God bless our State for what is done,

Maryland, my Maryland!

God bless her people, every one,

Maryland, my Maryland!

May freedom's bright and cheering sun,
Till moon, and star, and earth are gone,
Shine brightly down on every one,

Maryland, my Maryland!

THE SWORD-BEARER.

BY GEORGE H. BOKER.

BRAVE Morris saw the day was lost;
For nothing now remained

On the wrecked and sinking Cumberland
But to save the flag unstained.

So he swore an oath in the sight of heaven, (If he kept it, the world can tell :) "Before I strike to a rebel flag,

I'll sink to the gates of hell!

"Here, take my sword; 'tis in my way; I shall trip o'er the useless steel:

For I'll meet the lot that falls to all,
With my shoulder at the wheel."

So the little negro took the sword,
And oh! with what reverent care!
Following his master step by step,
He bore it here and there.

A thought had crept through his sluggish brain, And shone in his dusky face,

That somehow he could not tell just how"Twas the sword of his trampled race.

And as Morris, great with his lion heart,
Rushed onward from gun to gun,

The little negro slid after him,

Like a shadow in the sun.

But something of pomp and of curious pride
The sable creature wore,

Which at any time but a time like that
Would have made the ship's crew roar.

Over the wounded, dying, and dead,
Like an usher of the rod,

The black page, full of his mighty trust,
With dainty caution trod.

No heed he gave to the flying ball,
No heed to the bursting shell;

His duty was something more than life,
And he strove to do it well.

Down, with our starry flag apeak,

In the whirling sea we sank;

And captain and crew and the sword-bearer Were washed from the bloody plank.

They picked us up from the hungry waves— Alas! not all. And where,

Where is the faithful negro lad?

"Back oars! avast! look there!"

We looked, and as heaven may save my soul,
I pledge you a sailor's word,

There, fathoms deep in the sea he lay,
Still grasping his master's sword.

We drew him out; and many an hour
We wrought with his rigid form,
Ere the almost smothered spark of life
By slow degrees grew warm.

The first dull glance that his eye-balls rolled

Was down toward his shrunken hand;

And he smiled, and closed his eyes again,
As they fell on the rescued brand.

And no one touched the sacred sword,
Till at length, when Morris came,
The little negro stretched it out,
With his eager eyes aflame.

And if Morris wrung the poor boy's hand,
And his words seemed hard to speak,
And tears ran down his manly cheeks,
What tongue shall call him weak?

JOHN BRIGHT.

STRUGGLING with treason-torn by civil war, We note what greetings England sends of

late,

And with what bitter words of scorn and hate She's taught us all her friendship to abhor, O haughty Britain! we had looked to thee For sympathy in this our time of need, And may not tell how grieved we are to see That thou art swallowed up in selfish greed.

But we may tell how glad our hearts are made
To find one champion in all thy land,

Who lifts his voice for us, and, heart and hand,
Does brave work for us, and is not afraid.
Because, 'mid jibes and sneers, thou durst uphold
the Right,

America doth love and honor thee, John Bright.

J. HAL ELLIOT.

HOW MCCLELLAN TOOK MANASSAS.

BY OLD NAPOLEON.

EARD ye

HE

how the bold McClellan-

He, the wether with the bell on;

He, the head of all the asses

Heard ye how he took Manassas ?

When the Anaconda plucky

Flopped its tail in old Kentucky;
When up stream the gunboats paddled,
And the thieving Floyd skedaddled,
Then the chief of all the asses

Heard the word: Go, take Manassas !

Forty brigades wait around him,
Forty blatant trumpets sound him,