But to look upon them proudly, with a calm and steadfast eye, For her brother was a soldier too, and not afraid to die. And if a comrade seek her love, I ask her in my name To listen to him kindly, without regret or shame, And to hang the old sword in its place (my father's sword and mine), For the honor of old Bingen--dear Bingen on the Rhine. "There's another-not a sister in the happy days gone by, You'd have known her by the merriment that sparkled in her eye; Too innocent for coquetry, too fond for idle scorn ing, O friend, I fear the lightest heart makes sometimes heaviest mourning ; Tell her the last night of my life (for ere the moon be risen My body will be out of pain-my soul be out of prison), I dream'd I stood with her, and saw the yellow sunlight shine On the vineclad hills of Bingen-fair Bingen on the Rhine. I saw the blue Rhine sweep along—I heard, or seemed to hear, The German songs we used to sing, in chorus sweet and clear, And down the pleasant river, and up the slanting hill, The echoing chorus sounded through the evening calm and still; And her glad blue eyes were on me as we pass'd with friendly talk Down many a path beloved of yore, and well-remember'd walk, And her little hand lay lightly, confidingly in mine; But we'll meet no more at Bingen-loved Bingen on the Rhine." His voice grew faint and hoarser-his grasp was childish weak His eyes put on a dying look-he sigh'd and ceased to speak; His comrade bent to lift him, but the spark of life had fled The soldier of the Legion in a foreign land was dead! And the soft moon rose up slowly, and calmly she look'd down On the red sand of the battle-field, with bloody corpses strown; Yea, calmly on that dreadful scene her pale light seem'd to shine, As it shone on distant Bingen-fair Bingen on the Rhine. CAROLINE NORTON, BEFORE SEDAN. ("The dead hand clasped a letter.”—Special Correspondence.) HERE, in this leafy place, Quiet he lies, Cold, with his sightless face Turned to the skies; 'Tis but another dead; All you can say is said. Carry his body hence,— So this man's eye is dim ;- What was the white you touched, There, at his side? Paper his hand had clutched Message or wish, maybe;- Hardly the worst of us Here could have smiled!— Only the tremulous Words of a child; Prattle, that has for stops Just a few ruddy drops. 66 MARTHY VIRGINIA'S HAND. THERE, on the left!" said the colonel: the battle had shuddered and faded away, Wraith of a fiery enchantment that left only ashes and blood-sprinkled clay— "Ride to the left and examine that ridge, where the enemy's sharpshooters stood. Lord, how they picked off our men, from the treacherous vantage-ground of the wood! But for their bullets, I'll bet, my batteries sent them something as good. Go and explore, and report to me then, and tell me how many we killed. Never a wink shall I sleep till I know our vengeance was duly fulfilled.” Fiercely the orderly rode down the slope of the cornfield-scarred and forlorn, Rutted by violent wheels, and scathed by the shot that had plowed it in scorn; Fiercely, and burning with wrath for the sight of his comrades crushed at a blow, Flung in broken shapes on the ground like ruined memorials of woe; These were the men whom at daybreak he knew, but never again could know. Thence to the ridge, where roots outthrust, and twisted branches of trees Clutched the hill like clawing lions, firm their prey to seize. "What's your report ?" and the grim colonel smiled when the orderly came back at last. Strangely the soldier paused: "Well, they were punished." And strangely his face looked, aghast. 64 Yes, our fire told on them; knocked over fifty— laid out in line of parade. Brave fellows, Colonel, to stay as they did! But one I 'most wished hadn't stayed. Mortally wounded, he'd torn off his knapsack; and then, at the end, he prayed— Easy to see, by his hands that were clasped; and the dull, dead fingers yet held This little letter-his wife's-from the knapsack. A pity those woods were shelled !”’ |