By victim vanquished again they hear His dread summons ring in their throbbing ear. They start in their dream as called by Fate! They start and shrink! They hear the gate Of the cell on its rusty hinges grate! Through the portal whispers the voice they hate. 'Tis the voice of the headsman; he calls: "I wait For the first of the pirates! The gibbet is done. Come forth to your reckoning, Number Come forth, doomed Number One!" POIM. ABRAM, spair the Saouth! Tutch not a single nigger; They'll be down in the maouth Yure acks shall harm 'em not. When but a pickaninny They're wurth a lot of tin; Noaw, good as gold from Ginny, A fust-rate price they'd win. The Saouth wants money orful, And fits us tooth and nale; But, oh! can it be lorful Tu give their niggs leg bail? Who fired rite on aour flag- Who luvs to boast and brag That we shall be thare slaves? Who cum upon aour track, And scatter ruin through it? Yes! by aour martyred dead, CHARITY GRIMES. A ENGLAND AND FRANCE. SOUTHERNER bold to Davis came, And said: "The South is all of a flame 'Tis useless for us to hold the forts, While Lincoln ships blockade our ports; Then Davis, eyeing the speaker askance, Said: "We hope for ships from England and France." Then the Southerner bold went on to say: "Lord Davis, cannot we get our pay? People are quarrelling, so they say, Who shall get the bonds of the C. S. A. Our clothes are worn, and our shoes in holes- Then Davis, eyeing the speaker askance, Said: "We hope for money from England and France!" Then the Southerner's voice again was heard : "Secession has never been referred To the people's vote at the polls,” said he; 1 How shall we get a recognition!" Then Davis, eyeing the speaker askance, Said: "We hope to get it from England and France!" Then the Southerner bold, with flashing eyes, You put your trust in England and France, If we stand of foreign aid in need: Moreover, we have not the slightest chance, Of obtaining these things from England and France!" "GOD BLESS ABRAHAM LINCOLN." PLACED by a nation at the helm of State, In troublous times-when the fierce lightnings flashed, And deepest thunders muttered from afar; When the whole sky was black with threat'ning storms, And mute expectancy of coming ill, Settled so like a pall upon brave hearts— come, While thy lips meekly uttered: “Pray for me.” Ay, as the lamp within the holy place |