SOLDIERS" AND SAILORS'
There are some, I know, who feel a strange pride
In giving their country their all —
Who count it a glory that boys from their side,
In the strife are ready to fall.
But I, sitting here, have no pride in my heart;
(God forgive me that this should be so !)
For the boy that I love the tears still start,
Yet I've kissed him, and let him go.
Last night, with soft steps, I stole to his bed
As oft in childhood I'd done;
On his pillow I bowed my poor, stricken head
Till out of the east rose the sun.
His dreams were of me; for he rturned in his
And murmured, " Dear mother !" so low,
I bit my pale lips lest they'd cowardly speak:
" 0 my darling ! I carCt let you go.'"
This morning I blessed him ; I stifled my pain ;
I bade him be true to his trust;
To stand by the flag till his country again
Should raise its proud head from the dust.
I knew hy the light in his beautiful eyes, —
By his face with true courage aglow —
Se'd fight to the last. I choked back my sighs,
While I kissed him, and let him go.
But oh! sitting here, this desolate day,
Still there comes no feeling of pride ;
3ut one knows my need, and to Him will I
I can trust Him whatever betide.
And if be shall fall — (0 faint heart! be still!)
I know he will soften the blow,
■ ind I yet may feel a patriot's thrill
That I kissed him, and let him go.
RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED TO GEN. BEAUREGARD.
The 6un's hot rays were falling fast,
As through a Southern city passed
A man who bore 'midst rowdies low,
A banner with the strange motto—
nis brow was sad; his mouth beneath
Smelt strong of fire at every breath:
And like a furious madman sung
The accents of that unknown tongue—
In happy homes he saw the light
Of household fires gleam warm and bright;
Above, the spectral gallows shone,
And from his lips escaped a groan—
" Try not that game !" Abe Lincoln said,
*' Dark lower the thunders overhead;
The mighty North has been defied."
But still that drunken voice replied—
" Oh! pause!" the Quaker said, " and think
Before thee leaps from off the brink !"
Contempt was in his drunken leer;
And still he answered with a sneer—
'Beware the pine-tree's bristling branch!
Beware the Northern avalanche,!"
And that was Scott's restraining voice ;
But still this was the traitor's choice—
At close of war, as toward their homes
Our troops as victors hurried on,
And turned to God a thankful prayer,
A voice whined through the startled air-
A traitor by a soldier keen,
Suspended by the neck was seen,
Still grasping in his hand of ice
That banner with this strange device—
There to the mournful gibbet strung,
Lifeless and horrible he hung;
And from the sky there seemed to float
A voice like angel's warning note—
THE ZOUAVES' BATTLE-SONG.
BY J. HOWARD WAINWRIGHT.
Onward, Zouaves, Ellsworth's spirit still leads
Onward, Zouaves, for our country still needs us;
Onward, Zouaves, for our banner floats o'er us;
Onward, Zouaves, for the foe is before us.
Do nothing by halves,
Home to the hilt with the bay'net,
Onward, Zouaves, for the foe hath defied us;
Onward, Zouaves, we have brave men to guide
Let the sunlight and moonlight, from bayonets
Tell the foe the vanguard of the North is ad¬
Onward, Zouaves, till we"break down oppression;
Onward, Zouaves, till we crush out secession;
We've shown them our friendship is honest and
We'll show them our wrath can be terrible too.
Onward, Zouaves, for our bugles are clanging;
Onward, Zouaves, the assassins need hanging;
No longer we'll bear with their rapine and wrong,
Their guilt makes them weak while our cause.
makes us strong.
Onward, Zouaves—when the' struggle is ended,
Homeward we'll carry the flag we've defended ;
Home, where our dear ones will greet with ea-
Home where our country will greet us with bles»