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On our south come the Dutchmen, enveloped in grease;
And arming for battle, while canting of peace;
On our east, crafty Meshech has gathered his band,
To hang up our leaders, and eat out our land.

Ho!-all to the rescue! For Satan shall work
No gains for his legions of Hampshire and York!
They claim our possessions-the pitiful knaves—
The tribute we pay shall be prisons and graves!

Let Clinton and Ten Broeck, with bribes in their hands,
Still seek to divide us, and parcel our lands;

We've coats for our traitors, whoever they are;

The warp is of FEATHERS-the filling of TAR!

Does the "Old Bay State" threaten ?-does Congress complain?

Swarms Hampshire in arms on our borders again?

Bark the war-dogs of Britain aloud on the lake?

Let them come !—what they CAN, they are welcome to take.

What seek they among us?-The pride of our wealth
Is comfort, contentment, and labor and health:
And lands which, as freemen, we only have trod,
Independent of all, save the mercies of God.

Yet we owe no allegiance; we bow to no throne;
Our ruler is law, and the law is our own;
Our leaders themselves are our own fellow-men,
Who can handle the sword, the scythe, or the pen.

Our wives are all true, and our daughters are fair,
With their blue eyes of smiles, and their light flowing hair;
All brisk at their wheels till the dark even-fall!

Then blithe at the sleigh-ride; the husking and ball!

We've sheep on the hill-sides; we've cows on the plain,
And gay-tasseled cornfields, and rank-growing grain;
There are deer on the mountains, and wood-pigeons fly
From the crack of our muskets, like clouds in the sky.

And there's fish in our streamlets and rivers, which take
Their course from the hills to our broad-bosomed lake;
Through rock-arched Winooski the salmon leaps free,
And the portly shad follows all fresh from the sea.

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Like a sunbeam the pickerel glides through his pool,
And the spotted trout sleeps where the water is cool,
Or darts from his shelter of rock and of root

At the beaver's quick plunge or the angler's pursuit.

And ours are the mountains which awfully rise
Till they rest their green heads on the blue of the skies;
And ours are the forests, unwasted, unshorn,

Save where the wild path of the tempest is torn.

And though savage and wild be this climate of ours,
And brief be our season of fruits and of flowers,

Far dearer the blast round our mountains which raves,

Than the sweet summer zephyr which breathes over slaves.
Hurrah for VERMONT! for the land which we till
Must have sons to defend her from valley and hill;
Leave the harvest to rot on the field where it grows,
And the reaping of wheat for the reaping of foes.

Far, far from Michiscoui's valley, to where
Poosoomsuck steals down from his wood-circled lair,
From Schocticook river to Lutterlock town-
Ho!-all to the rescue! Vermonters, come down.

Come York, or come Hampshire-come traitors and knaves!
If ye rule o'er our land, ye shall rule o'er our graves;
Our vow is recorded-our banner unfurled;

In the name of Vermont, we defy all the world.

Ex. CXXI-HALLOWED GROUND.

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?

CAMPBELL.

That's hallowed ground-where, mourned and missed,
The lips repose our love has kissed ;-

But where's their memory's mansion? Is 't

Yon church-yard's bowers?

No; in ourselves their souls exist,
A part of ours.

What hallows ground where heroes sleep?
'Tis not the sculptured piles you heap!
In dews that heavens far distant weep,
Their turf may bloom;

Or genii twine beneath the deep
Their coral tomb.

But strew his ashes to the wind

Whose sword or voice has served mankindAnd is he dead, whose glorious mind

Lifts thine on high?

To live in hearts we leave behind
Is not to die.

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!

Give that! and welcome war to brace
Her drums! and rend heaven's reeking space!
The colors painted face to face,

The charging cheer,

Though death's pale horse led on the chase,
Shall still be dear!

And place our trophies where men kneel
To Heaven!-but Heaven rebukes my zeal!
The cause of truth and human weal,

O God above!

Transfer it from the sword's appea!
To peace and love!

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 t;—

The heart alone can make divine

Religion's spot.

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

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

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 Heaven's that make us sure
Of heavenly love!

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.

What's hallowed ground? 'Tis what gives birth
To sacred thoughts in souls of worth!-
Peace! independence! truth! go forth
Earth's compassed round;

And your high-priesthood shall make earth
All hallowed ground.

Ex. CXXII.-DARKNESS.

I HAD a dream, which was not all a dream.— The bright sun was extinguished, and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space, Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth

Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;

BYRON.

Morn came, and went,-and came, and brought no day: And men forgot their passions, in the dread

Of this their desolation; and all hearts

Were chilled into a selfish prayer for light:

And they did live by watch-fires; and the thrones,

The palaces of crownéd kings, the huts,

The habitations of all things which dwell,—

Were burnt for beacons; cities were consumed;
And men were gathered round their blazing homes,
To look once more into each other's face:
Happy were those who dwelt within the eye
Of the volcanoes and their mountain torch.

And fearful hope was all the world contained:
Forests were set on fire; but, hour by hour,
They fell and faded; and the crackling trunks
Extinguished with a crash,-and all was black.
The brows of men, by the despairing light,
Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits

The flashes fell upon them. Some lay down,
And hid their eyes, and wept; and some did rest
Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smiled;
And others hurried to and fro, and fed
Their funeral piles with fuel, and looked up
With mad disquietude on the dull sky,
The pall of a past world; and then again,
With curses, cast them down upon the dust,
And gnashed their teeth and howled.
shrieked,

The wild birds

And, terrified, did flutter on the ground,
And flap their useless wings: the wildest birds
Came tame and tremulous; and vipers crawled
And twined themselves among the multitude,
Hissing, but stingless,-they were slain for food.

And War, which for a moment was no more, Did glut himself again :-a meal was bought With blood, and each sat sullenly apart, Gorging himself in gloom; no love was left:

--

All earth was but one thought, and that was death,
Immediate and inglorious; and men

Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh;
The meager by the meager were devoured;
Even dogs assailed their masters,―all, save one,
And he was faithful to a corse, and kept

The birds, and beasts, and famished men, at bay,
Till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead
Lured their lank jaws; himself sought out no food,
But, with a piteous and perpetual moan,
And a quick, desolate cry, licking the hand
Which answered not with a caress, he died.

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