may cry peace, peace, but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the North will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle! What is it that gentlemen wish? what would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take, but as for me, give me liberty, or give me death! LXXII. CATILINE'S LAST HARANGUE TO HIS ARMY. 1. BRAVE comrades! all is ruined! I disdain To hide the truth from you. The die is thrown! And now, let each that wishes for long life Then, each man to his tent, and take the arms Now to your cohorts' heads,-the word's-Revenge. CROLY. LXXIII.-THE AMERICAN FLAG. 1. WHEN Freedom, from her mountain height, Unfurled her standard to the air, She tore the azure robe of night, ❤ And set the stars of glory there. 2. Majestic monarch of the cloud, Who rear'st aloft thy regal form, To hear the tempest trumpings loud And see the lightning lances driven, When strive the warriors of the storm, J. R. DRAKE. And rolls the thunder-drum of Heaven, Child of the Sun! to thee 'tis given To guard the banner of the free: 3. Flag of the brave! thy folds shall fly, Like shoots of flame on midnight's pall, Then shall thy meteor glances glow, And cowering foes shall fall beneath That lovely messenger of death. 4. Flag of the seas! on ocean's wave Thy stars shall glitter o'er the brave. 5. Flag of the free heart's hope and home! Thy stars have lit the welkin dome, And all thy hues were born in Heaven. Where breathes the foe but falls before us, With Freedom's soil beneath our feet, And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us? LXXIV.-BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE, 1809. 1. Nor a drum was heard, not a funeral note, 2. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Nor in sheet, nor in shroud, we wound him; 3. We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed, And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that 's gone, But little he 'll reck, if they let him sleep on, 4. But half of our heavy task was done, When the clock struck the hour for retiring, And we heard by th' distant and random gun, That the foe was sullenly firing. Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame, fresh and gory! We carved not a line, we raised not a stone, But we left him-alone with his glory! LXXV. THE BATTLE OF HOHENLINDEN, 1800. 1. ON Linden when the sun was low, THOMAS CAMPBELL. All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, Of Iser, rolling rapidly. 2. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat at dead of night, 3. By torch and trumpet fast arrayed, 4. Then shook the hills with thunder riven, 5. And redder yet those fires shall glow Of Iser rolling rapidly. 6. 'T is morn; but scarce yon lurid sun Shout in their sulphurous canopy. And charge with all thy chivalry! Shall be a soldier's sepulchre. LXXVI.-POETICAL SELECTIONS. 1.-NOVEMBER. W. C. BRYANT. 1. YET one smile more, departing, distant sun! And the dark rocks whose summer wreaths are cast, And the blue gentian flower, that in the breeze Nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last. Yet a few sunny days, in which the bee Shall murmur by the hedge that skirts the way, The cricket chirp upon the russet lea, And man delight to linger in thy ray. Yet one rich smile, and we will try to bear The piercing winter frost, and winds, and darkened air. 2.-THE CONSTITUTION. W. C. BRYANT. 1. GREAT were the thoughts, and strong the minds And deep the gladness of the hour, When as the auspicious task was done, |