SUMTER.

(On the 12th of April, 1861, Fort Sumter, in Charleston Harbor, South Carolina, garrisoned by United States troops, was bombarded by the Confederate forces, and, after resisting for thirty-four hours, capitulated. This was the first battle of the war.]

CAME the morning of that day
When the God to whom we pray
Gave the soul of Henry Clay

To the land;
How we loved him, living, dying!
But his birthday banners flying
Saw us asking and replying

Hand to hand.

For we knew that far away,
Round the fort in Charleston Bay,
Hung the dark impending fray,

Soon to fall;
And that Sumter's brave defender
Had the summons to surrender
Seventy loyal hearts and tender-

(Those were all !)
And we knew the April sun
Lit the length of many a gun-
Hosts of batteries to the one

Island crag ;
Guns and mortars grimly frowning,
Johnson, Moultrie, Pinckney, crowning,
And ten thousand men disowning

The old flag

Oh, the fury of the fight
Even then was at its height !
Yet no breath, from noon till night,

Reached us here;

We had almost ceased to wonder,
And the day had faded under,
When the echo of the thunder

Filled each ear!

Then our hearts more fiercely beat,
As we crowded on the street,
Hot to gather and repeat

All the tale;
All the doubtful chances turning,
Till our souls with shame were burning,
As if twice our bitter yearning

Could avail !

Who had fired the earliest gun?
Was the fort by traitors won ?
Was there succor? What was done

Who could know?
And once more our thoughts would wander
To the gallant lone commander,
On his battered ramparts grander

Than the foe.

Not too long the brave shall wait;
On their own heads be their fate,
Who against the hallowed State

Dare begin;
Flag defied and compact riven !
In the record of high Heaven
How shall Southern men be shriven

For the sin !

EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN.

BROTHER JONATHAN'S LAMENT FOR

SISTER CAROLINE. SHE has gone-she has left us in passion and

pride Our stormy-browed sister, so long at our side! She has torn her own star from our firmament's

glow, And turned on her brother the face of a foe! O Caroline, Caroline, child of the sun, We can never forget that our hearts have been

one,Our foreheads both sprinkled in Liberty's name, From the fountain of blood with the tinger of flame! You were always too ready to fire at a touch ; But we said, “She is hasty-she does not mean

much." We have scowled, when you uttered some turbulent

threat ; But Friendship still whispered, “ Forgive and for

get!"

Has our love all died out? Have its altars grown

cold? Has the curse come at last which the fathers fore

told? Then Nature must teach us the strength of the

chain That her petulant children would sever in vain. They may fight till the buzzards are gorged with

their spoil, Till the harvest grows black as it rots in the soil, Till the wolves and the catamounts troop from

their caves, And the shark tracks the pirate, the lord of the

waves :

In vain is the strife! When its fury is past,
Their fortunes must flow in one channel at last,
As the torrents that rush from the mountains of

snow

Roll mingled in peace through the valleys below.
Our Union is river, lake, ocean, and sky :
Man breaks not the medal, when God cuts the

die ! Though darkened with sulphur, though cloven with

steel, The blue arch will brighten, the waters will heal! O Caroline, Caroline, child of the sun, There are battles with Fate that can never be won! The star-flowering banner must never be furled, For its blossoms of light are the hope of the world! Go, then, our rash sister! afar and aloof, Run wild in the sunshine away from our roof; But when your heart aches and your feet have

grown sore, Remember the pathway that leads to our door!

OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.

MEN OF THE NORTH AND WEST.

MEN of the North and West,

Wake in your might,
Prepare, as the rebels have done,

For the fight !
You cannot shrink from the test;
Rise! Men of the North and West !
They have torn down your banner of stars;

They have trampled the laws;

They have stifled the freedom they hate,

For no cause !
Do you love it or slavery best?
Speak! Men of the North and West !
They strike at the life of the State:

Shall the murder be done?
They cry, “ We are two!". And you?

“ We are one !"
You must meet them, then, breast to breast;
On! Men of the North and West !

Not with words; they laugh them to scorn,

And tears they despise;
But with swords in your hands, and death

In your eyes!
Strike home ! leave to God all the rest ;
Strike! Men of the North and West !

RICHARD HENRY STODDARD.

MY MARYLAND. [This poem is probably the most famous, as it is the most stirring in its martial tone, of all that the war evoked. Its form is doubtless suggested by Mangan's “Karamanian Exile": " I see thee ever in my dreams,

Karaman!
Thy hundred hills, thy thousand streams,

Karaman, o Karainan!
As when thy gold-bright morning gleams,
As when the deepening sunset seams
With lines of light thy hills and streams,

Karaman !
So now thou loomest on my dreams,

Karaman, o Karaman ? But the previous use of this form, which is remarkably effective for a battle-lyric, in no wise detracts from the