When the star-spangled banner waves sheen in the morning,
The heart of the freeman will bound at thy name;
Thou champion of freedom! fell tyranny scorning-
One world was too small for the blaze of thy fame!

Bright, bright is the path thou hast left of thy glory,
Amid the world's darkness, which ne'er shall decline,
For the light of thy fame on the ages before thee,
With splendor unsullied, for ever will shine:
When freedom's bright fabric lay blackened in ruin,
While bloodthirsty tyrants usurped the dread sway,
At the roots of the proud tree of liberty hewing-
All hopes for the land of thy love died away.

Thou art gone!-thy pure soul on its voyage hath started;
From its ashes the phoenix of freedom hath flown
To join the bright phalanx of heroes departed,

Who dwell in the light of a fame like thine own:
Farewell, thou last star of that bright constellation
Of heroes-whose glory can never depart-
Thy fame hath no limit of kindred or nation-
Thy name is enshrined in each patriot's heart.

With Washington's blended, for ever thy glory

Shall form the proud theme of our bard's burning lays, While the banner of freedom shall proudly wave o'er thee, Thou mighty departed!-thou light of our days: Be still! my wild harp-all in vain we lament himHis praise must be sung by some loftier lyre:

Let the soul-raptured bard use the gift heaven hath lent him, And weave for our hero a requiem of fire!

She had a rustic woodland air,
And she was wildly clad;
Her eyes were fair, and very fair,----
Her beauty made me glad.

'Sisters and brothers, little maid,
How many may you be?"
"How many? seven in all," she sai
And wondering looked at me.

"And where are they, I pray you tell?"
She answered, "Seven are we,
And two of us at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea:

Two of us in the churchyard lie,
My sister and my brother,
And in the churchyard cottage, I

Dwell near them with my mother."

"You say that two at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea.

Yet you are seven, I pray you tell,
Sweet maid, how this may be ?"

Then did the little maid reply,
"Seven boys and girls are we;
Two of us in the churchyard lie
Beneath the churchyard tree."

"You run about my little maid,
Your limbs they are alive;

If two are in the churchyard laid,
Then ye are only five."

"Their graves are green, they may be seen," The little maid replied,

"Twelve steps or more from mother's door, And they are side by side.

My stockings there I often knit,
My kerchief there I hem,

And there upon the ground I sit-
I sit and sing to them.

And often after sunset, sir,

When it is light and fair,
I take my little porringer,

And eat my supper there.

The first that died was little Jane;
In bed she moaning lay,

Till God released her of her pain,
And then she went away.

So in the churchyard she was laid,
And all the summer dry,
Together round her grave we played,
My brother John and I.

And when the ground was white with snow,
And I could run and slide,
My brother John was forced to go,
And he lies by her side."

"How many are you then," said I,

"If they two are in heaven ?"

The little maiden did reply,

"Oh master! we are seven."

"But they are dead; those two are dead;
Their spirits are in heaven!"
"Twas throwing words away; for still
The little maid would have her will,
And said, "Nay, we are seven."

43. ALONZO THE BRAVE.-Leurs.

A warrior so bold, and a virgin so bright,
Conversed as they sat on the green;
They gazed on each other with tender delight,
Alonzo the brave was the name of the knight,
The maid—was the fair Imogene.

"And ah!" said the youth, "since to-morrow I go To fight in a far-distant land,

Your tears for my absence soon ceasing to flow, Some other will court you, and you will bestow On a wealthier suitor your hand."

"Oh, hush these suspicions!" fair Imogene said, "So hurtful to love and to me;

For if you be living, or if you be dead,

I swear by the virgin that none in your stead
Shall husband of Imogene be.

And if e'er for another my heart should decide,
Forgetting Alonzo the brave,

God grant that, to punish my falsehood and pride,
Thy ghost at my marriage may sit by my side,
May tax me with perjury, claim me as bride,
And bear me away to the grave."

To Palestine hastened the warrior so bold,
His love she lamented him sore;

But scarce had a twelvemonth elapsed, when behold
A baron all covered with jewels and gold,
Arrived at fair Imogene's door.

His treasure, his presents, his spacious domain,
Soon made her untrue to her vows;

He dazzled her eyes, he bewildered her brain,
He caught her affections, so light and so vain,
And carried her home as his spouse.

And now had the marriage been blest by the priest, The revelry now was begun,

The tables they groaned with the weight of the feast, Nor yet had the laughter and merriment ceased, When the bell of the castle tolled-one !

'Twas then, with amazement, fair Imogene found A stranger was placed by her side;

His air was terrific, he uttered no sound,

He spoke not, he moved not, he looked not around, But earnestly gazed on the bride.

His visor was closed, and gigantic his height,
His armor was sable to view;

All laughter and pleasure was hushed at his sight,
The dogs, as they eyed him, drew back with affright,
And the lights in the chamber burnt blue.

His presence all bosoms appeared to dismay,
The guests sat in silence and fear;

At length spoke the bride, while she trembled "I pray,
Sir knight, that your helmet aside you would lay,
And deign to partake of our cheer."

The lady is silent-the stranger complies,
And his visor he slowly unclosed-

Oh, God! what a sight met fair Imogene's eyes!
What words can express her dismay and surprise,
When a skeleton's head was exposed!

All present then uttered a terrified shout,
All turned with disgust from the scene;

The worms they crept in, and the worms they crept ou,
And sported his eyes and his temples about,

While the spectre addressed Imogene :

.6 Behold me, thou false one! behold me!" he cried,"Behold thy Alonzo the brave!

God grants that, to punish thy falsehood and pride,
My ghost at thy marriage should sit by thy side,
Should tax thee with perjury, claim thee as bride,
And bear thee away to the grave!"

This saying, his arms round the lady he wound,
While fair Imogene shrieked with dismay:
Then sunk with his prey through the wide-yawning ground,
Nor ever again was fair Imogene found,

Or the spectre that bore her away.

Not long lived the baron, and none since that time,
To inhabit the castle presume;

For chronicles tell, that by order sublime,
There Imogene suffers the pain of her crime,

And mourns her deplorable doom.

At midnight, four times in each year, does her sprite,
When mortals in slumber are bound,

Arrayed in her bridal apparel of white,
Appear in the hall with her skeleton knight,
And shriek as he whirls her around.

While they drink out of sculls newly torn from the
Dancing round them pale spectres are seen:

Their liquor is blood, and this horrible stave
They howl, "To the health of Alonzo the brave,
And his consort, the false Imogene."

grave,