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Decked in their homespun flax and wool! Where youth's gay hats with blossoms bloom; And every maid with simple art,

Wears on her breast, like her own heart,

A bud whose depths are all perfume;
While every garment's gentle stir
Is breathing rose and lavender.

The pastor came; his

snowy locks

Hallowed his brow of thought and care;
And calmly, as shepherds lead their flocks,
He led into the house of prayer.

The pastor rose; the prayer was strong;
The psalm was warrior David's song;
The text, a few short words of might,
"The Lord of hosts shall arm the right!

He spoke of wrongs too long endured,
Of sacred rights to be secured;
Then from his patriot tongue of flame
The startling words for Freedom came.
The stirring sentences he spake
Compelled the heart to glow or quake,
And, rising on his theme's broad wing,
And grasping in his nervous hand
The imaginary battle brand,
In face of death he dared to fling
Defiance to a tyrant king.

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Even as he spoke, his frame, renewed
In eloquence of attitude,

Rose, as it seemed, a shoulder higher;
Then swept his kindling glance of fire
From startled pew to breathless choir;
When suddenly his mantle wide
His hands impatient flung aside,
And, lo! he met their wondering eyes
Complete in all a warrior's guise.

A moment there was awful pause,
When Berkley cried, "Cease, traitor! cease!
God's temple is the house of peace!

י!

The other shouted, "Nay, not so,
When God is with our righteous cause;
His holiest places then are ours,
His temples are our forts and towers,
That frown upon the tyrant foe ;
In this, the dawn of Freedom's day,
There is a time to fight and pray!'

And now before the open door

The warrior priest had ordered so
The enlisting trumpet's sudden roar
Rang through the chapel, o'er and o'er,
Its long reverberating blow.

So loud and clear, it seemed the ear
Of dusty death must wake and hear.

And there the startling drum and fife
Fired the living with fiercer life;
While overhead, with wild increase,
Forgetting its ancient toll of peace,

The great bell swung as ne'er before:
It seemed as it would never cease;
And every word its ardor flung
From off its jubilant iron tongue
Was, "WAR! WAR! WAR!"

"Who dares?" - this was the patriot's cry,
As striding from the desk he came,—
"Come out with me, in Freedom's name,

For her to live, for her to die?"
A hundred hands flung up reply,

A hundred voices answered, “I!”

- THOMAS BUCHANAN READ.

RALEIGH AND QUEEN ELIZABETH

AT this moment the gates opened and ushers came forth in array. After these, amid a crowd of lords and ladies, so placed around her that she could see and be seen on all sides, came Elizabeth herself. She was then in the full glow of what in a sovereign was called beauty, and possessed a noble figure joined to striking and commanding features.

Young Walter Raleigh had never before been so near the person of the Queen, and he pressed forward as far as the line of guards permitted. Unbonneting, at the same time he fixed his eager gaze on the Queen's approach with a mixture of respectful curiosity and modest, yet ardent admiration. Walter then withdrew.

The guards, struck with his rich attire and noble countenance, allowed him to approach the ground over which the Queen was to pass, somewhat closer than was permitted to ordinary spectators.

Thus the adventurous youth stood full in Elizabeth's eye, and she fixed her keen glance on Walter as she approached the place where he stood. Just then there occurred an incident that drew her attention toward him yet more strongly.

The night had been rainy, and just where the young gentleman stood a small quantity of mud interrupted the Queen's passage. As she hesitated to pass on, Walter, snatching his cloak from his shoulder, threw it on the miry spot so as to insure her stepping over it without soiling her feet.

Elizabeth looked at the young man, who accompanied this act of devoted courtesy with a profound reverence, and a blush that overspread his whole countenance. The Queen was confused, and blushed in her turn, nodded her head, and hastily passed

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