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Marched armies o'er thy tomb with thundering tread,
O'erthrew Osiris, Orus, Apis, Isis, †

And shook the pyramids with fear and wonder,
When the gigantic Memnon fell asunder?

9 If the tomb's secrets may not be confessed,
The nature of thy private life unfold:
A heart has throbbed beneath that leathern breast,

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And tears adown that dusky cheek have rolled: — Have children climbed those knees, and kissed that face? What were thy name and station, age and race?

10 Statue of flesh-immortal of the dead!
Imperishable type of evanescence!
Posthumous man, who quitt'st thy narrow bed,
And standest undecayed within our presence,
Thou wilt hear nothing till the judgment morning,
When the great trump shall thrill thee with its warning.

11 Why should this worthless tegument endure, If its undying guest be lost forever?

O, let us keep the soul embalmed and pure

In living virtue; that when both must sever,
Although corruption may our frame consume,
The immortal spirit in the skies may bloom.



FLING forth the proud banner of Leon again;

Let the watchword, Castile, go resounding through Spain!
And thou, free Asturias, encamped on the height,
Pour down thy dark sons to the vintage of fight;

Egypt was conquered 525 B. C., by Cambyses, the second king of Persia. †These are the names of Egyptian deities.

Wake! wake! the old soil where our warriors repose,
Rings hollow and deep to the trampling of foes.
The voices are mighty that swell from the past,
With Aragon's cry on the shrill mountain blast;
5 The ancient Sierras give strength to our tread,

Their pines murmur song where bright blood hath been shed Fling forth the proud banner of Leon again, "Castile! to the rescue for Spain!"

And shout ye,




WHAT's hallowed ground? Has earth a clod

Its Maker meant not should be trod


By man, the image of his God,

Erect and free,
Unscourged by Superstition's rod
To bow the knee?

2 Is 't death to fall for Freedom's right?
He's dead alone that lacks her light!
And murder sullies in Heaven's sight
The sword he draws:

What can alone ennoble fight?

A noble cause!

3 Give that! and welcome War to brace
Her drums! and rend Heaven's reeking space!
The colors planted face to face,

The charging cheer,

Though Death's pale horse lead on the chase,
Shall still be dear.

4 And place our trophies where men kneel To Heaven! but Heaven rebukes

my zeal.

O God above!

The cause of Truth and human weal,
Transfer it from the sword's appeal
To Peace and Love.

5 Peace, Love! the cherubim that join
Their spread wings o'er Devotion's shrine,
Prayers sound in vain, and temples shine,
Where they are not

The heart alone can make divine
Religion's spot.

6 To incantations dost thou trust,
And pompous rites in domes august?
See mouldering stones and metal's rust
Belie the vaunt


That men can bless one pile of dust
With chime or chant.

7 The ticking wood-worm mocks thee, man! Thy temples creeds themselves grow wan But there's a dome of nobler span,

A temple given

Thy faith, that bigots dare not ban -
Its space
is Heaven!

8 Its roof star-pictured Nature's ceiling,
Where, trancing the rapt spirit's feeling,
And God himself to man revealing,
The harmonious spheres

Make music, though unheard their pealing
By mortal ears.

Fair stars! are not your beings pure?
Can sin, can death, your worlds obscure?
Else why so swell the thoughts at your

Aspect above?

Ye must be Heavens that make us sure
Of heavenly love!

10 And in your harmony sublime

I read the doom of distant time;

That man's regenerate soul from crime
Shall yet be drawn,

And reason on his mortal clime
Immortal dawn.

11 What's hallowed ground? 'T is what gives birth
To sacred thoughts in souls of worth!--
Peace! Independence! Truth! go forth
Earth's compass round;

And your high priesthood shall make earth
All hallowed ground!




In those happy days, a well-regulated family always rose with the dawn, dined at eleven, and went to bed at sunset. Dinner was invariably a private meal, and the fat old burghers showed incontestable signs of disapprobation and uneasiness at being surprised by a visit from a neighbor on such occasions. But though our worthy ancestors were thus singularly averse to giving dinners, yet they kept up the social bands of intimacy by occasional banquetings, called tea-parties.

These fashionable parties were generally confined to the higher classes, or noblesse, that is to say, such as kept their own cows, and drove their own wagons. The company commonly assembled at three o'clock, and went away

about six, unless it was in winter-time, when the fashionable hours were a little earlier, that the ladies might get home before dark. The tea-table was crowned with a huge earthen dish, well stored with slices of fat pork, 5 fried brown, cut up into morsels, and swimming in gravy. The company being seated round the genial board, and each furnished with a fork, evinced their dexterity in launching at the fattest pieces in this mighty dish-in much the same manner as sailors harpoon porpoises at sea, 10 or our Indians spear salmon in the lakes. Sometimes the table was graced with immense apple-pies, or saucers full of preserved peaches and pears; but it was always sure to boast an enormous dish of balls of sweetened dough, fried in hog's fat, and called doughnuts, or olykocks- a deli 15 cious kind of cake, at present scarce known in this city, except in genuine Dutch families.

The tea was served out of a majestic delft tea-pot, ornamented with paintings of fat little Dutch shepherds and shepherdesses tending pigs with boats sailing in the air, 20 and houses built in the clouds, and sundry other ingenious Dutch fantasies. The beaux distinguished themselves by their adroitness in replenishing this pot from a huge copper tea-kettle, which would have made the pigmy macaronies of these degenerate days sweat merely to look at it. 25 To sweeten the beverage, a lump of sugar was laid beside each cup- and the company alternately nibbled and sipped with great decorum, until an improvement was introduced by a shrewd and economic old lady, which was

to suspend a large lump directly over the tea-table, by a 30 string from the ceiling, so that it could be swung from mouth to mouth—an ingenious expedient, which is still kept up by some families in Albany; but which prevails without exception in Communipaw, Bergen, Flatbush, and all our uncontaminated Dutch villages.


At these primitive tea-parties the utmost propriety and dignity of deportment prevailed. No flirting nor coquet

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