HYMN TO THE GOD OF BATTLES.

FROM AN UNFINISHED POEM ON THE BATTLE OF
LEXINGTON.

Gop of our fathers! who didst bear
Their pilgrim footsteps o'er the wave,
O, listen to their offspring's prayer!
Rise, as for Israel, rise and save!

God of our children! spare for them
The heritage our fathers gained;

Let Freedom's glorious diadem

And Truth's pure light abide unstained.

Great God of battles! to the field

Lead forth our armed and conquering host; Be thou their strength, their guide, their shield, And drive th' invader from our coast.

Hear, Lord! Without thy aid we die:
Hear us! To thee our cause we trust:
O, hear! and, from thy throne on high,
Rescue the offspring of the just.

ANTI-SLAVERY SONG.*

March 15, 1843.

OPPRESSION shall not always reign:
There comes a brighter day,
When Freedom, bursting every chain,
Shall have triumphant way.

Then Right shall over Might prevail;
And Truth, like hero armed in mail,
The hosts of tyrant wrong assail,
And hold eternal sway.

E'en now that glorious day draws near;
Its coming is not far;

In heaven and earth its signs appear;

We see its morning star;

Its dawn has flushed the eastern sky;
The western hills reflect it high;
The southern clouds before it fly.
Hurra! Hurra! Hurra!

It flashes on the Indian isles. - Hurra!

It gilds their plains with gladdening smiles. Hurra!

* This was Mr. Ware's last composition in verse.

Eight hundred thousand, newly free,
Pour out their songs of jubilee,

That shake the globe from sea to sea.
Hurra! Hurra! Hurra!

That shout which every bosom thrills

- Hurra!

In thunder rings from all our hills. — Hurra!
The waves reply on every shore,

Old Faneuil echoes to the roar,

And rocks as ne'er it rocked before-
Hurra! Hurra! Hurra!

What arm shall check its onward way?- Hurra!
What voice arrest the growing day? — Hurra!
What dastard soul, though stout and strong,
Shall dare bring back the ancient wrong,
Or Slavery's night of guilt prolong?
Hurra! Hurra! Hurra!

Then shout, ye lovers of your race! - Hurra!
The glorious hour comes on apace! - Hurra!
Ring, Liberty, thy glorious bell!

Thy flag unfurl, thy trumpet swell!
From land to land the triumph tell!

Hurra! Hurra! Hurra!

The day has come, the hour draws nigh!. Hurra! Send forth the tidings far and high! - Hurra! From every hill, by every sea,

In shouts proclaim the great decree,

"All chains are broke! all men are free!"

Hurra! Hurra! Hurra!

Then shout! The hour comes on apace! Hurra!

The hour of glory for the race! - Hurra!
Ring, Liberty, thy glorious bell,

Bid high thy sacred banner swe.l,

And trump on trump the triumph tell.
Hurra! Hurra! Hurra!

MOUNT WASHINGTON.*

Franconia, August 8, 1835.

*

*

UP! The worst

Is past; the bold rock stands unveiled; and now
One effort more. 'Tis done. Breathless and pale,

We stand upon the peak above the clouds.
Vast and immeasurable! How the eye
Searches the great expanse for rest in vain!
Magnificent obscurity! sublime!

Dim! fathomless! Above, is only heaven
Spread forth o'er all, in deep, pure, lustrous light!
Below, earth-only earth-yet so displayed

As fills the gazing soul with trembling awe.

O, what a place for thought! Give me my cloak,
And leave me here alone. I'll wrap it round
To keep me from the keen, imperious wind,
And hold a moment's musing by myself.
And not a human foot within the land

It planted high as mine!

On all else I look down.

Great heaven except,

That glorious dome,

Unchanged, appears-in beauty, grandeur, pomp,
As unapproached, as unapproachable,

This piece and the two following are extracts from Poetical Notes of a Pedestrian Tour.