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What if our men be driven ?

Oh, for the love of heaven,
Send to my colonel, general dear-

“But you ?” “Oh, I shall easily find the rear.” “I'll see to that,” cried Sherman; and a drop,

Angels might envy, dimm’d his eye,
As the boy, toiling towards the hill's hard top,
Turn'd round, and, with his shrill child's cry,

Shouted, “Oh, don't forget!

We'll win the battle yet!
But let our soldiers have some more-
More cartridges, sir,-calibre fifty-four!"

GEORGE H. BOKER. April 2, 1864.

Our Heroes.


CHEERS! Cheers for our heroes;

Not those who wear stars;
Nor those who wear eagles,

And leaflets, and bars;
We know they are gallant,

And honor them, too,
For bravely maintaining

The Red, White, and Blue !

But, cheers for our soldiers,

Rough, wrinkled, and brown;
The men who MAKE heroes,

And ask no renown:-
Unselfish, untiring,

Intrepid, and true;
The bulwark surrounding

The Red, White, and Blue !

Our patriot soldiers !

When Treason arose,
And Freedom's own children

Assail'd her as foes;
When Anarchy threaten'd,

And Order withdrew, They rallied to rescue

The Red, White, and Blue !

Upholding our banner,

On many a field,
The doom of the traitor

They valiantly seal'd;
And, worn with the conflict,

Found vigor anew, Where Victory greeted

The Red, White, and Blue!

Yet, loved ones have fallen

And still, where they sleep A sorrowing Nation

Shall silently weep; And Spring's fairest flowers,

In gratitude, strew, O'er those who have cherish'd

The Red, White, and Blue !

But, glory immortal

Is waiting them now; And chaplets unfading,

Shall bind every brow, When, call’d by the trumpet,

At Time’s great review, They stand, who

ended The Red, White, and Blue! Wounded.


Let me lie down
Just here in the shade of this cannon-torn tree,
Here, low on the trampled grass, where I may see
The surge of the combat, and where I may

hear The glad cry of victory, cheer upon

cheer: Let me lie down.

Oh, it was grand ! Like the tempest we charged, in the triumph to share; The tempest,—its fury and thunder were there : On, on, o'er intrenchments, o'er living and dead, With the foe under foot, and our flag overhead:

Oh, it was grand !

Weary and faint, Prone on the soldier's couch, ah, how can I rest, With this shot-shatter'd head and sabre-pierced breast? Comrades, at roll-call when I shall be sought, Say I fought till I fell, and fell where I fought,

Wounded and faint.

Oh, that last charge! Right through the dread hell-fire of shrapnel and shell, .. Through without faltering,-clear through with a yell!

Right in their midst, in the turmoil and gloom,
Like heroes we dash'd, at the mandate of doom!

Oh, that last charge!

It was duty!
Some things are worthless, and some others so good
That nations who buy them pay only in blood.

For Freedom and Union each man owes his part;
And here I pay my share, all warm from my heart:

It is duty.

Dying at last!
My mother, dear mother! with meek tearful eye,
Farewell! and God bless you, for ever and aye!
Oh that I now lay on your pillowing breast,
To breathe my last sigh on the bosom first prest!

Dying at last!

I am no saint; But, boys, say a prayer. There's one that begins, Our Father,” and then says, “Forgive us our sins :" Don't forget that part, say that strongly, and then I'll try to repeat it, and you'll say, “ Amen!"

Ah! I'm no saint!

Hark! there's a shout! Raise me up, comrades ! We have conquer'd, I know !Up, up on my feet, with my face to the foe! Ah! there flies the flag, with its star-spangles bright, The promise of glory, the symbol of right!

Well may they shout!

I'm muster'd out.
O God of our fathers, our freedom prolong,
And tread down rebellion, oppression, and wrong!
O land of earth's hope, on thy blood-redden'd sod
I die for the nation, the Union, and God!

I'm muster'd out.


JANUARY 19, 1864.)

An Old Friend in a New Dress. (Sung to the tune of “Hurrah for the Bonnets of Blue.”) “On the first page will be found a song that sings itself, adapted from Burns's "Here's a Health to Them that's Awa',' by James E. Murdoch, Esq, The original song was not published during the life of Burns. It was first given to the public in 1818, in the 'Edinburgh Magazine,' and was incorporated the following year into a small edition of his writings published at Melrose by Jobn Smith, bookseller. A political song, it breathes the spirit of good-fellowship, and an admiration for honest purpose, patriotic devotion to country and freedom, and whatever is honorable or noble in man or woman. It has lost none of its vigor of expression, the perfection of its rhythm, or its patriotic spirit, by Mr. Murdoch's felicitous adaptation.”

“HERE'S A HEALTH TO THEM THAT'S AWA'.” Lines by Robert Burns, altered and adapted to suit the present times, by James E. MURDOCH, with an apology for the liberty taken with the original song,-a liberty which nothing but a truly loyal object could justify.

Here's a health to them that's awa',

And here's to them that's awa';
And wha would na' wish guid luck to our cause,

May never guid luck be their fa'!
It's guid to be merry and wise,

It's guid to be honest and true;
It's guid to support Columbia's cause,

And bide by the Red, White, and Blue.
Chorus.-Hurrah for the Red, White, and Blue !

Hurrah for the Red, White and Blue !
It's guid to support our country's cause,

And bide by the Red, White, and Blue.

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