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POETRY, RUMORS AND INCIDENTS.

POETRY AND INCIDENTS.

MITCHEL.

BY W. FRANCIS WILLIAMS.
"Hung be the heavens with black."

His mighty life was burned away
By Carolina's fiery sun;
The pestilence that walks by day

Smote him before his course seemed run.

The constellations of the sky,

The Pleiades, the Southern Cross, Looked sadly down to see him die,

To see a nation weep his loss.

"Send him to us," the stars might cry;

"You do not feel his worth below; Your petty great men do not try

The measure of his mind to know.

"Send him to us-this is his place,

Not 'mid your puny jealousies;
You sacrificed him in your race

Of envies, strifes and policies.

"His eye could pierce our vast expanse, His ear could hear our morning songs, His mind, amid our mystic dance,

Could follow all our myriad throngs.

"Send him to us! no martyr's soul, No hero slain in righteous wars, No raptured saint could e'er control

A holier welcome from the stars."

Take him, ye stars! take him on high,
To your vast realms of boundless space;
But once he turned from you to try

His name on martial scrolls to trace.

That once was when his country's call
Said danger to her flag was nigh,
And then that banner's stars dimmed all
The radiant lights which gemmed the sky.
Take him, loved orbs! His country's life,
Freedom for all-for these he wars;
For these he welcomed bloody strife,
And followed in the wake of Mars.

VICTORY.

BY LIZZIE E. H. BATES.

All the day the stormy clouds
Have been drifting overhead
In the wind, like misty shrouds

For the brave and noble dead;
But the sun with genial glow

Breaks the sombre veil at last, Like to the exultant show

Victors make when battle's past.

VOL. VI.-POETRY 1

Listen! Hear the deepening roar Shaking earth, and air, and sky, From the distant river shoreHow its echoes thunder by! Does an earthquake stalk abroad O'er Missouri's fated soil, Making one vast grave her sod

While her rivers seethe and boil?

Listen! No! It is the boom

Of the cannon's fearful notes, While the wreaths of battle bloom All around their bellowing throats! Listen! No! It cannot be !

Price is still in full retreat, And our troops in Tennessee Rebel arms shall ne'er defeat! Listen! Still the ceaseless roar

Peals along the quivering air, From the city on the shore

News of victory it must bear ! Listen! Hear the loud hurrahs

In the quiet village streets, While the distant thunder jarsEcho still with echo meets.

Listen! Loudly peal the bells!

Listen! Guns are thundering here!

Every thing of victory tells,

Hearts of millions yearn to hear.
Price is taken, now, at last!
Donelson has fallen low!
God be praised! the die is cast!
Vengeance falleth on the foe!

God be praised! His arm of wrath
Strikes for us this mighty blow-
Leads us on the battle-path-

Stanches, guides its crimson flow.
God be praised! for soon our land,
Groaning and convulsed so long,
As in olden time shall stand,
Union-Freedom blend their song!

Listen! Hear the sighing gale
Coming up from South to North,
While a lengthened answering wail
Comes from every quarter forth!
Is it widows' hopeless sighs
That create the wailing wind?
Is it orphan children's cries

For the prisoners Death doth bind?

That we conquer cannot bring

Loved and lost ones back to life

That Right conquers, Glory sings

O'er the field of deadly strife;

That Right conquers still, shall be Balm for hearts with deepest wound, And this thought eternally Sanctifies the battle-ground! BUNKER HILL, ILL., Feb. 17, 1862.

"BUT GOD IS OVER ALL."
BY M. H. COBB.

Night closes in with threat'ning skies,
And hoarsely moans the gale;
Without, the trees like spectres rise,.
Encased in wintry mail;

From glowing grates we turn, to think
On whom these rigors fall,

And who their deathly cup shall drink-
But God is over all!

How fare they in the distant camp-
The father, brother, son?
Oh! many brows with death are damp,
With many life is done!

O mothers, wives! distraught with fears,
Lest your beloved should fall,
Remember, in this rain of tears,
That God is over all!

No base ambitions quickened these;
They saw but Freedom's need;
No dreams of flow'ry paths of ease,
No bribe but valor's meed;
And some shall win the hero's grave,
The battle-smoke their pall;

But honor dwells where fall the brave,
And God is over all!

How nobler these than they who fought
And fell in ancient time!

For in this strife shall be outwrought
A purpose void of crime;
Base men have filled, and bid us drink,
A cup o'erbrimmed with gall,
And forge new fetters, link by link-
But God is over all!

Where thickest falls war's leaden rain,
And on its crimson sea,

They closely press, and fight again
The battles of the free;
And many are the deaths they dare,
From hurtling shell and ball,
Which make their awful music there-
But God is over all!

Remember, ye who watch the night

With dimming eyes and pain,
That he who gives his life for Right,
His death shall not be vain;

Him shall men know as Freedom's son,
When they his deeds recall,
Who had unfaltering trust in One
Whose care is over all.

THE CAPTURE OF NEW-ORLEANS.

BY WILLIAM DENSMORE, U.S.N.

Come, all you Union-loving men, wherever you may be, I hope you'll pay attention now, and listen unto me, Concerning of a gallant ship, the Brooklyn is her name, Which name deserves to be engraved upon the list of fame.

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As we went round the point of land that brought the Forts in sight,

From rifled guns, with shot and shell, they soon commenced the fight;

The Hartford she stood boldly, up- the Brooklyn, where was she?

But look right under Jackson's guns, its Black Jack there you'll see!

The rebel shot flew thick and hot, the Brooklyn she was there;

Tom Craven, he is on the poop-she's in his special care;

Bold Lowry says, "We'll beat our foes and then we'll give three cheers ;"

Our first broadside like thunder roared, which banished all our fears.

Courage! undaunted Brooklyn's crew, your hour is nigh at hand,

Brave Lowry on the quarter-deck says by you he will stand,

And if by chance the Brooklyn sinks between those Forts to-night,

Our Flag shall be the last thing seen when she goes out of sight.

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The Chalmette's batteries next we take-the river now is clear

We spike their guns, and give three cheers, and for the city steer;

From each mast-head throughout the fleet the Stars and Stripes do fly,

The city's ours, the fleet comes to, and off it we do lie.

So here's success to Farragut and all the Union fleet, Which by their bold, undaunted pluck the rebels did defeat;

A grateful country long will mourn the loss of those who fell

Defending of their country's flag from traitors' shot and shell.

And here's to brave McClellan, he'll break secession's coil,

And only one flag soon shall wave upon Columbia's soil;

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WHEN THE GREAT REBELLION'S OVER. Climbed the baby on her knee,

With an airy, childish grace, Prattled in her lovely face, "When will papa come to me?"

Papa ?" soft the mother cried-
'Papa! ah! the naughty rover!

Sweet, my pet, he'll come to thee
When the great rebellion's over!"
"Mamma once had rosy cheeks,

Danced and sung a merry tune;
Now she rocks me 'neath the moon,
Sits and sighs, but scarcely speaks."
Sad the smile the mother wore-
"Sweet mamma has lost her lover,

She will blush and sing no more
Till the great rebellion's over!

"Till the hush of peace shall come,
Like a quiet fall of snow,

And the merry troops shall go
Marching back to hearts at home"-
"Papa-home?" the baby lisped,
Balmy-breathed as summer clover
"Yes, my darling, home at last,
And the sad rebellion over!"

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