43. “Liberty and Union, one and Inseparable.”
There floats our glorious ensign,There still our eagles fly!
And lives the coward heart or hand
Dare pluck them from the sky?
Dare raise the parricidal arm
With impious grasp to seize,
And tear from out the firmament
The glory of the breeze?
The curse of Cain on him who wields
The brand of civil war,
Or blots from that proud galaxy,
One single gleaming star.
Still floats our glorious ensign,
And still our eagles soar,
Yet weeping eyes now fear to gaze
And see them fly no more.
Oh! brethren in the Union strong,
Bethink ye of the day
When our sires, beneath that banner,
Rushed eager to the fray;
When first its glories were unfurled
O'er Freedom's sacred ground,
And thirteen States confederate stood,
In loyal union bound.
Its stripes were dyed at Monmouth;
In Brandywine's red strea ;
On Saratoga's trampled plain;
By Lexington's sad green.
Its stars shone out o'er Bunker's height;
Fort Moultrie saw them gleam;
And high o'er Yorktown's humble camp
They flashed in dazzling sheen.
[32] Rise! souls of martyred heroes,
Rise from your troubled grave,
And guard once more our Union,
Our broken country save!
Rise, Stark, from old New Hampshire,
Rise, Lincoln, from the Bay,
Rise Sumter from the rice fields,
As on that glorious day.
Again o'er broad savannahs
Rise Marion's swart brigade,
Whose fiery tramp, like whirlwind rush,
Swept down the everglade.
Why now sleeps Henry's patriot heart;
Why Otis' tongue of flame;
Hancock and Adams, live they yet,
Or live they but in name?
They cannot die! immortal truth
Outlasts the shock of time,
And fires the faithful human heart
With energy sublime.
They live! on every hill and plain,
By every gleaming river,
Where'er their glowing feet have trod,
They live and live for ever.
The mem'ry of the past shall raise
Fresh altars to their name;
And coming years, with reverent hand,
Protect the sacred flame.
We know no North, nor South, nor West;
One Union binds us all;
Its stars and stripes are o'er us flung--
'Neath them we'll stand or fall.
Then stay your hands, ye traitor host,
And cease your vain endeavor;
God guards our Union good and strong,
For ever and for ever.
He sleepeth not like heroes dead,
And mouldering in the grave;
His outstretched arm is quick to smite,
Omnipotent to save.
Lo! he shall break the coward hand,
And brand the traitor knave,
With more than Arnold's deathless shame--
With his accursed grave.
F. A. H.
--Evening Post.
