■ ^V m^mm^ m$m. H ■ ■ D,^.<%><%,'^ > . * LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. # MITED STATES OP AMERICA. ' ■I ■ BtffE Hfl n PATRIOTIC POEMS. PATRIOTIC POEMS. y FRANCIS DE HAES JANVIER, AUTHOR OF "THE SKELETON MONK," " TUE VOYAGE OF LIFE," "THE PALACE OF THE CJESARS." AND OTIII.K POEMS. PHILADELPHIA: J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO 1 8 0. PS 1\-x<\ Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1866, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO., in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. STEREOTYPED BY L. JOHNSON & CO. PHILADELPHIA. 3x^i DEDICATED MEMORY ABRAHAM LINCOLN. CONTENTS. PAGE The Sleeping Sentinel 13 The Cumberland 24 Ellet 27 Gettysburg 35 The Union 42 The Southern Confederacy 46 God Save our President . 49 Glendinning 51 The Stars and Stripes 53 The Stigma 59 Our Heroes 66 Rams 69 The Widow's Son 77 Laus Deo 87 " The quality of mercy is not strain* d; It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven, Upon the place beneath : it is twice bless' d ; It blesseth hirru that gives, and him, that takes . 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest ; it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown: His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the d.read and fear of kings; l^ut mercy is above this sceptred, sway, It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, It is an attribute to Crod himself ; Jlnd earthly power doth then shozv likes t God's When mercy seasons justice." IHA.ESPEARE. 11 TIIK SLEEP] Nith jealous anxiety; i tenancing whatever may suggest even a suspicion, that it ca.n in any event be abandoned ; and, indignantly frowning the first dawning of every attempt to alii a,ny portion of our country from the rest, cr r: enfeeble the sacred ties which now link together the variour. parts. 11 GEORGE W^SHIfT&TOJT. GETTYSBURG. Two hostile hosts are gathered here;- Two armies rest around : And yet, no picket guard is near, No pacing sentinels appear To watch the camping ground ! No rattling drum, no screaming fife, No braying trumpets' breath, Gives token of impending strife; There comes no sound of martial life;- It is the Camp of Death ! GETTYSBURG. The camp of Death ! — The warrior's pride, The sword, and sash, and plume, Are here forever laid aside; — ■ Distinction banished; rank denied; And every tent, a tomb ! Peace breathes a requiem o'er the past, When, down this tranquil vale, In smoke and flame, swept war's wild blast; While thundering guns pealed fierce and fast, Through storms of iron hail. The battle broke o'er field and grove, Like a resistless flood ; And on, through living ramparts, clove, Where Life and Death for mastery strove, In agony and blood ! The serried squadrons charged and fell Before devouring fire — GETTYSBURG. 37 And hissing shot, and blazing shell, Sent like some blasting bolt from hell, Heaped one vast funeral pyre ! And Slaughter strewed the purple plain With torture and dismay; — 'Till strength seemed weak, and valor vain ; And grim and gasping, 'mid the slain, Full many a hero lay. Then rose, with Victory's joyous tones, The wailings of Despair; — And mangled flesh, and shattered bones, And oaths, and curses, shrieks, and groans, Commingled wildly there ! And who were those that, hand to hand, Thus closed in deadly strife? Met patriots here a savage band, Who swarmed from some far, barbarous land, To strike at Freedom's life? 38 GETTYSBURG. No ! — let the infernal vaults below, Resound with fiendish glee; — A brother was each patriot's foe : Fraternal hands struck every blow At bleeding Liberty ! Degenerate sons of sires whose names Undying Fame shall own ; — Who, in the Revolution's flames, From fusing fetters, forged the frames Of Freedom's lofty throne ! Degenerate sons, who, scorned and banned, Eternal shame shall know; — Who, recreant to their native land, Lured by Ambition, madly planned Their country's overthrow. And here, upon this bloody ground,— To Freedom consecrate, — The traitorous host, advancing, found, GETTYSBURG. 39 As marked henceforth, in many a mound, The traitor's righteous fate ! So, when at first, in Heaven above, Foul perfidy was known ; — When vile Ambition tainted love, And impious Treason rashly strove Against the Eternal Throne : — Before Omnipotence, dispersed, The rebel armies fell; Their dazzling dreams of power reversed ; Dismayed, defeated, crushed, and cursed, And headlong hurled to hell ! So perish all our country's foes ! — So, ever, frustrate be The desperate designs of those Who, in our destiny, oppose Grod and Humanity ! 40 GETTYSBURG. Two hostile hosts are gathered here ; Yet, but one banner waves; — Its starry folds, now doubly dear, Unfurled by Victory, appear Above ten thousand graves ! Two hostile hosts — but nevermore To meet in mortal strife; Defiance and defeat, are o'er, — Nor love, nor hate, can now restore One prostrate form to life ! Ten thousand graves ! — so, far and wide, Before War's withering breath, Fall friends and foes, on every side : — So rolls, through ruin, glory's tide, Down to the wastes of Death ! Yet here, where many a patriot fought, And many a martyr bled ; GETTYSBURG. 41 Shall memory dwell — and painful thought Will often turn, with pity fraught, To treason's nameless dead. But every patriot's dust will claim Affection's tenderest tears; — And, blazoned on the scroll of Fame, Shall shine each martyred soldier's name, Through Time's remotest years ! And still, upon this sacred sod, The children of the Free, Who follow where our fathers trod, Shall learn to trust our fathers' God : — The God of Liberty! THE UNION, A NATIONAL SONG. Liberty and Union, now and forever, one and inseparable!' Webster. The Union ! The Union ! The hope of the free ! Howsoe'er we may differ, In this we agree: — Our glorious banner No traitor shall mar, By effacing a stripe, Or destroying a star ! Division ! No, never ! The Union forever ! And cursed be the hand That our country would sever ! 42 THE UNION. 43 The Union ! The Union ! 'Twas purchased with blood ! Side by side, to secure it, Our forefathers stood: — From the North to the South, Through the length of the land, Ban the war-cry which summoned That patriot band ! Division ! No, never ! The Union forever ! And cursed be the hand That our country would sever ! The Union ! The Union ! At Lexington first, Through the clouds of oppression, Its radiance burst ; — But at Yorktown rolled back The last vapory crest, And, a bright constellation, It blazed in the West ! 44 THE UNION. Division ! No, never ! The Union forever ! And cursed be the hand That our country would sever ! The Union ! The Union ! Its heavenly light Cheers the hearts of the nations Who grope in the night , — And, athwart the wide ocean, Falls, gilding the tides, A path to the country Where Freedom abides ! Division ! No, never ! The Union forever ! And cursed be the hand That our country would sever ! The Union ! The Union ! In God we repose ! We confide in the power That vanquished our foes ! THE UNION. 45 The God of our fathers, — Oh, still may He be The strength of the Union, The hope of the free ! Division ! No, never ! The Union forever ! And cursed be the hand That our country would sever ! THE SOUTHERN CONFEDERACY. "Say ye not a confederacy." — Isaiah viii. 12. Among the various things which grow In the miasmatic swamps below, A rank and poisonous Ever-green, Called the Sea-Cedar ; may be seen ! Now, it seems, some sapient souls of late, Who thought they could build a Ship of State, Of this material tried to form A craft to defy a Northern storm ! But a Northern storm, though sometimes slow, When it once wakes up, and begins to blow, 46 THE SOUTHERN CONFEDERACY. 47 As it shakes the earth, and sweeps the seas, Is very unlike a Southern breeze ! And thus, when this Southern ship had made But a few brief miles on a Northern raid, There rose to meet her so fierce a gale That she deemed it prudent to shorten sail ! But 'twas rather late when the caution came — The billows were dark, and the clouds a-flame; A hurricane blew in every breath, And standing athwart her path was Death ! So, shattered and tost by the tempest's force, And drifting aside from her vaunted course, With a desperate Lee-way, she tried to tack, And make her escape by turning back ! But a ship must travel extremely fast If she hopes to outstrip a Northern blast — And she was exceedingly glad to reach, In a ruinous state, a Southern beach ! 48 THE SOUTHERN CONFEDERACY. In a ruinous State ! And there, I ween, For many a day, will the wreck be seen — And the tale be told, how that Southern ship Succeeded in making a Northern trip ! GOD SAVE OUR PRESIDENT! A NATIONAL SONG. All hail ! Unfurl the stripes and stars ! The banner of the free ! Ten times ten thousand patriots greet The shrine of Liberty ! Come, with one heart, one hope, one aim, An undivided band, To elevate, with solemn rites, The ruler of our land ! Not to invest a potentate With robes of majesty,— Not to confer a kingly crown, Nor bend a subject knee. . 5 41) 50 GOD SAVE OUR PRESIDENT. We bow beneath no sceptred sway, Obey no royal nod : — Columbia's sons, erect and free, Kneel only to their God ! Our ruler boasts no titled rank, JSTo ancient, princely line, — ISTo regal right to sovereignty, Ancestral and divine. A patriot, — at his country's call, Responding to her voice ; One of the people, — he becomes A sovereign by our choice ! And now, before the mighty pile We've reared to Liberty, He swears to cherish and defend The charter of the free ! God of our country ! Seal his oath With thy supreme assent. God save the Union of the States ! God save our President ! GLENDINNING. A Tribute to the memory or Captain James Glendinning, who fell at Chattanooga, October 28th, 1863. Anothee precious offering, In self-devotion made; Another bleeding sacrifice On Freedom's altar laid ; Another warrior at rest, Where conflict is unknown; Another martyr 'mid the host Before the Eternal Throne. Could we have pierced the sulphurous pall Above that bloody fight, — 51 52 GLENDINNING. Could we have gained the view which met That dying soldier's sight, — We should have seen an angel-band, Poised in the upper air; "We should have seen a glittering crown And palm of victory there. By nature ardent, kind and true, By faith to heaven allied, A Christian patriot he lived, A Christian hero died. And in the record of the brave, Which Freedom gives to Fame, Beloved, through all succeeding time, Shall be Glendinning's name. THE STARS AND STRIPES. The Stars and Stripes! What hand shall dare To desecrate the flag we bear ! The flag of stars, whose cheering light Beamed through oppression's gloomy night ! The flag of stripes, whose heavenly dyes Flashed Freedom's day-spring through the skies ! Our flag! The standard of the free! Symbol of hope and liberty ! The Stars and Stripes ! What memories rise, Whene'er that banner greets our eyes ! By patriots borne, o'er land and sea, It led the way to victory ! 53 54 THE STARS AND STRIPES. When slaughter swept the surging main — When carnage strewed the crimson plain — It marked the spot where heroes stood, It was baptized in heroes' blood ! The Stars and Stripes ! What power shall stay Immortal Freedom's onward way ! The heavens are the triumphal arch Through which she takes her mighty march ! Her mighty march ! Nor shall she halt Till, like the spangled azure vault, Her glittering ensign floats, unfurled, Kound an emancipated world! THE STIGMA. It is related that, some thirty years ago, John C. Calhoun, a Senator of the United States, from the State of South Carolina, and at that time employed in perfecting- the g-reat Jfullification scheme of which he was the author, was, one night, at a late hour, seated in his room, alone, and engaged in writing, when, falling asleep, he had a dream, the incidents of which are here woven into verse. 57 THE STIGMA. Between the acting of a dreadful thing And the first motion, all the interim is Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream." Shakspeake. In a chamber grand and gloomy, in the shadow of the night, Two wax tapers flaming faintly, burned with a se- pulchral light, — On an oval oaken table, from their silver stands they shone, Where, about them, in disorder, books and manu- scripts were strown ; Where, before them, sat a statesman, silent, thoughtful, and alone ! 59 60 THE STIGMA. Suddenly, a stranger entered — entered with a se- rious air, And, with steady step advancing, near the table drew a chair ! Folded in an ample mantle, carefully concealed from sight, There he sat, and his companion watched him, i through the wavering light, Wondering at his bold intrusion, unannounced, and in the night ! Wondering at his staid demeanor, wondering that no word he spoke, Wondering that he veiled his visage in the volume of his cloak — Till, as though unwilling, longer, satisfaction to postpone, "Senator from Carolina" — said he, in a solemn tone — ■ " What are you engaged in writing, here, at mid- night, and alone?" THE STIGMA. 61 Then, the statesman answered promptly, a 'Tis a plan which consummates, When complete, the dissolution of the Union of the States." Whereupon, rejoined the stranger, in an accent of command, " Senator from Carolina, let me look at your right hand." And the statesman had no power that calm dictate to withstand ! Slowly, then, uprose the stranger, and the startled statesman saw, From the falling cloak emerging, one from whom he shrunk with awe ! Stern and stately, stood before him, Freedom's first and favorite son — He whose patriotic valor universal homage won — He who gave the world the Union— the immortal Washington ! 62 THE STIGMA. And he thrilled with strange emotion, in the Patriot's steadfast gaze, As he held the hand he proffered, held it near the taper's blaze, — As he thoughtfully proceeded, — "Then you would, with this right hand, Senator from Carolina, desolate your native land, — You would sign a Declaration, this fair Union to disband?" And the Senator responded: "Yes, should chance such service claim, To an Act of Dissolution I would freely sign my name." But, the words were scarcely spoken, when, amazed, he saw expand, Dim at first, then deeper, darker, an unsightly, blackened brand, Like a loathsome, leprous plague-spot, on the back of his risdit hand ! o THE STIGMA. 63 "What is that?" he cried, with horror, as the dreadful stigma spread — And, the Patriot's grasp relaxing, undisturbed, he gravely said: "That black blotch your hand o'erspreading, is the mark by which they know One who, honored by his country, basely sought its overthrow — That detested traitor, Arnold, — in the dismal world below!" Pausing then, he, from his mantle, drew an object toward the light, — Placed it on the oaken table, in the shuddering statesman's sight, — ■ Placed it on the very writing which that traitorous hand had done, — Still, and stark, and grim, and ghastly — 'twas a human skeleton ! There it lay — and then he added, calmly, as he had begun : 64 THE STIGMA. " Here, behold the sacred relics of a man who, long ago, Died, at Charleston, on a gibbet, murdered by a ruthless foe, — Isaac Hayne, who fell a martyr, laying down his life with joy, To confirm this noble Union, which you wantonly employ Powers, for virtuous ends intended, treacherously to destroy. " When you sign a solemn compact, this blest bond to disunite, Lying here, upon your table, you should have his bones in sierht. He was born in Carolina, — so were you, — but, all in vain Will you look for Treason's stigma — will you seek the slightest stain On the hand of that pure patriot, the right hand of Isaac Hayne!" THE STIGMA. 65 Saying this, the stranger vanished, but the skeleton remained, And the black and blasting stigma still that trai- torous hand retained ! Sinking in their silver sockets, fainter still the tapers gleamed; Suddenly, athwart the chamber, morning's rosy radiance streamed, And the statesman, wan and weary, wondering, woke — for he had dreamed ! He had dreamed — but, pause and ponder, you who would the Union rend — Ponder, at the bare beginning, on the foul and fatal end : — Ponder on dark desolation sweeping through this cherished land- Heavy hearts, forsaken firesides, waste and woe, wild War's demand — Ponder on the Traitor's Stigma — pause, and look at your right hand ! OUR HEROES. Cheeks ! Cheers, for our heroes ! Not those who wear stars ; Not those who wear eagles, And leaflets, and bars ; We know they are gallant, And honor them, too, For bravely maintaining The Red, White, and Blue! But, cheers for our soldiers, Rough, wrinkled, and brown; The men who make heroes, And ask no renown : — 66 OUR HEROES. 67 Unselfish, untiring, Intrepid, and true; The bulwark surrounding The Bed, White, and Blue ! Our patriot soldiers ! When Treason arose, And Freedoms own children Assailed her as foes; When Anarchy threatened, And Order withdrew, They rallied to rescue The Bed, White, and Blue! Upholding our banner, On many a field, The doom of the traitor They valiantly sealed ; And, worn with the conflict, Found vigor anew, Where Victory greeted The Bed, White, and Blue I 68 OUR HEROES. Yet, loved ones have fallen — And still, where they sleep, A sorrowing Nation Shall silently weep ; And Spring's fairest flowers, In gratitude, strew, O'er those who have cherished The Bed, White, and Blue! But, glory immortal Is waiting them now; And chaplets unfading Shall bind every brow, When, called by the trumpet, At Time's great review, They stand, who defended The Red, White, and Blue! RAMS. Who, indeed, would have thought that it ever could chance That dogmatical Eng- land, and complaisant France, Who have always known ev- erything under the sun ; Who have always thought first of whatever we've done ; Who have scarce deigned our Ea- gle the slightest salam — Should fall flat, to adore an American Earn ! 69 70 RAMS. There have always been Rams! Father Adam, we know, Found some Rams in his gar- den, a long time ago; In the raising of Rams, Abel took much delight; And a Ram was concerned in the very first fight — And the first Ram afloat, we may further remark, Was the Ram which old No- ah took into the Ark ! Then, it seems, there were Rams which were tied up, in stalls, Driven out to do bat- tle by butting down walls — Alexander, Marcel- lus, and Sylla, we find, Had a great many Rams of this desperate kind, RAMS. And when Titus encamped 'mid Jerusalem's palms, It is said that the He- brews saw nothing but Earns ! After these, there came Earns not inclining to fights — Earns resembling good Josh- ua's Gibeonites — Which were "drawers of wa- ter " — Hydraulical Earns — Quite domestic, and com- monly found with their Dams ! May such Earns still contin- ue to thrive and increase, With the limitless Eam- ifications of peace ! Thus, we Eam-ble along, through the cycles of Time, Finding History's Eam- page is rather sublime ! RAMS. But the Earn of all Earns, is the Earn of our day, Which is shaking the world with a Eam-pant dismay ! Iron-harnessed, steam driv- en, it sweeps o'er the sea — Our American Earn- part ! — the shield of the free ! THE WIDOW'S SON. DEDICATED TO THS Suite!) States CHRISTIAN COMMISSION, THE WIDOW'S SON. The only son of his mother, and she was a widow." Luke vii. 12. In the green Valley of the Cumberland, And where the rugged mountain range divides— A lofty portal, walled on either hand, Through which the silver Susquehanna glides — Half hidden, in the shadow of the wood, An unpretending, moss-grown cottage stood. An humble place, yet full of calm content; The home of two, whose loving hearts were one — Old age and youth, in pure affection, blent; A widowed mother, and an only son. So the green ivy clasps the tottering wall, Each holding each, till both, together, fall ! 77 78 the widow's son. She lived for him — and still, at night and morn, Committed him, in secret, to her God ; His life was hers — his aim to pluck each thorn Which lay before her, in the path they trod : His highest hope, her sorrows to beguile ; And his supreme reward, his mother's smile. Thus, undisturbed, the peaceful days went by, And all around gave promise of repose; When slowly, in the sunny Southern sky, An angry cloud, with gathering blackness, rose — The elements, in strange commotion, stirred, And muttering thunders in the air were heard. It came apace — the storm of civil war — And the bright heavens with darkness were o'ercast ; From hill to hill, the bale-fires blazed afar, And, through the vales, shrieked the shrill bugle blast : While, from the North, rushed Freedom's loyal sons, In prompt response to Sumter's signal guns ! the widow's son. 79 No patriot paused — from every dwelling, then, Rose the stern chorus of the battle-cry: The dusty highway teemed with armed men, Resolved to conquer — and content to die : And, with that dauntless host, was numbered one, Known, from his childhood, as "The Widow's Son." Dark was the day, when sad, but self-possessed, He left his mother, at the cottage door : In tears, she pressed him to her aching breast ; With trembling lips, she blessed him o'er and o'er-. Then, sweetly smiling, to disguise her woe, Blessed him again — and, calmly, bade him go. She gazed upon his form, as through the wood, Ne'er looking back, he hurriedly withdrew; And lingering, at the open door-way, stood, Long after he had vanished from her view : And still, with feeble step, she came each day, To watch the path by which he passed away. 80 THE WIDOW'S SON. But, even then, she wished not his return ; For she had yielded him at Duty's shrine ; And, though the summons had seemed almost stern, She had not faltered, and did not repine : — She deemed him now, still dearer than before, And yet, she loved her suffering country more. The months wore on — the changing seasons passed, And, faithful to his trust, he wearied not; But, through the burning heat, and freezing blast, Met, with a cheerful zeal, his toilsome lot — A patriot soldier, whose heroic heart, Of Freedom's mighty bulwark, formed a part. 'Twas in the Autumn, and the sinking sun Tipped the green hill-tops with a golden glow ; Where the bright waves of the Antietam run, Through blooming banks, to fertile fields below : Where Nature has bestowed, with lavish hand, Her richest gifts to gladden Maryland. THE WIDOW'S SON. 81 The sky was cloudless, and the air serene : The distance faded in the closing light: When, from above, to sanctify the scene, The saintly stars came beaming through the night : — But, in the darkness, on the earth beneath, Stalked bloody War, — and, by his side, was Death ! For, in that valley, stretching far away, Beyond the margin of the crystal flood, Rebellion's recreant host, in fierce array, Led by the minions of foul Treason, stood : — While, to the verge of the opposing bank, The Patriot army rested, rank on rank. The morning dawned — but scarcely dawned, before The din of battle, on the silence broke; Hurled, in the blazing cannon's deafening roar, Down the dim vale, through clouds of sulphurous smoke : — Then, swept the Patriot squadrons through the tide, And deadly conflict raged, on every side. 82 the widow's son. The naming lines fought sternly — hand to hand : The stifling air was rent with shot and shell, The rattling musket, and the clashing brand, The clanging trumpet, and the piercing yell; While frantic steeds rushed, riderless, away, And crushed the dead and dying, as they lay. Great was the slaughter — o'er the crimson field, From heaps of carnage, rose expiring groans: — When suddenly, above the combat, pealed The trump of Victory, in exultant tones, As Treason's banner, with its bloody bars, Fell to the dust, before the Stripes and Stars ! The strife was ended, and the battle won ; The troubled air grew tranquil, as before; And, in the effulgence of the setting sun, The verdant hills were beautified, once more : — But, thousands who had hailed that opening morn, Were ghastly, broken, bleeding, and forlorn. the widow's son. 83 'Twas on that night — and, in a shattered wood, Torn in the fight, and open to the sky ; With mangled frame, and faint from loss of blood, A youthful soldier had lain down to die. — Though many a friendly form was round him strown, He rested there in silence — and alone. It was "The Widow's Son;" — with upturned face, His eyes were fixed upon the starry dome ; But painful consciousness had given place To a sweet vision of his happy home : — His mother met him at the open door, — She clasped him in her loving arms, once more ! The fancy fled : — he turned his gaze below, And, in the distance, through the shade, descried, One, with a flaming torch, pass, to and fro, Who drawing near, came quickly to his side; And kneeling by him, on the bloody ground, Essayed, with care, to stanch each streaming wound. 84 the widow's son. Pie seemed a stranger; — and, in mute surprise, The soldier scanned his kindly features o'er : — No martial badge adorned his simple guise ; No glittering weapon at his side, he wore: — But, in the sacred bond of sympathy, A brother, and a christian, claimed to be. A christian brother — of that noble Band Who practice what the blessed Saviour taught : — Whose labors are the glory of our land ; Whose great commission from high heaven was brought, When, o'er the silent plains of Bethlehem, rang The blissful anthem which the angels sans; ! He brought the sufferer from the dreary wood, And through the field, amid the prostrate dead, Down to the roadside, where a cottage stood, And found him, there, a shelter and a bed ; Then, smoothed his throbbing brow, and tangled hair, And watched him, with a father's tender care. the widow's son. 85 But all in vain — for, with the waning night, His breath grew shorter, and his strength failed fast, 'Till, in the early morning's misty light, The hour approached which was to be the last ; And, with a quivering lip, and tearful eye, The faithful stranger told him he must die : — Then, drawing still more closely to his side, Spoke of the Saviour's love to fallen men; Of Him who, sinless, for the sinful died, Yet lives, that those who die may live again : — And falling on his knees, in earnest prayer, He bore him to the Cross, and left him there. That prayer prevailed — the soldier raised his eyes, And softly whispered, "Lord remember me," — When lo! as from the gates of paradise, He seemed an angel, in the gloom, to see : — ■ A heavenly glory o'er his features spread, He breathed his mother's name — and he was dead ! 86 the widow's son. 'Twas on that night — the widow sat alone, "Within her little cottage in the vale ; — Her thin white hair had still more silvery grown, Her brow more furrowed, and her cheek more pale ; Some strong presentiment had banished sleep, And held her thus, a weary watch to keep. The hours went on — she noted not their flight; — She rose, and slowly tottered to the door ; And, in the rising moon's uncertain light, Gazed down the path she oft had watched before : — She saw a figure — through the wood it pressed, And her lost son was folded on her breast ! The day appeared — its brightening glory gleamed, Down the dark mountain, 'mid the vapory air, And through the little cottage window streamed ; But all was silent — only Death was there. — For, 'ere that morning cast its beams abroad, The Widow, with her Son, had gone to God ! LAUS DEO. A HYMN FOR NATIONAL THANKSGIVING. Gloky to God ! We humbly bend In grateful adoration ; And mingled prayer and praise ascend- Thanksgiving from a nation ! Glory to God, who brought our sires Across the trackless ocean, To kindle here the altar fires Of national devotion ! Glory to God, through whom we rose To trample on oppression — 87 88 LAUS DEO. Who led us, over fallen foes, To Freedom's fair possession ! Glory to God, for fostering care, Parental love transcending; For gifts and goodness everywhere, Unmerited — unending ! Glory to God ! For boundless grace, We offer our oblations : Oh, be our land His dwelling-place, Through endless generations! n KD ■ M ■ ■