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And calmly, as shepherds lead their flocks,
Then soon he rose; the prayer was strong;
5. Even as he spoke, his frame, renewed
Rose, as it seemed, a shoulder higher;
6. A moment there was awful
When Berkley cried, "Cease, traitor! cease!
The other shouted, "Nay, not so,
When God is with our righteous cause;
That frown upon the tyrant foe;
The warrior priest had ordered so-
Rang through the chapel, o'er and o'er,
So loud and clear, it seemed the ear
And every word its ardor flung
From off its jubilant iron tongue
Who dares ?"-this was the patriot's cry,
For her to live, for her to die?"
A hundred hands flung up reply,
A hundred voices answered, "I!"
THOMAS BUCHANAN READ was born in Chester County, Pennsylvania, March 12th, 1822. In 1839 he went to Cincinnati, where he was employed in the studio of Clevenger, the sculptor, and here his attention was first called to painting, which he chose for his profession, and soon practiced with marked skill and success. He settled in New York City in 1841. After a few months he removed to Boston, where he remained until 1846, and then went to Philadelphia, where he practiced his profession, writing occasionally for periodicals, until 1850, when he first visited Europe. In the summer of 1853 he went abroad a second time, and settled in Florence, where until recently he has resided. In 1853 he issued an illustrated edition of his poems, comprising, with some new pieces, all he wished to preserve of volumes previously printed. In 1855, he published "The House by the Sea" and "The New Pastoral," the latter, in thirty-seven books, being the longest of his poems. The above is from his latest work, "The Wagoner of the Alleghanies." Mr. Read's distinguishing characteristic is a delicate and varied play of fancy. His verse, though sometimes irregular, is always musical. He excels in homely descriptions. The flowers by the dusty wayside, the cheerful murmur of the meadow brook, the village tavern, and rustic mill, and all tender impulses and affections, are his choice sources of inspiration.
41. THE SETTLER.
IS echoing ax the settler swung
Amid the sea-like solitude,
And rushing, thundering, down were flung
The Titans' of the wood;
Loud shrieked the eagle as he dashed
And the first sunlight, leaping, flashed
2. Rude was the garb, and strong the frame
The soul that warmed that frame, disdained
The simple fur, untrimmed, unstained,
3. The paths which wound mid gorgeous trees,
The streams whose bright lips kissed their flowers, The winds that swelled their harmonies
Through those sun-hiding bowers,
The temple vast-the green arcade,
These scenes and sounds majestic, made
4. His roof adorned a pleasant spot,
Mid the black logs green glowed the grain,
The smoke-wreath curling o'er the dell,
Of deeds that wrought the change.
5. The violet sprung at Spring's first tinge,
The rose of summer spread its glow,
1 Tï' tans, fabled giants of ancient mythology; hence, whatever is enormous in size or strength.
And still the settler labored there,
His garden spade, or drove his share
6. He marked the fire-storm's blazing flood
He marked the rapid whirlwind shoot,
With streaming bough and severed root,
7. His gaunt hound yelled, his rifle flashed,
The beaver sank beneath the wound,
8. Humble the lot, yet his the race,
Who cumbered Bunker's' height of red,
1 Pond-built Venice. The city of Venice, one of the finest in Europe, is built on eighty-two small islands, separated by one hundred and fifty canals, which are crossed by three hundred and sixty bridges. The beaver constructs his habitation in the water, and the different parts have no communication except by water, and hence the poetical allusion. 'Bunker Hill, a height near
Charlestown, Massachusetts, celebra-
3 Yorktown, Virginia, where was fought the final battle of the Revolutionary war, resulting in the surrender of Lord Cornwallis to General Washington, on the 19th of October, 1781.
Blaze on a nation's banner spread,
ALBERT B. STREET was born in Poughkeepsic, a large and beautiful town on the Hudson, on the 18th of December, 1811. His father, Gen. Randall S. Street, was an officer in active service during our second war with England, and subsequently several years a representative in Congress. When the poet was about fourteen years of age his father removed to Monticello, Sullivan County, then what is called a "wild county," though extremely fertile. Its magnificent scenery, deep forests, clear streams, gorges of piled rocks and black shade, and mountains and valleys, called into life all the faculties that slumbered in the brain of the young poet. He studied law in the office of his father, and attended the courts of Sullivan County for one year after his admission to the bar; but in the winter of 1839 he removed to Albany, where he successfully practiced his profession. For several years past he has been State Librarian. The most complete edition of his poems was published in New York, in 1845. Mr. Street is a descriptive poet, and in his peculiar department he has, perhaps, no superior in this country. He writes with apparent ease and freedom, from the impulses of his own heart, and from actual observations of life and nature.
42. THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER.
SAY, can you see, by the dawn's early light,
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming; Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight, O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming? And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air, Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there O, say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?
On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep,
And where is the band who so vauntingly swōre,
'Mid the havoc of war and the battle's confusion,