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For they had felt the blue-bent blade, And writhed at the prick of the elfin spear;

Many a time on a summer's night, When the sky was clear and the moon was bright,

They had been roused from the haunted ground,

By the yelp and bay of the fairy hound;
They had heard the tiny bugle horn,

They had heard the twang of the maizesilk string,

When the vine-twig bows were tightly drawn,

And the nettle shaft through air was borne, Feathered with down of the hum-bird's wing.

And now they deemed the courier ouphe Some hunter sprite of the elfin ground; And they watched till they saw him mount the roof

That canopies the world around; Then glad they left their covert lair, And freaked about in the midnight air.

Up to the vaulted firmament
His path the fire-fly courser bent,
And at every gallop on the wind,
He flung a glittering spark behind;
He flies like a feather in the blast
Till the first light cloud in heaven is past,
But the shapes of air have begun their

And a drizzly mist is round him cast,

He cannot see through the mantle murk, He shivers with cold, but he urges fast, Through storm and darkness, sleet and shade;

He lashes his steed and spurs amain,
For shadowy hands have twitched the rein,
And flame-shot tongues around him

And near him many a fiendish eye
Glared with a fell malignity,
And yells of rage, and shrieks of fear,
Came screaming on his startled ear.

His wings are wet around his breast,
The plume hangs dripping from his crest,
His eyes are blurred with the lightning's

And his ears are stunned with the thunder's


But he gave a shout, and his blade he drew, He thrust before and he struck behind,

Till he pierced their cloudy bodies through, And gashed their shadowy limbs of wind; Howling the misty spectres flew,

They rend the air with frightful cries, For he has gained the welkin blue,

And the land of clouds beneath him lies.

Up to the cope careering swift

In breathless motion fast,
Fleet as the swallow cuts the drift,
Or the sea-roc rides the blast,
The sapphire sheet of eve is shot,
The sphered moon is past,
The earth but seems a tiny blot

On a sheet of azure cast.

O! it was sweet in the clear moonlight,
To tread the starry plain of even,

To meet the thousand eyes of night,

And feel the cooling breath of heaven! But the Elfin made no stop or stay Till he came to the bank of the milkyway;

Then he checked his courser's foot, And watched for the glimpse of the planetshoot.

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WHEN Freedom from her mountain height
Unfurled her standard to the air,
She tore the azure robe of night,

And set the stars of glory there.
She mingled with its gorgeous dyes
The milky baldric of the skies,
And striped its pure celestial white
With streakings of the morning light;
Then from his mansion in the sun
She called her eagle bearer down,
And gave into his mighty hand
The symbol of her chosen land.

Majestic monarch of the cloud,

Who rear'st aloft thy regal form, To hear the tempest trumpings loud And see the lightning lances driven,

When strive the warriors of the storm, And rolls the thunder-drum of heaven, Child of the sun! to thee 't is given

To guard the banner of the free,
To hover in the sulphur smoke,
To ward away the battle stroke,
And bid its blendings shine afar,
Like rainbows on the cloud of war,
The harbingers of victory!

Flag of the brave! thy folds shall fly,
The sign of hope and triumph high,
When speaks the signal trumpet tone,
And the long line comes gleaming on.
Ere yet the life-blood, warm and wet,
Has dimmed the glistening bayonet,

Each soldier eye shall brightly turn
To where thy sky-born glories burn,
And, as his springing steps advance,
Catch war and vengeance from the glance.
And when the cannon-mouthings loud
Heave in wild wreaths the battle shroud,
And gory sabres rise and fall
Like shoots of flame on midnight's pall,

Then shall thy meteor glances glow,
And cowering foes shall shrink beneath
Each gallant arm that strikes below
That lovely messenger of death.

Flag of the seas! on ocean wave
Thy stars shall glitter o'er the brave;
When death, careering on the gale,
Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail,
And frighted waves rush wildly back
Before the broadside's reeling rack,
Each dying wanderer of the sea
Shall look at once to heaven and thee,
And smile to see thy splendors fly
In triumph o'er his closing eye.

Flag of the free heart's hope and 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

With Freedom's soil beneath our feet, And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us ?

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The horse that twice a week I ride
At Mother Dawson's eats his fill;
My books at Goodrich's abide,

My country-seat is Weehawk hill;
My morning lounge is Eastburn's shop,
At Poppleton's I take my lunch,
Niblo prepares my mutton-chop,
And Jennings makes my whiskey-punch.

When merry, I the hours amuse
By squibbing Bucktails, Guards, and

And when I'm troubled with the blues
Damn Clinton and abuse canals:
Then, Fortune, since I ask no prize,
At least preserve me from thy frown!
The man who don't attempt to rise
'T were cruelty to tumble down.

Lydia Huntley Sigourney


ST. STEPHEN'S cloistered hall was proud In learning's pomp that day,


For there a robed and stately crowd
Pressed on in long array.

A mariner with simple chart
Confronts that conclave high,

While strong ambition stirs his heart,
And burning thoughts of wonder part
From lip and sparkling eye.

What hath he said? With frowning face,
In whispered tones they speak,
And lines upon their tablets trace,
Which flush each ashen cheek;
The Inquisition's mystic doom

Sits on their brows severe,
And bursting forth in visioned gloom,
Sad heresy from burning tomb

Groans on the startled ear.

Courage, thou Genoese! Old Time
Thy splendid dream shall crown;
Yon Western Hemisphere sublime,
Where unshorn forests frown,
The awful Andes' cloud-wrapt brow,
The Indian hunter's bow,
Bold streams untamed by helm or prow,
And rocks of gold and diamonds, thou
To thankless Spain shalt show.

Courage, World-finder! Thou hast need!
In Fates' unfolding scroll,

Dark woes and ingrate wrongs I read,
That rack the noble soul.
On! on! Creation's secrets probe,

Then drink thy cup of scorn,

And wrapped in fallen Cæsar's robe,
Sleep like that master of the globe,
All glorious, yet forlorn.

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When sudden from the forest wide

A red-browed chieftain came,

With towering form, and haughty stride, And eye like kindling flame:

No wrath he breathed, no conflict sought,
To no dark ambush drew,

But simply to the Old World brought
The welcome of the New.

That welcome was a blast and ban
Upon thy race unborn;

Was there no seer, -thou fated Man!
Thy lavish zeal to warn ?

Thou in thy fearless faith didst hail

A weak, invading band,

But who shall heed thy children's wail Swept from their native land?

Thou gav'st the riches of thy streams,
The lordship o'er thy waves,
The region of thine infant dreams
And of thy father's graves,

But who to yon proud mansions, piled
With wealth of earth and sea,
Poor outcast from thy forest wild,
Say, who shall welcome thee?


Ho! City of the gay!

Paris! what festal rite

Doth call thy thronging million forth, All eager for the sight?

Thy soldiers line the streets

In fixed and stern array,

With buckled helm and bayonet,

As on the battle-day.

By square, and fountain side,
Heads in dense masses rise,
And tower and battlement and tree
Are studded thick with eyes.
Comes there some conqueror home
In triumph from the fight,
With spoil and captives in his train,
The trophies of his might?

The Arc de Triomphe glows!
A martial host is nigh;
France pours in long succession forth
Her pomp of chivalry.
No clarion marks their way,
No victor trump is blown;

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