Poetry: Mexican Poetry

[The following stirring ond cnustic production i by popular Mexican poeta: Vera Cruz - José de S.illülo - ind was publishod in May Inst. - The translation was mado for the Chronotype.] Ucnrken 1 froni our Northern borders Sounds Ariata's bucle cnll ; On the bnnks of Rio Br.ivo, Burststhe shell and plou?hs the ball I Ghnstly hunda n Tenochtitlan Strike th' oíd Atzec battle drum ; Shnrp of benk and sirong oí talon. Lo, Mcxiih'a eagles come 1 Coldly sloep our slaughtered brothors, While above ti eir hnsiy graves Sounds the hurrying foot of rnpine, And the robber banner waveo. On they come, the mad invader, Like tbo fire before the wind : Freedom's harvest field bufore them, Slavery's blacke.ied wasro behmd. From the eellcts of God's image - From ihe traílickers n Man - Motlier gracioue, mother holy, Shield thy dark-browed Mexican I Iíearken ! up the Rio Bravo, Comes the negro-catcher's shout 1 Listen 1 'tis ihe Ynnkee's hammer, Forgiig human fettersour. Let the land we love be wasted, IMack with fire, nnd roiiErh with gravei; B"er fai, for God nnd Frcedom Die at once, than live as 6laves I We are few, and tliey nre many, Strong in anns and wealili t)d pridc ; But thcBTint8 and holy angel And inan'a hcart are on our sido. Hurk ! from ancient Tenochtiilan, Sounds once more the Atzec drum ; Not for conquest, not for vengeance, But for Freedom, foith and home I