, 1858-10-15
The Atlantic Telegraph.


Behold our Country, clasping every cline,
Shielded by oceans, bOundess and sublime
Behold her Eagle on his pinions soar
To guard the continent from shore to shore
Behold her rivers, lakes, and mountain chains,
Her golden placers, and salubriOus plains,
Her towns and cities peopling every vale,
Her commerce waited on by every gale,
Through every ocean, see her navies sweep,
And roll their thunders o'er the vassal deep!
Whate'er in war can succor or befrend,
Arms to attack, or bosoms to defend
Whate'er in peace, nation can refine
All, great and blest America, are thine
God of our fathers, 'tis to Thee
We owe each blessing given
We therefore bend the willing knee,
And crave the smiles Of Heaven.
ar DER the high mountains, across the blue sea,
aliforna ! thy sisters are calling to thee;
hear the full chorus exultingy roll,
i'll the Pean is echoed from tropc to pole.
Thy shout the glad millions in frenzied delight?
Why peal the loud cannon, in glory and might
Thy blaze the bright bonlres, on hill-tops afar2
THAT umines each city, till it CLEANS like a starr
Ihy wave the broad banners! why rolls the deep druml
That hero has triumphed2 What foe is o'ercomel
That nation is vanqushed What altar thrown DOWN.
What monster has waded through crimes to a CROWN
1t is no victor's mailed heel
That shakes the PROSTATE earth;
'Cased in his helm Of triple steel,
A butcher from his birth =
1t is no kings victorious march,
With terror in its train
To build with skeletons, his arch
oftriumph DER the slain
No! no ! tits none Of these that wakes
The worlds united tone,
And swells the anthem, till 1t shakes
Each tyrant on his throne.
'Tis but the triumph of the Mind,
And victory Of Art
That thrills the soul of mankind
And throhs in every heart
PEACE Is THE UcNoUERoR to-day,
And holds her jubilee
Her brow is crowned with oceanspny,
Her empire is the sea.
Her lips are touched with heavenly fire,
Like Israel's bard Of old;
Her arms-the world encircling wire
Shall every cline enfold
Then with the Lightnings in her hand,
Throned DER the land and sea,
Her tongue shall speak the great command F.:
"MAN, EVERYWHERE, BE FREE n
Old Johnny Bull, one summers day,
Called Jonathan, his son, from play,
And with stern, forbidding brow,
Said, Johnny, I've lecture noW
And let the lesson ever prove
The depth of my paternal love.
Your big boy-nay, almost grown,
And It's high time some care was shown
To mould your manners, still uncouth
And rough, as when you were youth.
You are too boyish in your play,
And fly your paper kite all day
You whittle sticks from morn till night,
And that is Gerry impOlite;
You are too fond OF firearms,
And constant oil me with alarms
You are too curious and sly,
In other-people's business pry.
Besides, you're always in a hurry,
And do things in the greatest furry.
To make your manners very fne,
Just look at me and copy mine !"
Said Jonathan to Mr. Bull,
HIS nehIt medublluo Wltu lfOllC lullt
And thinking Of poor Pat, forlon
Dear Father, confess the corn.
my boy Ben will fly his kite,
In spite of king or crown;
But, then, Its rods are all so bright,
1t wOOs the lightning down
"'Tis true, Steers whites all the time,
Whilst others are at play;
But 10 the product Of pastime,
The yacht Amsriea
" Cot is too fond Of squibbs uncurled,
And pistols be prefers;
But In return he gave the world
Revolving cylinders
again you scold me on the ground
OF curiosity;
But Brooke paul-pryd until be found
The bottom Of the sea-
And finally you rate me high,
For galloping like a borss
But thoughts now plumed with lghtnings fly,
Winged by Professor Morse.
Farewell, Papa cannot yield,
Though your advice be fine
I'm hurried noW-but my son FIELD
Ere long IOiH drop a line!
he line has been dropped, the cable is laid,
That anchors the East 10 the West
I'd Time has been vanquished, Old Ocean dismayed,
And the Lightning been Graded to rest.
ar down meath the billowS, her wings have been
furled
Where the mermaiden sings in the sea,
nd yvhisnera - rur m uTNftNa crvEs pyAcp ~ ruv