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"Breathes there a man, with soul so dead,

Who never to himself hath said,
This is my own, my native land?
If such there be, go, mark him well;
For him no minstrel raptures swell.
High though his titles-proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim ;
Despite his titles, power, and pelf,
The wretch, concentered all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,

And doubly dying, shall go down

To the vile dust from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonored, and unsung."

It was here that our eyes first opened upon the light of heaven; it was among these valleys that our boyhood wandered. These hills echoed the voices of our buoyant, fresh-springing youth; these streams rippled the music of our dawning life; this soil still nourishes the most of our living kindred, and embraces, in its hallowed bosom, the bones of our departed fathers. We thank you, that you have called us back once more, and upon this marked era of time, to look upon the moss-grown monuments, which tell their graves. We thank you for this opportunity of exchanging welcome and congratulation, and all kind, sociable wishes, with all our early friends and kindred.

ODES

FOR THE

CENTENNIAL CELEBRATION

AT SALISBURY, CONNECTICUT,

OCTOBER 20, 1841.

PREPARED BY REV. JONATHAN LEE.

EMIGRANTS.

"Land of our fathers! wheresoe'er we roam,
Land of our birth to us thou still art home:
Peace and prosperity on thy sons attend,
Down to posterity their influence descend."

CITIZENS.

Dear brethren, home-born! welcome to these seats;
Gladly we greet you, in our loved retreats :

Bright shine our lakes, still-beauteous are our hills—
Rich are our corn-fields-pure our mountain rills.

EMIGRANTS.

"Though other climes may brighter hopes fulfill,

Land of our birth! we ever love thee still;

Heaven shield our happy homes from each hostile band,
Freedom and plenty ever crown our native land."

CITIZENS.

Come to our fire-sides, where, long years ago,
Those now in heaven, strung their harps below:
O let us worship where our fathers bow'd,
Tune all our heart-strings, sound our anthems loud.

CHORUS.

"All then inviting, hearts and voices joining,
Sing we in harmony our native land."

BY REV. JONATHAN LEE.

Where erst the red man twang'd his bow,
Where howl'd the beast of prey,
Near Housatonuc's lonely flow,

Where brooding darkness lay,
Secure we drive the glittering share,
We sow the furrow'd field,
Rich plains, beneath the tiller's care,
Their golden harvests yield.

A Pilgrim band, our fathers came,
They fell'd the wilderness;

These lovely scenes their toils proclaim,
And deep our hearts impress-
Ye towering hills, repeat their praise,
Fair lakes, their story tell,
While we recall the ancient days,
And hear a century's knell.

In darkness lay the unwrought oar,
Till call'd by Freedom's voice,

It bade the fiery cannon roar,

And made our land rejoice;

Then Peace spread forth her golden wing,
Wealth pour'd its flowing tide;
Our sires their songs triumphant sing,

Where we, their sons, abide.

Our fathers' God, thy name we praise,

For thou, in peril's hour,

Heardst when they knelt their prayers to raise,

And sought thy guardian power:

Praise for this goodly heritage,

By them so dearly bought,

And may our sons, from age to age,

Preserve it as they ought.

Let Science here ne'er cease to shine;
Here may Religion dwell;

Let Truth and Righteousness combine,
The general bliss to swell:
Good Spirit, come, make thine abode
In these our native seats,
Thyself the purest gift bestow'd,
While Time his hours repeats.

BY CHURCHILL COFFING, ESQ.

Written for the Celebration of the Centennial Anniversary of the Settlement of the town of Salisbury, Litchfield Co., Connecticut, October 20th, 1841.

Marsailles Hymn.

Sons of the Pilgrims, hear the story,
List, list to deeds of ancient days,
To deeds of courage, bright with glory,
Eternal be their meed of praise;
When lawless tyrants, peace deriding,
Our fathers drove from their native land,
Far o'er the sea, a helpless band,
In God's right arm alone confiding.

CHORUS.

For truth, for truth they came,

For truth their toils were borne ;

They came, they came, their hearts resolv'd

On liberty or death.

On them high rose a rock-bound shore,
With shadowing forests grimly spread;
Beneath them dash'd, with ceaseless roar,
A raging ocean, black with dread :

Yet o'er them with his spirit cheering,
Lo! Israel's God was present there;
To them, the children of his care,
Was shown the sign of his appearing.

CHORUS.

They saw, they saw his form,
They heard, they heard his voice;
They saw Him in the rushing storm,
And lo! their hearts rejoice.

Before them fled the Indian wild,
The affrighted panther left his lair,
Each mountain, and each valley smil'd,
For lo! the Pilgrim's hand was there;
And there their ashes, calmly sleeping,
Shall hallow the soil in which they lay,
Till heaven and earth shall pass away :-
Their sons are now their labors reaping.

CHORUS.

For truth, for truth they came,

For truth their toils were borne ;
They came, they came, their hearts resolv'd
On liberty or death!

BY CHURCHILL COFFING, ESQ.

Almighty God! at whose behest,

The rolling years their cycles run; Whose presence through all time confest; Eternal and unchanging One!

Our fathers' God! at whose command

The Pilgrims sought New England's shore,

Contented, on its barren strand,

Thy name to worship and adore;

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