Be still, be still, my brave sailors! You shall see the fields again, And smell the scent of the opening flowers, The grass and the waving grain. Oh! when shall I see my orphan child?— Oh! when shall I see my old mother, Be still, be still, my brave sailors! Ah! bitter, bitter grows the cold, Oh! think you, good Sir JOHN FRANKLIN, 'Twas cruel, Sir John! to send us here, To starve and freeze on this lonely sea: Oh! whether we starve to death alone, Or sail to our own country, We have done what man has never done :The truth is founded, the secret won,— We pass'd the Northern Sea! AUGUSTINE JOSEPH HICKEY DUGANNE. Born at Boston, Mass: 1823 THE POET AND THE PEOPLE. SPOKE Well the Grecian, when he said that poems Were the high laws that sway'd a nation's mind— Voices that live on echoes Brief and prophetic proems, Opening the great heart-book of human kind! Songs are a nation's pulses, which discover Telling us when men suffer: Dead is the nation's heart whose songs are still❜d. Lo! the firm poet is the Truth's dispenser- From his soul's golden censer, Rise to God's throne-a sacrifice divine! Stands he like SAMUEL, darkly prophesying,- 'Mid the wild desert crying,— Still from his soul the impatient voice must spring. Speaks he to senseless tyrants, who with scourges Rush his bold songs, like surges : Still for the PEOPLE-still for Man and Freedom- Shall be regain'd by EDOM Till, to restore that right, JACOB shall ESAU seek! LOVE'S EYES. LIGHT of my life! thy glorious eyes Down in my bosom's deep they beam, Reflected in my soul thou art— Before their beams, so bright and clear, Dear Eyes!-do not my heart forsake! CHARLES GODFREY LELAND. BREITMANN AND THE TURNERS. HANS BREITMANN choin'd de Toorners Und dey gifed a boostin' bender All in de Toorner Hall. Dere coom'd de whole Gesangverein Mit der Liederlich Aepfel Chor, Und dey blow'd on de drooms and strom'd on de fifes Till dey couldn't refife no more. Hans Breitmann choin'd de Toorners, Dey all set oop some shouts, Dey took'd him into deir Toorner Hall, Und poots him a course of shprouts ; Dey poots him on de barrell-hell pars Hans Breitmann choin'd de Toorners;- He stoot on de middle of de floor Und den he trows it to de roof, Hans Breitmann choin'd de Toorners:- Und Bavarians by de score; Some vellers coom'd from de Rheinland, Und Frankfort-on-de-Main, Boot dere vas only von Sharman dere, Hans Breitmann choin'd de Toorners, It coorl de haar on dere head; Hans Breitmann choin'd de Toorners; Dey poot dem in de blace for de gals, Dey ashk-" Vhere ish der Breitmann ?” R Hans Breitmann choin'd de Toorners I dells you vot, py tam! You ought to hear dem dramp! Hans Breitmann choin'd de Toorners :- Dill der Breitmann fall und dey all go down Shoost like a row of bricks. Hans Breitmann choin'd de Toorners, Dey lay dere in a heap, And slept dill de early sonnen shine Come in at de window creep; And de preeze it vake dem from deir dream, Here hat' dis song an Ende- : BALLAD. DER noble Ritter Hugo 'Von Schwillensaufenstein Rode out mit shpeer and helmet, Und he coom to de panks of de Rhine. Und oop dere rose a meer maid, Vot hadn't got nodings on, Und she say "Oh, Ritter Hugo! Vhere you goes mit yourself alone?" |