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19. OUR COUNTRY.

OUR country, 't is a glorious land,

With broad arms stretched from shore to shore : The proud Pacific chafes her strand,

She hears the dark Atlantic's roar; And, nurtured on her ample breast, How many a goodly prospect lies In Nature's wildest grandeur drest, Enamelled with her loveliest dyes!

Rich prairies, decked with flowers of gold,
Like sunlit oceans roll afar;
Broad lakes her azure heavens behold,
Reflecting clear each trembling star;
And mighty rivers, mountain-born,
Go sweeping onward, dark and deep,
Through forests where the bounding fawn
Beneath their sheltered waters leap.

And, cradled 'mid her clustering hills,
Sweet vales in dream-like beauty hide,
Where love the air with music fills,

And calm content and peace abide;
For Plenty here her fulness pours

In rich profusion through the land,
And, sent to seize her generous stores,
There prowls no tyrant's hireling band.

Great God, we thank thee for this home,
This bounteous birthland of the free,
Where wanderers from afar may come
And breathe the air of liberty.
Still may her flowers untrampled spring,
Her harvests wave, her cities rise;
And yet, till Time shall fold her wing,

Remain Earth's loveliest Paradise.

WILLIAM J. PARBODIE.

20. PATRIOTS AND MARTYRS.

PATRIOTS have toiled, and in their country's cause
Bled nobly; and their deeds, as they deserve,
Receive proud recompense. We give in charge
Their names to the sweet lyre. Th' historic muse,
Proud of the treasure, marches with it down
To latest times; and Sculpture, in her turn,
Gives bond in stone and ever-during brass
To guard them, and t' immortalize her trust.

But fairer wreaths are due, though never paid,
To those who, posted at the shrine of truth,
Have fallen in her defence. A patriot's blood,
Well spent in such a strife, may earn, indeed,
And for a time insure to his loved land,
The sweets of liberty and equal laws;
But martyrs struggle for a higher prize,
And win it with more pain.

Their blood is shed

In confirmation of the noblest claim,
Our claim to feed upon immortal truth,
To walk with God, to be divinely free,

To soar, and to anticipate the skies!

Yet few remember them. They lived unknown,
Till persecution dragged them into fame

And chased them up to heaven.

Their ashes flow,

No marble tells us whither.

With their names

No bard embalms and sanctifies his song.
And history, so warm on meaner themes,
Is cold on this. She execrates, indeed,
The tyranny that doomed them to the fire,
But gives the glorious sufferers little praise.

Anon.

21.

THE RICHEST PRINCE.

ALL their wealth and vast possessions
Vaunting high in choicest terms,
Sat the German princes, feasting
In the mighty hall at Worms.

"Mighty," cried the Saxon ruler,
"Are the wealth and power I wield
In my country's mountain gorges,
Sparkling silver lies concealed."

"See my land with plenty glowing,"
Quoth the Palgrave of the Rhine:
"Bounteous harvests in the valleys;
On the mountains, noble wine."

"Spacious towns and wealthy convents,' Louis spake, Bavaria's lord,

"Make my land to yield me treasures Great as those your fields afford."

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Then, as with a single utterance,

Cried aloud these princes three : "Bearded Count, thy land hath jewels Thou art wealthier far than we."

ANDREAS JUSTINUS KORNER

22. PATRIOTIC SONG.

HEART SO light, eye so bright,
Arm so stalwart in the fight,
Seeking fame, all whose name
From great Herman came,

Singing, shouting, brothers, come !
Let us gayly wander home.
"Strong and free,

True are we ! "

Shall our watchword be.

Hear it soar the wildwood o'er,

Through the oak-tree gray and hoar,
Loud and long swells the song,
From youthful throng.

Singing, shouting, brothers, come !
Let us gayly wander home.
"Strong and free,

True are we ! "

Shall our watchword be.

Stars appear, shining clear;

Let us all be brothers here!

Fatherland, holy band,

Lead us hand in hand.

Singing, shouting, brothers, come !
Let us gayly wander home.

"Strong and free,

True are we ! "

Shall our watchword be.

KINKEL.

23. NO SLAVE BENEATH THE FLAG.

No slave beneath that starry flag,

The emblem of the free!

No fettered hand shall wield the brand

That smites for liberty!

No tramp of servile armies

Shall shame Columbia's shore,

For he who fights for freedom's rights
Is free for evermore!

No slaves beneath these glorious folds
That o'er our fathers flew,

When every breath was dark with death,
But every heart was true!
No serfs of earth's old empires

Knelt 'neath its shadow then;
And they who now beneath it bow,
For evermore are men!

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With lightning rolled in every fold,

And flashing victory!

God's blessing breathe around it!

And when all strife is done,

May freedom's light, that knows no night,

Make every star a sun!

GEORGE LANSING TAYLOR,

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