He looked around, he blushed, he laughed, He started up, like one from sleep In his deep dream he had not felt But now he saw them as they knelt, But the foul fiend her hateful spell He grasped the bowl to seek relief; Through haunts of horror and of strife, 12. THE CALL OF POLAND.-Campbell. Have ye sharpened your swords? for the battle is nigh- That the vengeance which slept under muscovite sway, "Tis freedom that calls you, though dim be the sun, The darkness around you dispelling; Though death-fires enshroud you and waste is begun, She to deeds of high worth compelling, Points to every loved altar and dwelling, And demands from the sons of the noble in fame- By the glory our tyrants would quench, but in vain— By him who, undaunted, again and again By all that is worthy in man's little day, Have ye sharpened your swords for the banquet of death? Have ye made the blood-deep adjuration? Have ye dared on the hazard the stake of your breath? Again ye shall be a free nation- Not vain shall be your invocation; The call of each sword upon liberty's aid Shall be written in gore on the steel of its blade! 13. THE OCEAN.-Anonymous. Likeness of heaven! agent of power! What are the riches of Mexico's mines, To the wealth that far down in the deep water shines? From the high hills that view thy wreck-making shore, How humbling to one with a heart and a sou!, Yes! where are the cities of Thebes and of Tyre? But thou art almighty-eternal-sublime— But hold! when thy surges no longer shall roll, 14. THE WORLD.-Anonymous. How beautiful the world is! The green earth covered with flowers-the trees laden with rich blossoms-the blue sky, and the bright water, and the golden sunshine. The world is, indeed, beautiful, and He who made it must be beautiful. It is a happy world. Hark! how the merry birds singand the young lambs-see! how they gambol on the hillside. Even the trees wave, and the brooks ripple, in gladness. Yon eagle! Ah! how joyously he soars up to the glorious heavens -the bird of liberty, the bird of America. "His throne is on the mountain-top; He rises, like a thing of light, The midway sun is clear and bright- It is happy-I see it and hear it all about me-nay, I feel it -here, in the glow, the eloquent glow of my own heart. He who made it must be happy. I is a great world. Look off to the mighty ocean when the storm is upon it ;-to the huge mountain, when the thunder and the lightnings play over it; to the vast forest-the interminable waste;-the sun, the moon, and the myriads of fair stars, countless as the sands upon the seashore. It is a great, a magnificent world, and He who made it,-Oh! He is the perfection of all loveliness, all goodness, all greatness, all gloriousness! 15. CATILINE, ON HEARING HIS SENTENCE OF BANIS.IMENT. -Croly. Banished from Rome! what's banished but set free From daily contact of the things I lothe? "Tried and convicted traitor !"-Who says this? But here I stand and scoff you :-here I fling Or make the infant's sinew strong as steel. This day's the birth of sorrows! This hour's work Will breed proscriptions.-Look to your hearths, my lords, For there henceforth shall sit, for household gods, Shapes hot from Tartarus!—all shames and crimes; 16. TO A CHILD.-Yankee. Things of high import sound I in thine ears, Dear child, though now thou mayest not feel their power, But hoard them up, and in thy coming years Forget them not, and when earth's tempests lower, A talisman unto thee shall they be, To give thy weak arm strength—to make thy din eye seo. Seek truth, that pure celestial truth-whose birth Was in the heaven of heavens, clear, sacred, shrined In reason's light: Not oft she visits earth, But her majestic port, the willing mind, Through faith, may sometimes see. Give her thy soul, Nor faint, though error's surges loudly 'gainst thee roll. Be free.-Not chiefly from the iron chain, But from the one which passion forges-be The master of thyself. If lost, regain Be free. The rule o'er chance, sense, circumstance. Trample thy proud lusts proudly 'neath thy feet, And stand erect, as for a heaven-born one is meet. Seek virtue. Wear her armor to the fight; Then, as a wrestler gathers strength from strife, Seek virtue. She alone is all divine; And having found, be strong, in God's own strength and thine Truth-freedom-virtue-these, dear child, have power, And bless thy spirit, in its darkest hour; Neglect them-thy celestial gifts are vain In dust shall thy weak wing be dragged and soiled; Thy soul be crushed 'neath gauds for which it basely toiled. 17. "THERE'S DEATH IN THE POT."-Anonymous. Hark! hark! the alarum has sped, Its pathway is strewed o'er with millions of dead- The Cossack and Turk to the ground it has brought, From Asia's dark morass it springs, |