How you told me that you loved me,
Kneeling at your feet?

O, how proud you stood before me
In your suit of blue,

When you vowed to me and country

Ever to be true.

Chorus - Weeping, sad and lonely,

Hopes and fears, how vain; Yet praying

When this cruel war is over,

Praying that we meet again.

When the summer breeze is sighing
Mournfully along,

Or when autumn leaves are falling,
Sadly breathes the song.

Oft in dreams I see thee lying
On the battle-plain,

Lonely, wounded, even dying,
Calling, but in vain.

Chorus

Weeping, sad, &c.

If, amid the din of battle,

Nobly you should fall,

Far away from those who love you,

None to hear you call,

Who would whisper words of comfort?
Who would soothe your pain?

Ah, the many cruel fancies

Ever in my brain!

Chorus - Weeping, sad, &c.

But our country called you, darling,

Angels cheer your way!

While our nation's sons are fighting,

We can only pray.

Nobly strike for God and liberty,

APRIL 20, 1864.

Let all nations see

How we love the starry banner,

Emblem of the free!

Chorus-Weeping, sad and lonely,

Hopes and fears, how vain;
Yet praying

When this cruel war is over,
Praying that we meet again.

APRIL 20, 1864.

BY CHARLES G. HALPIN.

THREE years ago to-day

We raised our hands to heaven, And on the rolls of muster

Our names were thirty-seven; There were just a thousand bayonets, And the swords were thirty-seven,

As we took the oath of service

With our right hands raised to heaven.

Oh, 't was a gallant day,

In memory still adored,

That day of our sun-bright nuptials
With the musket and the sword!
Shrill rang the fifes, the bugles blared,
And beneath a cloudless heaven
Twinkled a thousand bayonets,

And the swords were thirty-seven.

Of the thousand stalwart bayonets
Two hundred march to-day;
Hundreds lie in Virginia swamps,
And hundreds in Maryland clay;
And other hundreds, less happy, drag
Their shattered limbs around,

213

And envy the deep, long, blessed sleep
Of the battle-field's holy ground.

For the swords

one night, a week ago,

The remnant, just eleven,

Gathered around a banqueting board
With seats for thirty-seven;

There were two limped in on crutches,
And two had each but a hand

Το pour

the wine and raise the cup

As we toasted "Our flag and land!”

And the room seemed filled with whispers
As we looked at the vacant seats,
And, with choking throats, we pushed aside
The rich but untasted meats;

Then in silence we brimmed our glasses,

As we rose up - just eleven ·

And bowed as we drank to the loved and the dead

Who had made us thirty-seven!

Harpers' Weekly.

GRANT.

BY GEORGE H. BOKER.

As Moses stood upon the flaming hill,
With all the people gathered at his feet,
Waiting in Sinai's valley, there to meet
The awful bearer of Jehovah's will,

So, Grant, thou stand'st, amidst the trumpets shrill,
And the wild fiery storms that flash and beat
In iron thunder and in leaden sleet,

Topmost of all, and most exposed to ill.

O, stand thou firm, great leader of our race,

Hope of our future, till the times grow bland,

And into ashes drops war's dying brand;

THE BOUNTY-JUMPER.

Then let us see thee, with benignant grace,
Descend thy height, God's glory on thy face,
And the law's tables safe within thy hand!

215

THE BOUNTY-JUMPER.*

BY J. CROSS CASTEN.

My song is of a fast young man whose name was Billy

Wires;

He used to run with the machine and go to all the fires : But as he loved a Soldier's life, and wished strange things

to see,

So the thought struck him that he would go and jump the Bounti-e.

At once he went to see a friend, whose maiden name was Cal,

When they started to the office of the Provost Marshi-al. The Surgeon found that they would pass, as either had no

scars,

And they received the Bounty of Five Hundred Dol–li–ars.

They were then marched into a room that was extremely

near,

Where they were dressed in the latest style as Union Cavaliers;

Into this room they were locked up, no longer to be free: Says Billy, "the first chance that I get I'll jump the Bounti-e!"

Three days elapsed, when they were marched to the depot through the street:

Says Cal to Billy, "Let's get away, for nimble are our feet."

*The author calls this song "A pathetic ditty, written for Pony Smith, the favorite Ethiopian Comedian," which perhaps means negro minstrel.

As they got near the depot the guard told all to stop; When Billy and Cal as quick as you please popped into a Policy shop.

When the guard found out that they were gone they did n't know what to do:

They went in every Gin-mill, and searched the place all through;

But their search was fruit-i-less, as you may plainly see, For, says Billy to Cal, "We're hunkey boys that have jumped the Bounti-e."

As soon as they found that the guard had gone they resolved upon a spree;

They travelled all around the town the Elephant to see; They treated everybody, and to please all they tried

hard;

But there was one whom they could not please, for he happened to be the guard.

Poor Cal was seized and hurried to jail, his time there to serve out;

But Billy escaped through the back door, for he knew that route.

That night, as Billy lay on his couch, his sin he plainly

did see,

In cheating the Government out of funds in jumping the Bounti-e.

He rolled all over that night in bed to sleep he vainly

tried ;

He pitied Cal who in pris-u-on was, and resolved on

suicide;

He bought six dozen wrought-iron spikes, and swallowed

them three by three,

And that was the last of Billy Wires, who jumped the Bounti-e.