.

Loud is the boom and bright the flash,
By that dark river's tide,

And wild the shriek, where hand to hand
Fall brothers side by side.

Now seems the earth to lose its course

'Neath the column's thundering charge; While death rides swift on the leaden ball, With the freeman's breast its targe.

Out crawled a figure, bleeding, frail,
Slow moving midst the slain;
And still it moaned and still it called:
"O, tell me where he's lain!
She found him at the eventide,

Sank on his shattered breast,

Laid low her cheek by his, and moaned :
"I am weary, let me rest!"

Then came a dying whisper low:
Don't be angry, will you, John?

I could not stay and pine at home
When you and all were gone.
I only came to do your will-
To hold your bridle rein,

And think I served my lover well
When I combed his horse's mane."

His wavering breath was failing fast;
Yet love has wond'rous power,
And sometimes calls the fleeting life
Back at the final hour.

"God bless you!" then his sad lips closed,

His hand no more caressed;

And she who so had watched his life

Lay dead upon his breast.

GRAMPUS GLOWARD.

THE BADGE I WEAR.

ENGAGEMENT AT WEST LIBERTY, MO.,

OCTOBER 23D, '61.

OH! dearer than life is the badge that I wear,
With its star knit of gold from my lady-love's hair!
Close over my heart like a blossom it grows—
Tri-colored, inodorous, gold-hearted rose!

When the bells of our village tolled out their alarms,
And the drums beat the music that called us to arms,
My darling, with steady, white hands, pinned it there,
While she said in a voice that was tender as prayer,

Its silver unjarred by a shiver of fear:

"I give you to God and to Liberty, dear!

In the pride of your years, and strength of your youth,
My heart gives you up to the battle for truth."

To test her, I said: "When I go to my grave,
I'd rather my sweetheart were loving than brave.
Leave courage for men, but for women are fears,
The duty of prayers and the weakness of tears.

"True love never dooms with so tranquill a pride, Its objects to danger." She clung to my side; All the patriot blood to her face leaped like flame "True love, O my life, cannot clasp hands with shame!"

Our star-spangled flag shall not trail in the dust;
Live for me if you can, die for that if you must,
God make me a widow before I am wife,

If I prize not your honor as more than your life!"

Still further to try her, I took from its place
Her gift. The proud glow faded out of her face.
"Excuse me my dear, but your love's so divine,
It climbs quite beyond the discernment of mine.

"For your gift, many thanks! Tie it to your waist! I have seen the same colors much more to my taste In a different shape." Oh, her scorn, her surprise! Oh, the lightnings that glowed in her beautiful eyes!

And after the lightnings flashed, torrents of rain, And her voice smote my heart silver-sharp with pain. "O traitor!" she cried, "may the Father above Cast you out from His peace as I do from my love.

66

May the land you desert never yield you a grave, Or heaven claim the soul of so craven a slave! False to Freedom-" I caught the words from her lips, And kissed the wet eyes into sudden eclipse.

"Nay, listen dear love, to my plea," I replied,
"And spare me the rest of your anger and pride.
May God deal by me, as in purpose and deed,
By my country I deal in this hour of her need.

"But the mouth that touched mine just a moment ago, These little soft hands that are colder than snow; These eyes, rayed like stars, my kisses have pressed, Are the red, white and blue in the shape I love best."

Oh! dearer than life is the badge that I wear,

With its star knit of gold from my lady-love's hair! No traitor shall gather my tri-colored rose,

Except thro' my heart, the red soil where it grows.

God bless our dear country, and save her from spoil,
From the greedy home-vultures who blacken her soil ;
In the name of these colors, all others above.
Of the lips, hands and eyes of the woman I love.

J. S. HUNT.

A BATTLE HYMN FOR MIDSUMMER.

FIGHT AT SPRINGFIELD, MO.,

OCTOBER 25TH, '61.

KING of the sword and shield,
Throned on each battle field;
Hopeful and strong:

Look through the battle smoke,
Guide thou the battle stroke,

God who of yore hast broke

The red ranks of Wrong.

Deeds crown our prayers with might;
Soldiers, strong in His right;
Victory he leads:

War is His awful form,

Vengeance in our blood made warm,

'Gainst God in battle's storm

Men are but reeds.

Close up your silent ranks,

Ransomed nations crown with thanks
Real soldiers bold;

Here is the gleaming steel,

Here is the cannon's peal,

Foes reel from those who kneel;

Strife for life is old.

One thought for home and land,
For them in Thy right hand
Our lives are given:

May peace with laurels bind,
Lives, loves in blood now signed;
They who lose life shall find
The life of Heaven.

Charge with a line of fire!

Charge to the sounding lyre
Of battle's shock;

Hands red with blood are white

In Duty's holy light;

God is the patriot's might,
The martyr's Rock.

God of our father's fame,

Save sons by battle flame

From Freedom's night;

One flag o'er Fatherland;

One realm from strand to strand;
One fame of Freedom's band,

God speed the right!

REV. N. N. CHAMBERLAIN.