which unites national sovereignty with state rights, individual security, and public prosperity? No, gentlemen, if these columns fall, they will be raised not again. Like the Coliseum, and the Parthenon, they 5 will be destined to a mournful, a melancholy immortality. Bitterer tears, however, will flow over them than were evershed over the monuments of Roman or Grecian art; for they will be the remnants of a more glorious edifice than Greece or Rome ever saw the edifice of constitutional 10 American liberty. But, gentlemen, let us hope for better things. Let us trust in that gracious Being who has hitherto held our country as in the hollow of His hand. Let us trust to the virtue and the intelligence of the people, and to the efficacy 15 of religious obligation. Let us trust to the influence of Washington's example. Let us hope that that fear of Heaven which expels all other fear, and that regard to duty which transcends all other regard, may influence public men and private citizens, and lead our country still 20 onward in her happy career. Full of these gratifying anticipations and hopes, let us look forward to the end of that century which is now commenced. A hundred years hence, other disciples of Washington will celebrate his birth, with no less of sin95 cere admiration than we now commemorate it. When they shall meet, as we now meet, to do themselves and him that honor, so surely as they shall see the blue summits of his native mountains rise in the horizon, so surely as they shall behold the river on whose banks he lived, 30 and on whose banks he rests, still flowing on toward the sea, so surely may they see, as we now see, the flag of the Union floating on the top of the Capitol; and then, as now, may the sun in his course visit no land more free, more happy, more lovely, than this our own country! 1 CL. THE ANTIQUITY OF FREEDOM. BRYANT. HERE are old trees — tall oaks and gnarled pines - To linger here, among the flitting birds And leaping squirrels, wandering brooks, and winds With pale blue berries. In these peaceful shades- My thoughts go up the long, dim path of years, O Freedom, thou art not, as poets dream, With which the Roman master crowned his slave gyves. Armed to the teeth, art thou; one mailéd hand With tokens of old wars; thy massive limbs Are strong with struggling. Power at thee has launched And his swart armorers, by a thousand fires, Have forged thy chain; yet while he deems thee bound, 3 Thy birthright was not given by human hands; In pleasant fields, The 4 Thou shalt wax stronger with the lapse of years, But he shall fade into a feebler age; 5 Feebler, yet subtler. He shall weave his snares, With chains concealed in chaplets. O, not yet Mayst thou unbrace thy corselet, nor lay by These old and friendly solitudes invite Thy visit. They, while yet the forest trees CII. THE ANGELS OF BUENA VISTA. WHITTIER. [Buena Vista is a hamlet in Mexico where the Mexican army, under General Santa Anna, was defeated by the Americans, under General Taylor, February 22 and 23, 1847. La Angostura is about a mile and a half distant. La Puebla, (pwa'blä, or poo-ā'blä,) is the second city of Mexico.] SPEAK and tell us, our Ximena, looking northward fa、 away, "Down the hills of Angostura still the storm of battle rolls; Holy Mother! keep our brothers! Look Ximena, look once more: "Still I see the fearful whirlwind rolling darkly as before, Bearing on, in strange confusion, friend and foeman, foot and horse, Like some wild and troubled torrent sweeping down its mountain course." Look forth once more Ximena! "Ah! the smoke has rolled away; And I see the Northern rifles gleaming down the ranks of gray. Hark! that sudden blast of bugles! there the troop of Minon* wheels; There the Northern horses thunder, with the cannon at their heels. "Jesu, pity! how it thickens! now retreat and now advance! Right against the blazing cannon shivers Puebla's charging lance! Down they go, the brave young riders; horse and foot together fall; Like a ploughshare in the fallow, through them ploughs the Northern ball." * Minon, (pronounced min-yon,) was a Mexican general. Nearer came the storm and nearer, rolling fast and frightful on. Speak, Ximena, speak and tell us, who has lost and who has won? "Alas! alas! I know not; friend and foe together fall; O'er the dying rush the living; pray, my sisters, for them all! "Lo! the wind the smoke is lifting; Blessed Mother, save my brain! I can see the wounded crawling slowly out from heaps of slain. Now they stagger, blind and bleeding; now they fall and strive to rise; Hasten, sisters, haste and save them, lest they die before our eyes! "Oh my heart's love! oh my dear one! lay thy poor head on my knee; Dost thou know the lips that kiss thee? Canst thou hear me? Canst thou see? Oh my husband, brave and gentle! oh my Bernard, look once more | On the blessed cross before thee! mercy! mercy! all is o'er." Dry thy tears, my poor Ximena; lay thy dear one down to rest; Close beside her, faintly moaning, fair and young, a soldier lay, Torn with shot and pierced with lances, bleeding slow his life away; But as tenderly before him, the lorn Ximena knelt, She saw the Northern eagle shining on his pistol belt. With a stifled cry of horror, straight she turned away her head; And she raised the cooling water to his parched lips again. Whispered low the dying soldier, pressed her hand, and faintly smiled. Was that pitying face his mother's? did she watch beside her child? All his stranger words with meaning her woman's heart supplied; With her kiss upon his forehead, "Mother," murmured he, and died. "A bitter curse upon them, poor boy, who led thee forth, |