She saw her brother Peterkin In playing there had found, Old Kaspar took it from the boy, And then the old man shook his head, ""Tis some poor fellow's skull," said he, "Who fell in the great victory. "I find them in the garden, "Now tell us what 'twas all about," "Now tell us all about the war, And what they killed each other for." "It was the English," Kaspar cried, "My father lived at Blenheim then, Yon little stream hard by; They burnt his dwelling to the ground, And he was forced to fly: So with his wife and child he fled, Nor had he where to rest his head. "With fire and sword the country round 66 And many a childing mother then But things like that, you know, must be They say it was a shocking sight After the field was won; For many thousand bodies here Lay rotting in the sun: But things like that, you know, must be "Great praise the Duke of Marlbro' won, Nay-nay-my little girl," quoth he, "It was a famous victory. "And everybody praised the Duke Who this great fight did win.' "Why, that I cannot tell," said he, "But 'twas a famous victory.” SONG OF MARION'S MEN. WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. During the Revolutionary War Francis Marion raised in South Carolina a small force which rendered great service to the Ameri can cause. Our band is few, but true and tried, Our leader frank and bold; The British soldier trembles When Marion's name is told. Our fortress is the good green wood, We know the forest round us, We know its walls of thorny vines, Its safe and silent islands Woe to the English soldiery, And they who fly in terror deem And hear the tramp of thousands Upon the hollow wind. Then sweet the hour that brings release From danger and from toil; We talk the battle over, And share the battle's spoil. The woodland rings with laugh and shout, As if a hunt were up, And woodland flowers are gathered To crown the soldier's cup. With merry songs we mock the wind That in the pine-top grieves, And slumber long and sweetly On beds of oaken leaves. Well knows the fair and friendly moon The glitter of their rifles, The scampering of their steeds. Warren's Address at the Battle of Bunker Hill. 19 Grave men there are by broad Santee, WARREN'S ADDRESS AT THE BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL. JOHN PIERPONT. General Joseph Warren of the American Army, a Boston physician, was killed at the battle of Bunker Hill, 1775. Stand! the ground's your own, my braves! Will ye give it up to slaves? Will ye look for greener graves? Hope ye mercy still? What's the mercy despots feel? Hear it in that battle-peal! Read it on yon bristling steel! Ask it,-ye who will. Fear ye foes who kill for hire? And, before you, see Who have done it! From the vale On they come !—And will ye quail? Leaden rain and iron hail Let their welcome be ! In the God of battles trust! Die we may, -and die we must: But, oh, where can dust to dust Be consigned so well, As where heaven its dews shall shed And the rocks shall raise their head, THE HUNTERS. MATTHEW ARNOLD. In the bright October morning Steeds are neighing, gallants glittering; From Vienna, by the Danube, Here she came, a bride, in spring. Hark! the game's on foot; they scatter: Pale and breathless, came the hunters; In the dull October evening, Down the leaf-strewn forest-road, To the castle, past the drawbridge, Came the hunters with their load. In the hall, with sconces blazing, |