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Here's the paper signed that frees you,
Give a freeman's shout with me-
'God and Union!' be our watchword
Evermore in Tennessee!"

11. Then the trembling voice grew fainter,
And the limbs refused to stand;
One prayer to Jesus-and the soldier
Glided to the better land.

When the flag went down the river
Man and master both were free;
While the ring-dove's note was mingled
With the rippling Tennessee.

LXXIX. THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM.

ROBERT SOUTHEY.

1. It was a summer evening;

Old Kaspar's work was done,
And he before his cottage door
Was sitting in the sun ;

And by him sported on the green
His little grandchild Wilhelmine.

2. She saw her brother Peterkin
Roll something large and round,
Which he beside the rivulet,
In playing there, had found.

He came to ask what he had found,
That was so large and smooth and round.

3. Old Kaspar took it from the boy,

Who stood expectant by ;

And then the old man shook his head,

And with a natural sigh,

"Tis some poor fellow's skull," said he, Who fell in the great victory.

4. "I find them in the garden,
For there's many here about;
And often, when I go to plow,

The plowshare turns them out;
For many thousand men," said he,
“Were slain in that great victory."

5. "Now tell us what 'twas all about,"
Young Peterkin he cries;
And little Wilhelmine looks up
With wonder-waiting eyes;
"Now tell us all about the war,
And what they fought each other for."

6. "It was the English," Kaspar cried,
"Who put the French to rout;
But what they fought each other for,
I could not well make out;
But every body said," quoth he,
"That 'twas a famous victory.

7. "My father lived at Blenheim then,
Yon little stream hard by ;
They burnt his dwelling to the ground,
And he was forced to fly;
So with his wife and child he fled,

Nor had he where to rest his head.

8. "With fire and sword the country round Was wasted far and wide,

And many a nursing mother then
And new-born baby died;

But things like that, you know, must be
At every famous victory.

9. "They say it was a shocking sight After the field was won;

For many thousand bodies here

Lay rotting in the sun;

But things like that, you know, must be
After a famous victory.

10.

"Great praise the Duke of Marlb'ro' won,

And our good Prince Eugene."

"Why, 'twas a very wicked thing!"

Said little Wilhelmine.

"Nay-nay-my little girl," quoth he,
"It was a famous victory.

11. "And every body praised the Duke,
Who this great fight did win."

"But what good came of it at last?"
Quoth little Peterkin.

"Why, that I can not tell," said he ;
"But 'twas a famous victory."

LXXX.-FIELD LILIES.

ANONYMOUS.

1. Lily bells! lily bells! swinging and ringing
Sweet golden bells on the still summer air,
Are ye calling the birds to their matins of singing,
Summoning Nature to worship and prayer?

2. Lily bells! lily bells! daintily swaying,

Poising your petals like butterflies' wings,

As the breeze murmurs round you, pray, what is he saying?

Is he whispering love-words and soft, pretty things?

3. Lily bells! lily bells! 'mid the long grasses

Gleaming like sunbeams in still shady bower, Have you stolen your gold from the sun as he passes? Are ye guarding your treasure in bud and in flower?

Are

4. Lily bells! lily bells! bowing and bending, ye nodding a welcome to me as I go? Do ye know that my heart bears a love never-ending For bright golden lily-bells all in a row?

5. Lily bells lily bells! down in the meadows,

As I see your fair forms 'mid the mosses and brake, My heart wanders back to the past, with its shadows,

To Christ, and the wise, loving words that he spake.

6. "Consider the lilies "-yes, this was his teaching,
"The modest field-lilies that toil not nor spin,
Yet even to them is my loving care reaching,
My heart takes the feeblest and lowliest in.”

7. Lily bells! lily bells! waving and swinging,
If Jesus, my Master, can watch over you,
I'll go to him daily, with gladness and singing,
Believing he'll love me and care for me too.

8. Lily bells! lily bells! bending and swaying,

Ring out your sweet peals on the still summer air; I would ye might lure all to trusting and praying, And teach them sweet lessons of God's loving care.

LXXXI.-A PARABLE.

JAMES R. LOWELL.

1. Worn and footsore was the Prophet,
When he gained the holy hill;
"God has left the earth," he murmured,
"Here his presence lingers still.

2. "God of all the olden prophets,

Wilt thou speak with men no more?
Have I not as truly served thee,
As thy chosen ones of yore?

3. "Hear me, guider of my fathers,
Lo! a humble heart is mine;
By thy mercy, I beseech thee,
Grant thy servant but a sign!"

4. Bowing then his head, he listened
For an answer to his prayer ;
No loud burst of thunder followed;
Not a murmur stirred the air:

5. But the tuft of moss before him
Opened while he waited yet,

And, from out the rock's hard bosom,
Sprang a tender violet.

6. "God! I thank thee," said the Prophet; "Hard of heart, and blind was I, Looking to the holy mountain. For the gift of prophecy.

7. "Still thou speakest with thy children
Freely as in eld sublime;
Humbleness and love and patience
Still give empire over time.

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8. Had I trusted in my nature,

And had faith in lowly things,

Thou thyself wouldst then have sought me,
And set free my spirit's wings.

9. But I looked for signs and wonders,
That o'er men should give me sway;
Thirsting to be more than mortal,
I was even less than clay.

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11. "In her hand she held a flower, Like to this as like may be,

Which, beside my very threshold,

She had plucked and brought to me."

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