SECEDING VIRGINIA.

BY L. H. SIGOURNEY.

Ho! mistress of the rolling James,
And of its mountain strand,
The oldest, noblest, proudest one,
Of all our household band;
Thou of the stately form and step,
The flower-encircled hair,

Prime favorite of the fruitful earth,
And of the balmy air;

Thou who didst hold thy cresset forth
Ere early dawn had fled,

The morning star whose lambent ray

Our constellation led,

Yet, when a comet madly rushed
Across the argent plain,

Why didst thou leave thy Heaven-mark'd sphere,
And join its flaming train?

We loved thee well, Virginia!
And gave thee deferent place,
Pleased with thine ancient dignity,
And native, peerless grace,

And little deemed such sudden blight
Would settle on thy bays,
And change to discord and disgust
Our gratulating praise;

For thou hadst given thy great and good
Our helm of State to guide;

Thy Palinurus steered our barque
Safe through the seething tide;
And when we spake of Washington
With grateful, reverent tone,

We called thine image forth, and blent
Thy memory with his own.

Our mother nursed thee at her breast
When she herself was young;

And thou shouldst still have succor'd her,
Though fiery serpents stung;
Virginia Dare, the first-born bud

Of the true Saxon vine,

And old Powhatan, hoary chief,
Who led his warrior-line,

And brave John Smith, the very soul

Of chivalry and pride,

And Pocahontas, princess pure,

The font of Christ beside,

Dreamed they that thou wouldst start aside,
When Treachery's tocsin rang?
And in her heaving bosom fix
Thy matricidal fang?

Who sleepeth at Mount Vernon,
In the glory of his fame?
Yet, go in silent infamy,

Nor dare pronounce his name,
For thou hast of their sacred force,

His farewell counsels reft,

And help'd to scatter to the winds
The rich bequest he left;
And in the darkest trial-hour,
Forsook the endangered side,
And, ere the cock crew thrice, thy true
Discipleship denied.

Oh! that the pitying Prince of Peace
On thee his glance might bend,
And from remediless remorse
Preserve our long-loved friend.
HARTFORD, CONN., May 21, 1861.

-National Intelligencer, June 8.

AMERICA TO THE WORLD.

"You cannot be too decided or too explicit in making known to the French Government that there is not now, or has there been, nor will there be any, the least idea existing in this Government of suffering a dissolution of this Union to take place in any way whatever. There will be here only one nation and one Government, and there will be the same republic and the same constitutional Union that have already survived a dozen national changes and changes of Government in almost every other country. These will stand hereafter as they are now, objects of human wonder and human affection."-WILLIAM II. SEWARD.

We will rally, we will gather, we will muster in our might,

For our banner must be stainless, and our God will shield the right!

Ay, though bloody may be the conquest to which we march along,

And though groans may make a dissonance in our grand victor-song,

We will rally, we will gather, we will muster in our might,

And our banner shall be stainless, for our God will shield the right!

Every hour hath prophet's utterance, and each gale from o'er the seas

Brings the crash of falling empires, and of tottering dynasties;

From Italia's classic ruins, to the ice-realm of the Czar,

Sounds the tramp of marshalled cohorts, as they muster to the war;

And from despots' shattered altars Freedom's incensecloud is curled,

While the people's unchained voices send their Vivas round the world.

What though our sky is shrouded with the midnight robe of shame,

And the light but faintly flickers from our Freedom's altar-flame;

Darkest night precedes the dawning, and new light shall yet break through,

And a new day grandly open, bathed with heaven's unquestioned blue;

And though stars are fleeing wildly from Night's cloudy tournament,

The

Morning's bow of promise we shall see above us bent;

Of promise as it glimmers from the labor-burthened hours,

When snow, to bare and bleeding feet, was warm as summer's flowers;

When days of struggle, and of toil, and nights of dark unrest,

Made the purchase of the bounties, by us, ingrates, now possessed.

Then up, and rally proudly to the foremost of the fray,

And let every patriot be a host, to stand and strike to-day;

While the rally-call of Freedom, and the people's answer given,

Still, in thunder-toned responses, echo up the vaulted heaven,

We will rally, we will gather, we will muster in our might,

And bear on our stainless banner, for our God shall shield the right!

-Boston Transcript, June 3.

BAY STATE SONG.

"They had sent word to us from Philadelphia that we could not pass through that city, (Baltimore,) but the Colonel made up his mind that we could; and so wo did. You may depend upon it, that wherever we are ordered, we shall do our duty, and not make a blot on the records of Massachusetts."-LETTER FROM A PRIVATE OF THE SIXTH REGIMENT.

"The cause of Baltimore is the cause of the whole South."-A. H. STEPHENS.

TUNE-"There is rest for the weary," (with spirit.)

I,

"Tis the Old Bay State a-coming,

With the Pine Tree waving high,
Foremost where the fight is thickest,
Freedom still her battle-cry.
From the rocky shore of Plymouth,
From the plains of Lexington,
From beneath the shaft of Bunker,
Every hero sends a son.

CHORUS-To the fray comes the Bay State!
Clear the way for the Bay State !
Trust you may in the Bay State !
She will do, or die.

II.

From our dear old Berkshire mountains, From Cape Cod's sea-beaten sand, With one cry we rush to battleFreedom, and our Native Land! From the quiet graves of Concord, Still as in our fathers' day, Where her country's need is greatest, Massachusetts leads the way. CHORUS-To the fray, &c.

Who assails the starry banner

And the flag of Washington!
For Mount Vernon's sacred ashes
Will not rest within their bed,
With a traitor band around it,

And a traitor flag o'erhead!
CHORUS-To the fray comes the Bay State !
Clear the way for the Bay State !
Trust you may in the Bay State !
She will do, or die.

-N. Y. Tribune, June 9.

COLONEL ELLSWORTH.

BY CAPT. SAM. WHITING.

[Dedicated to the New York Fire Zouates.] Columbia bends in sadness now,

Above her gallant soldier's grave;
Laurel and cypress deck the brow

Of the dead Zouave-so young, so brave.
Cut down in manhood's brightest bloom-
Of his dear friends the hope and pride-
He sleeps within an honored tomb,

Who for his country bravely died.

Not yet in vain such heroes fall;
Their memory lives in every breast,
While streams of glory gild their pall,
And beautify their place of rest.
Oh! gallant Zouave, 'twas thy proud deed
To tear the rebel banner down;
Thy country gives thee fitting meed-
A soldier's grave, a hero's crown.
Brave Fire Zouaves! your leader's name
Is left you for a battle-cry;
Let Ellsworth's pure and spotless fame
Lead you to conquer or to die.
Strike bravely when the rebel rag
Shall meet your eyes on Southern plain!
Strike! till Columbia's starry flag

O'er this whole land shall wave again.

When you shall meet the traitor band
Which seeks our Union to o'erthrow,
Strike boldly for our glorious land,

And call on God to nerve the blow!
Keep your dead Colonel e'er in view,
Wherever in this war you roam,
And let this shout your zeal renew:
"Remember Ellsworth! Zouaves, strike home !”
-Idem.
HEMPSTEAD, June 5, 1861.

Sets his teeth and sharpens his sting, Ere he plunge his beak in the life-blood's spring. "Ho! Ho! Cheerily ho!"

The Pirates cry, "Merrily, so

To our weltering feast of blood we go.
How we long for its gurgling flow!
That we dare, that shall be done;
Hurrah for the victim Number One!
Hurrah for Number One!"

"What ho! What ho! A sail on the lee ! Mind you your helm, my helmsman stout; About with the ship, sail her fast and free.

About with the ship! About! about!
Up to the maintop, you lubberly lout!
Don't step as if you were cramped with gout,
Nor handle the ropes so dainty and soft;
Set every stitch alow and aloft!

Nearer, now! nearer! the chase appears!
Bloody boys, ready! the runaway nears!
See her there plain on the larboard bow,
Sharp must she be to weather us now.
Look to your cutlasses! Look to the gun!
We'll give her a taste of Number One!
We'll give her Number One!

"Ship ahoy! Ship ahoy! We'll have her this tack; She'll save us a lingering chase!

Ship ahoy! Yankee Dogs! Be a trifle less slack;
Down your Black-a-moor Stripes and Stars!
We'll up, instead, the Confederate Bars!
Down, down with the rag!-Ha! what is that crack?
What meaneth the lubber? He answereth back.

We've a fight instead of a race!

Curse the impudent Yankees! For quarter and grace
They may sue and be damned. They shall have none.
Short be their shrift from Number One!
Short shrift from Number One!"

Ah! Sooth said the Pirate! The answer came
From the brig like an outburst of hell!

It came in a sheet of glancing flame!

In an iron sleet of deadly aim!

And with sheet and sleet, shot the burning shame

To his craven breast, to learn too late

From the Yankee's arm, and the voice of Fate, The truth which now he learns too well: That plot it long, and moil in the dark, And cover it over with letters of marque, Murder is still a dangerous game! Begin it, and two can play at the same. At this dark game, the rovers' luck Was little to score, and less their pluck. For the felon blows to strike they meant, When on their errand of greed they went, The Buccaneer flag instead they struck. Those dogs of the Perry who would not run, Have spoiled the Pirate's slaughtering fun; The tale of their prizes they have featly begun. It heads to-day with Number One!

It heads with Number One!

In the North there frowns a darksome pile-
So darksome, men call it the Tombs.
Who are guarded there, ah! seldom they smile!
But spectred thoughts of fruitless wile,
And ghosts of schemes of deadly guile,

Are their comrades drear in those doleful rooms,
Where Darkness and Sin spread kindred glooms.
There's water instead of wine to drink!
And chains instead of canakins clink!

And there, with those comrades drear, they think
Of a past that sears and a fate that dooms!
In a fitful sleep they fain would hide
From the phantoms that fill the world outside.
But again that answering cannon booms;
Again their souls are fevered with fear.
By victim vanquished again, they hear
His dread summons ring in their throbbing ear.
They start in their dream as called by Fate!
They start and shrink! They hear the gate
Of the cell on its rusty hinges grate!
Through the portal whispers the voice they hate.
'Tis the voice of the headsman; he calls, "I wait
For the first of the pirates! The gibbet is done.
Come forth to your reckoning, Number One!
Come forth, doomed Number One!"
-N. Y. Tribune, July 14.