The blades of heroes fence it round; Thy sacred leaves, fair Freedom's flower, Then hail the banner of the free, O. W. Holmes. CCCXXXIX. AN APPEAL. LISTEN, young heroes! your country is calling! Time strikes the hour for the brave and the true! Now, while the foremost are fighting and falling, You whom the fathers made free and defended, You whose fair heritage spotless descended, Leave not your children a birthright of shame! Stay not for questions while Freedom stands gasping! Break from the arms that would fondly caress you! Mothers shall pray for you, fathers shall bless you, Maidens shall weep for you when you are gone! Never or now! cries the blood of a nation, Poured on the turf where the red rose should bloom; Never or now! roars the hoarse-throated cannon O'er the deep ooze where the Cumberland lies! From the foul dens where our brothers are dying, From the hot plains where they perish outnumbered, O. W. Holmes. Now, CCCXL. THE LAST CHARGE. OW, men of the North! will you join in the strife The giant grows blind in his fury and spite, Flash full in his eyes the blue lightning of steel, Blow, trumpets, your summons, till sluggards awake! H Yet, yet, ere the signet is stamped on the scroll, Trust not the false herald that painted your shield: The hour is at hand, and the moment draws nigh! The rivers of peace through our valleys shall run, O. W. Holmes. CCCXLI. VOYAGE OF THE GOOD SHIP UNION. "TIS IS midnight: through my troubled dream Before the gale, with tattered sail, A ship goes plunging by. What name? Where bound? The rocks around Repeat the loud halloo. The good ship Union, Southward bound: God help her and her crew! And is the old flag flying still That o'er your fathers flew, With bands of white and rosy light, And field of starry blue? -Ay! look aloft! its folds full oft Have braved the roaring blast, And still shall fly when from the sky The bark sails on; the Pilgrim's cape Whose headland crooks its anchor-flukes To lock the shore and sea. No treason here! it cost too dear To win this barren realm! And true and free the hands must be That hold the whaler's helm. Still on! Manhattan's narrowing bay No Rebel cruiser scars; That flaunts the fallen stars! -But watch the light on yonder height,- Some lingering cloud in mist may shroud Say, pilot, what this fort may be, Whose sentinels look down From moated walls that show the sea Their deep embrasures' frown? The breakers roar, how bears the shore? -The traitorous wreckers' hands Have quenched the blaze that poured its rays Along the Hatteras sands. Ha! say not so! I see its glow! Again the shoals display The beacon light that shines by night, The good ship flies to milder skies, What! heard you not Port Royal's doom? And turned the Beaufort roses' bloom As soon his cursed poison-weed She rounds the point, she threads the Keys That guard the Land of Flowers, |