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Hark, how the bells of Freedom toll,

Maryland, my Maryland !
And tyrants mock from pole to pole,

Maryland, my Maryland !
Better the ocean over thee roll,
Than sever the Union's kind control,
And slave thy children, body and soul,

Maryland, my Maryland !
I hear the distant thunder hum,

Maryland, my Maryland !
The rebel foes of Freedom come,

Maryland, my Maryland !
They menace thee with ball and bomb!
Thou art not dead, or deaf, or dumb-
Huzza ! I hear thy fife and drum!

Maryland, my Maryland !
Drum out thy phalanx brave and strong,

Maryland, my Maryland !
Drum forth to balance Right and Wrong,

Maryland, my Maryland !
Drum to thy old heroic song,
When forth to fight went Liberty's throng,
And bore the Spangled Banner along,

Maryland, my Maryland !
Dear State! Beware the tyrant's chain,

Maryland, my Maryland !
Behold Virginia's throes of pain,

Maryland, my Maryland !
While rapine stalks her wide domain,
Know this, that crime awhile may reign,
But God will make all right again,

Maryland, my Maryland !
Our God will make all right again!

Maryland, MY MARYLAND!
October, 1861.


Come on with your chattels,” all worn, from the soil |
Where men receive scourging in payment for toil ;
Come, robbers! come, traitors! we welcome you all,
As the leaves of the forest are welcomed by fall.
The birthright of manhood awaits for your slaves,
But prisons and halters are waiting for knaves;
And the blades of our "mud-sills" are longing to rust
With their blood who would bury our stars in the dust.
They die unlamented by people and laws,
Whose lives are but shadows on Liberty's cause;
They slumber unblest by Fraternity star,
Who have blocked up the track of Humanity's car;
Regarded, when dead, by the wise and the good,
As shepherds regard the dead wolf in the wood;
And only unhated when Heaven shall efface
The mem'ry of wrong from the souls of the race.
The streams may forget how they mingled our gore,
And the myrtle entwine on their borders once more;
The song-birds of Peace may return to our glades,
And children join hands where their fathers joined

Columbia may rise from her trial of fire,
More pure than she came from the hand of her sire;
But Freedom will lift the cold finger of scorn,
When History tells where her Traitors were born.



AIR-"My Normandy."
The traitor's foot is on thy shore,

Maryland, my Maryland !
His touch is on thy Senate door,

Maryland, my Maryland !
Avenge the patriotic gore
That flecked the streets of Baltimore,
Wben vandal mobs thy banners tore,

Maryland, my Maryland !
Hark to the nation's loud appeal,

Maryland, my Maryland !
Before no perjured traitors kneel,

Maryland, my Maryland !
For life and death, for woe and weal,
Thy patriotic strength reveal,
And gird thy Union host in steel,

Maryland, my Maryland !
Thou shouldst not cower in the dust,

Maryland, my Maryland !
Shake off thy sloth, wipe off thy rust,

Maryland, my Maryland !
Remember Washington's great trust,
Preserve it from the foeman's thrust,
And hope in God—thy cause is just !

Maryland, my Maryland ! Some months ago, a Secession song, set to a fine piece of music, and entitled “My Maryland," appeared in Southern papers, and was played and sung with great pleasure by the Secession ladies. The song had a line of real nerve running through it which rendered it very popular; but the sentiment was so false, and founded upon such gross misrepresentations, that it was offensive to any one not absorbed in the prevailing madness. The song was remodelled-its fire was turned against the enemy-and here we have it, the true utterance of a patriotism that still lives among the people of Maryland-as time will show. See page 93, Poetry and Incidents, vol. 1.

Oh, how the past comes over me-

How the Old Days draw nigh!
Tramping along in battalia —

Marching the legions by, With the drums of the Old Time beating,

And the Old Flag waving high ! And down from the mountain gorges,

And up from woodlands low,
Mustering for Liberty's conflict-

Eighty-five years ago!
Out of the streets of Lexington

I see the red-coats wheel;
And, back from the lines of Bunker,

Where Continentals kneel
And pray, with their iron musketry,

I see the red-coats reel;
And, reddening all the greensward,

I mark the life-blood flow
From the bosom of martyred Warren-

Eighty-five years ago !
Hearken to Stark, of Hampshire:

"Ho, comrades all !" quoth he“King George's Hessian hirelings

On yonder plains ye see !

Forests in front of them,
Filled with the rebel host-
Stormed with the murderous hail;
E'en in the tree-tops
Hung the fell marksmen,
Sending, like lightning-stroke,
Death to the bravest.
Here, in the field of death
Threefold outnumbered,
Stood Nineteen Hundred.


We'll beat them, boys ! or Mary Stark

A widow this night shall be !"
And then, like a clap of thunder,

He broke upon the foe,
And he won the battle of Bennington-

Eighty-five years ago !
Down from the wild Green Mountains,

Our fearless eagle swooped ;
Down on Ticonderoga

Bold Ethan Allen stooped, And the royal red-cross banner

Beneath his challenge drooped ! And the stout old border fortress

He gained without a blow,
“In the name of the Great Jehovah !"

Eighty-five years ago!
Out from the resonant belfry

Of Independence Hall,
Sounded the tongue of a brazen bell,

Bidding good patriots all
To give the oppressed their freedom,

And lessen every thrall;
And the voice of brave John Hancock,

Preached to the people below,
The Gospel of Independence-

Eighty-five years ago!
And out from Sullivan's Island,

From dark palmetto fen,
I hear the roar of cannonry,

And the rifle-shots again;
And the voice of valiant Moultrie,

And the shouts of Marion's men !
And I see our stricken banner

Snatched frorn the ditch below,
By the hand of Sergeant Jasper

Eighty-five years ago !
So, the Old Days come over me-

The Past around me rolls;
And the spell of a glorious History

My yearning sense controls,
And I sing of the Grand Example

of old and loyal souls ! When the land we love lies bleeding,

And we hear her heart's wild throe, Let us think of the Old, Old Union, Eighty-five years ago!

-N. Y. Leader.

Bravely they fought, and well,
Charging those sons of bell
Full in their ambuscade;
Drowning their savage yell
With cannon that thundered,
Belching forth shot and shell
Where lurked the traitor foe.
Many a fresh ragged glade
Showed the wild work they made,
Ploughing with shot and shell;
Dyeing the leaves below
With no autumnal glow.
So fought the loyal men,
Threefold outnumbered
Fought Nineteen Hundred.

IV. Threefold outnumbered, Thinner and thinner grew Ranks without fear and true, Falling where firm they stood, Drenching the earth with blood, Wrapped in the smoke of deathNo more Nineteen Hundred; The river behind them, Forests to right of them, Forests to left of them, Forests in front of them, Filled with the storm of hell, Flashing with death-strokes. Bravely the gunners fell, Facing that storm of hellFighting till all went down; Then stood the guns alone, Silent their thunders. Still loud their leader's cry Cheered to the onset; Still bravely made reply All that remained yet Of Nineteen Hundred. Towered that noble form, Still aloft that gray head, Beacon 'mid the battle's storm. Dashed by a traitor's hand, Down sunk that beacon light. Crushed by the rushing mass, Threefold outnumbering, Charging on front of them, Charging on flank of them, Borne to the rugged bluffs, Nothing to stay them; Swamped in the crazy boats, Plunged in the roaring flood, Wounded and dying ; Pelted by leaden hail, Fierce and unsparing, Making their passage good, Many bold swimmers;



Crossed the deep river,
Marched up the rugged bluffs,
Deployed in the open field-
Right in the field of death,
Stood Nineteen Hundred,
Heard but their leader's cry,
Shouted in glad reply,
Ready to do and die,
Brave Nineteen Hundred !

II. Behind, the Potomac Gloomily rushed along; Forests to right of them, Forests to left of them,

Many, beneath the wave,
Choosing a hero's grave,
Fleeing captivity;
Gained, at last, the friendly shore,
All that were left-left
Of Nineteen Hundred.

Oh, the wild dash they made
Over the river !
Ne'er shall their glory fade;
Massachusetts forever!
Bold Californians!
Sons of St. Tammany!
Joined here your glorious bands
Bravely to do and die.
Far in the distant years,
Still well remembered,
Old men, with gushing tears,
Will tell the proud story,
How, all outnumbered,
The brave Nineteen Hundred
Fought in that field of death,
Fought to their latest breath,
For the Union and glory;
How from their blood there sprang
Thousands to fight again;
How the shout of battle rang
Far over hill and plain,
Till the Stars and Stripes on high,
Like a banner in the sky,
Wavcd for our victory.

As a lawyer bold

We know you of old,
In many a “hard knotty case ;"

But now on the field,

Convinced you'll not yield; You are just the man for the place.

Be true to your trust,

And bring to the dust
The rebels, where'er they are found;

Inform them, dear Ben,

They've mistaken the men,
If they think the North is not sound.

We know you are right,

Wherever you fight,
In upholding the Stripes and Stars ;

We know they are wrong,

Where'er they belong,
Who follow the Stripes and Bars.

See to it, our flag

Displaces that rag, Symbolic of despot and slave;

From Georgia to Maine

It must wave again, “O'er the land of the free and the brave."

We will anxiously wait

To hear of your fate, Entreating God's blessing on you;

For one thing we know,

“Come weal or come woe," To the Union you'll ever be true.

-Boston Trareller




Honor the living and dead,
Honor the hoary head-
Him who the battle led;
Honor the granite rocks
of the old Bay State ;
Honor the golden rocks
of the golden gate,
Breasting the battle shocks ;
Honor the Keystone State,
Honor the Empire State,
Ever standing together,
Symbols of Union and strength;
Honor all the brave,
Who dashed o'er the river ;
Ne'er can their names be sundered, -
Honor the Nineteen Hundred;
By the blood that was shed,
By the souls of the dead,
By the spirit that burns
Unquenched, at their urns,
Swear, sword in hand,
That our country shall stand
United forever!

“Old Cotton, the King, boys—aha !

With his locks so fleecy and white,"
Descends, like a falling star,
To the sceptre he had no right,-

Boys, no right!
To the sceptre he had no right.
Old Cotton, the King, was so bold,

With injustice to prop up his throne,
That now he's left out in the cold-
The nations all leave him alone,

Boys, alone!
The nations all leave him alone.

Old Cotton, the King, built his throne

On the slaves' forced toil and tears, And each bale was bound with a groan; So he's dead of his guilty fears,

Boys, his fears!
So he's dead of his guilty fears.



Ben. Butler, my boy,

It gives me much joy Of your brave words and acts to hear;

So prompt and so quick,

You are truly a “ brick," Knowing not the meaning of fear.

Old Cotton no more holds the reins;

He's dismembered as well as dead; His cold heart in the South remains, But his limbs are mangled and red,

Boys, and red ! But his limbs are mangled and red. Old Cotton, the once potent King,

Is struck from his impotent throne ;

Each continent now claims a limb;
His heart, cold and chill it has grown,

Boys, has grown!
His heart, cold and chill it has grown.
Old Cotton will once more arise,

But not all in his native land;
His right arm, under Afric's skies,
Will stretch to the Indies a hand, -

Boys, a hand!
Will stretch to the Indies a hand.
Old King Cotton's white feet will spring

A line from the central zone,
And Ganges the death-harvest bring
of him who once ruled alone,-

Boys, alone!
Of him who once ruled alone.

.-N. Y. Evening Post, July 18.


BY JOHN SAVAGE. "There is no safety for European monarchical Governments, if the progressive spirit of the Democracy of the United States is allowed to succeed. Elect Lincoln, and the first blow to the separation of the United States is effected."- London Morning Chronicle.

"I hold, further, that there is no evil in this country for which the Constitution and laws will not furnish a remedy. Then we must maintain our rights inside of the Union in conformity with the Constitution, and not break up the Union."--Douglas at Memphis, October, 1860.

Brothers, there are times when nations

Must, like battle-worn men,
Leave their proud, self-builded quiet,

To do service once again;
When the banners blessed by Fortune,

And by blood and brain embalmed,
Must re-throb the soul with feelings

That long happiness hath calmed.
Thus the Democratic faith that won

The Nation, now hath need
To raise its ever-stalwart arm,
And save what twice it freed.

So, friends, fill up

The brimming cup
In brotherly communion ;

Here's blood and blow

For a foreign foe,
There are factions passion-goaded,

There are turbulence and wrath,
And swarthy dogmas bellowing

Around the people's path ;
There are false lights in the darkness,

There are black hearts in the light,
And hollow heads are mimicking

The Jove-like people's might.
But ah! the Democratic strength

That smote an empire's brow,
Can with its regnant virtues tame
Mere home-made factions now.

So, friends, let's band

For Fatherland
In brotherly communion,

Let every mouth

Cry “North and South,"

While the young Republic's bosom

Seems with rival passions torn-
Growing from the very freedom

Of the speech within it born:
Europe, in its haggard frenzy

To behold no earthly sod,
Where its white slaves may unbend them,

Or bend but to Freedom's God-
Europe madly hails the omen-

Strains its bloodshot eyes to view
A native treason toiling at
The work it strove to do.

So, friends, let's all,

Like a rampart-wall,
In granite-built communion,

Stand firmly proud

'Gainst the kingly crowd, And GOD PRESERVE THE UNION !

Since that day, when frantie people

Round the State House rose and fell,
Like an angry ocean surging

Round some rock-reared citadel -
When the Quaker City trembled

'Neath the arming people's tramp,
And the Bell proclaimed to iron men

Each house in the land a camp-
Democracy has kept that Bell

Still pealing sound on sound,
Until its potent energy
Has throbbed the wide earth round.

So let it ring,

So let it bring
Us brotherly communion ;

Here's heart and hand !

For life and land !


BY DR. REYNOLDS, Assistant Surgeon, Twenty-fourth N. Y. Regt., (Oswego.) Respectfully Inscribed to Gen. Van Valkenburgh,

the Soldier and the Gentleman,
To arms! to arms! Columbia's foe

Their banners flaunt on high;
To arms! to arms! and overthrow

The rebel host, or die ;
For more than life we freemen prize

The blessings freedom gives;
Each hour the trembling coward dies-
'Tis only courage lives.

CHORUS-To arms! to arms! &c.

Let cravens yield their struggling breath

In agony and tears;
Be ours the warrior's glorious death,

'Midst battle's joys and cheers.
Let others seek a sculptured stone

In consecrated ground;
Our monument be foes o'erthrown
Our martyred corpse around.

CHORUS--To arms ! to arms! &c.
Kind Heaven to us in mercy gave

One worthy of all love,
Great Washington, the wise and brare,

A man man's race above;

Here, the sweet products of kind Nature's hand;

There, man, mad man, most wickedly destroys The fairest temple which was ever reared, By good men rev'renced, and by bad men feared. Surrounded thus, with scenes to stir the heart,

And thinking sadly of events and men,
Is it a weakness that the tear should start,

To make comparison between now and then ?
Then, when our country towered in its prime;
Now, when it totters under loads of crime.
And can it be, that in so brief a space,

Since our brave fathers independence won,
That sach unprofitable, deep disgrace

Thus brands the country of a Washington, And makes each patriot through the world lament, Lest man's incapable of self-government ? In Freedom's name, behold Americans

In hostile ranks glare one upon the other, And, urged by madness, meditate their plans,

Each to pour out the life-blood of his brother; And all to wreck the only earthly prize Beyond all measure in the patriot's eyes ! And must it be, that man should strive to mar,

With crime and passion, God's supreme decrees, And, with the hot and blasting breath of war,

Deface the beauty of such scenes as these,
For the mere gratification of a whim,
Which barters peace for devastation grim ?
Can nothing check this fratricidal strife,-

And must the Ship of State in storms go down? Must brothers madly seek each other's life ?-

Ruin and murder wither with their frown? O God of mercy, spare thy people ! spare, And keep us freemen, as our fathers were !


Immortal as our heroic sage

Is every law he made;
The earth, the heavens, may fade from age,
But his laws cannot fade.

CHORUS—To arms ! to arms! &c.
We're born to die-then let us die

Where glory weaves death's wreath;
On to the fight, onr patriots cry-

To victory or death.
The bayonet thirsts for traitors' gore;

Bright gleams the patriot's sword ;
Place us our country's foe before,
And give the battle-word.

CHORUS-To arms ! to arms ! &c.
A banner o'er our heads we raise,

Ennobled in past wars ;
On it the light of freedom plays

The glorious Stripes and Stars.
A star may fall from yonder sky,

Or clouds its lustre mar,
But that broad flag we raise on high
Must never lose one star.

CHORUS--To arms! to arms! &c.

On the Night of Thursday, July 4, 1861.

BY “3. C. B."
Night has enveloped in her robes the earth,

And thousands in rejoicings unite,
Commemorative of a Nation's birth,

Which thrilled of yore each patriot with delight, And bade him hope that in this favored clime Freedom would bloom perennial through all time. Standing upon Potomae's verdant shore,

I gaze upon these tributes to the day,
And, whilst the rockets and the camp-fires pour

A radiance almost rivalling night's sway,
I ponder sadly on events which bring
To every heart a shadow and a sting.
Far more magnificent than all the show

Which man conceited in his art would try,
Behold the comet with mysterious glow

Spreads its vast tail athwart the star-gemmed sky.* And lo! a meteor blazes through the night, The fleet precursor of the rocket's flight. How peaceful is the spot where now I stand; Across yon river hear what stir and noise.

This "heavenly messenger" by some astronomers is supposed to be the return of that known as "the Emperor Charles the Fifth," but this is doubted and denied by others, and it seems to have come unbidden and taken the world by surprise.

for this meteor an Alexandria correspondent of the Evening Star writes :-"Last evening, (4th,) while a grand pyrotechnic display was taking place throughout the loyal States, a still grander and more beautiful one took place in the heavens. Some eight or ten minutes past 8 o'clock, whilst it was yet early twilight, a magnificent meteor was observed at this place. Its direction was from northeast to south ward. Although at the time of its appearance it was hardly dark, yet it was of such intenso brightness that it cast a shadow as deep almost as that cast by the sun. Its track could be plainly traced for five or ten minutes after its appearance by the bright streak of light which it left. Its scintillations were beautiful and gorgeous beyond de scription."


Oh, say not it is borne to earth,

Our Banner pure and bright;
For every star shall prove its worth,

With undiminished light.
Baptized afresh, devotion warm

That pennon shall unfold,
And scatter o'er the battle's storm

Its purest shower of gold.
Amid the din of clanking steel

Its waves of hope shall rise,
To give endurance to the will,

And kindle languid eyes;
And as its bearers sink in dust,

Stout hearts upon the wing
Shall seize it, to redeem the trust,

And new defiance fling.
Upborne upon the swelling surge,

Like meteor on the main,
To glory 'twill the patriot urge-

Glory without a stain.
Still in the van, though hardly pressed,

No rival can it own;
The cherub daughter of the West,

Round whom our arms are thrown!

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