If arts and schools reply,
Give arts and schools the lie.

Tell Faith it's fled the city,
Tell, how the country erreth,
Tell, Manhood shakes off pity,
Tell, Virtue least preferreth;
And if they do reply,
Spare not to give the lie.

And when thou hast, as I
Commanded thee, done blabbing,
Although to give the lie

Deserves no less than stabbing;
Yet stab at thee who will,

No stab the Soul can kill !

TUBAL CAIN.

OLD Tubal Cain was a man of might
In the days when earth was young;
By the fierce red light of his furnace bright
The strokes of his hammer rung;
And he lifted high his brawny hand
On the iron glowing clear,

Till the sparks rush'd out in scarlet showers,
As he fashion'd the sword and spear,
And he sang," Hurra for my handiwork!
Hurra for the Spear and Sword!

Hurra for the hand that shall wield them well,

For he shall be king and lord!"

To Tubal Cain came many a one,
As he wrought by his roaring fire,

And each one pray'd for a strong steel blade
As the crown of his desire;

And he made them weapons sharp and strong,
Till they shouted loud for glee,

And gave him gifts of pearls and gold,
And spoils of the forest free.

And they sang-" Hurra for Tubal Cain,
Who hath given us strength anew!
Hurra for the smith, hurra for the fire,
And hurra for the metal true."

But a sudden change came o'er his heart
Ere the setting of the sun,

And Tubal Cain was fill'd with pain

For the evil he had done;

He saw that men, with rage and hate,

Made war upon their kind,

That the land was red with the blood they shed

In their lust for carnage blind.

And he said-" Alas! that ever I made,

Or that skill of mine should plan,

The spear and the sword for men whose joy
Is to slay their fellow-man!"

And for many a day old Tubal Cain
Sat brooding o'er his woe;

And his hand forbore to smite the ore,
And his furnace smoulder'd low.

But he rose at last with a cheerful face,
And a bright courageous eye,

And bared his strong right arm for work,
While the quick flames mounted high.
And he sang-" Hurra for my handiwork!

And the red sparks lit the air;

"Not alone for the blade was the bright steel made;" And he fashion'd the First Ploughshare!

And men, taught wisdom from the Past,
In friendship join'd their hands,

Hung the sword in the hall, the spear on the wall,

And plough'd the willing lands;

And sang-"
-"Hurra for Tubal Cain !

Our stanch good friend is he;
And for the ploughshare and the plough

To him our praise shall be.

But, when Oppression lifts its head,

Or, a tyrant would be lord,

Though we may thank him for the Plough,

We'll not forget the Sword!"

MACKAY.

As far as the interests of freedom are concerned,—the most important by far of sublunary interests,—you, my countrymen, stand in the capacity of the federal representatives of the human race; for with you it is to determine (under God) in what condition the latest posterity shall be born; their fortunes are intrusted to your care, and on your conduct at this moment depends the colour and complexion of their destiny. If liberty, after being extinguished on the Continent, is suffered to expire here, whence is it ever to emerge in the midst of that thick night that will invest it? It remains with you, then, to decide whether that freedom, at whose voice the kingdoms of Europe awoke from the sleep of ages, to run a career of virtuous emulation in everything great and good; the freedom which dispelled the mists of superstition, and invited the nations to behold their God; whose magic touch kindled the rays of genius, the enthusiasm of poetry, and the flame of eloquence; the freedom which poured into our lap opulence and arts, and embellished life with innumerable institutions and improvements, till it became a theatre of wonders; it is for you to decide whether this freedom shall yet survive, or be covered with a funeral pall, and wrapt in eternal gloom. It is not necessary to await your determination. In the solici

tude you feel to approve yourselves worthy of such a trust, every thought of what is afflicting in warfare, every apprehension of danger must vanish, and you are impatient to mingle in the battle of the civilized world. Go, then, ye defenders of your country, accompanied with every auspicious omen; advance with alacrity into the field, where God himself musters the hosts to war. Religion is too much interested in your success not to lend you her aid; she will shed over this enterprise her selectest influence. While you are engaged in the field, many will repair to the closet, many to the sanctuary; the faithful of every name will employ that prayer which has power with God; the feeble hands which are unequal to any other weapon, will grasp the sword of the Spirit; and from myriads of humble, contrite hearts, the voice of intercession, supplication, and weeping, will mingle in its ascent to heaven with the shouts of battle and the shock of arms. While you have everything to fear from the success of the enemy, you have every means of preventing that success, so that it is next to impossible for victory not to crown your exertions. The extent of your resources, under God, is equal to the justice of your cause. But should Providence determine otherwise, should you fall in this struggle, should the nation fall, you will have the satisfaction-the purest allotted to man-of having performed your part; your names will be enrolled with the most illustrious dead; while posterity, to the end of time, as often as they revolve the events of this period-and they will