When man braved the wrath of Jehovah, The flood-gates of heaven arose To deluge the earth, in his anger, And drive from existence his foes; Still justice was tempered with mercy-- On cloud-crested banners he drew His promise to all generations, In symbols of White, Red and Blue. And thus is our Banner of Freedom But tints of the glories above Of Him who has made us a nation, And bound us with garlands of love-- Which none on the earth can dissever, For each on our altars renew Our oath of unshaken devotion And trust in the White, Red and Blue. 31 “E Pluribus Unum.” BY JOHN PIERPONT. AIR--_Star-Spangled Banner._ The harp of the minstrel with melody rings When the Muses have taught him to touch and to tune it; But though it may have a full octave of strings, To both maker and minstrel the harp is a unit. So the power that creates our republic of States, Into harmony brings them at different dates; And the thirteen or thirty, the Union once done, Are “_E Pluribus Unum_”--of many made one. The science that weighs in her balance the spheres, And watched them since first the Chaldean began it, Now and then, as she counts them and measures their years, Brings into our system and names a new planet. Yet the old and new stars--Venus, Neptune and Mars, As they drive round the sun their invisible cars, Whether faster or slower their races they run, Are “_E Pluribus Unum_”--of many made one. Of that system of spheres, should but one fly the track, Or with others conspire for a general dispersion, By the great central orb they would all be brought back, And held, each in her place, by a wholesome coercion. Should one daughter of light be indulged in her flight, They would all be engulfed by old Chaos and Night; So must none of our sisters be suffered to run, For, “_E Pluribus Unum_”--we all go if one. Let the demon of discord our melody mar, Or Treason’s red hand rend our Union asunder, Break one string from our harp, or extinguish one star, The whole system’s ablaze with its lightning and thunder. Let the discord be hushed! Let the traitors be crushed! Though “Legion” their name, all with victory flushed! For aye must our motto stand, fronting the sun: “_E Pluribus Unum_”--_Though many, we’re_ ONE. 32 The Northern Hurrah. AIR--_Sprig of Shillaly_.