16 THE AMERICAN FLAG And rolls the thunder-drum of heaven. Flag of the brave! Thy folds shall fly, Like shoots of flame on midnight's pall,- Flag of the seas! on ocean's wave, SONG OF MARION'S MEN. When death, careering on the gale, Flag of the free heart's only home! Forever float that standard sheet! Where breathes the foe that stands before us? With Freedom's soil beneath our feet, And freedom's banner streaming o'er us! SONG OF MARION'S MEN. BY WM. CULLEN BRYANT. OUR band is few, but true and tried, Our leader frank and bold; The British soldier trembles When Marion's name is told. Our fortress is the good green wood, Our tent the cypress tree; We know the forest round us, As seamen know the sea. 17 18 SONG OF MARION'S MEN. We know its walls of thorny vines, Its glades of reedy grass, Its safe and silent islands Within the dark morass. Wo to the English soldiery And they who fly in terror, deem A mighty host behind, And hear the tramp of thousands Upon the hollow wind. Then sweet the hour that brings release From danger and from toil: We talk the battle over, And share the battle's spoil. The woodland rings with laugh and shout, As if a hunt were up, And woodland flowers are gathered To crown the soldier's cup. With merry songs we mock the wind That in the pine-top grieves, And slumber long and sweetly, On beds of oaken leaves. SONG OF MARION'S MEN. Well knows the fair and friendly moon The scampering of their steeds. That lifts their tossing manes. Back to the pathless forest, Grave men there are by broad Santee, With smiles like those of summer, Till we have driven the Briton, 19 20 A POET'S DAUGHTER A POET'S DAUGHTER BY F. G. HALLECK Written for Miss ***, at the request of her father. 'A LADY asks the minstrel's rhyme.' A lady asks? There was a time When, musical as play-bells' chime To wearied boy, That sound would summon dreams sublime Of pride and joy. But now the spell hath lost its sway Of young romance; There linger but her ruins gray And broken lance. 'This is no world,' so Hotspur said, For 'tilting lips' and 'mamets' made, My thoughts recline I'm busy in the cotton trade, And sugar line. "Tis youth, 't is beauty asks-the green And growing leaves of seventeen Are round her; and, half hid, half seen, |