Not now from River Scheldt to Zuyder Zee,

But here, this side the sea!

Toll here, in broad, bright day!

For not by night awaits

A noble foe without the gates,

But perjured friends within betray,
And do the deed at noon!

Toll! Roland, toll!

Thy sound is not too soon!

To Arms! Ring out the Leader's call!

Reëcho it from East to West,

Till every hero's breast

Shall swell beneath a soldier's crest!
Toll! Roland, toll!

Till cottager from cottage wall

Snatch pouch and powder-horn and gun!
The sire bequeathed them to the son,
When only half their work was done!
Toll! Roland, toll!

Till swords from scabbards leap!
Toll! Roland, toll!

What tears can widows weep

Less bitter than when brave men fall?

Toll! Roland, toll!

In shadowed hut and hall

Shall lie the soldier's pall,

And hearts shall break while graves are filled! Amen! So God has willed!

And may his grace anoint us all!

Toll! Roland, toll!

The Dragon on thy tower
Stands sentry to this hour,

And Freedom so stands safe in Ghent !
And merrier bells now ring,

And in the land's serene content
Men shout, "God save the King!"
Until the skies are rent!

So let it be ;

A kingly king is he

Who keeps his people free!

Toll! Roland, toll!

Ring out across the sea!

No longer They but We

Have now such need of thee!

Toll! Roland, toll!

Nor ever may thy throat

Keep dumb its warning note

Till Freedom's perils be outbraved!
Toll! Roland, toll!

Till Freedom's flag, wherever waved,
Shall shadow not a man enslaved!

Toll! Roland, toll!

From Northern lake to Southern strand,
Toll! Roland, toll!

Till friend and foe, at thy command,
Once more shall clasp each other's hand,
And shout, one-voiced, "God save the land!"
And love the land that God hath saved!

Toll! Roland, toll!

T. Tilton.

CCCXXVII.

THE MASSACHUSETTS LINE.

STILL first, as long and long ago,

Let Massachusetts muster:

Give her the post right next the foe;
Be sure that you may trust her.
She was the first to give her blood
For Freedom and for Honor;
She trod her soil to crimson mud:
God's blessing be upon her!

She never faltered for the right,
Nor ever will hereafter:

Fling up her name with all your might;
Shake roof-tree and shake rafter.
But of old deeds she need not brag,
How she broke sword and fetter:
Fling out again the old striped Flag;
She'll do yet more and better.

In peace, her sails fleck all the seas;
Her mills shake every river;
And where are scenes so fair as these
God and her true hands give her?
In war, her claim who seek to rob?
All others come in later:

It is hers first to front the Mob,
The Tyrant, and the Traitor.

God bless, God bless, the glorious State!
Let her have way to battle!

She'll go where batteries crash with fate,
Or where thick rifles rattle.

Give her the Right, and let her try;
And then who can may press her;
She'll go straight on, or she will die :
God bless her, and God bless her!

66

CCCXXVIII.

ON THE SHORES OF TENNESSEE.

MOVE my arm-chair, faithful Pompey,

In the sunshine bright and strong,

For this world is fading, Pompey
Massa won't be with you long;
And I fain would hear the south wind
Bring once more the sound to me,
Of the wavelets softly breaking

On the shores of Tennessee.

"Mournful though the ripples murmur,

As they still the story tell,
How no vessels float the banner
That I've loved so long and well,

I shall listen to their music,

Dreaming that again I see

Stars and Stripes on sloop and shallop,
Sailing up the Tennessee.

"And, Pompey, while old massa's waiting For death's last despatch to come,

If that exiled starry banner

Should come proudly sailing home,
You shall greet it, slave no longer

Voice and hand shall both be free
That shouts and points to Union colors
On the waves of Tennessee."

R. Lowell

"Massa's berry kind to Pompey; But ole darkey's happy here, Where he's tended corn and cotton For 'ese many a long-gone year. Over yonder Missis 's sleeping

No one tends her grave like me; Mebbie she would miss the flowers She used to love in Tennessee.

"'Pears like she was watching Massa If Pompey should beside him stay, Mebbie she'd remember better

How for him she used to pray; Telling him that way up yonder White as snow his soul would be, If he served the Lord of heaven While he lived in Tennessee."

Silently the tears were rolling

Down the poor old dusky face,
As he stepped behind his master,
In his long accustomed place.
Then a silence fell around them,
As they gazed on rock and tree
Pictured in the placid waters
Of the rolling Tennessee.

Master dreaming of the battle

Where he fought by Marion's side, When he bid the haughty Tarleton Stoop his lordly crest of pride. Man, remembering how yon sleeper Once he held upon his knee, Ere she loved the gallant soldier, Ralph Vervair, of Tennessee.

Still the south wind fondly lingers 'Mid the veteran's silvery hair;

Still the bondman close beside him