And frighted waves rush wildly back Flag of the free heart's hope and home! And all thy hues were born in heaven. Where breathes the foe but falls before us, And freedom's banner streaming o'er us? OLD TUBAL CAIN-MACKAY. OLD Tubal Cain was a man of might And he lifted high his brawny hand. Till the sparks rushed out in scarlet showers And he sang, "Hurrah for my handiwork! Hurrah for the spear and sword! Hurrah for the hand that wields them well, For he shall be king and lord!" To Tubal Cain came many a one, As he wrought by his roaring fire; And he made them weapons sharp and strong, Till they shouted loud for glee, And gave him gifts of pearl and gold, And they sang, "Hurrah for Tubal Cain, Hurrah for the smith, and hurrah for the fire, But a sudden change came o'er his heart And Tubal Cain was filled with pain For the evil he had done. He saw that men, with rage and hate, Made war upon their kind That the land was fed with the blood they shed, And he said, "Alas! that ever I made, And for many a day old Tubal Cain And his hand forbore to smite the ore, And he bared his strong arm for the work, "Not alone for the blade was the bright steel made!" And he fashioned the first ploughshare! And men, taught wisdom from the past, Hung the sword in the hall, and the spear on the wall, And ploughed the willing lands; And sang, "Hurrah for Tubal Cain! Our staunch good friend is he; And for the ploughshare and the plough To him our prize shall be! Or a tyrant would be lord, Though we may thank him for the plough, RIENZI'S ADDRESS.-MITFORD. FRIENDS: I come not here to talk. Ye know too well The bright sun rises to his course, and lights Of petty tyrants, feudal despots, lords, Rich in some dozen paltry villages Strong in some hundred spearsmen-only great In that strange spell-a name! Each hour, dark fraud, Or open rapine, or protected murder, Cries out against them. But this very day, An honest man, my neighbor-there he stands- Nor lifted up his voice in servile shouts, At sight of that great ruffian! Be we men, And suffer such dishonor? Men, and wash not The stain away in blood? Such shames are common. I have known deeper wrongs. I, that speak to you— I had a brother once-a gracious boy, Full of all gentleness, of calmest hope, Of sweet and quiet joy; there was the look To see them die! Have ye daughters fair? Look Be answered by the lash! Yet this is Rome, Was greater than a king!—and once again— The eternal city shall be free! her sons THE BARON'S LAST BANQUET.-GREENE. O'ER a low couch the setting sun Had thrown its latest ray, Where in his last strong agony The stern, old Baron Rudiger, Whose fame had ne'er been bent Its iron strength had spent. "They come around me here, and say My days of life are o'er, That I shall mount my noble steed And lead my band no more; They come, and to my beard they dare To tell me now, that I, Their own liege lord and master born,- "And what is death? I've dared him oft Has come to seek me here? Bid each retainer arm with speed,— Call every vassal in; Up with my banner on the wall,- A hundred hands were busy then,— With many a martial tread, While from the rich, dark tracery Along the vaulted wall, Lights gleamed on harness, plume, and spear, O'er the proud, old gothic hall. Fast hurrying through the outer gate, The mailed retainers poured, |