And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave Oh, thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand Between our loved home and the war's desolation; Then conquer we must, for our cause it is just, John Howard Payne. SWEET HOME. ID pleasures and palaces though we may roam, MID Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home! A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there, Which seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere, Home! home, sweet home! There's no place like home! An exile from home, splendour dazzles in vain— Give me these, and the peace of mind, dearer than «íl There's no place like home. James A Hillhouse. THE LAST EVENING BEFORE ETERNITY. BY this, the sun his westering car drove low; Round his broad wheels full many a lucid cloud With deeper light the ruby blushed; and thick Where, in the purple west, no more to dawn, In dreams strange images will mix), sad thoughts A long, a last farewell! Seasons have changed, Ages and empires rolled, like smoke, away; But thou, unaltered, beam'st as silver fair As on thy birthnight. Bright and watchful eyes From palaces and bowers, have hailed thy gem With secret transport! Natal star of love, And souls that love the shadowy hour of fancy, Alexander H. Everett. THE YOUNG AMERICAN. CION of a mighty stock! SCION Hands of iron-hearts of oak Follow with unflinching tread Where the noble fathers led. Craft and subtle treachery, Gallant youth! are not for thee: Where the God within thee leads. Honesty with steady eye, Prudent in the council-train, Where the dews of night distil Thither turn the steady eye, Let thy noble motto be, "GOD-the COUNTRY-LIBERTY !' Planted on Religion's rock, Thou shalt stand in every shock. Laugh at danger, far or near; So shall Peace, a charming guest, Happy if celestial favour Seba Smith. THE BURNING SHIP AT SEA. THE night was clear and mild, And the breeze went softly by, And the stars of heaven smiled As they wandered up the sky; And there rode a gallant ship on the waveBut many a hapless wight Slept the sleep of death that night, And before the morning light Found a grave! All were sunk in soft repose, Save the watch upon the deck: Not a boding dream arose Of the horrors of the wreck, To the mother, or the child, or the sire; Like a death-knell echoed round- A shriek of "Fire!" Now the flames are spreading fast With resistless rage they fly, |