One glance, and a look, half-sad, half-wild,
Passed over her face, which grew more pale,
Then a passionate, hopeless, heart-broken wail,
And the mother bent low o'er the prostrate child.

LYON.

SING, bird, on green Missouri's plain,

The saddest song of sorrow;
Drop tears, O clouds, in gentlest rain
Ye from the winds can borrow;
Breathe out, ye winds, your softest sigh,
Weep flowers, in dewy splendor,
For him who knew well how to die,
But never to surrender.

Up rose serene the August sun,
Upon that day of glory;

Up curled from musket and from gun
The war-cloud gray and hoary;

It gathered like a funeral pall,

Now broken and now blended, Where rang the buffalo's angry call, And rank with rank contended.

Four thousand men, as brave and true
As e'er went forth in daring,

Upon the foe that morning threw
The strength of their despairing.

They feared not death,

men bless the field

That patriot soldiers die on ;

Fair Freedom's cause was sword and shield, And at their head was Lyon!

Their leader's troubled soul looked forth
From eyes of troubled brightness;

Sad soul! the burden of the North
Had pressed out all its lightness.
He gazed upon the unequal fight,
His ranks all rent and gory,
And felt the shadows close like night
Round his career of glory.

"General, come, lead us!" loud the cry
From a brave band was ringing, —
"Lead us, and we will stop, or die,
That battery's awful singing."
He spurred to where his heroes stood,

Twice wounded, no wound knowing,

The fire of battle in his blood

And on his forehead glowing.

Oh, cursed for aye that traitor's hand,
And cursed that aim so deadly,

LYON.

Which smote the bravest of the land,
And dyed his bosom redly!
Serene he lay while past him pressed

The battle's furious billow,

As calmly as a babe may rest
Upon its mother's pillow.

So Lyon died! and well may flowers
His place of burial cover,
For never had this land of ours
A more devoted lover.

Living, his country was his bride,

His life he gave her dying,

Life, fortune, love, — he naught denied

To her and to her sighing.

Rest, Patriot, in thy hill-side grave,
Beside her form who bore thee!
Long may the land thou died'st to save

Her bannered stars wave o'er thee!

Upon her history's brightest page,
And on Fame's glowing portal,
She'll write thy grand, heroic page,
And grave thy name immortal!

H. P.

135

136

THE MUSIC OF UNION.

KEEP STEP WITH THE MUSIC OF UNION.

BY WILLIAM ROSS WALLACE.

EEP step with the music of Union,

ΚΕ

The music our ancestors sung,
When States, like a jubilant chorus,
To beautiful sisterhood sprung:
Oh thus shall their great Constitution,
That guards all the homes of the land,
A mountain of freedom and justice

For millions eternally stand.

North and South, East and West, all un-
furling

One banner alone o'er the sod;
One voice from America swelling
In worship of Liberty's God!

Keep step with the music of Union!
What grandeur its Flag has unrolled :
For the loyal, a star-lighted Heaven ;
For traitors, a storm in each fold!
The glorious shade of Mount Vernon
Still points to each patriot's grave;
Still cries, "O'er the coming long ages
That banner of Bunker Hill wave!"
North and South, etc.

THE MUSIC OF UNION.

Keep step with the music of Union!

The forests have sunk at its sound; The pioneer's brow been with triumph And labor's broad opulence crowned. O yet shall all rude giant forces

Of Nature be chained to our cars, And States that have madly seceded Return to the Stripes and the Stars. North and South, etc.

Keep step with the music of Union !
'Tis thus we shall nourish the light
Our fathers lit for the chained nations
That darkle in Tyranny's night.
The blood of the whole world is with us,
O'er ocean by oligarchs hurled;

And they who would dare to attack us
Shall sink with the wrath of a world.
North and South, etc.

"Keep step with the music of Union!"
So LINCOLN, the glorious, cries,
(While SCOTT, the majestic, replies,)
The flames of the patriot flashing

Like lightnings of Heaven from his eyes;
Red wrath on all Copperhead villains

Who dare trail their blasphemous slime

137