Over our Washington's river Father and martyr lies there. 2. Kings under pyramids slumber, Decked with the spoil of the lands: Him and God's heaven between: 3. Break into blossom, O prairies! All with a gracious accord, Brought to the tomb of the Lord. 4. Wind of the West! breathe around him Wide o'er the Moabite plain, Rarer, O wind! and diviner Sweet as the breeze that went by, When, over Olivet's mountain, 5. Not for thy sheaves nor savannas Here in his grave is thy grandeur, Hewn for the Lord, do we hold Freedom's Jerusalem thou! CLXII.-OVER THE RIVER. 1. OVER the river they beckon to me NANCY A. W. PRIEST. Loved ones who've crossed to the further side: The gleam of the snowy robes I see, But their voices are drowned in the rushing tide. There's one, with ringlets of sunny gold, And eyes, the reflection of heaven's own blue: He crossed in the twilight, gray and cold, And the pale mist hid him from mortal view. We saw not the angels that met him there: The gates of the city we could not see ;Over the river, over the river, My brother stands waiting to welcome me! 2. Over the river the boatman pale Carried another-the household pet: Darling Minnie! I see her yet! She crossed on her bosom her dimpled hands, And all our sunshine grew strangely dark. Where all the ransomed and angels be;Over the river, the mystic river, My childhood's idol is waiting for me! 3. For none return from those quiet shores, Who cross with the boatman cold and pale: We hear the dip of the golden oars, And catch a gleam of the snowy sail, And, lo! they have passed from our yearning hearts: That hides from our vision the gates of day: May sail with us o'er life's stormy sea: I shall one day stand by the water cold, And list for the sound of the boatman's oar: CLXIII.-THE BAYONET CHARGE. 1. Nor a sound, not a breath! NATHAN D. URNER. As we stand on the steep in our bayonet's shine: Surging friend, surging foe; But, not a hair's breadth moves our adamant line- The battle smoke lifts From the valley, and drifts Round the hill where we stand, like a pall for the world; Shows the billows of men, In whose black, boiling surge we are soon to be hurled, There's the word! "Ready all!" 2. See the serried points fall The grim horizontal so bright and so bare! Then the other word-Ha! We are moving! Huzza! We snuff the burnt powder, we plunge in the glare, Down the hill, up the glen, O'er the bodies of men. Then on with a cheer, to the roaring redoubt! Why stumble so, Ned? No answer: he's dead! And there's Dutch Peter down, with his life leaping out, 3. On! on! Do not think Of the falling; but drink Of the mad, living cataract torrent of war! On! on let them feel The cold vengeance of steel! Catch the Captain-he's hit! 'Tis a scratch-nothing more! Forward forever! Huzza! Here's a trench! In and out of it! Wrench From the jaws of the cannon the guerdon of Fame! Like the shriek of a shell O'er the abatis, on through the curtain of flame! 4. The rampart! 'Tis crossed It is ours! It is lost! No-another dash now and the glacis is won! Hew them down. Cut and thrust! A T-i-g-a-r! brave lads, for the red work is done- CLXIV. THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS. 1. ONE more unfortunate, Weary of breath, Rashly importunate, Lift her with care! THOMAS HOOD. Fashioned so slenderly- 2. Look at her garments, Loving, not loathing! 3. Touch her not scornfully! 4. Make no deep scrutiny, Into her mutiny, Rash and undutiful: Past all dishonor, Death has left on her Only the beautiful. 5. Still, for all slips of hersOne of Eve's family Wipe those poor lips of hers, Oozing so clammily. Escaped from the comb- Where was her home? 6. Who was her father? Who was her mother? Had she a sister? Had she a brother? Or was there a dearer one 7. Alas! for the rarity |