There comes o'er the hills a discordant strain,
Proclaiming, oppression exulteth again;
It fills every zephyr; is borne on each gale,
Bespeaking the widow's and orphan's sad wail.

'Rouse freemen, arouse, for action prepare,
Rush forth to retrieve your fond homes from invasion;
Your breasts as of yore, to the battle make bare ;
But conquer by power of moral persuasion,
With manly resolve, let each one declare,
The yoke of intemperance, he never will bear;
Fling out the white flag, let it float in the gale,
'Till temperance, all over our land shall prevail.

See parents unite, and children combine,
To wipe off the scourge that degrades our fair nation;
Their lives, sacred honor, and fortunes," resign,
To rescue their country from base degradation.
Devotion's pure streams, incessantly rise,
From woman's kind bosom, to God in the skies;
To lead on to conquest, the hosts of the free,
And save the "asylum, of sweet liberty."

Our cause still goes on, we'll be undismayed;
The fountains of mis'ry will soon cease their flowing.
While Heaven directs us, we'll not be afraid,
For cold water armies to millions are growing:

In Israel's God, we'll still put our trust,

And boldly march onward; "our cause it is just ;" Soon the white flag of temperance" in triumph shall

wave,

O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave."

G. W. M.

22

NATIONAL ODE.

Written on a couch of sickness, by J. S. BUCKINGHAM. HAIL! DAY OF JOY.

HAIL! day of joy! whose glad return

Hears a united nation's voice

In thoughts that breathe, and words that burn,"
Bid millions of free hearts rejoice.
"Who is the tyrant ?-who the slave?"
A thousand anxious voices cry-
Alas! the tenants of the grave,

Could they but rise, might best reply.
The tyrant is-DESTROYING DRINK-
Who chains his slaves in links of fire;
The slave is he whose manhood sinks
Beneath his withering sceptre dire.
This tyrant carries in his train

Each baleful passion's poisonous breath-
Crime, Misery, Want, Despair, and Pain,
Disease, Insanity, and Death.

Will they who love their native land,
See such a tyrant's rule upborne,
Nor stretch at once their patriot hand,
To hurl him from his despot throne?
It cannot be !-Man's nobler part
Yearns for his fellow-suffering man--
Haste, then, each patriot-Christian heart,
The revolution is begun!

O! for a Washington's pure name,
A Franklin's mind-a Hancock's zeal,
A Henry's eloquence-whose flame
Should kindle, in their country's woal.
Ten thousand thousand glowing tongues,
To form, to-day, a sacred band,

In every hall to bid their songs

Swell high for temperance through the land.

23

24

SONG.

THE DRUNKARD'S GRAVE.

SAW a youth in his father's hall,
Whose joy-lit eye and aspect gay
Show'd a heart yet free from passion's thrall-
Light as the billowy ocean's spray:
Generous, virtuous, fair, and brave,
Yet he fills a drunkard's grave.

I saw by the midnight taper's gleam,
A tireless student, pensive, pore
O'er hist'ry's page, or some noble theme,
That poets have sung in classic lore.

Yet the green willow doth o'er him wave:
Alas! he sleeps in the drunkard's grave.
I saw an old man, whose locks were grey,
Silver'd by care and the length of years;
Unmoved by these signs of speedy decay,
And by his children's frequent tears.

Ah! they may weep, but cannot savc
That erring man from a drunkard's grave,
The young, the old, and the brave are there,
The proud and the humble together sleep;
The father, caught by intemperance' snare;
And his son, who once could o'er him weep.
The rich-the poor--the free--the slave,
Go alike to the drunkard's grave.

SONG.

THEY SAY THE GOBLET'S CROWNED WITH

T

HEY

FLOWERS

say the goblet's crown'd with flowers,
And round its brim do brightly shine,
Like gems, remember'd joys and hours,
The treasures of immortal wine.

We know the cup is wreathed with plants,
More deadly than the Upas-tree;
Its richest recollection haunts,

The soul with all that misery.

They say the draught has potent spell,
To wean the thought from ills away;
And raise the drooping one to dwell
Where dreary night is chang'd to day.
We deem the wretch may never know,
The meaning of unmix'd despair,
Till tempted by his bitt'rest foe,

He seeks the cup and finds it there.

Some vow in unextinguished hate,
With Alcohol no terms to hold;
"From all that can intoxicate,"

We write upon our banners fold.

For we, the sons have marshalled strong,"
On fields, that bear our father's name;
Their glorious dust gives back the song,
Once more of freedom and of fame.

25 SONG OF THE MECHANICS.

HALL the bone and muscle heaven
Lent us, shall subduing skill

To an enemy be given?

Shall the red wine triumph still?
Each of us, around whose dwelling,
Labor's ample blessings flow,
Feels his manly bosom swelling
With indignant answer. No!

Raging drink! thoul't not enslave us;
Sparkling bowl! thou now art dim ;
Angel temperance stoops to save us
From the death within thy brim.

26

Save us.

Yes though we were spell bound,

Fixed in very sight of wo,

Yet the PLEDGE shall free the hell bound;
Will we wear those shackles?

No.

From the floods' o'erwhelming power,

We unto this ark have fled;
Whence we gaze in safety's hour

On the dying and the dead.

Now, of God, earths sons and daughters,

As on high he sets his bow,

Ask if shall return those waters ?
And Jehovah answers.

No!

SONG.

W. B. Tappara

PREPARE FOR THE BATTLE.

REPARE for the battle, attend to the sound,

earth's mountains resound,

Where the foe with his deeds of destruction are found,
Go ye forth to the help of the Lord.

He will order the battle, who calls from afar,
Sons and daughters unskilled in the tactics of war,
But His banner above them, His soldiers they are,
And safe in the power of His sword.

Then sound the loud trumpet ye watchmen in Zion,
Till the drunkard whose chains far more cruel than iron
Shall flee from the snares of the prey-seeking lion,
Who in alcohol has such sure hold.

Oh entreat him to come to our happy retreat,
Where Israel's shepherd does often times meet,
And stay with His mercy the wanderer's feet,
Till fixed in His own sacred fold.