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.
