Of arduous years, and gallant spirits,
My sons at least no peril shirk,
Valour from age to age inherits.
The old tradition, duteous stands
For the old Flag, wherever flying!
Brave WALLIS, gallant GRANT, clasp hands!
My sons! Unfaltering, undying,
Beneath grey hairs, or youth's brown locks,
The spirit proud of patriot valour!
Not desperate odds in war's wild shocks
Shall strike its flush to craven pallor.
Mud-fort, or "mealey" bastion, deck
Of shot-torn ship, or red "death-valley,"
What odds? Of danger nought I reck,
Whilst thus my sons to me can rally.
Come what, come will! Whilst centuried age
And youth in Spring strike hands before me,
Let foemen band, let battle rage,
You'll keep my Flag still flying o'er me!

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[Illustration: "GENERAL IDEA"

HITTING ON A NOVEL PLAN FOR OUR COAST DEFENCES.]

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The Yankee Oracle on the Three-Volume Novel.