From the smoky night encampment bore the banner of the rampant

Unicorn,

And grummer, grummer, grummer, rolled the roll of the drummer Through the morn!

But with eyes to the front all,
And with guns horizontal,

Stood our sires:

And the balls whistled deadly,
And in streams flashing redly
Blazed the fires;

As the swift
Billows' drift

Drove the dark battle breakers o'er the green sodded acres
Of the plain,

And louder, louder, louder, cracked the black gunpowder,
Cracking amain!

Rose the Horse Guards' clangor, as they rode in roaring anger

On our flanks:

Then higher, higher, higher, burned the old-fashioned fire
Through the ranks!

And the old-fashioned colonel

Galloped through the white infernal
Powder cloud;

His broadsword was swinging

And his brazen throat was ringing,
Trumpet loud:

Then the blue
Bullets flew,

And the trooper jackets reddened at the touch of the leaden

Rifle breath,

And rounder, rounder, rounder; roared the iron six-pounder,

Hurling death!

GUY HUMPHREY MCMASTER.

THE HADLEY WEATHERCOCK

N HADLEY steeple proud I sit,
Steadfast and true; I never flit:
Summer and winter, night and day,
The merry winds around me play;
And far below my gilded feet

The generations come and go
In one unceasing ebb and flow,
Year after year in Hadley street.
I nothing care -I only know

God sits above, he wills it so;

While roundabout, and roundabout, and roundabout I go,

The way o' the wind, the changing wind, the way o' the wind to show.

The hands that for me paid the gold
A century since have turned to mold;
And all the crowds who saw me new
In seventeen hundred fifty-two,
(A noble town was Hadley then,

And beautiful as one could find,)
Dead, long years dead, and out of mind,
Those stately dames and gallant men!

But I abide, while they are low.

God ruleth all, he wills it so:

And roundabout, and roundabout, and roundabout I go,

The way o' the wind, the changing wind, the way o' the wind to show.

The wind blew south, the wind blew north;

I saw an army marching forth;

And when the wind was hushed and still,

I heard them talk of Bunker Hill.

From Saratoga, bold Burgoyne

(His sullen redcoats, past the town,

To Aqua Vitæ's plain marched down)

In Hadley mansion stopped to dine.

The new State comes! The King must go!

Glory to God who wills it so!

And roundabout, and roundabout, and roundabout I go,

The way o' the wind, the changing wind, the way o' the wind to show.

The wind blows east, the wind blows west,

In Hadley street the same unrest.

On every breeze that hither comes,

I hear the rolling of the drums,

And well do I know the warning;

The wind blows north, the wind blows south,

The ball has left the cannon's mouth,

And the land is filled with mourning.

In Freedom's name they struck the blow!

The Land is One, God wills it so.

And roundabout, and roundabout, and roundabout I go,

The way o' the wind, the changing wind, the way o' the wind to show.

Though all things change upon the ground,

Unchanging, sure, I'm ever found.

In calm or tempest, sun or rain,

No eye inquires of me in vain.

Though many a man betray his trust,

Though some may honor sell, or buy,
Like Peter some their Lord deny,

Yet here I preach till I am rust:

Blow high, blow low, come weal, or woe,

God sits above, he wills it so.

Then roundabout, and roundabout, and roundabout I go,

The way o' the wind, the changing wind, the way o' the wind to show.

JULIA TAFT BAYNE.

JUST A MULTITUDE OF CURLS

UST a multitude of curls

Weighing down a little head;

Two wide eyes not blue nor gray,
Like the sky 'twixt night and day;
Small red mouth- and all to say
Has been said.

Just a saucy word or glance,

And a hand held out to kiss;
Just a curl-a ribbon through -
Just a flower, fresh and blue-
And to think what men will do
Just for this!

CORA FABBRI.

I'

THE ROSE OF KENMARE

'VE been soft in a small way

On the girleens of Galway,

And the Limerick lasses have made me feel quare;

But there's no use denyin',

No girl I've set eye on

Could compate wid Rose Ryan of the town of Kenmare.

Oh, where

Can her like be found?

No where,

The country round,

Spins at her wheel

Daughter as true,

Sets in the reel

Wid a slide of the shoe,

a slinderer,

tinderer,

purtier,

wittier colleen than you,
Rose, aroo!

Her hair mocks the sunshine,

And the soft silver moonshine

Neck and arm of the colleen completely eclipse;

Whilst the nose of the jewel

Slants straight as Carran Tual

From the heaven in her eye to her heather-sweet lip.

Oh, where, etc.

Did your eyes ever follow

The wings of the swallow

Here and there, light as air, o'er the meadow field glance?

For if not, you've no notion

Of the exquisite motion

Of her sweet little feet as they dart in the dance.

Oh, where, etc.

If y' inquire why the nightingale
Still shuns th' invitin' gale

That wafts every song-bird but her to the west,
Faix she knows, I suppose,

Ould Kenmare has a Rose

That would sing any bulbul to sleep in her nest.

Oh, where, etc.

When her voice gives the warnin'

For the milkin' in the mornin',

Ev'n the cow known for hornin' comes runnin' to her pail; The lambs play about her,

And the small bonneens snout her

Whilst their parints salute her wid a twisht of the tail.

Oh, where, etc.

When at noon from our labor

We draw neighbor wid neighbor

From the heat of the sun to the shelter of the tree,
Wid spuds fresh from the bilin',

And new milk, you come smilin',

All the boys' hearts beguilin', alannah machree!

Oh, where, etc.

But there's one sweeter hour

When the hot day is o'er,

And we rest at the door wid the bright moon above,
And she's sittin' in the middle;

When she's guessed Larry's riddle,

Cries, "Now for your fiddle, Shiel Dhuv, Shiel Dhuv."