The bell--can you recall its clang? And how the seats would slam and bang? The voices high and low? The basso's trump before he sang? The viol and its bow? Where was it old Judge Winthrop sat? Who wore the last three-cornered hat? Was Israel Porter lean or fat?-- That's what I'd like to know. Tell where the market used to be That stood beside the murdered tree? Whose dog to church would go? Old Marcus Reemie, who was he? Who were the brothers Snow? Does not your memory slightly fail About that great September gale?-- Whereof one told a moving tale, As Cambridge boys should know. When Cambridge was a simple town, Say just when Deacon William Brown (Last door in yonder row), For honest silver counted down, His groceries would bestow?-- For those were days when money meant Something that jingled as you went,-- No hybrid like the nickel cent, I'd have you all to know, But quarter, ninepence, pistareen, And fourpence hapennies in between, All metal fit to show, Instead of rags in stagnant green, The scum of debts we owe; How sad to think such stuff should be Our Wendell's cure-all recipe,-- Not Wendell H., but Wendell P.,-- The one you all must know! I question--but you answer not-- Dear me! and have I quite forgot How fivescore years ago, Just on this very blessed spot, The summer leaves below, Before his homespun ranks arrayed In green New England's elmbough shade The great Virginian drew the blade King George full soon should know! O George the Third! you found it true Our George was more than double you, For nature made him so. Not much an empire's crown can do If brains are scant and slow,-- Ah, not like that his laurel crown Whose presence gilded with renown Our brave old Academic town, As all her children know! So here we meet with loud acclaim To tell mankind that here he came, With hearts that throb and glow; Ours is a portion of his fame Our trumpets needs must blow! On yonder hill the Lion fell, But here was chipped the eagle's shell,-- That little hatchet did it well, As all the world shall know! WELCOME TO THE NATIONS PHILADELPHIA, JULY 4, 1876 BRIGHT on the banners of lily and rose Lo! the last sun of our century sets! Wreathe the black cannon that scowled on our foes, All but her friendships the nation forgets All but her friends and their welcome forgets! These are around her; but where are her foes? Lo, while the sun of her century sets, Peace with her garlands of lily and rose! Welcome! a shout like the war trumpet's swell Wakes the wild echoes that slumber around Welcome! it quivers from Liberty's bell; Welcome! the walls of her temple resound! Hark! the gray walls of her temple resound Fade the far voices o'er hillside and dell; Welcome! still whisper the echoes around; Welcome I still trembles on Liberty's bell!