Then toll! and wake the test And let him stand confessed! Toll! Roland, toll! -Not in St. Bavon's tower, At midnight hour, Nor by the Scheldt, nor far off Zuyder Zee; And here, in broad, bright day! Toll! Roland, toll! For not by night awaits A brave foe at the gates, But Treason stalks abroad-inside!—at noon! Toll! Thy alarm is not too soon! To arms! Ring out the Leader's call! Till every dauntless breast Swell beneath plume and crest! Less bitter than when brave men fall? Till cottager from cottage-wall Snatch pouch and powder-horn and gun The heritage of sire to son, Ere half of Freedom's work was done! Till son, in memory of his sire, Till volunteers find out the art Toll! Roland, toll! -St. Bavon's stately tower And by its side stands Freedom yet in Ghent; For when the bells now ring, Men shout, "God save the king!" Until the air is rent! -Amen!-So let it be; For a true king is he Who keeps his people free. Toll! Roland, toll! This side the sea! No longer they, but we, Have now such need of thee! Toll! Roland, toll! And let thy iron throat Ring out its warning note, Till Freedom's perils be outbraved, Theodore Tilton. THE RISING. THE drum's wild roar awakes the land; the fife is calling shrill; Ten thousand starry banners blaze on town, and bay, and hill; Our crowded streets are throbbing with the soldier's measured tramp; Among our bladed corn-fields gleam the white tents of the camp. The thunders of the rising war hush labor's drowsy hum, And heavy to the ground the first dark drops of battle come. The souls of men flame up anew; the narrow heart expands; And woman brings her patient faith to nerve her eager hands. Thank God! we are not buried yet, though long in trance we lay; Thank God! the fathers need not blush to own their sons today. Oh! sad and slow the weeks went by; each held his anxious breath; Like one who waits, in helpless fear, some sorrow great as death. Oh! scarcely was there faith in God, nor any trust in man, While fast along the Southern sky the blighting shadow ran. It veiled the stars, one after one; it hushed the patriot's song; And stole from men the sacred sense that parteth right and wrong. Then a red flash-the lightning across the darkness broke, And with a voice that shook the land, the guns of Sumter spoke : Wake! sons of heroes, wake! the age of heroes dawns again; Truth takes in hand her ancient sword, and calls her loyal men. Lo! brightly o'er the breaking day shines Freedom's holy star, Peace cannot cure the sickly time. All hail the healer, War! And wheresoe'er the summons came, there rose an angry din, As when upon a rocky coast a stormy tide comes in. Straightway the fathers gathered voice, straightway the sons arose, With flushing cheek, as when the east with day's red current glows. Hurrah! the long despair is past; our fading hopes renew; The fog is lifting from the land, and lo! the ancient blue! We learn the secret of the deeds the sires have handed down, To fire the youthful soldier's zeal, and tend his green renown. Who lives for country, through his arm feels all her forces flow, 'Tis easy to be brave for truth, as for the rose to blow. Full many a heart is aching, with mingled joy and pain, The women in the doorways stand to wave them bravely by. my son; God help thee do the valiant deeds thy father would have done." One held up to a bearded man a little child to kiss, And said, "I shall not be alone, for thy dear love and this." And one, a rosebud in her hand, leant at a soldier's side; "Thy country weds thee first," she said; "be I thy second bride." So out of shop and farm-house, from shore and inland glen, Thick as the bees in clover time, are swarming arméd men; Along the dusty roads in haste the eager columns come, With flash of sword and muskets' gleam, the bugle and the drum. Ho! comrades! see the starry flag, broad waving at our head; Ho! comrades! mark the tender light on the dear emblems spread! Our fathers' blood has hallowed it; 'tis part of their renown; Hurrah! the drums are beating; the fife is calling shrill; Ten thousand starry banners flame on town, and bay, and hill; The thunders of the rising war drown labor's peaceful hum; Thank God! that we have lived to see the saffron morning come The morning of the battle-call, to every soldier dear! Oh, joy! the cry is "Forward!" Oh, joy! the foe is near! For all the crafty men of peace have failed to purge the land; Hurrah! the ranks of battle close! God takes his cause in hand!-Elbridge Jefferson Cutler. THE REPUBLIC. "No more!" Thus sigh the Eastern winds, "No more?" a voice replied, Through red and bloody seas! Through fierce baptismal fires, Through nights that have no ray, God's people oft must pass, O Prophet of the world's deep woe! Invoke its mystery, and show That died along the New World's shore, The Prophet's words, "No more !” "O Prophet of the world's deep woe! And still the Prophet said, "The nation now is dead! The great Republic is no more!" Star after star went down; The flag was trailed in dust; And e'en when Sumter fell, "To arms! to arms!" they cry; When heroes saw the field of battle nigh "To arms!" replied the hills; "To arms!" the mountains grand ; "To arms, let him who wills!" Swept o'er the freeman's land; It leaped from hill to hill, It shook the mountain crag, |