ODE.BY JOHN PIERPONT, Esq.-TUNE.-Roderick Dhu.

Hark! 'tis the children of WASHINGTON, pouring The full tide of song to the conqueror's praise Whose brows our young eagle, triumphantly soaring From the dun smoke of battle, encircled with bays. And while the choral song Floats on the air along Blending the tones of the mellowing strain, Bright o'er the melting soul New scenes of glory roll, Glory that spreads its broad blaze o'er the main.

Hail to the brave, who in language of thunder, Borne on the foam-crested billows to war, Claim of their foe no inglorious plunder,- The trident of Neptune and victory's car. And while Columbia's stars Wave o'er her gallant tars, Bounding in triumph along the blue deep; See, o'er the bloody wave, Many a Briton's grave, The proud queen of ocean disconsolate weep.

Hail to yon orient star, that adorning And gilding the skies with its ravishing light, Blazes unquench'd on the forehead of morning, And dispels the cold gloom of oppression and night. 'Tis by that ruddy glow Slaves and their tyrant know Freedom and hope to the world have return'd; So shone the pilot star, Hail'd from the east afar That over the manger of Bethlehem burn'd.

Peace to the dust that in silence reposes Beneath the dark boughs of the cypress and yew; Let Spring deck the spot with her earliest roses, And Heav'n wash their leaves in its holiest dew. Calm as the Hero's soul Let the Potomac roll Wat'ring the willow that over him weeps, And, from his glassy wave, Softly reflect the grave Where all that was mortal of WASHINGTON sleeps.

Hail holy shade! we would proudly inherit The flame that once deign'd in thy bosom to glow While yet but one spark of thy patriot spirit Thy godlike benevolence lingers below. Ne'er let thy fav'rite tree Sacred to Liberty By Anarchy's sulph'ry sirocco be riven; But in immortal bloom Rise o'er its planters tomb Rich with perfume as the breezes of Heaven.

ODE TO THE SPIRIT OF WASHINGTON. TUNE- Ye Mariners of England.

Descend, thou hallow'd Spirit, And guard our native land; Where every fiend of faction roams, And discord waves her brand- Oh! where has fled the patriot fire, That learnt from thee to glow? On our shore, seen no more, CHORUS. While the storms of faction blow, While weakness o'er our councils sways, And the storms of faction blow.

Yet still one supplication, We humbly dare to frame,- Oh! bless this filial band, that bears Thy consecrated name! For here thy sacred mem'ry lives; Here grateful bosoms glow; And thy name lights a flame, CHORUS. Though the storms of faction blow, Though the darkest clouds our country shade, And the storms of faction blow.

Should ANY brave our rampires With cannon-studded fleets; Or iron-serried arms invade Our native sweet retreats- Then WASHINGTON, our rallying word Shall urge us on the foe; In the fight, we'll unite, CHORUS. No invading war we wage, But hail! sweet PEACE! thy blest return To hush base faction's rage.

HYMN. TUNE.-"Old Hundred."

On Europe's realms, of mournful fame, Through deepest gloom, Lo! Freedom breaks; And millions rise to adore HIS name, Who justly chides, but ne'er forsakes.

Th' Oppressor's cruel arm is stay'd, The floods of ruin backward roll; He, whom whole nations late obey'd, Humbled deplores GOD's high control.

Almight power! We own thy grace, Oft interpos'd to save our race; From THEE have sprung our blissful days; By THEE we live; to hope and praise.

Through him, thy mercies we have seen, Whose public worth, and holy life, Have still our shield and safety been, From lawless rule, and civil strife.

From him our virtues may we learn, May his example trace our path; And may we yet thy blessings earn, And yet escape thine awful wrath.