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UNDER THE WASHINGTON ELM, CAMBRIDGE.

APRIL 27, 1861.

EIGHTY years have passed, and more,

Since under the brave old tree

Our fathers gathered in arms, and swore

They would follow the sign their banners bore,
And fight till the land was free.

Half of their work was done,

Half is left to do,

Cambridge, and Concord, and Lexington!

When the battle is fought and won,

What shall be told of

you

1?

Hark! 't is the south-wind moans,

Who are the martyrs down?

Ah, the marrow was true in your children's bones That sprinkled with blood the cursed stones

Of the murder-haunted town!

What if the storm-clouds blow?

What if the green leaves fall? Better the crashing tempest's throe

Than the army of worms that gnawed below; Trample them one and all!

Then, when the battle is won,

And the land from traitors free,
Our children shall tell of the strife begun
When Liberty's second April sun

Was bright on our brave old tree!

INTERNATIONAL ODE.

OUR FATHERS' LAND.*

GOD bless our Fathers' Land!

Keep her in heart and hand

One with our own!

From all her foes defend,

Be her brave People's Friend,

On all her realms descend,

Protect her Throne!

Father, with loving care

Guard Thou her kingdom's Heir,
Guide all his ways:

Sung in unison by twelve hundred children of the public schools, at the visit of the Prince of Wales to Boston, October 18, 1860. Air, "God save the Queen."

Thine arm his shelter be,

From him by land and sea

Bid storm and danger flee,

Prolong his days!

Lord, let War's tempest cease,
Fold the whole Earth in peace
Under thy wings!

Make all Thy nations one,
All hearts beneath the sun,
Till Thou shalt reign alone,
Great King of kings!

FREEDOM, OUR QUEEN.

LAND where the banners wave last in the sun, Blazoned with star-clusters, many in one, Floating o'er prairie and mountain and sea; Hark! 't is the voice of thy children to thee!

Here at thine altar our vows we renew
Still in thy cause to be loyal and true, –
True to thy flag on the field and the wave,
Living to honor it, dying to save!

Mother of heroes! if perfidy's blight

Fall on a star in thy garland of light,
Sound but one bugle-blast! Lo! at the sign
Armies all panoplied wheel into line!

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