BARBARA FRIETCHIE.

[JOHN G. WHITTIER, an American poet, was born in 1807. He was employed in labour upon a farm until his eighteenth year, and his early educational advantages were limited. He occupies a high position as a poet in America.]

1. Up from the meadows rich with corn,
Clear in the cool September morn,
The clustered spires of Frederick stand
Green-walled by the hills of Maryland.
Round about them orchards sweep,
Apple and peach-tree fruited deep,
Fair as a garden of the Lord

To the eyes of the famished rebel horde,
On that pleasant morn of the early fall
When Lee marched over the mountain-wall,—
Over the mountains winding down,
Horse and foot, into Frederick town.

2. Forty flags with their silver stars,
Forty flags with their crimson bars,
Flapped in the morning wind: the sun
Of noon looked down, and saw not one.
Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then,
Bowed with her fourscore years and ten;
Bravest of all in Frederick town,

She took up the flag the men hauled down;
In her attic window the staff she set,
To show that one heart was loyal yet.
Up the street came the rebel tread,
Stonewall Jackson riding ahead.

3. Under his slouched hat left and right
He glanced: the old flag met his sight.
"Halt !"-the dust-brown ranks stood fast.
"Fire!"-out blazed the rifle-blast.
It shivered the window, pane and sash;
It rent the banner with seam and gash.

Quick, as it fell from the broken staff
Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf;
She leaned far out on the window sill,
And shook it forth with a royal will,
"Shoot, if you must, this old grey head,
But spare your country's flag," she said.
4. A shade of sadness, a blush of shame,
Over the face of the leader came;
The nobler nature within him stirred
To life at that woman's deed and word:
"Who touches a hair of yon grey head
Dies like a dog! March on !" he said.
All day long through Frederick street
Sounded the tread of marching feet:
All day long that free flag tossed
Over the heads of the rebel host,
Ever its torn folds rose and fell

On the loyal winds that loved it well;
And through the hill-gaps sunset light
Shone over it with a warm good night.

5. Barbara Frietchie's work is o'er,

And the rebel rides on his raids no more.
Honour to her! and let a tear

Fall, for her sake, on Stonewall's bier.
Over Barbara Frietchie's grave
Flag of Freedom and Union, wave!
Peace, and order, and beauty, draw
Round thy symbol of light and law;
And ever the stars above look down
On thy stars below in Frederick town!-
WHITTIER.

Barbara Frietchie.-The incident referred to in the poem occurred in the great American civil war. On the 6th of September, 1862, the city of Frederick, in Maryland, was taken possession of by a detachment of the rebel army, under the command of General Thomas Jonathan Jackson. The incident of the waving of the

flag by Barbara Frietchie, a lady of very advanced years, took place precisely as the poet has narrated it. It was one of those noble deeds of courage which supply at once theme and inspiration. General Jackson was called "Stonewall" Jackson from the determination with which he always maintained his position in battle. He was accidentally shot by one of his own men. Next to General Lee, he was the most prominent soldier on the Southern side.

HAIL TO THE CHIEF.

[SIR WALTER SCOTT, born 15th August, 1771, died 21st September, 1832. What more need be said?]

1. HAIL to the chief who in triumph advances!
Honoured and blessed be the ever-green pine!
Long may the tree in his banner that glances,
Flourish, the shelter and grace of our line!
Heaven send it happy dew,

Earth lend it sap anew;
Gaily to bourgeon, and broadly to grow,
While every highland glen

Sends our shout back agen,
"Roderich Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!"

2. Ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the fountain, Blooming in Beltane, in winter to fade;

When the whirlwind has stripped every leaf on the mountain,

The more shall Clan-Alpine exult in her shade.
Moored in the rifted rock,

Proof to the tempest's shock,
Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow;
Menteith and Breadalbane, then,

Echo his praise agen,

"Roderich Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!"

3. Proudly our pibroch has thrilled in Glen Fruin, And Banochar's groans to our slogan replied:

Glen Luss and Ross-dhu, they are smoking in ruin, And the best of Loch Lomond lie dead on her side. Widow and Saxon maid

Long shall lament our raid,

Think of Clan-Alpine with fear and with woe;
Lennox and Leven-glen

Shake when they hear agen,
"Roderich Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!"

4. Row, vassals, row, for the pride of the Highlands !
Stretch to your oars, for the ever-green pine!
O! that the Rosebud that graces yon islands,
Were wreathed in a garland around him to twine!
O that some seedling gem
Worthy such noble stem,

Honoured and blessed in their shadow might grow!
Loud should Clan-Alpine then

Ring from her deepmost glen,

"Roderich Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!"

SCOTT.

Hail to the Chief!" This song is intended as an imitation of the boat-songs of the Highlanders, which were usually composed in honour of a favourite chief. They are so adapted as to keep time with the sweep of the oars, and it is easy to distinguish those intended to be sung to the oars of a galley, where the stroke is lengthened and doubled, as it were, and those which were timed to the rowers of an ordinary boat."-SCOTT.

Roderich Vich Alpine dhu.-Besides his ordinary name and surname, every Highland chief had an epithet expressive of his patriarchal dignity as head of the clan, and which was common to all his predecessors and successors. But besides this title, which belonged to his office and dignity, the chieftain had usually another peculiar to himself, which distinguished him from the chieftains of the same race. This was sometimes derived from complexion, as dhu, black, or roy, red; sometimes from size, as beg, little, or more, large; at other times from some peculiar exploit, or some peculiarity of habit or appearance. The line of the text therefore signifies, Black Roderich the descendant of Alpine.

Glen Fruin.-All the places mentioned in this stanza are in the neighbourhood of Loch Lomond; and the particular reference is to a noted conflict between the Macgregors and Colquhouns, which took place in Glen Fruin. The Colquhouns were almost extirpated in this bloody engagement.

Rosebud.-Helen, the Lady of the Lake.

MARK ANTONY'S ORATION OVER THE
BODY OF CÆSAR.

FRIENDS, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears:
I come to bury Cæsar, not to praise him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interréd with their bones;
So let it be with Cæsar! The noble Brutus
Hath told you Cæsar was ambitious :
If it were so, it were a grievous fault ;
And grievously hath Cæsar answer'd it.
Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest
(For Brutus is an honourable man,
So are they all, all honourable men),
Come I to speak in Cæsar's funeral,
He was my friend, faithful and just to me;
But Brutus says he was ambitious;

And Brutus is an honourable man.

He hath brought many captives home to Rome,
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill;

Did this in Cæsar seem ambitious?

When that the poor have cried, Cæsar hath wept ;
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff;

Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
You all did see, that on the Lupercal,
I thrice presented him a kingly crown,
Which he did thrice refuse.
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
And, sure, he is an honourable man.

Was this ambition?