APRIL 19TH, 1775, AND APRIL 19TH, 1861. The Bay State bled at Lexington, Sprung up, indomitably firm, And multiplied and spread, Yet, when the born of Lexington, The Bay State bled at Baltimore,- For sad and tender memories rush There was no moment for doubts or fears, Ere we marched to its aid through Baltimore. And godly hands in blessing were spread, 'Twas April nineteenth, and the sun Then hateful glances took sterner form, Not a shout or cry in our ranks was heard, But the guerdon of glory's for those who fall; The dead return-the arms to nerve And hearts to strengthen that else might swerve; In a voice that stirs like the voice of God, 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! 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 "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!- "All hail the glorious Stars and Stripes!" "All hail the Stars and Stripes," the cry, To each strong arm new strength is given, 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 I, to-day, have seen the flood tide |