We now come to a
NATIONAL ANTHEM. BY JOHN GREENLEAF W—.
My native land, thy Puritanic stock Still finds its roots firm bound in Plymouth Rock; And all thy sons unite in one grand wish,— To keep the virtues of Preserv-ed Fish.
Preserv-ed Fish, the Deacon stern and true, Told our New England what her sons should do; And, should they swerve from loyalty and right, Then the whole land were lost indeed in night.
The sectional bias of this "anthem" renders it unsuitable for use in that small margin of the world situated outside of New England. Hence the above must be rejected.
Here we have a very curious
NATIONAL ANTHEM. BY DR. OLIVER WENDELL H—.
A diagnosis of our history proves Our native land a land its native loves: Its birth a deed obstetric without peer, Its growth a source of wonder far and near.
To love it more, behold how foreign shores Sink into nothingness beside its stores. Hyde Park at best—though counted ultra grand— The "Boston Common" of Victoria's land—
The committee must not be blamed for rejecting the above after reading thus far, for such an "anthem" could only be sung by a college of surgeons or a Beacon Street tea-party.