thunder.

I sift the snow on the mountains below,
And their great pines groan aghast;
And all the night 'tis my pillow white,
While I sleep in the arms of the blast.
Sublime * on the towers of my skyey bowers,
Lightning, my pilot, sits;

In a cavern under is fettered* the thunder-
It struggles and howls by fits.*

Over earth and ocean, with gentle motion,
This pilot is guiding me,


Lured by the love of the Genii* that move
In the depths of the purple sea;

Over the rills* and the crags* and the hills,
Over the lakes and the plains,

Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream,
The spirit he loves remains ;

And I, all the while, bask* in heaven's blue


Whilst he is dissolving in rains.







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