* * * * * Land of the forest and the rock, Of dark blue lake and mighty river-- Of mountain reared aloft to mock The storm’s career and lightning’s shock, My own green land forever! _Whittier._ * * * * * Clime of the daring, thy sheltering banner Unfurls its stars o’er the land and the sea; While tyrants are warring, and freemen love honour, That banner shall be the light of the free. _C. Watson._ * * * * * Our country first, their glory and their pride, Land of their hopes, land where their fathers died, When in the right, they’ll keep thy honour bright, When in the wrong, they’ll die to set it right. _James T. Fields._ * * * * * Pride in the gift of country and of name Speaks in the eye and step-- He treads his native land! _Halleck._ * * * * * The patriot! go, to Fame’s proud mount repair, The tardy pile, slow rising there, With tongueless eloquence shall tell Of them who for their country fell. _Sprague._ * * * * * ’Tis home-felt pleasure prompts the patriot’s sigh, This makes him wish to live, and dare to die. _Campbell._ * * * * * Land where he learned to lisp a mother’s name, The first beloved in life, the last forgot, Land of his frolic youth, Land of his bridal eve, Land of his children--vain your column’s strength, Invaders! vain your battles’ steel and fire! Choose ye the morrow’s doom-- A prison or a grave! _Halleck._ * * * * * My country is my Holy Land. I love her! The purest, brightest skies are spread above her. And heavenliest verdure covers vale and hill. The clearest waters fish did ever swim in Are hers. And oh, what words can praise her virtuous women? _MacKellar._ NIGHTSHADE, OR BITTER-SWEET.... _Truth_. According to the belief of the ancients, Truth was the mother of Virtue, the daughter of Time, and queen of the world. It is a frequent saying, that Truth lies at the bottom of a well, and that she always mingles some bitterness with her sweet blessings; and we have chosen for her emblem a plant which, like her, delights in the shade, and is evergreen. The Nightshade is the only plant in England which loses and reproduces its leaves twice a year. * * * * * Truth, crushed to earth will rise again, The eternal years of God are hers; But Error, wounded, writhes with pain, And dies among her worshippers. _Bryant._ * * * * * The pure deep sky above may figure Truth; Though mists and clouds may long obscure its face, Gaze with patience, and ere long they’ll pass.