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POETRY AND INCIDENTS.

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O God!-can I live with the horrible truth!

Stabbed through as he lay, with their glittering steel;

Could they look in that face, like a woman's for youth,

And crush out its beauty with musket and heel,
Like hounds, or like demons!

That brow I have blessed in my dead mother's place, Each morning and evening since she went unto rest;

Smoothing down the fair cheek, as my own baby's face,

Those eyes with her look, where my kisses were prest,

For I saw hers-so tender!

Curses spring to my lips! Oh, my God, send the hail
Of swift ready vengeance for deeds such as this!
Forego all thy mercy, if judgment must fail!
Forgive my wild heart if it prayeth amiss-
His blood crieth upward!

"Amiss!"-and the strife of my clamorous grief
Is hushed into stillness-what grief like to thine!
If my poor human heart, with its passions so brief,
Is tortured with pangs, can we guess the Divine,
With depths past all searching!
VOL. II.-POETRY 40

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Help lips white with anguish to take up His prayer;
Help hearts that are bursting to stifle their cries;
The shout of the populace, too, has been there,
To drown pleas for justice, to clothe truth in lies—
To enrage and to madden.

They knew not we loved them; they knew not we prayed

For their weal as our own;-" we are brethren," we plead;

Unceasing those prayers to Our Father were made; When they flung down the palm for palmetto, wo said,

"Let us still hope to win them."

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By the hope that suffers long,
And grows through holy sorrow strong,
By all the starry flags unfurled,
For the last war-field of the world,
Give us, O God, the victory!

-Providence Daily Journal, Aug. 6.

THE REST-WHERE ARE THEY?

Written on seeing the returning regiments, and after having read a familiar name among the killed of the Seyenty-first, at the battle of Bull Run.

BY LAURA ELMER.

Our hearts give us answer-they're taken;
Accepted's the offering they made!

On earth never more shall they waken-
On Liberty's altar they're laid,-
Blest sacrifice!

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Blest dead, be ye now softly sleeping-
Our tenderest tears shall bedew

Each grave and we're proud 'mid our weeping,
That trial's hour proved ye so true
In sacrifice!

O patriots, rest safe forever

From temptings inglorious secure

Ye've triumphed in holy endeavor;

Your blood-yes, your blood proves how pure Your sacrifice!

We'll weep as your agonies sharing,

Ye fainting, death-wounded, and lone; That poor shattered limb, with none caring, A mother once clasped as her own, In purest joy!

How warm-God, how true were her kisses!
Like jettings of life-blood they came;
That silk-dimpled knee bore her blisses-
Aye, blisses all worthy the name-
Sweet baby boy!

Few summers have sped since she clasped thee,
And chased e'en a shade from thy brow;

The pitying winds gliding past thee,
Seem mocking balm-breaths to thee now
Of life's past joy!

"Tis over-thy last pulse has fluttered; Thou'rt glorious now-thou'rt secure; 'Gainst thee ne'er can libel be utteredThy blood proves thy loyalty pureDear sacrifice!

Thy country's thou art, and forever,

Thy country's while lasteth all time; Safe bosomed, and nothing can sever This bond of thy life's yielded primeSweet sacrifice!

Such memories hallowed we'll cherish-
How precious to die with the brave!
O shout: Ne'er can Liberty perish-
Her saviours confront e'en the grave-
Grand sacrifice!

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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, "Remember Ellsworth," and the deadly forward dash!

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

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THE CIVILIANS AT BULL RUN.

BY IL. R. TRACY.

Have you heard of the story, so lacking in glory,
About the civilians who went to the fight?
With every thing handy, from sandwich to brandy,
To fill their broad stomachs, and make them all
tight.

There were bulls from our State street, and cattle from Wall street,

And members of Congress to see the great fun; Newspaper reporters, (some regular snorters,) On a beautiful Sunday went to Bull Run.

Provided with passes as far as Manassas,
The portly civilians rode jolly along;

Till the sound of the battle, the roar and the rattle
Of cannon and musket drowned laughter and song.

Their hearts were all willing to witness the killing, When the jolly civilians had chosen their ground; They drank and they nibbled-reporters they scribbled,

While shot from the cannon were flying around.

But nearer the rattle and storm of the battle

Approached the civilians who came to a show, The terrible thunder filled them with wonder

And trembling, and quaking with fear of the foe.

The hell's egg-shells flying, the groans of the dying, Soon banished their pleasure and ruined their fun;

There was terrible slaughter-blood ran like water, When civilians were pic-nicking down at Bull Run.

Their forms aldermanic are shaken with panic, When the "Black Horse" sweep down like a cloud on the plain;

They run helter-skelter, their fat bodies swelter,They fly from the field thickly strewn with the slain.

Oh, save me from their rage! Oh, give me my carriage!

The civilians cry out at the sound of each gun; No longer they're frisky with brandy and whiskey, No longer they seek for a fight at Bull Run!

Did they come down there balmy, to stampede the army?

It would seem so, for how like a Jehu they drive ! O'er the dead and the wounded their vehicles bounded, They caring for naught but to get home alive.

For the sharp desolation that struck through the nation,

We hold to account the civilians and-rum; When our soldiers next go to battle the foe, May our portly civilians be kept here at home. -Boston Herald.

THE LATEST WAR NEWS.

Oh, pale, pale face! Oh, helpless hands! Sweet eyes by fruitless watching wronged,

Yet turning ever towards the lands

Where War's red hosts are thronged.

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Lead Thou our march to war's worst lot,

Yet, still it beats, responsive, deep,

As to a peace-time feast;

Grant, only, that our souls be not

Without Christ's life released!

O God of heaven's most glorious host!

To Thee this hymn we raise;

To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
One God, one voice of praise!

-Boston Transcript, Aug. 3.

A TRIBUTE TO THE BRAVE.

Its strong pulse throbbing through the land, Gathering a human flood, to sweep

Resistless, o'er the rebel band!

Firmly resolved to win success,

We'll tread the path our fathers trod,
Unflinching, to the conflict press,

And, fearless, trust our cause to God!
-N. Y. Evening Post, July 26.

RICHMOND, July 24.—A vast concourse assembled early yesterday evening at the Central Railroad dépôt,

DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF THE LATE to await the arrival of the train from Manassas. So

COL JAMES CAMERON.

BY H. CLAY PREUSS.

A plain, substantial farmer,
Whose years of thrift and toil
With peace and plenty crowned him,
As monarch of the soil:
One of the "solid people,"

Whose works of brain and hand
Build up our nation's riches,
And dignify our land.

But when his outraged country
Called on her sons for aid,

He dropped the spade and ploughshare,
And drew his battle-blade.
Amid the cannon's thunder,

That shook the summer air,
Where iron hail fell thickest,

His stalwart form was there!

The best war-blood of Scotland
Was burning in his veins;
His fiery steed seemed conscious
A Cameron held the reins!
The light of glorious battle
Gleamed from his master's eye,
As, with the "bairns of Scotland,"
He swore to "do or die!"

A true man to his country
Unto his latest breath,
He heard the call of duty,

And died a hero's death!

The mem'ry of his virtues

Shall blossom far and wide,
And Scotland's name of Cameron,
Shall be our nation's pride!

-National Intelligencer, July 31.

"CAST DOWN, BUT NOT DESTROYED. BY "A. E."

Oh, Northern men-true hearts and bold-
Unflinching to the conflict press!
Firmly our country's flag uphold,

Till traitorous foes its sway confess!

Not lightly was our freedom bought,
By many a martyr's cross and grave;
Six weary years our fathers fought,

'Midst want and peril, sternly brave.

And thrice six years, with tightening coil, Still closer wound by treacherous art, Men-children of our common soil

Have preyed upon the nation's heart!

great was the crowd, that, in anticipation of the arrival of the wounded, it was deemed necessary by the committee appointed to receive them to set a strong guard to prevent the pressure of the people around the train when it should arrive. By this means the track and a considerable space on either side of it was kept clear, though the car-tops, fences, and all the eminences in the vicinity were thronged with the expectant crowd. At 74 o'clock, the first train arrived, bringing 20 wounded soldiers, and the bodies of four of our dead-Gen. Bartow, Col. Johnston, a private of the Montgomery Guard named James Driscoll, and another whose name we could not learn.

During the excitement attending the anxious inquiries after friends, and the crowding to look upon the dead and wounded, it was whispered through the crowd that President Davis was on the train. Immediately a rush was made in search of the distinguished statesman and chieftain, and a thousand shouts rent the air with wild huzzas as his well-known face and figure were discovered.

Though travel-worn and evidently fatigued by the trying scenes through which he had passed in the last two days, the President could not deny the enthusiastic citizens the pleasure of hearing from his own mouth. something of the glorious deeds so recently achieved by our brave and invincible patriot soldiers. In a strain of fervid eloquence, he eulogized the courage, the endurance, and patriotism of our victorious troops; and to the memory of our honored dead, who shed their life's blood on the battle-field in the glorious cause of their country, he paid a glowing tribute, which could not fail to dim with tears the eyes of the least feeling among his hearers.

He pronounced the victory great, glorious, and complete. He said we had whipped them this time, and would whip them as often as they offered us the opportunity. In alluding to the vastness and importance of our captures, he said we had taken every thing the enemy had in the field; sixty pieces of splendid cannon, of the best and most improved models, vast quantities of ammunition, arms enough of various descriptions to equip a large army, hundreds of wagons and ambulances of the most luxurious make and finish, and provisions enough to feed an army of fifty thousand men for twelve months.*

The headlong retreat of the enemy he compared to the wild and hurried flight of a scared covey of partridges. He said that, so great was the terror with which the repeated onslaughts of our men inspired them, taking wildly to their heels, they threw from them their guns, swords, knapsacks, and every thing that could in any way retard their escape.

A Federal officer has computed the details of this assertion, and discovered that it would require over twelve thousand wagons to transport the amount of provisions, said, by Jefferson Davis, to have been captured by the rebel army.

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