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His rest for aye in the warrior-grave-
His marble head
A sculptured thought of liberty
A boding forth of Poesy
The gifted of Omnipotence.
ODE TO PEACE.
Up with thy banners! Out with all thy strength
Rock-hearted country of the brave and wise! Huge fortress of the North! unfurl at length
All thy sharp streamers o'er the flashing skies !
The shadow only of a coming foe,
Of countless armies gathering below
Upwaking with a heavy solemn roar,
Out-thundering to the nations! with the noise
Of strange artillery in the earth and sky,
When he would startle to new energy
Child of the North-New England-Up and heave Thy sumptuous drapery to the wind ! Thy brow
Begirt with adamant, lay bare; and leave The lurid panoply of death; and
Put on a snowy robe-a diadem
The language of endurance from the brave;
Shall War prevail for ever? Must we be
For ever and for ever bound to wage, Like the devoaring creatures of the sea,
Unceasing battle for our heritage?
Are we to sleep in armor ? To lie down
With lighted thunderbolts, year after year, Lest they who saw their monarch vail his crown
At our approach of old, may venture near ?
What though a fourth of thy brave empire now
Is put upon the casting of a die?
Regardest as a portion of the sky,
And justly too. What though thy outstretch'd hands
Are vast and powerful? Thy rocky earth, Rough though it be, more precious than the lands
That burn with gold and gems? Of greater worth To thy stout people, Country of the free !
Than if thy waters rang o'er beds of pearls, Flashing and sounding with the great high sea, --
Or when their wrath was up-in drifts and whirls
Threw diamonds-rubies-lumps of light ashore;
The wealth of India, or the glorious coil
Of gone-by ages-founder'd with their spoil.
To keep for ever thundering, night and day? Will nothing do but warfare? Must we be
Arm’d to the teeth for ever ? arm’d to slay?
Are the proud creatures of our soil-our youth,
Our fruitage and our hope-are they to go
Along the way of life, but arın'd as though
The brave and beauteous earth whereon they tread,
Were fashion’d by the Builder of the Skies,
Not for his living Image, but the dead
A place for slaughter and for sacrifice;
The Golgotha of nations. Must they be
Bred up to butchery from their earliest breath ? Made to believe that they are serving thee,
Our Father! when they sweep a storm of death,
O’er portions of thy goodliest heritage,
Tearing a path to empire-laying bare The Vineyards of the world, age after age,
Or clamoring with ten thousand trumpets where
The shadowy monsters of the Great Deep dwell,
With star-drift-fire-and shapes magnificent, Creatures that watch thy roaring citadel
The broad black sea—the sun-dropp'd firmament.
Father of men! Jehovah! What are they,
The rulers of the earth, that they should dare, To set aside thy law—to bid man slay
Where thou, their God, hast told him to forbear?
New England, rouse thee from thy heavy sleep!
Storehouse of nations-Lighted of the sky Great northern hive-Long cherish’d of the deep-
Mother of States! To thee we turn our eye!
Up with thy heart in
aloud Peace to the Nations; to our Borders peace! Why roll your banners like a thunder-cloud,
O’er sky and earth for ever? Let war cease! Let our brave Country lift her arms and swear
By Him that dwelleth iņ eternity,
About her warrior brow, the flowering olive-tree
Or New York, wrote a volume of poems, published in 1814.
THE FASHIONABLE RAKE.
Now far advanced had pass'd the second day,
To the large edifice young Lovegrace drew,
The town Arcadia situate near the waves, Whose yellow sands a stream of commerce laves,
Presented to the pleased spectator's view,
Around the lawn are seen,
NATHANIEL H. CARTER
Was formerly one of the professors at Dartmouth College, and is now the editor of the New York Statesman. He is extensively known as the author of two volumes of Travels in Europe, published in 1827, His poetry consists of short pieces, chiefly occasional.