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Awake, my lyre, with other themes inspired. And 't is the glory of the master's art
Where yon bold point repels the crystal tide, Some radiance of this inward light to find,
The Briton youth, lamented and admired, Some touch that to his canvass may impart
His country's hope, her ornament and pride, A breath, a sparkle of the immortal mind.
A traitor's death ingloriously died,

Alas! the pencil's noblest power can show
On freedom's altar offer'd; in the sight

But some faint shadow of a transient thought, Of God, by men who will their act abide,

Some waken'd feeling's momentary glow, On the great day, and hold their deed aright,

Some swift impression in its passage caught. To stop the breath would quench young freedom's holy light.

O that the artist's pencil could portray But see! the broadening river deeper flows,

A father's inward bosom to your eyes, Its tribute floods intent to reach the sea,

What hopes, and fears, and doubts perplex his way, While, from the west, the fading sunlight throws

What aspirations for your welfare rise.
Its softening hues on stream, and field, and tree; Then might this unsubstantial image prove,
All silent nature bathing, wondrously,

When I am gone, a guardian of your youth,
In charms that soothe the heart with sweet desires, A friend for ever urging you to move
And thoughts of friends we ne'er again may see, In paths of honour, holiness, and truth.
Till, lo! ahead Manhatta's bristling spires,

Let fond imagination's power supply Above her thousand roofs red with day's dying fires.

The void that baffles all the painter's art; May greet the wanderer of Columbia's shore, And when those mimic features mect your eye, Proud Venice of the west! no lovelier scene. Then fancy that they speak a parent's heart. Of thy vast throngs now faintly comes the roar, Though late like beating ocean surf I ween,

Think that you still can trace within those eyes

The kindling of affection's fervid beam,
And everywhere thy various barks are seen,
Cleaving the limpid floods that round thee flow,

The searching glance that every fault espies, Encircled by thy banks of sunny green,

The fond anticipation's pleasing dream. The panting steamer plying to and fro,

Fancy those lips still utter sounds of praise, Or the tall sea-bound ship abroad on wings of snow. Or kind reproof that checks each wayward will, And radiantly upon the glittering mass

The warning voice, or precepts that may raise

Your thoughts above this treacherous world of ill. The god of day his parting glances sends, As some warm soul, from earth about to pass,

And thus shall Art attain her loftiest power; Back on its fading scenes and mourning friends To noblest purpose shall her efforts tend: Deep words of love and looks of rapture bends, Not the companion of an idle hour, More bright and bright, as near their end they be. But Virtue's handmaid and Religion's friend On, on, great orb! to earth's remotest ends, Each land irradiate, and every seaBut 0, my native land, not one, not one like thee!

F. S. KEY.


0! say, can you see, by the dawn's early light,

What so proudly we hail'd at the twilight's last FROM A FATHER TO HIS CHILDREN,

gleaming ; AFTER HAVING HAD HIS PORTRAIT TAKEN FOR THEM. Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the

perilous fight, Tas semblance of your parent's time-worn face O'er the ramparts we watch’d, were so gallantly Is but a sad bequest, my children dear:

streaming ? Its youth and freshness gone, and in their place And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air,

The lines of care, the tracks of many a tear! Gave proof through the night that our flag was stiil Amid life's wreck, we struggle to secure

there; Some floating fragment from oblivion's wave: 0! say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave We pant for something that may still endure,

O'er the land of the free and the home of the bra e? And snatch at least a shadow from the grave. On the shore,dimly seen through the mists of the deep Poor, weak, and transient mortals! why so vain

Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence Of manly vigour, or of beauty's bloom?

reposes, An empty shade for ages may remain

What is that which the breeze o'er the towering steep When we have moulder'd in the silent tomb.

As it fitfully blows, half-conceals, half-discloses?

Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam; But no! it is not we who moulder there,

Its full glory reflected now shines on the stream; We, of essential light that ever burns;

'Tis the star-spangled banner, O! long may it wave We take our way through untried fields of air,

O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave. When to the earth this earth-born frame returns.

*The late Mr. Key was a native of Baltimore. This song is CLEVENT C. Moore, formerly one of the professors supposed to bave been written by a prisoner on board the in Columbia College, resides in New York. A collection British fleet, on the morning after the unsucceesful bomof his “ Poems," in one volume, was published in 1845. bardinent of Fort Mcllenry.

And where is the band who so vauntingly swore, Immortal patriots! rise once more;

Mid the havoc of war and the battle's confusion, Defend your rights, defend your shore, A home and a country they'd leave us no more? Let no rude foe, with impious hand, Their blood hath wash'd out their foul footsteps' Let no rude foe, with impious hand, pollution;

Invade the shrine where sacred lies
No refuge could save the hireling and slave

Of toil and blood the well-earn'd prize.
From the terror of fight, or the gloom of the grave, While offering peace sincere and just,
And the star-spangled hanner in triumph doth wave In Heaven we place a manly trust,
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave. That truth and justice will prevail,
0! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand

And every scheme of bondage fail.
Between their loved home and the war's deso-

Firm--united, &c. lation;

Sound, sound the trump of Fame ! Bless'd with victory and peace, may the heaven- Let WASHINGTox's great name rescued land

Ring through the world with loud applause, Praise the Power that hath made and preserved Ring through the world with loud applause: us a nation.

Let every clime to Freedom dear
Then conquer we must, for our cause it is just, Listen with a joyful ear.
And this be our motto, “ In Gop is our trust,” With equal skill, and godlike power,
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave He governs in the fearful hour
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave. Of horrid war; or guides, with ease,

The happier times of honest peace.

Firm-united, &c.

Behold the chief who now commands,

Once more to serve his country, stands-

The rock on which the storm will beat, Hail, Columbia ! happy land !

The rock on which the storm will beat: Hail, ye heroes! heaven-born band !

But, arm'd in virtue firm and true,
Who fought and bled in Freedom's cause, His hopes are fix'd on Heaven and you.
Who fought and bled in Freedom's cause,

When Hope was sinking in dismay,
And when the storm of war was gone,

And glooms obscured Columbia's day, Enjoy'd the peace your valour won.

His steady mind, from changes free, Let independence be our boast,

Resolved on death or liberty.
Ever mindful what it cost;

Firm-united, &c.
Eyer grateful for the prize,
Let its altar reach the skies.

to both, to take part with neither, but to preserve a strict Firm-united-let us be,

and honest neutrality between them. The prospect of a Rallying round our Liberty;

rupture with France was exceedingly offensive to the por As a band of brothers join'd,

tion of the people who espoused her cause, and the vis

lence of the spirit of party has never risen higher, I thiet Peace and safety we shall find.

not so high, in our country, as it did at that time, upon thi

question. The theatre was then open in our city. A you" ? With the popular national songs, “ The Star-spangled

man belonging to it, whose talent was as a singer, Banner" and “Hail, Columbia," I bring to a close this

about to take his benefit. I had known him when ! volume of specimens of American poetry. These lyrics

was at school. On this acquaintance, he called on me have not much poetic merit, but they are as well known

one Saturday afternoon, his benefit being announced for throughout the United States as the Rhine Song is in Ger.

the following Monday. His prospects were very disheartmany, or the Marseilles Hymn in France. The late excel

ening; but he said that if he could get a patriotic su:11 lent Judge Hopkinson,t a few months before his death, addressed to me a letter from which Iquote the following adapted to the tune of the “* President's Mareh,” he di

not doubt of a full house; that the poets of the theatrical account of the circumstances attending the composition

corps had been trying to accomplish it, but had not sucof “Hail, Columbia :">

ceeded. I told him I would try what I could do for him. “It was written in the summer of 1798, when war with

He came the next afternoon; and the song, such as it is, France was thought to be inevitable. Congress was then

was ready for him. The object of the author was to get in session in Philadelphia,deliberating upon that important

up an American spirit, which should be independent of, subject, and acts of hostility had actually taken place.

and above the interests, passions, and policy of both The contest between England and France was raging, and

belligerents: and look and feel exclusively for our own the people of the United States were divided into parties

honour and rights. No allusion is made to France or for the one side or the other, some thinking that policy

England, or the quarrel between them: or to the quesand duty required us to espouse the cause of republican

tion, which was most in fault in their treatment of nis France, as she was called; while others were for con

of course the song found favour with both parties, for necting ourselves with England, under the belief that she

both were Americans; at least neither could disavow the was the great preservative power of good principles and

sentiments and feelings it inculcated. Such is the history safe government. The violation of our rights by both

of this song, which has endured infinitely beyond the er. belligerents was forcing us from the just and wise policy of President WASHINGTON, which was to do equal justice

pectation of the author, as it is beyond any merit it can

boast of, except that of being truly and exclusively patrí * The Honourable Joseph Hopkinson, LL. D. Vice-President of the Ame.

otic in its sentiments and spirit. rican Philosophical Society, and President of the Pennsylvania Academy of “Very respectfully, your inost obedient servant, Fine Arts, etc., died in Philadelphia on the fifteenth of January, 1942, in the

" Jos. HOPKINSON. Berents second year of his age. He was a son of Francis Hopkinson, one of the most distinguished patriots of the Revolution.

"Rev. Rufus W. GRISWOLD.”

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by L. Johnson, Philadelphia

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