The land is holy where they fought, For by their blood that land was bought, The land they loved so well. Then glory to that valiant band, A handful of brave men; But to their God they gave their And rushed to battle then. prayer, The God of battles heard their cry, They left the ploughshare in the mould, For wrongs to seek a stern redress; To right those wrongs, come weal, come woe,- And where are ye, O fearless men? And where are ye to-day? I call:- the hills reply again That on old Bunker's lonely height, In Trenton, and in Monmouth ground, The grass grows green, the harvest bright, Above each soldier's mound. The bugle's wild and warlike blast Shall muster them no more; An army now might thunder past, And they not heed its roar. The starry flag, 'neath which they fought, In many a bloody day, From their old graves shall rouse them not; For they have passed away. I. M'Lellan. CCXXII. NEVER GIVE UP. NEVER give up!-it is wiser and better Always to hope, than once to despair ;Fling off the load of doubt's cankering fetters, And break the dark spell of tyrannical care. you, Never give up, or the burden may sink And in all trials and troubles bethink you, The watchword of life must be, "Never give up!" Never give up; there are chances and changes, Never give up; for the wisest is boldest, 66 Is the stern watchword of " Never give up!" Never give up, though the grape-shot may rattle, Stand like a rock, and the storm or the battle Never give up; if adversity presses, Providence wisely has mingled the cup; Anonymous. CCXXIII. MARCO BOZZARIS. T midnight, in his guarded tent, AT The Turk was dreaming of the hour, When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, In dreams, through camp and court he bore In dreams his song of triumph heard; At midnight, in the forest shades, Bozzaris ranged his Suliote band, True as the steel of their tried blades, Heroes in heart and hand. a king; There had the glad earth drunk their blood, And now there breathed that haunted air With arm to strike, and soul to dare, "To arms! they come! the Greek! the Greek!* He woke to die midst flame and smoke, And shout, and groan, and sabre-stroke, And death-shots falling thick and fast As lightnings from the mountain-cloud; And heard, with voice as trumpet-loud, Bozzaris cheer his band: "Strike till the last armed foe expires; Strike for Strike for the green graves of your sires, GOD- and your native land!" They fought like brave men, long and well; They piled that ground with Moslem slain; They conquered-but Bozzaris fell, His few surviving comrades saw His smile when rang their proud hurrah, Then saw in death his eyelids close Like flowers at set of sun. Come to the bridal-chamber, Death! With banquet-song, and dance, and wine, - We tell thy doom without a sigh; For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's, One of the few, the immortal names That were not born to die! F. G. Halleck. CCXXIV. THE AMERICAN FLAG. WHEN freedom, from her mountain height, W Unfurled her standard to the air, She tore the azure robe of night, And set the stars of glory there! Majestic monarch of the cloud! Who rear'st aloft thy regal form, When strive the warriors of the storm, Flag of the brave! thy folds shall fly, |