THE wAR-sHia OF PEACE
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At R-AAALA LJNE Sweet land ofsong. thy harp doth hang Upon the willows, now, While fatsine's blight and feyer's pang Stamp misery on thy brow, Yet. take thy harp ard raise thy voice, Thozgh faint and low # be, And let thy sinking heart rejoice In friends, stiii left to thee. Look oat. look cut acTess the sea That gigds thy etnersld shore, A ship of war IS bound for the Bul with 10 wariike store Her ihuasier sieeps-'lis Mercy's breath That waits her OCT the sea, Sac goes Rot forth to deal out death, Bat bears new life 10 thee. Thy wasted hand eau scarcely strike The chords of grateful praise: Thy plaintive tone is now unlike Thy voice of pIoadeG days, Yet, even in sorrow, tuneIal still Let Erih's voice proclaim la harsiic praise, or every hill

 Columhia's glorious name.