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Here's a health to them that's awa',

And here's to them that's awa’;
Here's a health to “auld Abe,” the chief o' the clan,

And may his band never be sma'!
May Liberty meet wi' success;

May prudence protect her fra' evil;
May traitors and tyranny tine* i' the mist,

And wander their way to the de'il.
Chorus.-Hurrah for the Red, White, and Blue! &c.

IIere's a health to them that's awa',

And here's to them that's awa';
Here's a bumper to Chase, he, the Western laddie,

That made “Greenbacks” as guid as the law.
Here's freedom to him that would read,

Here's freedom to him that would write:
There's nane ever feard that the truth should be heard,

But they wham the truth would indict.
Chorus.—Hurrah for the Red, White, and Blue ! &c.

Here's a health to them that's awa',

And here's to them that's awa'; Here's Meade, and here's Grant; and wha would them daunt, Here's friends to the Stripes and the Stars,

We'll build in a hole i’ the wa'. Here's woman that's true at the heart,

Here's man that is sound at the core: May he that wad turn his button and coat

Be turn'd to the back of the door. Chorus.-Hurrah for the Red, White, and Blue! &c.

Here's a health to them that's awa',

And here's to them that's awa'; Here's Abram Lincoln, a chief that's na' winkin',

But bred wi' an axe in his paw;

* Be lost.

Here's friends that stand by them at need; And wha would betray his country's cause

May hang by the neck till he's deed. Chorus.-Hurrah for the Red, White, and Blue! &c.

Here's a health to them that's awa',

And here's to them that's awa';
Here's a health to our uncle,—to guid Uncle Sam,

His soldiers and sailors so braw !
May cruel war soon be over,

And peace to our land come again; May law and unity triumph,

And banish all sorrow and pain ! Chorus.--Hurrah for the Red, White, and Blue ! &c.

Lines on the New American Frigate Alliance.

BY PHILLIP FRENEAU, A POET OF THE REV

EVOLUTION, 1776.

As Neptune traced the azure main,
That own'd so late proud Britain's reign,
A floating pile approach'd his car,-
The scene of terror and of war.

As nearer still the monarch drew
(Her starry flag display'd to view),
He ask'd a Triton of his train,
“What flag was this that rode the main ?

“A ship of such a gallant mien
This many a day I have not seen:
To no mean power can she belong,
So swift, so warlike, stout, and strong.

“See how she mounts the foaming wave,
Where other ships would find a grave:
Majestic, awful, and serene,
She walks the ocean like its queen.”

“Great monarch of the hoary deep, Whose trident awes the waves to sleep,” Replied a Triton of his train, “This ship that stems the Western main

To those new, rising States belongs,
Who, in resentment of their wrongs,
Oppose proud Britain's tyrant sway,
And combat her by land and sea.

“This pile, of such superior fame,
From their strict union takes her name;
For them she cleaves the briny tide,
While terror marches by her side.

“When she unfurls her flowing sails,
Undaunted by the fiercest gales,
In dreadful pomp she ploughs the main,
While adverse tempests rage in vain.
“When she displays her gloomy tier,
The boldest Britons freeze with fear,
And, owning her superior might,
Seek their best safety in their flight.

“But, when she pours the dreadful blaze,
And thunder from her cannon plays,
The bursting flash that wings the ball
Compels those foes to strike or fall.
“Though she, with her triumphant train
Might fill with awe the British main,
Yet, filial to the land that bore,
She stays to guard her native shore.

“Though she might make their cruisers groan
That sail beneath the torrid zone,
She kindly lends a nearer aid,
Annoys them here, and guards the trade.

"Now traversing the Eastern main,
She greets the shores of France and Spain :
Iler gallant flag, display'd to view,
Invites the Old World to the New.

“This task achieved, behold her go
To seas congeal’d with ice and snow,
To either tropic, and the line,
Where suns with endless fervor shine.

“Not, Argo, in thy womb was found
Such hearts of brass as here abound:
They for their golden fleece did ily,
These sail to vanquish tyranny."

Charleston Harbor in 1776 and 1861.

(ExtraCT FROM Mr. Murdocu's Lectures.) IN tracing the history of the relics, I have necessarily confined myself to the sailor's record of glorious deeds done in defence of our national honor. Before taking leave of my subject, I will tender you two striking pictures of heroic devotion, which will speak for the heroism of the soldier, displayed on a hundred memorable battle-fields, embodying in their spirit the soul of chivalric daring which pervades our army, rank and file.

When Fort Moultrie, in Charleston harbor, was invested

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by the British in 1776, the flag was shot away during the fight. Sergeant Jasper leaped into the moat, seized the flag, and, climbing upon the ramparts, waved it above his head till another staff was erected. This noble act was performed during the hottest fire from the enemy's ships.

When the traitors of Charleston assailed Sumter (so nobly defended by the gallant Major Anderson), the following incident occurred. Sergeant Hart, who had served with the Major in Mexico, was sent down from New York by Mrs. Anderson with letters for her husband. The authorities at Charleston refused to let the sergeant pass to the fort unless he gave his parole not to bear arms in the defence. This was acceded to, and the faithful soldier executed his mission of love. During the fiercest bombardment of the fort, while standing, watching the flying shells and balls, from a sheltered position, the sergeant saw the old flag stricken down by a shot. Without stopping to argue on the exact extent of a non-combatant's passiveness, true to the instincts of a loyal citizen, he sprang forward, secured the Stars and Stripes, and, from the most prominent position on the works, waved them forth, until another staff was raised, and then, arranging the halliards with his own hands, raň up the starry emblem, to defy once more the murderous assault of the would-be assassins of the nation's life.

I will not venture to comment on the sublime acts of patriotic devotion, but will avail myself of the poetic fervor of Bayard Taylor to sing the praises of the soldier's deeds, and blend the spirit of 1776 and 1812 with that of ’61, '62, and '63.

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