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8. May the Great Ruler of nations grant that the signal blessings with which he has favored ours, may not, by the madness of party or personal ambition, be disregarded and lost; and may His wise Providence bring those who have produced this crisis, to see their folly, before they feel the misery of civil strife ; and inspire a returning veneration for that union, which, if we may dare to penetrate His designs, He has chosen as the only means of attaining the high destinies to which we may reasonably aspire.

In the year 1832, a state convention was held in South Carolina, and passed an ordinance, declaring laws of the United States, for imposing duties and imposts on the importation of foreign commodities, null and toid! On the 10th of December of the same year, Gen. Jackson, who, at that time, was president of the United States, made a proclamation, from which the above eloquent extract is taken.

58. WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE.-George P Morris.

1. Woodman, spare that tree !

Touch not a single bough,
In youth it sheltered me,
And I'll protect it now.
It was my father's hard
That placed it near his cot;
Then, woodman, le it stand,

Thy axe shall harm it not.
2. That old familiar tree,

Whose glory and renown,
Are spread o'er land and sea,
And would'st thou hack it down 3
Woodman, forbear thy stroke
Cut not its earth-bound ties,
Oh! spare the aged oak

Now towering to the skies.
3. When but an idle boy,

I sought its grateful shade,
In all their gushing joy
There too my sisters played;

My mother kissed me here-
My father pressed my hand,
Forgive this foolish tear,
But let the old oak stand.

4. My heart strings round thee cling,

Close as thy bark, old friend!
Here shall the wild bird sing,
And still thy branches bend;
Old tree the storm shall brave,
And woodman leave the spot!
While I've a hand to save,

Thy axe shall harm thee not. The author is indebted to the “Schenectady Reflector" for a knowledge of the incidents upon which this beautiful and affecting poem is founded. Such a poem, when we become familiar with the circumstances under which it was written, breathes a charm over the cold realities of life. That paper says, in substance, that a family of opulence, consisting of the parents and a large number of sons and daughters, resided near the city of New-York; and that their home was an earthly paradise. But it did not long continue. The failures of those for whom the old gentleman endorsed, swept away every farthing of his property. All died but the youngest son. He went to the south, and gained a fortune; and then returned to his old home, which however, was so situated, that he could not possess himself of it. He visited the sacred grounds periodically. When Col. Morris accompanied him, they saw a woodman, standing by the “aged oak,” near the old cottage, sharpening his axe. The stranger put spurs to his horse, rode swiftly up, and accosted him thus: “What are you going to do?" "I intend to cut down this tree," replied the woodman. “What for ?" "I want it for fire wood.” “If you want fire wood," said the stranger, “why did you not go to yonder forest, and let this old oak stand ?" "You see I am an old man,” replied the woodman, “and I have not strength to bring my wood so far.”

** If I will give you enough money, to hire as much wood, brought to your door, as this tree will make, will you forever let it stand?" I he woodman replied, “Yes.” They executed a bond that the tree should remain; and the stranger turned to Col. Morris, and said, with a generous tear sparkling in his eye, "in youth it sheltered me, and I'll protect it now.". It affected the colonel deeply, as it would every man who had a heart capable of feeling; and, on his return to New-York, he wrote the above exquisite lines.

59. THE UNION.-D. Webster.

1. While the union lasts, we have high, exciting, gratifying prospects, spread out before us, for us, and our children. Be yond that, I seek not to penetrate the veil

. God grant that, in my day, at least, that curtain may not rise. God grant that, on my vision, never may be opened what lies behind !

2. When my eyes shall be turned to behold, for the last time, the sun in the heavens, may I not see him shining on the broken and dishonored fragments of a once glorious union; on states dissevered, discordant, belligerent; on a land rent with civil feuds, or drenched, it may be, in fraternal blood !

3. Let their last feeble and lingering glance rather behold the gorgeous ensign of the republic, now known and honored throughout the world, --its arms and trophies streaming in their original lustre, not a stripe erased or polluted, nor a single star obscured-bearing for its motto, no such miserable interrogatory, as - What is all this worth ? nor those other words of delusion and folly, “ Liberty first, and union afterwards ;" but every where, spread all over in characters of living light, blazing on all its ample folds, as they float over the sea and over the land, and in every wind under the whole heavens, that other sentiment, dear to every true American heart—" Liberty and union, now and forever, one and inseparable."

The above is the conclusion of Mr. Webster's speech in 1830, on Mr. Foote's land resolution, in reply to Gen. Hayne of South Carolina.

60. MARCO BOZZARIS.-F. G. Halleck.

1. At midnight, in his guarded tent,

The Turk was dreaming of the hour
When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent,

Should iremble at his power;
In dreams, through camp and court, he bore
The trophies of a conqueror;

In dreams, his song of triumph heard;
Then wore his monarch's signet ring;

Then pressed that monarch's throne,-a king;
As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing,

As Eden's garden bird.

2. At midnight, in the forest shades,

Bozzaris ranged his Suliote band, True as the steel of their tried blades,

Heroes in heart and hand.
There had the Persian's thousands stood,
There had the glad earth drunk their blood

On old Platæa's day,
And now, there breathed that haunted air
The sons of sires who conquered there,
With arm to strike, and soul to dare,

As quick, as far as they.

3. An hour passed on—the Turk awoke;

That bright dream was his last; He woke--to hear his sentries shriek, " To arms! they come! the Greek! the Greek He woke—to die midst flame, and smoke, And shout, and groan, and sabre-stroke,

And death-shots falling thick and fast As lightnings from the mountain cloud ; And heard, with voice as trumpet loud,

Bozzaris cheer his band : « Strike-till the last arm'd foe expires; Strike-for


altars and your fires; Strike for the green graves


your God—and your native land !"


4. They fought-like brave men, long and well;

They piled that ground with Moslem slain They conquered—but Bozzaris fell,

Bleeding at every vein.
His few surviving comrades saw
His smile, when rang their proud huzza,

And the red field was won;
Then saw in death his eyelids close
Calmly, as to a night's repose,

Like flowers at set of sun.

5. Come to the bridal chamber, Death!

Come to the mother, when she feels, For the first time, her first-born's breath;

Come when the blessed seals

That close the pestilence are broke,
And crowded cities wail its stroke;
Come in consumption's ghastly form,
The earthquake's shock, the ocean's storm;
Come when the heart beats high and warm,

With banquet-song, and dance, and wine;
And thou art terrible !—The tear,
The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier ;
And all we know, or dream, or fear

Of agony, are thine.

But to the hero, when his sword

Has won the battle for the free,
Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word;
And in its hollow tones are heard

The thanks of millions yet to be.
Bozzaris! with the storied brave

Greece nurtured in her glory's time,
Rest thee:-There is no prouder grave,

Even in her own proud clime.

We tell thy doom without a sigh;
For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's;
One of the few, the immortal names,

That were not born to die.

Marco Bozzaris, the Epaminondas of Modern Greece, fell in a night attack

upon the Turkish camp, at Laspi, the site of the ancient Platæa, August 30, 1823, and expired in the moment of victory. His last words were—" To die for liberty is a pleasure, and not a pain."

John L. Stephens, who is greatly distinguished as an author of " Travels," says that he saw his widow, and apprised her of the high estimation in which Americans hold the name and memory of Marco Bozzaris.

This piece renders the name of our countryman, by whom it was written, almost as imperishable as that of the hero, to whom it relates. In reciting or declaiming it, the voice should undergo great changes in pitch and quantity. The third verse, except the first three lines, and the last, should be given on a high key,—the fifth verse on a low key.


1. Since I had the honor, I should say, the dishonor, of sitting in this house, I have been witness to many strange, many

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