God of Union, smile upon us! Flag of Union, greet the skies! On thy stars and _chording_ colors Every hope for mortals lies! Blasted be the hand would strike thee! Blighted heart and palsied brain! Float till earth knows no oppression, Falsehood, bondage, slavery, pain! Chorus: Float, Flag of love; fused States and lives! shine stars on God's own Blue! Love's crimson current gird them close! white-winged Peace wind through! M. W. C. THE GOOD GODDESS OF POVERTY. [_A Prose Ballad, translated from the French_.] We think the following beautiful Chant, in honor of the good goddess whose favors we are too apt to scorn, and whom we persist in treating with dire ingratitude, cannot fail to prove acceptable to the readers of the Editor's Table. M. W. C. I. Desert paths strewed with golden sands, rich and undulating prairies, ravines loved by the bounding deer and agile chamois, mountains wreathed with clouds or crowned with glittering coronets of stars, wandering and leaping torrents, impenetrable and gloomy forests,--let her pass, let her pass: The Goddess--the good Goddess of Poverty! II. Since the creation of the world, since man was spoken into being, she has travelled over the earth, she has dwelt among men, she sings as she journeys, and works as she sings: The Goddess--the good Goddess of Poverty! III. Men gathered together to curse her. They found her too gay, too active, too strong, and too beautiful. They said: 'Let us tear off her wings, let us load her with chains, let us lay her low with blows, let her suffer, let her die: The Goddess--the strong Goddess of Poverty!' IV. They chained the good Goddess, they bruised and persecuted her, but they could not degrade her, for she sought refuge in the souls of poets, in the souls of peasants, in the souls of women, in the souls of artists, in the souls of saints: The Goddess--the good Goddess of Poverty! V. She has travelled longer than the Wandering Jew; she has journeyed farther than the swallow; she is older than the cathedral of Prague, yet younger than the little egg of the golden-crested wren; she has multiplied more upon the earth than the crimson strawberry in the green woods of Bohemia: The Goddess--the good Goddess of Poverty! VI. She is the mother of many children, and has taught them all the secrets of God; she spoke to the heart of Jesus upon the mount; to the eyes of Queen Libussa when she loved a peasant; to the spirit of John and Jerome on the pyre of Constance; she has more knowledge than all the doctors and all the bishops: