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100

CHOICE SELECTIONS

No. 33.

COLUMBIA'S JUBILEE.*—-Granville B. PUTNAM, BOSTON,

Blest of God, the God of Nations,
Hail! Columbia, Hail to thee!
Let the lips of happy millions
Sound the notes of Jubilee.

Northern breezes, waft the anthem!

South winds blowing, swell the strain!

While the Rockies catch the echo,
Sending back the glad refrain.

Faith, a pilgrim, rocked thy cradle,
By the sullen wintry sea,
And the patriot arm of valor
From each foe defended thee.
Dews of youth still brightly sparkle
On thy brow so queenly fair,
Yet what name in song or story
Can, to-day, with thine compare?

Starry banners proudly waving,

Greet the rosy morning light,

From Katahdin's cloud-capped summit
To Tacoma's snow-crowned height.

Fertile plains and teeming waters

Fill thy lap with wealth untold,

*From American Patriotic Songs by arrangement with Oliver Ditson Company, owners of copyright; also published separately as No, 7980 Ditson's Sacred Selections, with music by J. E. Trowbridge.

But thy children's fond devotion
Far outweighs thy treasured gold.

Filial souls, with love adore thee,
Where palmettos arch the glade.
Loyal sons proclaim thy glory,
'Neath the mountain pine-tree shade.
One in heart, with voices blending,
North and South, your tribute raise!
Sound aloud the mighty chorus!
Shout! O shout Columbia's praise!

THE SIEGE OF CALAIS.*-WILL VICTOR MCGUIRE. In 1347, after a twelve month's siege, Calais was captured by Edward III o. England, and the prisoners whom he had taken were condemned to death. The selfdevotion shown by six of the citizens, who offered themselves as hostages, and whose lives were saved by the entreaties of Queen Philippa, forms one of the Loblest passages in history.

When haughty Edward with his sword and lance
Regained his laurels on the field of France,
And everywhere destructive armies led,

That heaped her soil with mountains of the dead,
A cry of vengeance rose, more fierce by far
Than all the attitudes of foreign war;

And noble heroes, now besmeared with blood,
Who long against the English king had stood,
Looked at their slaughtered brothers on the field
Of dread Calais, and vowed they would not yield.
But yield they must for famine round them spread,
Their wives and children faint for want of bread,
And their brave leader captive to the king-
Still of his deeds both bard and minstrel sing.
'Twas then that England's rose was blooming red
While the French lily bowed her drooping head.
With sad and heavy hearts the conquered host
Gathered around, the hope of victory lost.
Brave St. Pierre then cast a pitying look
O'er that vast throng, and, rising, thus he spoke:

"My noble friends, we know that it is vain
To weep for those who lie among the slain!
Bravely they fought, till yielding up their breath
They sank-to slumber in the peace of death.
*Written expressly for this Collection.

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