116 SCOTT AND THE VETERAN. "But, General," cried the veteran, a flush upon his brow, "The very men who fought with us, they say, are traitors now; They've torn the flag of Lundy's Lane, our old red, white, and blue, And while a drop of blood is left, I'll show that drop is true. "I'm not so weak but I can strike, and I've a good old gun, "God bless you, comrade!" said the Chief-"God bless your loyal heart! But younger men are in the field, and claim to have a part; They'll plant our sacred banner firm in each rebellious town, And woe, henceforth, to any hand that dares to pull it down!" "But, General," still persisting, the weeping veteran cried, "If they should fire on Pickens, let the colonel in command "I'm ready, General; so you let a post to me be given, “And when the fight is raging hot, before the traitors fly- SOCRATES SNOOKS. 117 IMPERISHABILITY OF GREAT EXAMPLES.- То O be cold and breathless,-to feel not and speak not, this is not the end of existence to the men who have breathed their spirits into the institutions of their country, who have stamped their characters on the pillars of the age, who have poured their hearts' blood into the channels of the public prosperity. Tell me, ye who tread the sods of yon sacred height, is Warren dead? Can you not still see him, not pale and prostrate, the blood of his gallant heart pouring out of his ghastly wound, but moving resplendent over the field of honor, with the rose of Heaven upon his cheek, and the fire of liberty in his eye? Tell me, ye who make your pious pilgrimage to the shades of Vernon, is Washington, indeed, shut up in that cold and narrow house? That which made these men, and men like these, cannot die. The hand that traced the charter of Independence is, indeed, motionless; the eloquent lips that sustained it are hushed; but the lofty spirits that conceived, resolved, and maintained it, and which alone, to such men, "make it life to live," these cannot expire: "These shall resist the empire of decay, When time is o'er, and worlds have passed away; Cold in the dust the perished heart may lic, But that which warmed it once can never die." SOCRATES SNOOKS. M -ISTER Socrates Snooks, a lord of creation, The second time entered the married relation; And they thought him the happiest man in the land. "I think, for a man of my standing in life, Shall be sent for to widen my house and my dairy.” 118 SOCRATES SNOOKS. "Now, Socrates, dearest," Xantippe replied, "I hate to hear everything vulgarly my'd ; Now, whenever you speak of your chattels again, Say, our cow-house, our barn-yard, our pig-pen." 66 'By your leave, Mrs. Snooks, I will say what I please "I won't, Mrs. Snooks, though you ask it an age!" Oh, woman! though only a part of man's rib, Should your naughty companion e'er quarrel with you, Mister Socrates Snooks, after trying in vain At last, after reasoning the thing in his pate, He concluded 'twas useless to strive against fate; And so, like a tortoise protruding his head, Said, "My dear, may we come out from under our bed?" "Hah! hah!" she exclaimed, "Mr. Socrates Snooks, I perceive you agree to my terms, by your looks: If you'll only obey me, I'll never look sour." "Tis said the next Sabbath, ere going to church, He chanced for a clean pair of trowsers to search : Having found them, he asked, with a few nervous twitches, "My dear, may we put on our new Sunday breeches ? " THE SONG OF THE FORGE. 119 CLA THE SONG OF THE FORGE. LANG, clang! the massive anvils ring; Like the thunder-rattle of a tropic sky, The mighty blows still multiply; Clang, clang! Say, brothers of the dusky brow, What are your strong arms forging now? Prosper it, Heaven, and bless our toil! Clang, clang!Our colter's course shall be When regal Autumn's bounteous hand. Clang, clang!-Again, my mates, what glows Anxious no more, the merchant sees 120 THE SONG OF THE FORGE. The mist drive dark before the breeze, Calmly he rests, though far away Say on what sands these links shall sleep, By Afric's pestilential shore, By many an iceberg, lone and hoar,- Say, shall they feel the vessel reel, Hold grappling ships, that strive the while Hurra!-Clang, clang!-Once more, what glows, Dark brothers of the forge, beneath The furnace's red breath? Clang, clang!-A burning torrent, clear As our hammers forge the sword. The war-drums roll, the trumpets sound, Whenever for the truth and right |