From the N. Y. Evening Star.

 CROCK FIT.
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| ho sad was his fate and mournful the story,

 The deeds of the hero shall never decay He fell ill cause dear to freedom and glory,

 And fought to the last like lion at bay. When rang the loud call from nation oppressed,

 And her valleys with slaughter of brave red Twas the pride poor CROCKETT to he the distressed As the watchword in Texas was heard, Go aheadt His death dealing rifle no longer shall shower

 It's unerring balls on the proud naughty foe, Cut down in the spring time of lifes budding flower His tombstone, alas! are thy walls, .4tamo. Then may we not hope, since valor has crown'd him, And oer him bright fame her mantle has spread. In the souls parting hour good angels round him, Bid his spirit arise to the skies, 'sGo ahead,'