And trampled in the dust. For so of old The thronging Goth and Vandal trampled Rome, PALABRAS CARIÑOSAS GOOD night! I have to say good night 5 10 But there will come a time, my love, 15 I shall not linger by this porch With my farewells. Till then, good night! 20 You would have blushed yourself to death What, both these snowy hands! ah, then BATUSCHKA FROM yonder gilded minaret I faintly catch, from time to time, 25 Above the ravelins and the moats Of the white citadel it floats; And men in dungeons far beneath Listen, and pray, and gnash their teeth- The soft reiterations sweep As if some demon in his glee In his Red Palace over there, Wakeful, he needs must hear the prayer. Wrung from his children's agonies? Father they called him from of old- Rise in their awful might, and then JOHN HAY 1838-1905 5 ΤΟ 15 20 JOHN HAY, versatile man of letters and brilliant statesman, was born at Salem, Indiana, was graduated from Brown University, and later admitted to the bar. He was one of President Lincoln's private secretaries during the war, and also saw active service, with the rank of colonel. After the war he held minor diplomatic posts at Paris, Vienna, and Madrid. In 1897 President McKinley appointed him' ambassador to Great Britain, where he served with great distinction, both to himself and to his country. During the Spanish-American War he was recalled and appointed Secretary of State. He was retained in this position when Mr. Roosevelt succeeded to the presidency, and he held it until his death. He wrote a volume of Spanish sketches. two volumes of poems, and, with J. G. Nicolay, the voluminous and authoritative life of Abraham Lincoln. His sudden death was re garded as a national calamity. JIM BLUDSO OF THE PRAIRIE BELLE WALL, no! I can't tell whar he lives, Whar have you been for the last three year He weren't no saint, them engineers 5 10 All boats has their day on the Mississip, The Movastar was a better boat, But the Belle she wouldn't be passed. And so she come tearin' along that night- With a nigger squat on her safety valve, And her furnace crammed, rosin and pine. The fire bust out as she clared the bar, And burnt a hole in the night, And quick as a flash she turned, and made For that willer bank on the right. There was runnin' and cursin', but Jim yelled out, Over all the infernal roar, "I'll hold her nozzle agin the bank Till the last galoot's ashore." Through the hot, black breath of the burnin' boat And they all had trust in his cussedness, And Bludso's ghost went up alone He weren't no saint, but at jedgment That wouldn't shook hands with him. He seen his duty, a dead-sure thing, - JAMES RYDER RANDALL 1839 MR. RANDALL has been a lifelong journalist. He was born in Baltimore, Maryland, and studied at Georgetown College, D.C. His journalistic work has been done at New Orleans, Augusta, Baltimore, and Washington. MY MARYLAND THE despot's heel is on thy shore, His torch is at thy temple door, Maryland! Avenge the patriotic gore That flecked the streets of Baltimore, Maryland, my Maryland! Hark to an exiled son's appeal, Maryland! My Mother State, to thee I kneel, Maryland! For life and death, for woe and weal, Thy peerless chivalry reveal, And gird thy beauteous limbs with steel, Maryland, my Maryland! Thou wilt not cower in the dust, Maryland! Thy beaming sword shall never rust, Maryland! Remember Carroll's sacred trust, 5 10 15 20 |