The harp of the minstrel with melody rings
When the Muses have taught him to touch and to tune it;
But though it may have a full octave of strings,
To both maker and minstrel the harp is a unit.
So the power that creates our republic of States,
Into harmony brings them at different dates;
And the thirteen or thirty, the Union once done,
Are “_E Pluribus Unum_”--of many made one.
The science that weighs in her balance the spheres,
And watched them since first the Chaldean began it,
Now and then, as she counts them and measures their years,
Brings into our system and names a new planet.
Yet the old and new stars--Venus, Neptune and Mars,
As they drive round the sun their invisible cars,
Whether faster or slower their races they run,
Are “_E Pluribus Unum_”--of many made one.
Of that system of spheres, should but one fly the track,
Or with others conspire for a general dispersion,
By the great central orb they would all be brought back,
And held, each in her place, by a wholesome coercion.
Should one daughter of light be indulged in her flight,
They would all be engulfed by old Chaos and Night;
So must none of our sisters be suffered to run,
For, “_E Pluribus Unum_”--we all go if one.
Let the demon of discord our melody mar,
Or Treason’s red hand rend our Union asunder,
Break one string from our harp, or extinguish one star,
The whole system’s ablaze with its lightning and thunder.
Let the discord be hushed! Let the traitors be crushed!
Though “Legion” their name, all with victory flushed!
For aye must our motto stand, fronting the sun:
“_E Pluribus Unum_”--_Though many, we’re_ ONE.
32
The Northern Hurrah.
AIR--_Sprig of Shillaly_.
Oh, brave is the soul of a true Union man!
He arms for the battle--he springs to the van,
To the war-shout of freemen--the Northern Hurrah!
His heart bears no malice--his lips have no lie!
For the old Constitution his pulses beat high;
And in camp or in action, in march or at rest,
’Tis the love of Our Union that leaps from his breast
In the war-shout of freemen--the Northern Hurrah!
Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!
Oh, the slogan of Scotland is startling and shrill,
And the loud Marseillaise every Frenchman will thrill;
But there’s never a shout like the Northern Hurrah!
Let the Turkman cry “Allah!” while charging his foe--
And the Briton, “St. George!” with each resolute blow;
But the wildest of war-cries, the slogan most grand,
Is the chorus that leaps from the heart of our land
In the war-shout of freedom--the Northern Hurrah!
Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!
From the mountains of Hampshire, the headlands of Maine,
Alleghany’s blue peaks and Nevada’s high chain,
Rolleth down, like the thunder, this Northern Hurrah;
And the rocks and the vales, and the waters profound,
And the forests and prairies re-echo the sound;
And the voice of great cities, from east and from west,
Swells the shout of the free for the land they love best,
In a war-hymn for freedom--the Northern Hurrah!
Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!
33
The Harp of Old Erin and Banner of Stars.
AIR--_St. Patrick’s Day_.
The war-trump has sounded, our rights are in danger;
Shall the brave sons of Erin be deaf to the call,
When freedom demands of both native and stranger,
Their aid, lest the greatest of nations should fall?
Shall this banner, so dear to the exiles of Gael,
By traitors and rebels, in anarchy’s school,
Be trailed in the dust, disgraced in the vale,
While our people, the sov’reign, in equity rule?
No: I swear by the love that we bear our old Sire-land,
And the vows we have pledged to this home of the free,
As we’d sheathe our swords in the foes of dear Ireland,
We will use them as freely ’gainst traitors to thee.
Need we fear for our cause when true hearts uphold it?
See the men of all nations now march to the wars;
And shall Erin’s stout hearts stand by and behold it,
Nor strike in their might for the Banner of Stars?
No, no; with their life’s blood they’ll guard the rich treasure;
See how they respond to the call, “Shoulder Arms!”
Though endeared by those sacred ties, love beyond measure
Of bosom-friends, children, and beauty’s sweet charms,
Yet they leave all behind, and equip for the battle
Between freedom and rapine, like true sons of Mars;
They’ll conquer though traitors their cannon may rattle,
And bring back triumphant the Banner of Stars.
Oh! long may our flags wave in Union together,
And the harp of green Erin still kiss the same breeze,
And brave ev’ry storm that beclouds the fair weather,
Till our harp, like the Stars, floats o’er, rivers and seas.
God prosper manly soul-heart, on both land and ocean,
That goes in defiance of danger and scars,
And send them safe home, to their wives and their sweethearts,
With the harp of old Erin and Banner of Stars.
34
The Delaware Volunteers.
Come all you young men that do intend to roam
From the State of Delaware, a long way from home,
Cruising down around the banks of the Southern States hi O,
Through sweet and shady groves,
Through the rebel States we’ll ramble and we’ll hang Jeff. Davis, O.
There’s fishes in the Delaware that’s fitting for our use,
Likewise the sugar-cane that yields to us its juice,
There’s plenty of good Union men for the Stars and Stripes, you know,
Cruising down around the banks, etc.
Come all you young girls, and spin us some yarn,
You can make us clothing to keep ourselves warm,
And you can knit and spin, my girls, while we can reap and mow;
Cruising down around, etc.
If any of them Southerners dare to come nigh,
We’ll rush into the States, and conquer or we’ll die;
We’ll rush into the ranks and strike a powerful blow,
Cruising down around, etc.
35
Our Flag.