POETRY.

From the Vermont Patriot.
GOVERNOR THOMAS, w. DORR.
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Alas, for our America stain is upon her his
tory's page, black aud damning in lis character-a
stain that thousand years will rot wash away;
one of her nobesl sonsher rurest patrIots-has
fallen victim to the tools of tyranny he has be-
come martyr in the cause Of Freedom and OF
Equal Rights. and his prosecutors may now shout
through their dungeons and palaces that treason
is o'er. s..


"If there fingers one spark of its FIRE, tread it
out, and return their empire of darkness once
more" and this is federalism; here the mons
Ter stands out in bold relief, unmasked, drinking
at the fe-blood Of the champions of freedom.
Rut the patriot Dorr has not fallen; no-his name
o. is now identified on the same altar, andthere it
will be remembered while the praises of liberty
sung or the deeds Of our fathers remembered.
Freemen, arise if still one drop
OF patriot blood flows in your veins,
If still one spark Of Freedoms fire,
Upon you altar yet remains;
Will ye stand tamey by und see
Your brother a tyTanL's chain =
IF such things On our land may be,


Then have our fathers died in vain. -
Alas, for freedom if her sons
Must lnger 10 feon's cell,
For daring to assert the rights


For which our sres have fought and TELL;
And have they taught our eagles wing,


To sweep through Heavens broad arch in vain
Before some mighty powers 10 bring
Those heroes from their graves again
How would each traitors spirit grleVe
How would each coward's eye grow dim
If, echoing on The sudden gale,
There came the living voice of him - -..-
Whose banners waved, o'er Bunker's height
Whose voice rang free on Monmcuth's plain
Oh that his spirit, power and might,
Might guide our nations helm again.
Is this the noble Doris reward !.


Is this the guerdon for the free
Long years Of weary, silent toll
"A life of hopeless slavery,
Beneath our countrY's flag of light! s-~..
IF such must be the patriots doom, -. =
Blot out each with glory bright,
And chain her eagle 10 the tomb.
= II from the Democratic ranks,


Her noblest sons must thus be torn,
Soon sh all the last despairDg cry


Of freedom on the winds be borne;
And we shall despots flag,
Waving above her fathers bones,


And need revolutions fires,


To purify our fallen thrones.


