By Tanner brook and Lincoln bridge, before the shut of sun, We took the recompense we claimed—a score for every one!

Hark! from the town a trumpet! The barges at the wharf Are crowded with the living freight-and now they're pushing off;

With clash and glitter, trump and drum, in all its bright array,
Behold the splendid sacrifice move slowly o'er the bay!
And still and still the barges fill, and still across the deep,
Like thunder-clouds along the sky, the hostile transports

sweep;

And now they're forming at the Point-and now the lines advance :

We see beneath the sultry sun their polished bayonets glance; We hear a-near the throbbing drum, the bugle challenge ring: Quick bursts, and loud, the flashing cloud, and rolls from wing to wing.

But on the height our bulwark stands, tremendous in its gloom,

As sullen as a tropic sky, and silent as a tomb.

And so we waited till we saw, at scarce ten rifles' length,
The old vindictive Saxon spite, in all its stubborn strength;
When sudden, flash on flash, around the jagged rampart burst
From every gun the vivid light upon the foe accurst:
Then quailed a monarch's might before a free-born people's ire;
Then drank the sward the veteran's life, where swept the yeo-
man's fire;

Then, staggered by the shot, we saw their serried columns

reel,

And fall, as falls the bearded rye beneath the reaper's steel: And then arose a mighty shout that might have waked the

dead,

'Hurrah! they run! the field is won!" "Hurrah! the foe is fled !"

And every man hath dropped his gun to clutch a neighbor's

hand,

As his heart kept praying all the while for Home and Native

Land.

Thrice on that day we stood the shock of thrice a thousand

foes;

And thrice that day within our lines the shout of victory

rose!

And though our swift fire slackened then, and, reddening in

the skies,

We saw, from Charlestown's roofs and walls, the flamy columns

rise;

Yet while we had a cartridge left, we still maintained the fight, Nor gained the foe one foot of ground upon that blood-stained height.

What though for us no laurels bloom, nor o'er the nameless

brave

No sculptured trophy, scroll, nor hatch, records a warrior

grave?

What though the day to us was lost? Upon that deathless

page

The everlasting charter stands, for every land and age!
For man hath broke his felon bonds, and cast them in the dust,
And claimed his heritage divine, and justified the trust;
While through his rifted prison-bars the hues of freedom pour
O'er every nation, race and clime, on every sea and shore,
Such glories as the patriarch viewed, when, 'mid the darkest

skies,

He saw above a ruined world the Bow of Promise rise.

BEST POLICY IN REGARD TO NATURALIZATION. 107

BEST POLICY IN REGARD TO NATURALIZATION.

BY LEWIS C. LEVIN.

EACH hour will behold this tide of foreign emigration rising higher and higher, growing stronger and stronger, rushing bolder and bolder.

The past furnishes no test of the future, and the future threatens to transcend all calculations of this formidable evil. View this great subject in any light, and it still flings back upon us the reflected rays of reason, patriotism, and philanthropy. The love of our native land is an innate, holy, and irradicable passion. Distance only strengthens it-time only concentrates the feeling that causes the tear to gush from the eye of the emigrant, as old age peoples by the vivid memory the active present with the happy past. In what land do we behold the foreigner, who denies this passion of the heart? It is nature's most holy decree, nor is it in human power to repeal the law, which is passed on the mother's breast, and confirmed by the father's voice. The best policy of the wise statesman is to model his laws on the holy ordinances of nature. If the heart of the alien is in his native land-if all his dearest thoughts and fondest affections cluster around the altar of his native gods-let us not disturb his enjoyments by placing this burden of new affections on his bosom, through the moral

force of an oath of allegiance, and the onerous obligation of political duties that are against his sympathies, and call on him to renounce feelings that he can never expel from his bosom. Let us secure him the privilege, at least, of mourning for his native land, by withholding obligations he cannot discharge either with fidelity, ability, or pleasure. Give him time, sir, to wean himself from his early love. A long list of innumerable duties will engage all his attention during his political novitiate, in addition to those comprised in reforming the errors and prejudices of the nursery, and in creating and forming new opinions, congenial to the vast field which lies spread before him in morals, politics, and life. A due reflection will convince every alien, when his passions are not inflamed by the insidious appeals of senseless demagogues, that his highest position is that of a moral agent in the full enjoyment of all the attributes of civil freedom, preparing the minds and hearts of his children to become faithful, intelligent, and virtuous republicans, born to a right that vindicates itself by the holy ties of omnipotent nature, and which, while God sanctions and consecrates, no man can dispute.