Thus in the battle, I upheld And thought how sweet it were to die, Toward my throbbing heart, I cried with joy, midst shriek and groan, A. P. AUPER. RALLYING ROUND THEIR STANDARD. MASSACRE AT FORT RIPLEY, MINNESOTA, 'Tis heard, 'tis heard, that dreadful sound— Grand woods ring out with trumpet blast, Hostile bands in desperate fray, Batteries send in bounding notes, The dying cries of suffering life, And onward fly the leaden hail. Warm, crimson tides flow fast from breasts With which the will of power abounds. The soldier falls! aye falls in blood, Of comrades shattered, dying, dead; "Tis on that field where strong he stood, He claims a warrior's hard death bed! How desolate once happy bowers, Where naught was known but home delights; The mighty sword exerts its powers, The conflict shows its hideous frights. Both cot aud mansion 'neath the sway Quick rallying 'round their standard high, Oh, dearly bought, unholy prize, At cost of human creature's doom; Ye rulers, shun the sacrifice, And save the many hearts from gloom! WILLIAM J. M'CLURE. DIRGE OF THE RAPPAHANNOCK. AFTER THE BATTLE ON THE RAPPAHANNOCK, VA., Он, there are thoughts that have no form, That lingers in the frozen North, Till changing skies give their dark whirlwinds birth. Such, Rappahannock, is thy tale, That rushes like thy tide to ocean's deep- Not Israel's seat whose shadowy vale of death No sun shall ever pierce with ray of cheerful light. Ye spirits, marshal up your ranks again, Ye knew the horrors of that day of gloom, Gather your serried hosts and let the plain Where hangs the drapery of a nation's tomb, Echo the tramp that march'd you to your doom! No more the thought is idle as a dream, Yet Rappahannock's flowing stream must know The mutter'd curse that hath the raven-scream, "On all her banks let deadly nightshade grow," Nor poet's line e'er change that bitter curse of woe. With timid fear the child shall lave his feet, To drive all joyous life from freedom's grave, Ah! 'tis a tale which shall curdle in the veins In And pulpit men, whose mission was of love, It hath been writ that war was once in heaven, And hell's deep hate the human fiend inspires, That mingles in the heart where pity's voice expires. Walk o'er these grounds, ye sordid men of gain, On Rappahannock's ripen'd fields of grain The chivalry of peace changes in war, To midnight prowl the fierce hyenas make, It fell in death, but stripped and naked, take ANONYMOUS. MY CAPTAIN BEND LOW. AT THE BATTLE OF CENTREVILLE, VA., AUGUST 28TH, '62. My noble commander, thank God you have come; And those who are waiting me never could know My soul has not wandered one moment from theirs. By the light that I saw on her radiant brow She watches, and waits there, and prays for me now. My captain, bend low; for this poor, wounded side Is draining my heart of its lost crimson tide. Some day when you leave this dark place, and go fre You will meet a fair girl! she will question of me! She has kissed the bright curl, as it lay on my head; When it goes back alone, she will know I am dead. And tell her the soul, when on earth was her own, Is waiting and weeping in Heaven, alone, |