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14. To the Ocean.

Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean-roll!
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain.

Thou glorious mirror! where the Almighty's form
Glasses itself in tempests; in all time,

Calm or convulsed-in breeze, or gale, or storm,
Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime
Dark heaving-boundless, endless, and sublime.

15. Pride in Dress.

How proud we are, how fond to show
Our clothes, and call them rich and new,
When the poor sheep and silk-worms wore
That very clothing, long before.

16. Little Mary.

"I wish I was a kitten," said little Mary to her mother, one day, "I wish I was a kitten; then I could play all the time, running, and jumping, and rolling a ball. O, how pretty she looks! see, ma, unly see her play!"

17. The American Flag.

Flag of the free hearts' only home,
By angel hands to valor given!

Thy stars have lit the welkin dome,

And all thy hues were born in heaven.

Forever float that standard sheet!

Where breathes the foe but falls before us;

With freedom's soil beneath our feet,

And freedom's banner streaming o'er us.

18. The Eagle.

Yon eagle! ah, how joyously he soars up to the glorious heavens Į the bird of liberty! the bird of America!

His throne is on the mountain top,

His fields the boundless air;
And hoary peaks, that proudly prop

The skies, his dwellings are.

19. Patriotism.

Warsaw's last champion from her height surveyed,
Wide o'er the fields, a waste of ruin laid :—
Oh, Heaven! she cried, my bleeding country save!
Is there no hand on high, to shield the brave?
Yet though destruction sweeps these lovely plains,
Rise, fellow men! our country yet remains;
By that dread name, we wave the sword on high,
And swear for her to live!—with her to die!

20. Exaltation.

5. High on a throne of royal state, which far
Outshone the wealth of Ormus and of Ind;
Or where the gorgeous east with richest hand,
Showers on her kings barbaric pearls and gold,
Satan exalted sat.

21. The Thunderstorm.

Mark the storm; and as it nearer comes, and rolls its awful burden on the wind, the lightnings flash a larger curve, and more the uoise astounds; till overhead, a sheet of livid flame, discloses wide; then shuts, and opens wider; still expansive, wrapping ether in a blaze.

22. The Music of Ocean.

Great Ocean, too, that morning thou the call of retribution heardst, and reverently to the last trumpet's voice in silence listened. Great Ocean! strongest of creation's sons, unconquerable, unreposed, untired, that rolled the wild, profound, eterna bass in Nature's anthem, and made music such as pleased the ear of God.

23. The Lonely Walk.

Nor is the hour of lonely walk forgot in the wide desert, where the view was large; where nature sowed, herself, and reaped her crops; whose garments were the clouds; whose minstrels, brooks; whose lamps, the moon and stars; whose organ-choir, the voice of many waters; whose banquets, morning dews; whose heroes, storms; whose warriors, mighty winds; whose lovers, flowers; whose orators, the thunderbolts of God; whose palaces, the everlasting hills; whose ceiling, heaven's unfathomable blue.

24. The Cuckoo.

Hail! beauteous stanger of the wood, attendant on the spring; Now heaven repairs thy rural seat, and woods thy welcome sing. Sweet bird! thy bower is ever green,

Thy sky is ever clear;

Thou hast no sorrow in thy song,

No winter in thy year.

O, could I fly, I'd fly with thee;

We'd make, with social wing,
Our annual visits o'er the globe,-
Companions of the spring.

25. Night.

When night, with wings of starry gloom,
O'ershadows all the earth and skies,
Like some dark, beauteous bird, whose plume,
Is sparkling with unnumbered eyes,
That sacred gloom, those fires divine,
So grand, so countless, Lord, are thine.

26. Spring.

Bend down from thy chariot, O beautiful Spring!
Unfold like a standard thy radiant wing;

And beauty and joy in thy rosy path bring.

We long for thy coming, sweet goddess of love;

We watch for thy smiles, in the pure sky above,
And we sigh for the time when the wood-bird shall sing,
And nature shall welcome thee, beautiful Spring!

27. The Grave-(Two Voices.)

First Voice. How frightful the grave! how deserted and drear! With the howls of the storm-wind-the creaks of the

bier,

And the white bones all clattering together!

Second Voice. How peaceful the grave! its quiet how deep;
Its zephyrs breathe calmly, and soft is its sleep,
And flowerets perfume it with ether.

28. Forest Hymn.

Father, thy hand

Hath reared these venerable columns; thou

Didst weave this verdant roof.

Thou didst look down,

Upon the naked earth, and forthwith rose

All these fair ranks of trees. They in thy sun

Budded, and shook their green leaves in thy breeze,
And shot toward heaven.

29. The Seasons.

These as they change, Almighty Father! these
Are but the varied God. The rolling year
Is full of thee. Forth in the pleasing spring
Thy beauty walks, Thy tenderness and love.
Wide flush the fields, the soft'ning air is balm
Echo the mountains round; the forest smiles;
And ev'ry sense, and ev'ry heart is joy.

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30. The Modern Belle.

The daughter sits in the parlor, and rocks in her easy chair;
She is clad in her silks and satins, and jewels are in her hair;
She winks and giggles and simpers, and simpers and giggles and winks,
And though she talks but little, 'tis vastly more than she thinks.

31. Small Talk.

Ladics and Gentlemen: You have probably heard of Sam. Foote, the comedian. If you have not, it is out of my power to tell you anything about him, only that he had one leg, and his name was Samuel; or, to speak more poetically, one leg he had, and Samuel was his name. This Foote wrote a farce called "The Alderman," by which he undertook to ridicule a well-fed magistrate of the city of London. The magistrate called upon the player, and reprimanded him severely for his presumption, adding, "It is my duty to take people off." "You shall see how soon I shall take myself off,” said Foote. So out of the room he goes, as if to prepare, and the alderman sat waiting, and—waiting, and—waiting, and– forgotten the rest of the story!

32. Caudleology.

I've

O, it is all very well for you; you can go to sleep! You have no thought of your poor, patient wife, and your own dear children! You think of nothing but lending umbrellas! Men, indeed!-call themselves lords of creation! Pretty lords! when they can't take care of an umbrella!

33. For War.

In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be free; if we mean to preserve, inviolate, those inestimable privileges for which we have been so long contending; if we mean not basely to abandon this noble struggle, in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves NEVER to abandon, until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained, we must fight. I repeat it, sir, WE MUST FIGHT An appeal to arms, and to the God of Hosts, is all that is left us.

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