There were tears in manly eyes, then, and manly heads were bowed, Though the balls flew thick around them, and the cannons thundered loud; They gathered round the spot where the dying soldier lay, To catch the broken accents he was struggling then to say; And a change came o'er the features where death had set his marks, "It is growing very dark, mother—very, very dark.” Far away his mind had wandered, to Ohio's hills and vales, Where the loved ones watched and waited with that love that never fails; He was with them as in childhood, seated in the cottage door, Where he watched the evening shadows slowly creeping on the floor; Bend down closely, comrades, closely, he is speaking now, and hark!- "It is growing very dark, mother-very, very dark." He was dreaming of his mother, that her loving hand was pressed On his brow for one short moment, ere he sank away to rest; That her lips were now imprinting a kiss upon his cheek, And a voice he well remembered spoke so soft, and low, and meek. Her gentle form was near him, her footstep he could mark, "But 'tis growing very dark, mother-mother, very dark." And the eye that once had kindled, flashing forth with pa triot light, Slowly gazing, vainly strove to pierce the gathering gloom of night, Ah! poor soldier! ah! fond mother! you are severed now for aye, Cold and pulseless, there he lies now, where he breathed his life away. Through this heavy cloud of sorrow shines there not one heavenly spark? Ah! it has grown dark, mother-very, very dark. Gather round him, soldiers, gather, fold his hands and close his eyes, Near another one is dying, "Rally round our flag!" he cries; "Heaven protect it-fight on, comrades, speedily avenge our death!" Then his voice grew low and faltering, slowly came each painful breath. Two brave forms lay side by side there; death had loved a shining mark, And two sad mothers say, "It has grown dark, ah! very dark."-Z. R. THE BLACK HORSE GUARD. A TALE OF THE BATTLE OF BULL RUN. WE waited for their coming beside that craggy "run," On, on they came in close-set ranks. O, 'twas a goodly sight! Their horses shone like ebony, their arms were burnished bright; A breathless silence; then there came a ringing down the van, "Lie low! Remember Ellsworth! let each one pick his man." A thousand rifle-flashes; then shrieks and groans of pain, And clouds of dust uprising over the fatal plain, 'Mid which the gleaming bayonets seemed like the lightning's flash, The cry, dash! "Remember Ellsworth," and the deadly forward A silence;-horses riderless, and scouring from the fray, While here and there a trooper spurs his worn steed away. The smoke dispels-the dust blows off-subsides the fatal stir; Virginia's Black Horse Cavalry is with the things that were. A wailing on the sunny slopes along the Shenandoah, A weeping where the York and James' deep-rolling torrents pour; Where Rappahannock peaceful glides, on many a fertile plain, A cry of anguish for the loved who ne'er may come again. The widow clasps the fatherless in silent, speechless grief, Or weeps as if in floods of tears the soul could find relief; The Old Dominion weeps, and mourns full many a gallant son, Who sleeps upon that fatal field beside that craggy run. Oh, matrons of Virginia! with you has been the blame; NOT YET. Он, country, marvel of the earth! No! Land of Hope and Blessing, No! And we who wear thy glorious name, And they who founded, in our land, Send up the thrilling murmur, No! Knit they the gentle ties which long Our humming marts, our iron ways, Our wind-tossed woods on mountain crest, The hoarse Atlantic, with his bays, The calm, broad ocean of the West, And Mississippi's torrent flow, And loud Niagara, answer, No! Not yet the hour is nigh, when they For now, behold, the Arm that gave Writes, in men's sight, the answer, No! William Cullen Bryant. THE ROMAN TWINS. "Twas told by Roman soothsayers, What time they read the stars, That Romulus and Remus Sprang from the loins of Mars: That Romulus and Remus Were twin-born on the earth, And in the lap of a she-wolf Were suckled from their birth. By Jove! I think this legend- For mine own time, and mine own clime, Romulus stood with Remus, Then laughed the dark twin, Remus, And over the bounds of Romulus Of Slavery's strife and Liberty's life, The sucklings of the she-wolf The seven hills of his home, For mine own time and mine own clime; 'Tis more than Roman myth! Like Romulus and Remus, Straight to our hearts comes home- A. J. H. Duganne. THE WATCHERS. BESIDE a stricken field I stood; Still in their fresh mounds lay the slain; And gusty sighs and tearful rain. |