The clustered spires of Frederick stand
Green-walled by the hills of Maryland.
Round about them orchards sweep,
Apple and peach-tree fruited deep.
Fair as a garden of the Lord
To the eyes of the famished rebel horde,
On that pleasant morn of the early fall
When Lee marched over the mountain wall,—
Over the mountains winding down,
Horse and foot, into Frederick town.
Forty flags with their silver stars,
Forty flags with their crimson bars,
Flapped in the morning wind; the sun
Of noon looked down, and saw not one.
Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then,
Bowed with her fourscore years and ten; .
Bravest of all in Frederick town,
She took up the flag the men hauled down;
In her attic-window the staff she set,
To show that one heart was loyal yet.
Up the street came the rebel tread,
Stonewall Jackson riding ahead.
Under his slouched hat left and right,
He glanced; the old flag met his sight.
"Halt!"—the dust-brown ranks stood fast.
"Fire!"-out blazed the rifle-blast.
It shivered the window, pane and sash;
It rent the banner with seam and gash.
Quick as it fell from the broken staff
Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf;
She leaned far out on the window-sill,
And shook it forth with a royal will.
"Shoot, if you must, this old gray head,
But spare your country's flag," she said.
A shade of sadness, a blush of shame
Over the face of the leader came;
The nobler nature within him stirred
To life at that woman's deed and word:
"Who touches a hair of yon gray head
Dies like a dog! March on!" he said.
All day long, through Frederick street,
Sounded the tread of marching feet:
All day long that free flag tossed
Over the heads of the rebel host.
Ever its torn folds rose and fell
On the loyal winds that loved it well;
And through the hill-gaps sunset light
Shone over it with a warm good-night.
Barbara Frietchie's work is o'er,
And the rebel rides on his raids no more.
Peace, and order, and beauty draw
Round thy symbol of light and law;
And ever the stars above look down
On thy stars below in Frederick town!
J. G. Whittier.
"Mac Gregor! Mac Gregor! remember the foeman!
The morn rises proud on the brow of Ben Lomond;
The clans are impatient, and chide this delay;
Arise! let us haste to Glen Allan away!"
Stern scowled the Mac Gregor, then silent and sullen, He turned his red eye to the braes of Strath Fillan: "Go, Malcolm, to sleep; let the clans be dismissed! The Campbell, this night, for Mac Gregor may rest." "Mac Gregor! Mac Gregor! our scouts have been flying, Three days, round the hills of Mac Nab and Glen Lyon; Of riding and running such tidings they bear,
We must meet them at home, else they'll quickly be here."
"The Campbell may come, as his promises bind him;
And haughty Mac Nab, with his giants behind him,
But I'm pledged, this night, to relinquish the fray,
And do what it freezes my vitals to say.
I have sworn, by the cross, by my God, by my all,
An oath which I cannot and dare not recall:
Ere the shadows of midnight fall east from the pile,
To meet with a spirit, this night, in Glen Gyle.
Last eve, in my chamber, all thoughtful and lone,
I was calling to mind a dark deed I had done,
When entered a lady, with visage so wan!
And looks such as never were fastened on man!
I knew her-O brother! I knew her too well!
Of that lady so fair, such a tale I could tell!
Despairing and mad, to futurity blind,
The present to shun, and some respite to find,
swore, ere the shadow fell east from the pile,
To meet her alone, this night, in Glen Gyle.
She told me, and turned my chilled heart into stone,
That the name and renown of Mac Gregor are gone;
That the pine which for ages has shed its bright halo
Afar on the mountains of Highland Glen Falo,
Should wither and fall, ere the turn of yon moon
Smit through by the canker of hated Colhoun.
That a feast on Mac Gregor each day should be common,
For years, to the eagles of Lenox and Lomond.
A parting embrace in one moment she gave-
Her breath was a furnace, her bosom the grave!
Then, flitting elusive, she said, with a frow,
The mighty Mac Gregor shall yet be my own."
"Mac Gregor! thy fancies are wild as the wind;
The dreams of the night have disordered thy mind!
Come, gird thy bright claymore on! march to the field!
Show men, and not spirits, thy buckler and shield!
Thy fantasies frightful shall quickly take wing
When loud with thy bugle Glen Allan shall ring!"
Like a glimpse of the moon through the storm of the night,"
Mac Gregor's red eye shed one sparkle of light!
It faded-it darkened! He shuddered; he sighed :
"No! not for the universe!" low he replied.
Away went Mac Gregor, but went not alone;
To watch the dread rendezvous, Malcolm is gone.
They oared the broad Lomond, so still and serene,
And deep in its bosom, how awful the scene!
O'er mountains inverted the blue waters curled,
And rocked them on skies of a far nether world.
Not a foot was abroad on forest or hill,
No sound, save the lullaby sung by the rill.
All silent they went, for the time was approaching,
The moon the blue zenith already was touching.
Mute nature was roused in the bounds of the glen
The wild-deer of Gairtney abandoned his den,
Fled panting away over river and isle,
Nor once turned his eye to the brook of Glen Gyle.
The fox fled in terror. The eagle awoke,
Where high he had dozed on the shelf of the rock;
Astonished, to hide, in the moonbeam he flew
And pierced the far heavens till lost in their blue.
Young Malcolm, at distance, crouched trembling, the while
Mac Gregor stood lone by the brook of Glen Gyle.
Ten minutes had passed, ere he spied on the stream
A skiff gliding light, where a lady did seem.
Her sail was the web of a gossamer's loom,
The glow-worm her wake-light, the rainbow her boom,
A dim, rayless beam was her prow, and her mast
Like wold-fire, at midnight, that glares on the waste.
Young Malcolm beheld the pale lady approach.
The chieftain salute her-and shrink from her touch!
He saw the Mac Gregor kneel down on the plain,
As begging for something he could not obtain.
She raised him indignant, derided his stay,
Then bore him on board, set her sail, and away.
Though fast the red bark down the river did glide,
Yet faster ran Malcolm adown by its side.
"Mac Gregor! Mac Gregor!" he bitterly cried; "Mac Gregor! Mac Gregor!" the echoes replied.
He struck at the lady-but, strange though it seem,
His sword only fell on the rocks of the stream,
While the groans from the boat that ascended amain
Were the groans of a bosom in horror and pain.
Then it reached the dark lake, and bore lightly away-
Mac Gregor had vanished forever and aye.
'Twas midnight when the summons came.
The sun his rising sped,
And glancing with an eye of flame
Across the ocean-bed,
Saw bright the well-known colors play,-
The blue and white and red,-
And steel gleam through the morning gray,
Where grimly trod the Southern way
The men of Marblehead!
Up with the banner of the stars!
Long may its colors fly!
They led our fathers to the wars,
We will not cast them by!
No! let the earth grow crimson red,
And lurid flash the sky;
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