X.

O glorious Empress of the Main! from out thy storied spires

Thou well mayst peal thy bells of joy, and light thy festal fires,

Since Heaven this day hath striven for thee, hath nerved thy dauntless sons,

And thou in clear-eyed faith hast seen God's angels near the guns!

PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE.

TWILIGHT ON SUMTER.

[In the spring and summer of 1863, Fort Sumter, in possession of the Confederates since the surrender of Major Anderson, two years before, was bombarded by the Federal fleet, and by the artillery on Morris Island, until reduced almost to ruins.]

STILL and dark along the sea
Sumter lay;

A light was overhead,

As from burning cities shed,
And the clouds were battle-red,

Far away.

Not a solitary gun

Left to tell the fort had won
Or lost the day!

Nothing but the tattered rag
Of the drooping rebel flag,

And the sea-birds screaming round it in their play.

How it woke one April morn,
Fame shall tell;

As from Moultrie, close at hand,
And the batteries on the land,
Round its faint but fearless band

Shot and shell

Raining hid the doubtful light;
But they fought the hopeless fight
Long and well,

(Theirs the glory, ours the shame!)
Till the walls were wrapt in flame,

Then their flag was proudly struck, and Sumter fell!

Now-oh, look at Sumter now,
In the gloom!

Mark its scarred and shattered walls,
(Hark! the ruined rampart falls !)
There's a justice that appalls

In its doom;

For this blasted spot of earth
Where rebellion had its birth
Is its tomb!

And when Sumter sinks at last

From the heavens, that shrink aghast, Hell shall rise in grim derision and make room! RICHARD HENRY STODDARD.

KEENAN'S CHARGE.

[At the battle of Chancellorsville, Va., May 2, 1863, it became necessary to bring a Federal battery into position to resist a sudden onset by Stonewall Jackson. To gain a few minutes' time, Major Peter Keenan, of the Eighth Pennsylvania Cavalry, was ordered to charge the enemy; and, with his four hundred men, he rode against ten thousand, in a charge as gallant as that of the Light Brigade.]

By the shrouded gleam of the western skies,
Brave Keenan looked in Pleasonton's eyes
For an instant-clear, and cool, and still;
Then, with a smile, he said: “I will.”

Cavalry, charge!" Not a man of them shrank. Their sharp, full cheer, from rank on rank,

Rose joyously, with a willing breath-
Rose like a greeting hail to death.

Then forward they sprang, and spurred and clashed;
Shouted the officers, crimson-sashed;

Rode well the men, each brave as his fellow,

In their faded coats of the blue and yellow;
And above in the air, with an instinct true,
Like a bird of war their pennon flew.

With clank of scabbards and thunder of steeds,
And blades that shine like sunlit reeds,
And strong brown faces bravely pale
For fear their proud attempt shall fail,
Three hundred Pennsylvanians close
On twice ten thousand gallant foes.

Line after line the troopers came

To the edge of the wood that was ring'd with flame; Rode in and sabred and shot-and fell:

Nor came one back his wounds to tell.

And full in the midst rose Keenan, tall

In the gloom, like a martyr awaiting his fall,
While the circle-stroke of his sabre, swung
'Round his head, like a halo there, luminous hung.
Line after line; ay, whole platoons,

Struck dead in their saddles, of brave dragoons
By the maddened horses were onward borne
And into the vortex flung, trampled and torn;
As Keenan fought with his men, side by side.
So they rode, till there were no more to ride.
But over them, lying there, shattered and mute,
What deep echo rolls? 'Tis a death salute
From the cannon in place; for, heroes, you braved
Your fate not in vain: the army was saved!
Over them now-year following year-
Over their graves, the pine-cones fall,

And the whippoorwill chants his spectre-call;
But they stir not again: they raise no cheer:
They have ceased. But their glory shall never

cease,

Nor their light be quenched in the light of peace. The rush of their charge is resounding still,

That saved the army at Chancellorsville.

GEORGE PARSONS LATHROP,

DEATH OF STONEWALL JACKSON.

[On the evening of the first day's fight at Chancellorsville, Va., May 2, 1863, where Stonewall Jackson had accomplished his famous flank movement around the Union right, he rode out to inspect the ground for the morrow's battle, and in the darkness was surprised and shot by some of his own pickets. He died on the 10th of May following.]

NOT 'mid the lightning of the stormy fight,
Not in the rush upon the vandal foe,
Did kingly Death, with his resistless might,
Lay the great leader low.

His warrior soul its earthly shackles broke
In the full sunshine of a peaceful town;
When all the storm was hushed, the trusty oak
That propped our cause went down.

Though his alone the blood that flecks the ground,
Recording all his grand, heroic deeds,
Freedom herself is writhing with the wound,
And all the country bleeds.

He entered not the Nation's Promised Land
At the red belching of the cannon's mouth;
But broke the House of Bondage with his hand-
The Moses of the South!

O gracious God! not gainless is the loss :
A glorious sunbeam gilds thy sternest frown;
And while his country staggers with the Cross,
He rises with the Crown.

HARRY L. FLASH.

"THE BRIGADE MUST NOT KNOW, SIR!"

"WHO'VE ye got there?"-" Only a dying brother, Hurt in the front just now."

"Good boy! he'll do. Somebody tell his mother Where he was killed, and how."

"Whom have you there?"—"A crippled courier, Major,

Shot by mistake, we hear.

He was with Stonewall."-"Cruel work they've made here;

Quick with him to the rear!"

"Well, who comes next?"-"Doctor, speak low, speak low, sir;

Don't let the men find out!

It's STONEWALL !"—" God !"—"The brigade must not know, sir,

While there's a foe about !"

Whom have we here-shrouded in martial manner, Crowned with a martyr's charm?

A grand dead hero, in a living banner,

Born of his heart and arm:

The heart whereon his cause hung - see how clingeth

That banner to his bier!

The arm wherewith his cause struck-hark! how