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APRIL 19TH, 1775, AND APRIL 19TH, 1861.

The Bay State bled at Lexington,
But every drop that ran,
By transmutation strange and strong,
Sprung up an armèd man:-

Sprung up, indomitably firm,

And multiplied and spread,
Till Freedom's amaranthine crown
Enwreath'd our country's head.

Yet, when the born of Lexington,
Who kept their natal day,
Were writing fourscore years and six
Upon their annals gray,

The Bay State bled at Baltimore,-
Wherefore, I may not speak;

For sad and tender memories rush
From heart to moisten'd cheek.

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There was no moment for doubts or fears,
There was no time for sighs or tears;
We said "good bye" with hurried breath,
Then marched to the field of life or death,
And fealty to our land we swore

Ere we marched to its aid through Baltimore.

And godly hands in blessing were spread,
And smiles from beauty were on us shed,
And the starry flag that we bore in pride,
Was cheered and lauded on every side,
With devotion never known before,
As we took up our march for Baltimore.

'Twas April nineteenth, and the sun
That had seen the carnage at Lexington,
Shone on us as we took our way
Through lanes of traitors in hate's array,
And a scowling look each stern face wore,
That we saw as we marched through Baltimore.

Then hateful glances took sterner form,
And rained upon us a fearful storm;
Fierce terrible missiles around us fell,
'Mid oaths 'twould shame the sons of hell,
But we quailed not 'mid the angry roar
That swept through the streets of Baltimore.

Not a shout or cry in our ranks was heard,
But our rifles spoke the voiceless word,
And our leaden sentences went deep
To put seditious hearts to sleep;
But sadly, though sternly, we deplore
Our own brave, fallen at Baltimore.

But the guerdon of glory's for those who fall;
For the nation's flag is their funeral pall,
And the nation's tears the turf bedew
That covers their hearts so bold and true;
Deathless are they who life gave o'er
On the bloody pavements of Baltimore.

The dead return-the arms to nerve

And hearts to strengthen that else might swerve;
They speak again from the silent sod

In a voice that stirs like the voice of God,
And heroes vow from their hearts' deep core
To follow the Sixth through Baltimore.
-Boston Evening Gazette.

COL. CORCORAN'S BRIGADE.

I.

Prompt to the gathering summons, True as the lifted steel,

Into the foremost phalanx,

See where their columns wheel!

II.

Souls of the careless daring! Souls of the trustful love! Hear you the voices swelling Ever your march above?

III.

Tones of your mournful mother, Reft of her queenly dower, Pale at the gate of nations, Waiting her destined hour!

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Once more, (our dear old Massachusetts!) How the thought comes over us-and well it may!

Of the drops wherewith that ancient green was reddened

It is six and eighty years this very day.

Six and eighty years-and it seemed but a memory-

Little left of all that glory-so we thoughtOnly the old fire-locks hung on farm-house chimneys, And rude blades the village blacksmith wrought.

Only here and there a white head that remembers How the Frocks of Homespun stood against King George

How the hard hands stretched them o'er the scanty embers

When the sleet and snow came down at Valley Forge.

Ah me, how long we lay, in quiet and in error,

Till the Snake shot from the coil he had folded on our hearth

Till the Dragon-Fangs had sprouted, o'erhatched of hate and terror,

And hell, in armèd legions, seemed bursting from the earth.

Once more, dear Brother-State! thy pure, brave blood baptizes

Our last and noblest struggle for freedom and for right

It fell on the cruel stones!-but an awful Nation rises

In the glory of its conscience, and the splendor
of its might.
H. H. B.
-Hartford (Conn.) Press.

"ALL HAIL TO THE STARS AND STRIPES."

BY GEORGE T. BOURNE.

"After the soldiers from the Old 'Bay State' had been brutally shot down, one young man, scarcely twenty years old, lay upon the ground mortally wounded. With his eyes fast growing dim, he raised himself erect, and tossing his arms wildly about, exclaimed, All hail to the Stars and Stripes,' and fell back dead." [Extract from a Letter.

When home returning from the fight

They wend their way, with noble scars, They'll point to wounds by traitorous hands Which fought against the Stripes and Stars. But noble wounds will be forgot

As each his blood-stained sabre wipes, And thinks how rose that dying voice, "All hail the glorious Stars and Stripes."

"All hail the Stars and Stripes!" The words Are graven now, on every heart,

A Nation's watchword-Freedom's song!-
Of every future act a part.

"All hail the glorious Stars and Stripes!"
The echo leaps from hill to hill!
We first drew breath beneath its folds,
We'll live and die beneath it still!

"All hail the Stars and Stripes," the cry,
From forest home to ocean shore!
Ten thousand times ten thousand hands
Are raised to free that flag once more.
To each proud heart new hope is sent,

To each strong arm new strength is given,
And raised aloft from every home,
The Stars and Stripes float nearer heaven!
NEW YORK, April 18, 1861.
-N. Y. Tribuna

SONGS OF THE REBELS.

THE WAR STORM.

Often by a treacherous seaside

I have heard the ocean's roar, Often, at its ebb or flood tide,

Listened to its mystic lore.

Sometimes it would whisper to me Words of smooth and liquid tone, And its pictures, memory drew me, Sweet as breath from tropic zone;

Ever to me sang its story,

Ever to me talked the sea; Evening sun would paint its glory, Bringing sober thoughts to me.

I would think how like the passions
Is the smooth or stormy sea;
Breath of heat or cold may fashion
Rage, or hope, or gloom, or glee.

I, to-day, have seen the flood tide
Of our country's strength and youth,
Plain as waves upon the seaside,
And as mighty as is truth.

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