Mystery Has Great Charms For Womanhood.

But Woe Awaits A Country When She Sees The Tears Of Bearded Men.

We Often Praise The Evening Clouds, And Tints So Gay And Bold, But Seldom Think Upon Our God, Who Tinged These Clouds With Gold.

The Way Was Long, The Wind Was Cold, The Minstrel Was Infirm And Old; His Withered Cheek, And Tresses Gray, Seemed To Have Know A Better Day.

Hail To The Chief Who In Triumph Advances!

For A Laggard In Love, And A Dastard In War, Was To Wed The Fair Ellen Of Lochinvar.