Huzza! huzza! huzza! huzza! To hail the nation's guest. Ye beauteous maids, your garlands fling Ye hoary veterans, hither bring Let kings their diadems cast down, Oh! welcome, father-name alone Thy children, give thy homage known, True patriot, shield thy hoary head Huzza! huzza! huzza! huzza! Sung at the dinner given to Gen. La Fayette by the Legislature of Maryland, Dec. 24th, 1824.-By W. P. Farquhar. TUNE- Scots wa hae." WELCOME, welcome, La Fayette, Friend of man, we love thee yet, Thou wast once our friend indeed, Thou for us didst freely bleed, And we love to see thee here, Yes, we take thee by the hand, Thou hast been the honest man, Since old time its course began- And the toils of war now o'er, Freedom's cause is cause divine: Welcome, welcome, La Fayette, Sons and daughters long shall tell, None did ever thee excel; Mothers, fathers, lov'd thee wellFriend of Liberty. SONG, Written by J. McCreery, and sung by a gentleman of Petersburg at a public dinner. TUNE-" Anacreon in Heaven." SEE Decatur, our hero, returns to the west, From the insolent Moor, His bloody stained laurels in triumph he tore, Where the crescent, which oft spread its terrors afar, Submissively bowed to Columbia's star. Algiers' haughty Dey, in the height of his pride, Their streamers wave high, But Decatur draws nigh, His name strikes like lightning-in terror they fly; Thrice welcome our hero, returned from afar, Where the proud crescent falls to Columbia's star. LA FAYETTE. TUNE " Auld Lang Syne.” SHOULD auld acquaintance be forgot, The friend that's true remember'd not, And days o' lang syne? For auld lang syne, my dear, We never can forget, When dangers press'd and foes drew near When first our fathers bravely drew For auld laug syne, my dear, &c. For auld lang syne, my dear, &c. For auld lang syne, my dear, &c. For auld lang syne, my dear, &c. THE BANKS OF CHAMPLAIN. "TWAS autumn, and round me the leaves were descending, And lonely the woodpecker peck'd on the tree, Whilst thousands their freedom and rights were defending The din of their arms sounded dismal to me; For Sandy, my love, was engag'd in the action, Without him I valued the world not a fraction; His death would have ended my life in distraction, As lonely I stray'd on the banks of Champlain. Then turning to list to the cannon's loud thunder, My elbow I lean'd on a rock near the shore; The sounds nearly parted my heart-strings assunder And wept at the tidings that banish'd their care. With laurels unfaded, our Spartans return'd; But should smiling peace, with her blessings and treas ures, Soon visit the plains of Columbia again, What pen can describe the enrapturing pleasures, That I shall experience through life with my swain? For then no wild savage will come to alarm us, Nor worse British foes send their minions to harm us, But nature and art will continue to charm us, While happy we live on the banks of Champlain. ODE-For the Fourth of July, 1827. To the sages who spoke to the heroes who bledTo the day, and the deed-strike the harpstrings of glory, |