« PreviousContinue »
And every maid, with simple art,
A bud whose depths are all perfume;
There, veil'd in all the sweets-that are
Blown from the violet's purple bosom, The scent of lilacs from afar,
Touch'd with the sweet shrub's spicy blossom, Walk'd Esther; and the rustic ranks Stood on each side, like flowery banks, To let her pass,—a blooming aisle, Made brighter by her summer smile; On her father's arm she seem'd to be The last green bough of that haughty tree.
The pastor came; his snowy. locks
Hallow'd his brow of thought and care; And calmly, as shepherds lead their flocks,
He led into the house of prayer.
Forgive the student Edgar there If his enchanted eyes would roam,
And if his thoughts soar'd not beyond,
And if his heart glow'd warmly fond
Veil'd in the glory of the morn,
At the bar of the heavenly bourn,
When came the service low response,
At times, perchance,--oh, happy chance !
Their lifting eyes together met,
Like violet to violet,
That here, in a bewilder'd trance,
He brought the blossoms of romance, And waved them at the gates of heaven.
The pastor rose; the prayer was strong;
And grasping in his nervous hand
The imaginary battle-brand,
Even as he spoke, his frame, renewed
A moment there was awful pause,-
God's temple is the house of peace!"
The other shouted, “Nay, not so,
That frown upon the tyrant foe;
And now before the
Its long reverberating blow,
The great bell swung as never before
word its ardor flung From off its jubilant iron tongue
Was, “War! war! war!”
“Who dares ?”—this was the patriot's cry,
As striding from the desk he came,
“Come out with me, in Freedom's name, For her to live, for her to die?” A hundred hands flung up reply, A hundred voices answer’d, “I!”
(May 19, 1863.)
THE President has recently appointed to the Naval School at Newport a little drummer-boy of the 55th Illinois Volunteers, whose case was brought before him by MajorGeneral W. T. Sherman in the following letter. Truly, the letter does as much honor to the distinguished majorgeneral, who could pause in the midst of the duties of a great campaign to pay such tribute to a drummer-boy, as it does to the little hero whom it celebrates :
“HEAD-QUARTERS 15TH ARMY CORPS,
“CAMP ON BIG BLACK RIVER, August 8, 1863. “Hon. E. M. STANTON, Secretary of War :
“Sir:-I take the liberty of asking through you that something be done for a lad named Orion P. Howe, of Waukegan, Illinois, who belongs to the 55th Illinois, but at present at home wounded. I think he is too young for West Point, but would be the very thing for a midshipman.
“When the assault at Vicksburg was at its height, on the 19th of May, and I was in front near the road, which formed my line of attack, this young lad came up to me, wounded and bleeding, with a good, healthy boy's cry, ‘General Sherman, send some cartridges to Colonel Malmborg: the men are nearly all out.' 'What is the matter, my boy?' They shot me in the leg, sir ; but I can go to the hospital. Send the cartridges right away.' Even where we stood the shot fell thick, and I told him to go to the rear at once, I would attend to the cartridges ; and off he limped. Just before he disappeared on the hill, he turned, and called, as loud as he could, ‘Calibre 54.' I have not seen the lad since, and his colonel (Malmborg), on
inquiry, gives me the address as above, and says he is a bright, intelligent boy, with a fair preliminary education.
“What arrested my attention then was—and what renewed my memory of the fact now is—that one so young, carrying a musket-ball through his leg, should have found his way to me on that fatal spot, and delivered his message, not forgetting the very important part, even, of the calibre of his musket,—54,which, you know, is an unusual one.
“I'll warrant that the boy has in him the elements of a man, and I commend him to the Government as one worthy the fostering care of some one of its national institutions. “I am, with respect, your obedient servant,
“W.T. SHERMAN, Major-General Commanding."
WHILE Sherman stood beneath the hottest fire
That from the lines of Vicksburg gleam’d,
Back from the front there came,
Weeping and sorely lame,
Man ever saw in such a fearful place.
But, when he paused and tottering stood,
Shock'd at his doleful case,
Sherman cried, “Halt! front face!
“Are you not hit?” “That's nothing. Only send
Some cartridges. Our men are out, And the foe press us.” “But, my little friend" “Don't mind me! Did you hear that shout?