Andrew Jackson's Address to the People of New Orleans.

I.

Never, while such as ye are in the breach, Oh! brothers, sons, and Southrons--never! never! Shall the foul enemy your city reach! For souls and hearts are eager with endeavor; And God's own sanction on your cause, makes holy Each arm that strikes for home, however lowly!-- And ye shall conquer by the rolling deep!-- And ye shall conquer on the embattled steep!-- And ye shall see Leviathan go down A hundred fathoms, with a horrible cry Of drowning wretches, in their agony-- While Slaughter wades in gore along the sands, And Terror flies with pleading, outstretched hands, All speechless, but with glassy-staring eyes-- Flying to Fate--and fated as he flies;-- Seeking his refuge in the tossing wave, That gives him, when the shark has fed, a grave!

II.

Thus saith the Lord of Battles: "Shall it be, That this great city, planted by the sea, With threescore thousand souls--with fanes and spires Reared by a race of unexampled sires-- That I have watched, now twice a hundred years,[1] Nursed through long infancy of hopes and fears, Baptized in blood at seasons, oft in tears; Purged with the storm and fire, and bade to grow To greatness, with a progress firm but slow-- That being the grand condition of duration-- Until it spreads into the mighty nation! And shall the usurper, insolent of power, O'erwhelm it with swift ruin in an hour! And hurl his bolts, and with a dominant will, Say to its mighty heart--'Crouch, and be still! My foot is on your neck! I am your Fate! Can speak your doom, and make you desolate!'

III.

"No! He shall know--I am the Lord of war; And all his mighty hosts but pigmies are! His hellish engines, wrought for human woe, His arts and vile inventions, and his power, My arm shall bring to ruin, swift and low! Even now my bolts are aimed, my storm-clouds lower, And I will arm my people with a faith, Shall make them free of fear, and free of scaith; Arid they shall bear from me a smiting sword, Edged with keen lightning, at whose stroke is poured A torrent of destruction and swift wrath, Sweeping--the insolent legions from their path! The usurper shall be taught that none shall take-- The right to punish and avenge from me: And I will guard my City by the Sea, And save its people for their fathers' sake!"

IV.

Selah!--Oh I brothers, sons, and Southrons, rise; To prayer: and lo! the wonder in the skies! The sunbow spans your towers, even while the foe Hurls his fell bolt, and rains his iron blow. Toss'd by his shafts, the spray above yon height[1] God's smile hath turned into a golden light; Orange and purple-golden! In that sign Find ye fit promise for that voice divine! Hark! 'tis the thunder! Through the murky air, The solemn roll goes echoing far and near! Go forth, and unafraid! His shield is yours! And the great spirits of your earlier day-- Your fathers, hovering round your sacred shores-- Will guard your bosoms through the unequal fray! Hark to their voices, issuing through the gloom:[2] "The cruel hosts that haunt you, march to doom: Give them the vulture's rites--a naked tomb! And, while ye bravely smite, with fierce endeavor, The foe shall reach your city--never! never!"

[1] Charleston was originally settled in 1671. She is now near 2 years old.

[2]In the late engagement of Fort Sumter, with the enemy's fleet, April 7th, the spray thrown above the walls by their enormous missiles, was formed into a beautiful sunbow, seeing which, General Ripley, with the piety of Constantine, exclaimed: "In hoc signo vinces!"

Charleston Mercury.