"Shoot, if you must, this gray old head, But spare your country's flag," she said.

A shade of sadness, a blush of shame,
Over the face of the leader came;

The nobler nature within him stirred
To life that woman's deed and word:

"Who touches a hair of yon gray 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 tost
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.

Barbara Frietchie's work is o'er,

And the Rebel rides on his raids no more.

Honor 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!

E PLURIBUS UNUM.-CUTTER.

THOUGH many and bright are the stars that appear
In that flag by our country unfurled,

And the stripes that are swelling in majesty there
Like a rainbow adorning the world-

Their light is unsullied as those in the sky,
By a deed that our fathers have done,
And they're linked in as true and as holy a tie,
In their motto of "Many in One."

From the hour when those patriots fearlessly flung
That banner of starlight abroad,

Ever true to themselves, to that motto they clung
As they clung to the promise of God;

By the bayonet traced in the midnight of war,
On the fields where our glory was won-

Oh! perish the heart or the hand that would mar
Our motto of "Many in One."

'Mid the smoke of the conflict, the cannon's deep roar

How oft it has gathered renown!

While those stars were reflected in rivers of gore,

Where the cross and the lion went down;

And though few were their lights in the gloom of that hour, Yet the hearts that were striking below

Had God for their bulwark, and truth for their power,
And they stopped not to number the foe.

From where our green mountain-tops blend with the sky,
And the giant St. Lawrence is rolled,

To the waves where the balmy Hesperides lie,
Like the dream of some prophet of old,

They conquered, and, dying, bequeathed to our care
Not this boundless dominion alone,

But that banner whose loveliness hallows the air,
And their motto of "Many in One."

We are many in one, while there glitters a star
In the blue of the heavens above,

And tyrants shall quail, 'mid their dungeons afar,
When they gaze on that motto of love.

It shall gleam o'er the sea, 'mid the bolts of the storm-
Over tempest, and battle, and wreck-

And flame where our guns with their thunder grow warm, 'Neath the blood on the slippery deck.

The oppressed of the earth to that standard shall fly
Wherever its folds shall be spread,

And the exile shall feel 'tis his own native sky,

Where its stars shall wave over his head;

And those stars shall increase till the fulness of time

Its millions of cycles have run

Till the world shall have welcomed their mission sublime, And the nations of earth shall be one.

Though the old Allegheny may tower to heaven,

And the Father of Waters divide,

The links of our destiny cannot be riven

While the truth of those words shall abide.
Then, oh! let them glow on each helmet and brand,

Though our blood like our rivers should run;

Divide as we may in our own native land,

Tc the rest of the world we are ONE.

M

Then up with our flag!-let it stream on the air;

Though our fathers are cold in their graves,

They had hands that could strike-they had souls that could dare

And their sons were not born to be slaves.

Up, up with that banner!-where'er it may call,

Our millions shall rally around,

And a nation of freemen that moment shall fall,
When its stars shall be trailed on the ground.

THE SOLDIER'S DREAM.-CAMPbell.

OUR bugles sang truce-for the night-cloud had lowered,
And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky;
And thousands had sunk on the ground overpowered,
The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die.

When reposing that night on my pallet of straw,
By the wolf-scaring fagot t at guarded the slain;
At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw,

And thrice ere the morning I dreamed it again.

Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array,
Far, far I had roamed on a desolate track:
'Twas Autumn,-and sunshine arose on the way
To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back.

I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft

In life's morning march, when my bosom was young;

I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft,

And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung

Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore,
From my home and my weeping friends never to part;
My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er,

And my wife sobbed aloud in her fulness of heart.