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XCIX. WHAT CONSTITUTES A STATE.

What constitutes a State?

Not high-raised battlement or labored mound,
Thick wall or moated gate;

Not cities proud, with spires and turrets crowned;
Nor bays and broad-armed ports

Where, laughing at the storm, rich navies ride;
Not starred and spangled courts

Where low-browed baseness wafts perfume to pride.

No! Men,-high-minded men,

With power as far above dull brutes endued

In forest, brake, or den,

As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude-
Men who their duties know,

But know their rights, and, knowing, dare maintain,
Prevent the long-aimed blow,

And crush the tyrant while they rend the chain :

These constitute a State;

And sovereign Law, that State's collected will,
O'er thrones and globes, elate,

Sits empress, crowning good, repressing ill.
Smit by her sacred frown,

The fiend Dissension like a vapor sinks;

And e'en the all-dazzling crown

Hides his faint rays, and at her bidding shrinks.

Such was this Heaven-loved isle, Than Lesbos fairer and the Cretan shore !

No more shall freedom smile?

Shall Britons languish, and be men no more?

Since all must life resign,

Those sweet rewards which decorate the brave "Tis folly to decline,

And steal inglorious to the silent grave.

C. HOW SLEEP THE BRAVE.
1. How sleep the brave who sink to rest,
By all their country's wishes blest!
When Spring, with dewy fingers cold,
Returns to deck their hallowed mold,
She there shall dress a sweeter sod
Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.

2. By fairy hands their knell is rung;
By forms unseen their dirge is sung;
There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray,
To bless the turf that wraps their clay;
And Freedom shall awhile repair,
To dwell a weeping hermit there!

CI. MARCO BOZZARIS.

1. At midnight, in his guarded tent,
The Turk was dreaming of the hour
When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent,
Should tremble at his power.

In dreams, through camp and court, he bore
The trophies of a conqueror;

In dreams, his song of triumph heard ; Then wore the monarch's signet ring; Then pressed that monarch's throne—a king : As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, As Eden's garden bird.

2. At midnight, in the forest shades,
Bozzaris ranged his Suliote band,
True as the steel of their tried blades,
Heroes in heart and hand.

There had the Persian's thousands stood,
There had the glad earth drunk their blood,
On old Platea's day;

And now there breathed that haunted air
The sons of sires who conquered there,
With arm to strike, and soul to dare,
As quick, as far, as they.

3. An hour passed on-the Turk awoke : That bright dream was his last;

He woke to hear his sentries shriek,

"To arms! they come! the Greek! the Greek!"
He woke to die 'midst flame, and smoke,
And shout, and groan, and saber-stroke,
And death-shots falling thick and fast
As lightnings from the mountain cloud;
And heard, with voice as trumpet loud,
Bozzaris cheer his band:

"Strike! till the last armed foe expires;
Strike! for your altars and your fires;
Strike! for the green graves of your sires,
God, and your native land !"

4. They fought like brave men, long and well;
They piled that ground with Moslem slain;
They conquered—but Bozzaris fell,
Bleeding at every vein.

His few surviving comrades saw

His smile when rang the proud hurrah,
And the red field was won;
Then saw, in death, his eyelids close
Calmly, as to a night's repose,

Like flowers at set of sun.

5. Come to the bridal chamber, Death!
Come to the mother's when she feels,
For the first time, her firstborn's breath;
Come when the blessed seals
That close the pestilence are broke,
And crowded cities wail its stroke;
Come in consumption's ghastly form,
The earthquake shock, the ocean storm;
Come when the heart beats high and warm,

With banquet-song, and dance, and wine— And thou art terrible !-the tear,

The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier,
And all we know, or dream, or fear
Of agony are thine.

6. But to the hero, when his sword
Has won the battle for the free,
Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word;
And in its hollow tones are heard

The thanks of millions yet to be.

Bozzaris! with the storied brave
Greece nurtured in her glory's time,
Rest thee-there is no prouder grave,
Even in her own proud clime.

We tell thy doom without a sigh ;
For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's-
One of the few, the immortal, names
That were not born to die.

CII. THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER.

1. Oh say, can you see by the dawn's early light

What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleam

ing?

Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous

fight

O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly stream

ing?

And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there ;
Oh say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

2. On that shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze o'er the towering steep,

As it fitfully blows, now conceals, now discloses ?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam,
In full glory reflected, now shines on the stream ;—
'Tis the star-spangled banner! Oh, long may it wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!