The Eagle of Freedom, in danger and night,
Keeps watch o’er our flag from his star-lighted height.
From mountain and valley, from hill-side and sea,
Three cheers for the Eagle, the Bird of the Free!
Hurrah! Hurrah!
Hurrah for the Eagle, the Bird of the Free!
O, sons of the mighty, the true, and the brave!
The souls of your heroes rest not in the grave:
The holy libation to Liberty poured,
Hath streamed, not in vain, from the blood-crimsoned sword.
Henceforth, with your Star-Spangled Banner unfurled,
Your might shall be felt to the ends of the world,
And rising Republics, like nebulæ, gleam,
Wherever the stars of your nation shall beam.
CHORUS.
The Eagle of Freedom, sublime in his flight,
Shall rest on your banner, encircled with light;
And then shall the chorus, in unison be,
Three cheers for the Eagle, the Bird of the Free!
Hurrah! Hurrah!
Hurrah for the Eagle, the Bird of the Free!
MISTRESS GLENARE.
BY “MARIAN.”
A virtuous woman is Mistress Glenare—
Or, at least, so the world in its judgment would say;—
With an orderly walk and a circumspect air,
She never departs from the popular way.
Every word that she speaks is well measured and weighed;
Her friends are selected with scrupulous care;
And in all that she does is her prudence displayed,
For a virtuous woman is Mistress Glenare!
Her youth has departed, and with it has fled
The impulse which gives to the blood a new start,
Which oftentimes turns from the reasoning head,
To trust to the wisdom of God in the heart.
Thus the robes of her purity never are stained,
And her feet are withheld from the pitfall and snare;
Where nothing is ventured, there nothing is gained:
O, a virtuous woman is Mistress Glenare!
She makes no distinction of sinners from sin;
Her words are like arrows, her tongue is a rod;
She sees no excuse for the evil within,
But condemns with the zeal of a partialist God!
On a background of darkness, of sorrow and shame,
Her own reputation looks stainless and fair;
So she builds up her fame, through her neighbors’ bad name:
O, a virtuous woman is Mistress Glenare!
She peeps and she listens, she watches and waits,
Nor Satan himself is more active than she
To expose in poor sinners the faults and bad traits,
Which she fears that the Lord might not happen to see.
When the Father of Spirits looks down from above
On the good and the evil, the frail and the fair,
How must he regard, with particular love,
This virtuous woman—good Mistress Glenare!
O, Mistress Glenare! in the drama of life
You are acting a very respectable part;
You have known just enough of its envious strife
To deceive both the world and your own foolish heart.
But say, in some moment of clear common sense,
Did you never in truth and sincerity dare
To ask the plain question, aside from pretence,
How you looked to the angels, dear Mistress Glenare?