The Death of Napoleon.

“The Death of Napoleon,” by Isaac McClellan (1806-99), was yet another of the good old reader songs taught us by a teacher of good taste. We love those teachers more the older we grow.

Wild was the night, yet a wilder night
Hung round the soldier’s pillow;
In his bosom there waged a fiercer fight
Than the fight on the wrathful billow.
A few fond mourners were kneeling by,
The few that his stern heart cherished;
They knew, by his glazed and unearthly eye,
That life had nearly perished.
They knew by his awful and kingly look,
By the order hastily spoken,
That he dreamed of days when the nations shook,
And the nations’ hosts were broken.
He dreamed that the Frenchman’s sword still slew,
And triumphed the Frenchman’s eagle,
And the struggling Austrian fled anew,
Like the hare before the beagle.
The bearded Russian he scourged again,
The Prussian’s camp was routed,
And again on the hills of haughty Spain
His mighty armies shouted.
Over Egypt’s sands, over Alpine snows,
At the pyramids, at the mountain,
Where the wave of the lordly Danube flows,
And by the Italian fountain,
On the snowy cliffs where mountain streams
Dash by the Switzer’s dwelling,
He led again, in his dying dreams,
His hosts, the proud earth quelling.
Again Marengo’s field was won,
And Jena’s bloody battle;
Again the world was overrun,
Made pale at his cannon’s rattle.
He died at the close of that darksome day,
A day that shall live in story;
In the rocky land they placed his clay,
“And left him alone with his glory.”

Isaac McClellan.

How Sleep the Brave.

How sleep the brave, who sink to rest
By all their country’s wishes blest!
When Spring, with dewy fingers cold,
Returns to deck their hallow’d mould,
She there shall dress a sweeter sod
Than Fancy’s feet have ever trod.
By fairy hands their knell is rung,
By forms unseen their dirge is sung:
There Honour comes, a pilgrim gray,
To bless the turf that wraps their clay;
And Freedom shall a while repair
To dwell a weeping hermit there!

William Collins.

The Flag Goes By.

“The Flag Goes By” is included out of regard to a boy of eleven years who pleased me by his great appreciation of it. It teaches the lesson of reverence to our great national symbol. It is published by permission of the author, Henry Holcomb Bennett, of Ohio. (1863-.)

Hats off!
Along the street there comes
A blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums,
A flash of colour beneath the sky:
Hats off!
The flag is passing by!
Blue and crimson and white it shines
Over the steel-tipped, ordered lines.
Hats off!
The colours before us fly;
But more than the flag is passing by.
Sea-fights and land-fights, grim and great,
Fought to make and to save the State:
Weary marches and sinking ships;
Cheers of victory on dying lips;
Days of plenty and years of peace;
March of a strong land’s swift increase;
Equal justice, right, and law,
Stately honour and reverend awe;
Sign of a nation, great and strong
Toward her people from foreign wrong:
Pride and glory and honour,—all
Live in the colours to stand or fall.
Hats off!
Along the street there comes
A blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums;
And loyal hearts are beating high:
Hats off!
The flag is passing by!