J.H.H.

* * * * *


POLISH PATRIOT'S APPEAL.

(_For the Mirror._)


Rise fellow men! our country yet remains
By that dread name, we wave the sword on high,
And swear with her to live--for her to die.

CAMPBELL.


Have we not proved our country's worth--the country of the free?
Have we not raised the tyrant's foot--and struck for liberty--
The giant foot that on us fell, in war's tremendous fall--
The mighty weight that bore us down and held our arms in thrall?

Have we not risked our homes, our all, at Freedom's glorious shrine,
And dared the vengeance of the Russ, whose sway is yclept divine?
And have we not appealed to arms--our last and dearest right!
And is not ours a sacred cause, a just and holy fight?

Yes, on Sarmatia's bleeding form Oppression's fetters rang,
And Liberty's last dying dirge the Northern trumpet sang:
Our hopes were buried in the grave where Kosciusko lies;