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UNCLE SAM'S SOLILOQUY.

I'm a century old and more to-day--
A ripe old age for a modern man,--
Yet they who rocked my cradle, they say,
Predicted a thousand years my span;
They christened me at the fount of prayer,
And gave me a star-gemmed robe to wear.

My first free breath was battle-smoke
A prayerful nurses did not abhor
The sounds that first my ear awoke--
The clash and din and shout of war.
They pressed in my hand a crown of might
And pointed my way to the eagle's flight.

Cannon and sword were my playthings to bless,
(Dangerous toys for a babe to try,)
The stirring reveille my more caress,
The wild tattoo was my lullaby;
And well, methinks, as they years have run,
Have I wrought the work my sires begun.

An infant prodigy I, and ere
Expired a tenth of my granted day,
I wrested from lion-grasp the spear--