POETRY AND INCIDENTS. MITCHEL. BY W. FRANCIS WILLIAMS, His mighty life was burned away Smote him before his course seemed run. The constellations of the sky, The Pleiades, the Southern Cross, Looked sadly down to see him die, To see a nation weep his loss. "Send him to us," the stars might cry; "You do not feel his worth below; Your petty great men do not try The measure of his mind to know. "Send him to us-this is his place, Not 'mid your puny jealousies; Of envies, strifes and policies. "His eye could pierce our vast expanse, His ear could hear our morning songs, His mind, amid our mystic dance, Could follow all our myriad throngs. "Send him to us! no martyr's soul, No hero slain in righteous wars, No raptured saint could e'er control A holier welcome from the stars." Take him, ye stars! take him on high, His name on martial scrolls to trace. That once was when his country's call VICTORY. BY LIZZIE E. H. BATES. All the day the stormy clouds For the brave and noble dead; Breaks the sombre veil at last, Like to the exultant show Victors make when battle's past. VOL. VI.-POETRY 1 Listen! Hear the deepening roar Shaking earth, and air, and sky, From the distant river shoreHow its echoes thunder by! Does an earthquake stalk abroad O'er Missouri's fated soil, Making one vast grave her sod While her rivers seethe and boil? Listen! No! It is the boom Of the cannon's fearful notes, While the wreaths of battle bloom All around their bellowing throats! Listen! No! It cannot be ! Price is still in full retreat, And our troops in Tennessee Rebel arms shall ne'er defeat! Listen! Still the ceaseless roar Peals along the quivering air, From the city on the shore News of victory it must bear ! Listen! Hear the loud hurrahs In the quiet village streets, While the distant thunder jarsEcho still with echo meets. Listen! Loudly peal the bells! Listen! Guns are thundering here! Every thing of victory tells, Hearts of millions yearn to hear. God be praised! His arm of wrath Stanches, guides its crimson flow. Listen! Hear the sighing gale For the prisoners Death doth bind? That we conquer cannot bring Loved and lost ones back to lifeThat Right conquers, Glory sings O'er the field of deadly strife; That Right conquers still, shall be Balm for hearts with deepest wound, And this thought eternally Sanctifies the battle-ground! BUNKER HILL, ILL., Feb. 17, 1862. "BUT GOD IS OVER ALL." BY M. H. COBB. Night closes in with threat'ning skies, From glowing grates we turn, to think And who their deathly cup shall drink- How fare they in the distant camp- O mothers, wives! distraught with fears, No base ambitions quickened these; How nobler these than they who fought For in this strife shall be outwrought Where thickest falls war's leaden rain, They closely press, and fight again Remember, ye who watch the night THE CAPTURE OF NEW-ORLEANS. BY WILLIAM DENSMORE, U.S.N. Come, all you Union-loving men, wherever you may be, I hope you'll pay attention now, and listen unto me, Concerning of a gallant ship, the Brooklyn is her name, Which name deserves to be engraved upon the list of fame. With battering-rams, and fire-rafts, and all the gunboat fleet, The rebels they were well prepared the Union tars to meet; With sand and floating batteries, upon the river-side, Bold Duncan in Fort Jackson brave Farragut defied. On the twenty-fourth of April, before the break of day, The Hartford, being flag-ship, then a red light did display; The light was seen throughout the fleet, then up went cheer on cheer, The Union fleet got under weigh, and for the Forts did The rebels well supplied their guns, and Duncan he did say: "There is the Brooklyn close to us, so at her fire away, And if you sink that ship to-night the others all will run, And then our Louisiana fleet will capture every one." What is that dreadful noise we hear? Like thunder it does roar. The Hartford has got up in range, and in the grape does pour; The Pensacola on the right, the Richmond comes up too, And with their nine-inch shot and shell they breach Fort Philip through. The gunboats follow quickly up, and send in grape in turn, While close on board the Brooklyn a fire-raft does burn; The Hartford's now all in a blaze, for joy the rebels shout, The Brooklyn drops and covers her-the fire it is put The Chalmette's batteries next we take-the river now is clear We spike their guns, and give three cheers, and for the city steer; From each mast-head throughout the fleet the Stars and Stripes do fly, The city's ours, the fleet comes to, and off it we do lie. So here's success to Farragut and all the Union fleet, Which by their bold, undaunted pluck the rebels did defeat; A grateful country long will mourn the loss of those who fell Defending of their country's flag from traitors' shot and shell. And here's to brave McClellan, he'll break secession's coil, And only one flag soon shall wave upon Columbia's soil; WHEN THE GREAT REBELLION'S OVER. Papa?" soft the mother cried"Papa! ah! the naughty rover! Sweet, my pet, he'll come to thee When the great rebellion's over!" "Mamma once had rosy cheeks, Danced and sung a merry tune; Now she rocks me 'neath the moon, Sits and sighs, but scarcely speaks." Sad the smile the mother wore"Sweet mamma has lost her lover, She will blush and sing no more Till the great rebellion's over! "Till the hush of peace shall come, Like a quiet fall of snow, And the merry troops shall go Marching back to hearts at home"'Papa-home?" the baby lisped, Balmy-breathed as summer clover "Yes, my darling, home at last, And the sad rebellion over!" THE MARCH OF THE REGIMENT. BY "H. H. B." Here they come !-'tis the Twelfth, you know- The ranks close up, to the measured flow For God and the right to stand- O trusty and true! O gay, warm heart! O ready and staunch! who, at war's alarm, Have left the axe and the plough! That every tear were a holy charm, To guard, with honor, some head from harm, For, of valiant heart and of sturdy arm Never a nobler morn to the bold For God and for country's sake! And leers on the blood-barred snake! O base and vain! that, for grudge and gain, Could hoard your hate for the coward chance Of death, than the Switzer drew! We have borne and borne-and may bear again Welcome, the sulphury cloud in the sky! Act but the dream ye dared to form, O blind and bitter! that could not know, Ever is ghosted with after fear- Looking, with fevered eyes, For sail or smoke from the Breton shore, Office at outcry!-ah! wretched Flam! O'er Seas, how narrow!-for, whoso wins, The rule of his Dearest Hate Her point once flashing athwart her Kin's, And the reckoning, ledgered for long, beginsThe galling Glories and envied Sins Shall buzz in a mesh-like fate! Ay, mate your meanest !-ye can but do How Guilt, o'erblown, her crest heaves high, Blindfold and brazen, on God doth call- Yet a little!-and men shall mark At last!-(ungloom, stern coffined frown! Down to the Home whence it came!) And drink of her blood-grimed Cup! How Sodom, to-night, shall sup! While Babylon's Smoke goes up!) Yet, dree your weird!—though an hour may blight, And learn anon-as on that dread night Ay, 'tis at hand!-foul lips, be dumb! As they ring on the damned floor! |