Where, before the altar, hung

That proud banner, which, with prayer,
Had been consecrated there;

And the nun's sweet hymn was heard the while,
Sung low in the dim, mysterious aisle.

2. "Take thy banner`!— may it wave
Proudly o'er the good and brave,
When the battle's distant wail
Breaks the sabbath of our vale,
When the clarion's music thrills
To the heart of these lone hills,
When the spear in conflict shakes,
And the strong lance shivering breaks.

3. Take thy banner!--and beneath
The war-cloud's encircling wreath,
Guard it-till our homes are free;
Guard it- God will prosper thee.
In the dark and trying hour,
In the breaking forth of power,
In the rush of steeds and men,

His right hand will shield thee then.

4. Take thy banner! But when night
Closes round the ghastly fight,
If the vanquish'd warrior bow,
Spare him!-by our holy vow,
By our prayers and many tears,
By the mercy that endears,

Spare him!--he our love hath shared,
Spare him!

as thou wouldst be spared,

5. Take thy banner`!— and if e'er

Thou shouldst press the soldier's bier,
And the muffled drum should beat
To the tread of mournful feet,
Then this crimson flag shall be

Martial cloak and shroud for thee."
And the warrior took that banner proud",
And it was his martial cloak and shroud.

THOMAS CAMPBELL is the most classical poet of the present century, and there are few modern bards whose works are more likely to be ranked among the standard classics of the language. He died in 1845.

Pandoors; Hungarian soldiers.

Hussars; Hungarian horsemen.

(h)

1. On! sacred Truth! thy triumph ceas'd awhile,
And Hope, thy sister, ceas'd with thee to smile,
When leagued oppression pour'd to northern wars
Her whisker'd pandoors and her fierce hussars,
Waved her dread standard to the breeze of morn,
Peal'd her loud drum, and twang'd her trumpet horn;
Tumultuous horror brooded o'er her van,

Presaging wrath to Poland,—and to man!

2. Warsaw's last champion, from her hights survey'd,
Wide o'er the fields, a waste of ruin laid;
"Oh! heaven!" he cried, "my bleeding country save,
Is there no hand on high to shield the brave?
Yet, though destruction sweep those lovely plains,
Rise! fellow-men! our country` yet remains!
By that dread name we wave the sword on high ́,
And swear for her-to live-with her-to die!"

3. (1) He said, and on the rampart-hights array'd
His trusty warriors, few, but undismay'd;
Firm-paced and slow, a horrid front they form,
Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm;
Low murmuring sounds along their banners fly,
Revenge or death,-the watch-word and reply;
(h) Then peal'd the notes, omnipotent to charm,
And the loud tocsin tolled their last alarm.

4. In vain, alas! in vain, ye gallant few!

From rank to rank, your volley'd thunder flew !
Oh bloodiest picture in the book of time,
Sarmatia fell, unwept, without a crime;
Found not a generous friend, a pitying foe,
Strength in her arms, nor mercy in her woe!

Dropp'd from her nerveless grasp the shatter'd spear,
Closed her bright eye, and curb'd her high career;
Hope, for a season, bade the world farewell,
And freedom shriek'd-as Kosciusko fell!

5. The sun went down, nor ceas'd the carnage there`,
Tumultuous murder shook the midnight air;
On Prague's proud arch the fires of ruin glow,
His blood-dyed waters murmuring far below;
The storm prevails, the rampart yields away,
Bursts the wild cry of horror and dismay!
Hark! as the smoldering piles with thunder fall,
A thousand shrieks for hopeless mercy call!
Earth shook, red meteors flash'd along the sky,
And conscious Nature shudder'd at the cry!

6. (7) Oh righteous heaven! ere Freedom found a grave,
Why slept the sword, omnipotent to save?
Where was thine arm, O Vengeance! where thy rod,
That smote the foes of Zion and of God?

That crush'd proud Ammon, when his iron car
Was yoked in wrath, and thunder'd from afar?
Where was the storm that slumber'd till the host
Of blood-stain'd Pharaoh left their trembling coast;
Then, bade the deep in wild commotion flow
And heav'd an ocean on their march below?

7. Departed spirits of the mighty dead!

Ye that at Marathon and Leuctra bled!

Friends of the world! restore your swords to man,
Fight in his sacred cause and lead the van!
Yet, for Sarmatia's tears of blood, atone,
And make her arm puissant as your own!

Oh! once again to Freedom's cause return

The patriot TELL -the BRUCE OF BANNOCKBURN`!

LXIV. SOUTH CAROLINA.

FROM HAYNE.

MR. HAYNE was a Senator in Congress from the state of South Carolina. This is an extract from a speech delivered by him, while a member of that body.

1. IF there be one state in the Union, Mr. President, that may challenge comparison with any other, for a uniform, zealous, ardent, and uncalculating devotion to the Union', that state is South Carolina. Sir', from the very commencement of the revolution", up to this hour, there is no sacri

fice, however great, she has not cheerfully made; no service she has ever hesitated to perform.

2. She has adhered to you in your prosperity; but in your adversity, she has clung to you with more than filial affection. No matter what was the condition of her domestic affairs; though deprived of her resources, divided by parties, or surrounded by difficulties, the call of the country has been to her as the voice of God. Domestic discord ceased at the sound; every man became at once reconciled to his brethren, and the sons of Carolina were all seen, crowding together to the temple, bringing their gifts to the altar of their common country.

3. What, sir, was the conduct of the South, during the revolution? Sir, I honor New England, for her conduct in that glorious struggle. But great as is the praise which belongs to her, I think at least equal honor is due to the South. Never was there exhibited, in the history of the world, higher examples of noble daring, dreadful suffering, and heroic endurance, than by the whigs of Carolina, during the revolution. The whole state, from the mountains to the sea, was overrun by an overwhelming force of the enemy. The fruits of industry perished on the spot where they were produced, or were consumed by the foe.

4. "The plains of Carolina" drank up the most precious blood of her citizens. Black, smoking ruins marked the places which had been the habitation of her children. Driven from their homes into the gloomy and almost impenetrable swamps, even there, the spirit of liberty survived`, and South Carolina, sustained by the example of her Sumpters and her Marions", proved, by her conduct, that though her soil might be overrun, the spirit of her people was invincible.

DANIEL WEBSTER was born in 1782. He graduated at the age of twenty, and established himself in the practice of the law in New Hampshire. He became a member of Congress at the age of thirty, in which he continued, with few intermissions, until his death, holding the foremost rank as an orator, statesman, and expounder of the Constitution. This is an extract from his answer to the preceding speech. He died a few years ago.

1. THE eulogium pronounced on the character of the State of South Carolina, by the honorable gentleman, for her revolutionary and other merits, meets my hearty concurrence. I shall not acknowledge that the honorable member goes before me, in regard for whatever of distinguished talent or distinguished character, South Carolina has produced. I claim part of the honor; I partake in the pride of her great names. I claim them for countrymen, one ́ and all`—the Laurenses, the Rutledges, the Pinckneys, the Sumpters", the Marions-Americans all-whose fame is no more to be hemmed in by state lines, than their talents and patriotism were capable of being circumscribed within the same narrow limits.

2. In their day and generation, they served and honored the country, and the whole country, and their renown is of the treasures of the whole country. Him, whose honored name the gentleman himself bears, does he suppose me less capable of gratitude for his patriotism, or sympathy for his suffering, than if his eyes had first opened upon the light in Massachusetts, instead of South Carolina! Sir, does he suppose it in his power to exhibit in Carolina a name so bright as to produce envy in my bosom"? No, sir,-increased gratification and delight rather. Sir, I thank God, that, if I am gifted with little of the spirit which is said to be able to raise mortals to the skies', I have yet none', as I trust, of that other spirit, which would drag angels down`.

3. When I shall be found, sir, in my place here in the senate, or elsewhere, to sneer at public merit, because it happened to spring up beyond the little limits of my own