Awake, ye forms of verse divine!
Painting! descend on canvas wing,—
And hover o’er my head, Design!
Your son, your glorious son, I sing;
At Trumbull’s name I break my sloth,
To load him with poetic riches:
The Titian of a table-cloth!
The Guido of a pair of breeches!
Come, star-eyed maid, Equality!
In thine...
National Anthem
By H. W. L——, of Cambridge
BACK in the years when Phlagstaff, the Dane, was monarch
Over the sea-ribbed land of the fleet-footed Norsemen,
Once there went forth young Ursa to gaze at the heavens,—
Ursa, the noblest of all Vikings and horsemen.
Musing he sat in his stirrups and viewed the horizon,
Where the Aurora...
