Alike, so your valor is Liberty's shield!
Alike, so you strike when the bugle-notes call,
For Country, for Fireside, for Freedom to All!
The blows of the boldest will carry the day,--
Who's ready? O, forward!--there's death in delay!
Earth's noblest are praying, at home and o'er sea,--
"God keep the great nation united and free!"
Her tyrants watch, eager to leap at our life,
If once we should falter or faint in the strife;
Our trust is unshaken, though legions assail,--
Who's ready? O, forward! and Right shall prevail.
Who's ready? "All ready!" undaunted we cry;
"For Country, for Freedom, we'll fight till we die;
No traitor, at midnight, shall pierce us in rest;
No alien, at noonday, shall stab us abreast;
The God of our Fathers is guiding us still,--
All forward! we're ready,--and conquer we will!"
E. D. Proctor.
CCCXLIV.
MITCHELL.
"HUNG BE THE HEAVENS WITH BLACK."
His mighty life was burned away
By Carolina's fiery sun;
The pestilence that walks by day
Smote him before his course seemed run.
The constellations of the sky,--
The Pleiades, the Southern Cross,--
Looked sadly down to see him die,
To see a nation weep his loss.
"Send him to us," the stars might cry,--
"You do not feel his worth below;
Your petty great men do not try
The measure of his mind to know.
"His eye could pierce our vast expanse,--
His ear could hear our morning songs,--
His mind, amid our mystic dance,
Could follow all our myriad throngs.
"Send him to us! No martyr's soul,
No hero slain in righteous wars
No raptured saint could e'er control
A holier welcome from the stars."
Take him, ye stars! Take him on high
To your vast realms of boundless space;
But once he turned from you to try
His name on martial scrolls to trace.
That once was when his country's call
Said danger to her flag was nigh;
And then her banner's stars dimmed all
The radiant lights which gemmed the sky.
Take him, loved orbs! His country's life,--
Freedom for all,--for these he wars;
For these he welcomed bloody strife,
And followed in the wake of Mars.
W. F. Williams.
CCCXLV.
WAR SONG.
DEDICATED TO THE MASSACHUSETTS REGIMENTS.
Up with the Flag of the Stripes and the Stars!
Gather together from plough and from loom!
Hark to the signal!--the music of wars
Sounding for tyrants and traitors their doom.
March, march, march, march!
Brothers unite--rouse in your might,
For Justice and Freedom, for God and the Right!
Down with the foe to the land and the laws!
Marching together our country to save,
God shall be with us to strengthen our cause,
Nerving the heart and the hand of the brave.
March, march, march, march!
Brother's unite--rouse in your might,
For Justice and Freedom, for God and the Right!
Flag of the Free! under thee will we fight,
Shoulder to shoulder, our face to the foe;
Death to all traitors, and God for the Right!
Singing this song as to battle we go:
March, march, march, march!
Freemen unite--rouse in your might
For Justice and Freedom, for God and the Right!
Land of the Free--that our fathers of old,
Bleeding together, cemented in blood--
Give us thy blessing, as brave and as bold,
Standing like one, as our ancestors stood--
We march, march, march, march!
Conquer or fall! Hark to the call:
Justice and Freedom for one and for all!
Chain of the slave we have suffered so long--
Striving together thy links we will break!
Hark! for God hears us, as echoes our song,
Sounding the cry to make Tyranny quake:
March, march, march, march!
Conquer or fall! Rouse to the call--
Justice and Freedom for one and for all!
Workmen, arise! There is work for us now;
Ours the red ledger for bayonet pen;
Sword be our hammer, and cannon our plough;
Liberty's loom must be driven by men.
March, march, march, march!
Freemen we fight, roused in our might,
For Justice and Freedom, for God and the Right.
W. W. Story.
CCCXLVI.
THE BLACK REGIMENT;
OR,
THE SECOND LOUISIANA AT THE STORMING OF PORT HUDSON.
Dark as the clouds of even,
Ranked in the western heaven,
Waiting the breath that lifts
All the dread mass, and drifts
Tempest and falling brand
Over a ruined land--
So still and orderly,
Arm to arm, knee to knee
Waiting the great event,
Stands the Black Regiment.
Down the long dusky line
Teeth gleam and eyeballs shine;
And the bright bayonet,
Bristling and firmly set,
Flashed with a purpose grand,
Long ere the sharp command
Of the fierce rolling drum
Told them their time had come--
Told them what work was sent
For the Black Regiment.
"Now," the flag-sergeant cried,
"Though death and hell betide,
Let the whole nation see
If we are fit to be
Free in this land; or bound
Down like the whining hound--
Bound with red stripes of pain
In our old chains again!"
Oh! what a shout there went
From the Black Regiment.
"Charge!" Trump and drum awoke;
Onward the bondmen broke;
Bayonet and sabre stroke
Vainly opposed their rush.
Through the wild battle's crush,
With but one thought aflush,
Driving their lords like chaff,
In the guns' mouths they laugh;
Or at the slippery brands
Leaping with open hands,
Down they tear, man and horse,
Down in their awful course;
Trampling with bloody heel
Over the crashing steel,
All their eyes forward bent,
Rushed the Black Regiment.
"Freedom!" their battle-cry
"Freedom! or leave to die!"
Ah! and they meant the word,
Not as with us 't is heard,
Not a mere party shout;
They gave their spirits out;
Trusted the end to God,
And on the gory sod
Rolled in triumphant blood,
Glad to strike one free blow,
Whether for weal or woe;
Glad to breathe one free breath,
Though on the lips of death,
Praying--alas! in vain!--
That they might fall again,
So they could once more see
That burst to liberty!
This was what "Freedom" lent
To the Black Regiment.
Hundreds on hundreds fell;
But they are resting well;
Scourges and shackles strong
Never shall do them wrong.
Oh, to the living few,
Soldiers, be just and true!
Hail them as comrades tried;
Fight with them side by side;
Never, in field or tent,
Scorn the Black Regiment!
G. H. Boker.
CCCXLVII.
FORWARD!
God, to the human soul,
And all the spheres that roll,
Wrapped by his Spirit in their robes of light,
Hath said: "The primal plan,
Of all the world, and man,
Is forward! Progress is your law--your right."
The despots of the earth,
Since Freedom had her birth,
Have to their subject nations said, "Stand still;"
So, from the Polar Bear,
Comes down the freezing air,
And stiffens all things with its deadly chill.
He who doth God resist--
God's old antagonist--
Would snap the chain that binds all things to him;
And in his godless pride,
All peoples would divide,
And scatter even the choirs of seraphim.
God, all the orbs that roll,
Binds to one common goal--
One source of light and life--his radiant throne.
In one fraternal mind
All races would he bind,
Till every man in man a brother own.
Tyrants with tyrants league,
Corruption and intrigue
To strangle infant Liberty conspire.
Around her cradle, then,
Let self-devoted men
Gather, and keep unquenched her vital fire.
When Tyranny, grown bold,
To Freedom's host cries, "Hold!
Ye towards her temple at your peril march;"
"Stop," that great host replies,
Raising to heaven its eyes,
"Stop, first, the host that moves across yon arch!"
When Tyranny commands,
"Hold thou my victim's hands,
While I more firmly rivet on his chains,
Or with my bowie-knife
I'll take your craven life,
Or show my streets bespattered with your brains,"--
Freedom with forward tread,
Unblenching, turns her head,
And drawing from its sheath her flashing glave,
Calmly makes answer: "Dare
Touch of my head one hair,
I'll cut the cord that holds your every slave!"
J. Pierpont.
BOOK THIRD.
HUMOROUS SELECTIONS
FOR
RECITATION AND DECLAMATION
IN PROSE AND POETRY.
BOOK THIRD.
HUMOROUS SELECTIONS.
PROSE.
CCCXLVIII.
PLEA OF SERJEANT BUZFUZ, IN "BARDELL vs. PICKWICK."
The plaintiff gentlemen, the plaintiff is a widow; yes, gentlemen, a widow.
The late Mr. Bardell, after enjoying for many years the esteem and
confidence of his sovereign, as one of the guardians of his royal revenues,
glided almost imperceptibly from the world, to seek elsewhere for that
repose and peace which a custom-house can never afford. Some time before
his death he had stamped his likeness upon a little boy. With this little
boy the only pledge of her departed exciseman, Mrs. Bardell shrunk from the
world, and courted the retirement and tranquillity of Goswell Street; and
here she placed in her front parlor window a written placard, bearing this
inscription--"Apartments furnished for a single gentleman. Enquire within."
I entreat the attention of the jury to the wording of this
document--"Apartments furnished for a single gentleman!" Mrs. Bardell's
opinions of the opposite sex, gentlemen, were derived from a long
contemplation of the inestimable qualities of her lost husband. She had no
fear--she had no distrust--she had no suspicion--all was confidence and
reliance. "Mr. Bardell," said the widow, "Mr. Bardell was a man of
honor--Mr. Bardell was a man of his word--Mr. Bardell was no deceiver--Mr.
Bardell was once a single gentleman himself; to single gentlemen I look for
protection, for assistance, for comfort, and for consolation in single
gentlemen I shall perpetually see something to remind me of what Mr.
Bardell was, when he first won my young and untried affections; to a single
gentleman, then, shall my lodgings be let." Actuated by this beautiful and
touching impulse, (among the best impulses of our imperfect nature,
gentlemen,) the lonely and desolate widow dried her tears, furnished her
first floor, caught her innocent boy to her maternal bosom, and put the
bill up in her parlor window. Did it remain their long? No. The serpent was
on the watch, the train was laid, the mine was preparing, the sapper and
miner was at work. Before the bill had been in the parlor window three
days--three days, gentlemen--a being erect upon two legs, and bearing all
the outward semblance of a man, and not of a monster, knocked at the door
of Mrs. Bardell's house. He inquired within; he took the lodgings; and on
the very next day he entered into possession of them. This man was
Pickwick--Pickwick, the defendant.
Of this man Pickwick I will say little; the subject presents but few
attractions; and I gentlemen, am not the man, nor are you, gentlemen, the
men to delight in the contemplation of revolting heartlessness and
systematic villainy. I say systematic villainy gentlemen, and when I say
systematic villainy, let me tell the defendant, Pickwick, if he be in
court, as I am informed he is, that it would have been more decent in him,
more becoming, in better judgment, and in better taste, if he had stopped
away. Let me tell him, gentlemen, that any gestures of dissent or
disapprobation in which he may indulge in this court will not go down with
you; that you will know how to value and how to appreciate them; and let me
tell him further, as my lord will tell you, gentlemen, that a counsel, in
the discharge of his duty to his client, is neither to be intimidated, nor
bullied, nor put down; and that any attempt to do either the one or the
other, or the first or the last, will recoil on the head of the attempter,
be he plaintiff, or be he defendant, be his name Pickwick, or Noakes, or
Stoakes, or Stiles, or Brown, or Thompson.
I shall allow you, gentlemen, that for two years Pickwick continued to
reside constantly, and without interruption or intermission, at Mrs.
Bardell's house. I shall show you that Mrs. Bar-dell, during the whole of
that time, waited on him, attended to his comforts, cooked his meals,
looked out his linen for the washerwoman when it went abroad, darned,
aired, and prepared it for wear when it came home, and, in short, enjoyed
his fullest trust and confidence. I shall show you that, on many occasions,
he gave half-pence, and on some occasions even sixpences, to her little
boy; and I shall prove to you, by a witness whose testimony it will be
impossible for my learned friend to weaken or controvert, that on one
occasion he patted the boy on the head, and after inquiring whether he had
won any alley-tors or commoneys lately, (both of which I understand to be
species of marbles much prized by the youth of this town,) made use of this
respectable expression--"How would you like to have another father?"
Two letters have passed between these parties, letters which are admitted
to be in the handwriting of the defendant, and which speak volumes indeed.
These letters, too, bespeak the character of the man. They are not open,
fervid, eloquent epistles, breathing nothing but the language of
affectionate attachment. They are covert, sly, underhanded communications,
but, fortunately, far more conclusive than if couched in the most glowing
language and the most poetic imagery--letters that must be viewed with a
cautious and suspicious eye--letters that were evidently intended at the
time, by Pickwick, to mislead and delude any third parties into whose hands
they might fall. Let me read the first:--"Garraway's, twelve o'clock--Dear
Mrs. B.--Chops and tomato sauce. Yours, Pickwick." Gentlemen, what does
this mean? Chops and tomato sauce. Yours, Pickwick! Chops! Gracious
heavens! and tomato sauce! Gentlemen, is the happiness of a sensitive and
confiding female to be trifled away by such shallow artifices as these? The
next has no date whatever, which is in itself suspicions--"Dear Mrs. B.--I
shall not be at home to-morrow. Slow coach." And then follows this very
remarkable expression:--"Don't trouble yourself about the warming-pan!" The
warming-pan! Why, gentlemen, who does trouble himself about a warming-pan?
When was the peace of mind of man or woman broken or disturbed about a
warming-pan, which is in itself a harmless, a useful, and I will add,
gentlemen, a comforting article of domestic furniture? Why is Mrs. Barbell
so earnestly entreated not to agitate herself about this warming-pan,
unless (as is no doubt the case) it is a mere cover for hidden fire--a mere
substitute for some endearing word or promise, agreeable to some
preconcerted system of correspondence, artfully contrived by Pickwick with
a view to his contemplated desertion, and which I am not in a condition to
explain? And what does this allusion to the slow coach mean? For aught I
know it may be a reference to Pickwick himself, who has most unquestionably
been a criminally slow coach during the whole of this transaction, but
whose speed will now be very unexpectedly accelerated, and whose wheels,
gentlemen, as he will find to his cost, will soon be greased by you!
But enough of this, gentlemen: it is difficult to smile with an aching
heart; it is ill jesting when our deepest sympathies are awakened. My
client's hopes and prospects are ruined, and it is no figure of speech to
say that her occupation is gone indeed. The bill is down--but there is no
tenant. Eligible single gentlemen pass and repass but there is no
invitation for them to inquire within, or without. All is gloom and silence
in the house; even the voice of the child is hushed; his infant sports are
disregarded when his mother weeps; his "alley-tors" and his "commoneys"
are alike neglected; he forgets the long familiar cry of "knuckle-down,"
and at tip-chesse, or odd-and-even, his hand is out. But Pickwick,
gentlemen, Pickwick, the ruthless destroyer of this domestic oasis in
Goswell Street-Pickwick, who has choked up the well, and thrown ashes on
the sward--Pickwick, who comes before you to-day with his heartless tomato
sauce and warming-pans--Pickwick still rears his head with unblushing
effrontery, and gazes without a sigh on the ruin he has made. Damages,
gentlemen--heavy damages, is the only punishment with which you can visit
him; the only recompense you can award to my client. And for those damages
she now appeals to an enlightened, a high-minded, a right-feeling, a
conscientious, a dispassionate, a sympathizing, a contemplative jury of her
civilized countrymen.
C. Dickens
CCCXLIX.
MR. PUFF'S ACCOUNT OF HIMSELF.
Sir,--I make no secret of the trade I follow. Among friends and brother
authors, I love to be frank on the subject, and to advertise myself vivâ
vocé. I am, sir, a practitioner in panegyric; or, to speak more plainly, a
professor of the art of puffing, at your service--or anybody's else. I dare
say, now, you conceive half the very civil paragraphs and advertisements
you see to be written by the parties concerned, or their friends. No such
thing; nine out of ten manufactured by me, in the way of business. Yon must
know, sir, that from the first time I tried my hand at an advertisement, my
success was such, that for some time after I led a most extraordinary life,
indeed. Sir, I supported myself two years entirely by my misfortunes; by
advertisements To the charitable and humane! and To those whom Providence
has blessed with affluence! And, in truth, I deserved what I got; for I
suppose never man went through such a series of calamities in the same
space of time. Sir, I was five times made a bankrupt, and reduced from a
state of affluence, by a train of unavoidable misfortunes; then, sir,
though a very industrious tradesman, I was twice burned out, and lost my
little all both times. I lived upon those fires a month. I soon after was
confined by a most excruciating disorder, and lost the use of my limbs.
That told very well; for I had the case strongly attested, and went about
to collect the subscriptions myself. I was afterwards twice tapped for a
dropsy, which declined into a very profitable consumption. I was then
reduced to--O no!--then I became a widower with six helpless children. All
this I bore with patience, though I made some occasional attempts at felo
de se; but, as I did not find those rash actions answer, I left off killing
myself very soon. Well, sir, at last, what with bankruptcies, fires, gouts,
dropsies, imprisonments, and other valuable calamities, having got together
a pretty handsome sum, I determined to quit a business which had always
gone rather against my conscience, and in a more liberal way still to
indulge my talents for fiction and embellishments, through my favorite
channel of diurnal communication; and so, sir, you have my history.
R. B. Sheridan.
CCCL.
LYCEUM SPEECH OF MR. ORATOR CLIMAX.
Mr. President,--Happiness is like a crow perched upon the neighboring top
of a far distant mountain, which some fisherman vainly strives, to no
purpose, to ensnare. He looks at the crow, Mr. President,--and--Mr.
President the crow looks at him; and, sir, they both look at each other.
But the moment he attempts to reproach him, he banishes away like the
schismatic taints of the rainbow, the cause of which it was the astonishing
and perspiring genius of a Newton, who first deplored and enveloped the
cause of it. Cannot the poor man, sir, precipitate into all the beauties of
nature, from the loftiest mounting up to the most humblest valley as well
as the man prepossessed of indigence? Yes, sir; while trilling transports
crown his view, and rosy hours allure his sanguinary youth, he can raise
his mind up to the laws of nature, incompressible as they are, while
viewing the lawless storm that kindleth up the pretentious roaring thunder,
and fireth up the dark and rapid lightnings, and causeth it to fly through
the intensity of space, that belches forth those awful and sublime meteors,
and roll-abolly-aliases, through the unfathomable regions of fiery
hemispheres. Sometimes, sir, seated in some lonely retreat, beneath the
shadowy shades of an umbrageous tree, at whose venal foot flows some
limping stagnant stream, he gathers around him his wife and the rest of his
orphan children. He there takes a retrospective view upon the diagram of
futurity, and casts his eye like a flashing meteor forward into the past.
Seated in their midst, aggravated and exhaled by the dignity and
independence coincident with honorable poverty, his countenance irrigated
with an intense glow of self-deficiency and excommunicated knowledge, he
quietly turns to instruct his little assemblage. He there endeavors to
distil into their young youthful minds useless lessons, to guard their
juvenile youths against vice and immortality. There, on a clear sunny
evening, when the silvery moon is shining forth in all her indulgence and
ubiquity, he teaches them the first sediments of gastronomy, by pointing
out to them the bear, the lion, and many other fixed invisible
consternations, which are continually involving upon their axletrees,
through the blue cerulean fundamus above. From this vast ethereal he dives
with them to the very bottom of the unfathomable oceans, bringing up from
thence liquid treasures of earth and air. He then courses with them on the
imaginable wing of fancy through the boundless regions of unimaginable
either, until, swelling into impalpable immensity, he is forever lost in
the infinite radiation of his own overwhelming genius.
Anonymous.
CCCLI.
BULLUM vs. BOATUM.
What a profound study is the law! How shall I define it? Law is--law. Law
is--law; and so forth, and hereby and aforesaid, provided always,
nevertheless, notwithstanding. Law is like a country dance; people are led
up and down in it till they are tired. It is like physic; they that take
the least of it are best off. Law is like a homely gentlewoman; very well
to follow. Law is like a scolding wife; very bad when it follows us. Law is
like a new fashion; people are bewitched to get into it; it is also like
bad weather; most people are glad when they get out of it. We will now
mention, in illustration, a case that came before us,--the case of Bullum
vs. Boatum. It was as follows:--
There were two farmers--farmer A. and farmer B. Farmer A was seized or
possessed of a bull; farmer B. was seized or possessed of a ferry-boat.
Now, the owner of the ferry-boat, having made his boat fast to a post on
shore, with a piece of hay twisted rope-fashion, or, as we say, vulgo
vocato, a hay-band,--after he had made his boat fast to the aforesaid post
(as it was very natural for a hungry man to do) went up to town to dinner.
Farmer A.'s bull (as it was natural for a hungry bull to do) came down town
to look for a dinner; and, observing, discovering, seeing, and spying out
some turnips in the bottom of the ferryboat, ate up the turnips, and, to
make an end of his meal, fell to work upon the hay-band. The boat, being
eaten from its moorings, floated down the river with the bull in it; it
struck against a rock, beat a hole in the bottom of the boat, and tossed
the bull overboard; whereupon the owner of the bull brought his action
against the boat for running away with the bull. The owner of the boat
brought his action against the bull for running away with the boat. And
thus notice of trial was given, Bullum vs. Boatum, Boatum vs. Bullum.
The counsel for the bull begun with saying:--"My lord, and you, gentlemen
of the jury, we are counsel in this cause for the bull. We are indicted for
running away with the boat. Now, my lord, we have heard of running horses,
but never of running bulls before. Now, my lord, the bull could no more run
away with the boat than a man in a coach may be said to run away with the
horses; therefore, my lord, how can we punish what is not punishable? How
can we eat what is not eatable? Or, how can we drink what is not drinkable?
Or, as the law says, how can we think what is not thinkable? Therefore, my
lord, as we are counsel in this cause for the bull, if the jury should
bring the bull in guilty, the jury would be guilty of a bull."