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


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


“ 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


“ I saw the blue Rhine sweep along-I heard, or The German songs we used to sing, in chorus

seemed to hear,

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-re

member'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 weakHis 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 fledThe 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




(“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,

Kings must have slaves;
Kings climb to eminence

Over men's graves :
So this man's eye is dim ;-
Throw the earth over him.

What was the white you touched,

There, at his side?
Paper his hand had clutched

Tight ere he died ;-
Message or wish, maybe ;-
Smooth the folds out and see.

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.

Look. She is sad to miss,

Morning and night,
His-her dead father's-kiss ;

Tries to be bright,
Good to mamma, and sweet.
That is all. “Marguerite."

Ah, if beside the dead

Slumbered the pain !
Ah, if the hearts that bled

Slept with the slain !
If the grief died ;-But no ;-
Death will not have it so.



“ 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 treach

erous 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 corn

field-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. 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—froin the knapsack.

A pity those woods were shelled !”

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