O, how the immortal phantoms crowd around me! I see the vast alembic ever working-I see and know the flames that heat the world; The glow, the blush, the beating hearts of lovers, So blissful happy some—and some so silent, dark, and nigh to death. Love, that is all the earth to lovers-Love, that mocks time and space; Love that is day and night-Love, that is sun and moon and stars; Love, that is crimson, sumptuous, sick with perfume; No other words, but words of love-no other thought but Love. 6. Blow again, trumpeter! conjure war's wild alarums! Swift to thy spell, a shuddering. hum like distant thunder rolls; Lo! where the arm'd men hasten-lo! 'mid the clouds of dust, the glint of bayonets; I see the grime-faced cannoniers-I mark the rosy flash amid the smoke-I hear the cracking of the guns: -Nor war alone thy fearful music-song, wild player! brings every sight of fear, The deeds of ruthless brigands-rapine, murder-I hear the cries for help! I see ships foundering at sea-I behold on deck, and below deck, the terrible tableaux. 7. O trumpeter! methinks I am myself the instrument thou playest! Thou melt'st my heart, my brain-thou movèst, drawest, changèst them, at will: And now thy sullen notes send darkness through me; Thou takèst away all cheering light-all hope: I see the enslaved, the overthrown, the hurt, the oppress'd of the whole earth; I feel the measureless shame and humiliation of my raceit becomes all mine; Mine too the revenges of humanity—the wrongs of agesbaffled feuds and hatreds; Utter defeat upon me weighs-all lost! the foe victorious! (Yet 'mid the ruins Pride colossal stands, unshaken to the last; Endurance, resolution, to the last.) 8. Now, trumpeter! for thy close, Vouchsafe a higher strain than any yet; Sing to my soul-renew its languishing faith and hope; Rouse up my slow belief-give me some vision of the future; Give me, for once, its prophecy and joy. O glad, exulting, culminating song! A vigour more than earth's is in thy notes! Marches of victory-man disenthrall'd-the conqueror at last! Hymns to the universal God, from universal Man-all joy! A reborn race appears a perfect World, all joy! Women and Men, in wisdom, innocence, and health,-all joy! Riotous, laughing bacchanals, fill'd with joy! War, sorrow, suffering gone-the rank earth purgednothing but joy left! The ocean fill'd with joy-the atmosphere all joy! Joy! Joy! in freedom, worship, love! Joy in the ecstasy of life! Enough to merely be! Enough to breathe! Joy! Joy! all over Joy! JULIA WARD HOWE. Born in New York City 1819 BATTLE HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC.* MINE eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord: He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored; He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword: His truth is marching on. Glory! glory, hallelujah! Glory! glory! glory, hallelujah! His truth is marching on. I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps; They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps; I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps: His day is marching on. Glory! glory, hallelujah! I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnish'd rows of steel: As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal: Let the hero born of woman crush the serpent with his heel! Since God is marching on. Glory! glory, hallelujah! He hath sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat; He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment seat: O, be swift, my soul! to answer Him; be jubilant, my feet! Our God is marching on. Glory! glory, hallelujah!—— *See Note 24. In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born, across the sea, With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me; As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free! While God is marching on. Glory glory, hallelujah! | SHERIDAN AT CEDAR CREEK. SHOE the steed with silver That bore him to the fray, When he heard the guns at dawning Miles away; When he heard them calling, calling Mount! nor stay; Quick, or all is lost; They've surprised and storm'd the post, Gallop! retrieve the day! House the horse in ermine For the foam-flake blew They cheer'd him in the looming, He swung his hat in the van; The electric hoof-spark flew. Wreathe the steed and lead him— Touch'd and turn'd the cypress Into amaranths for the head |