His coffin! And, with reeling brain, despairing — desolate - Then came across his wavering sight strange pictures in the air: He saw his distant mountain home; he saw his mother there; He saw his father bow'd with grief, through fast-declining years; He saw a nameless grave; and then, the vision closed — in tears! Yet, once again: In double file, advancing, then, he saw round deep darkness settled And, shuddering, he awaited now the fatal volley's sound! Then suddenly was heard the noise of steeds and wheels approach And, rolling through a cloud of dust, appeared a stately coach: On, past the guards, and through the field, its rapid course was bent, Till, halting, 'mid the lines was seen the nation's President! He came to save that stricken soul, now waking from despair; 'Twas spring. Within a verdant vale, where Warwick's crystal tide Reflected, o'er its peaceful breast, fair fields on either sideWhere birds and flowers combined to cheer a sylvan solitudeTwo threatening armies, face to face, in fierce defiance stood! Two threatening armies! —one invoked by injured Liberty, A fragment, torn by traitorous hands, from Freedom's Stripes and Stars! A sudden shock which shook the earth, 'mid vapor dense and dun, Proclaim'd, along the echoing hills, the conflict had begun; While shot and shell athwart the stream with fiendish fury sped, To strew among the living lines the dying and the dead! Then, louder than the roaring storm, peal'd forth the stern command, "Charge! soldiers, charge!" and, at the word, with shouts, a fearless band, Two hundred heroes from Vermont, rush'd onward, through the flood, And upward o'er the rising ground they mark'd their way in blood! The smitten foe before them fled, in terror, from his post- The fallen! And the first who fell in that unequal strife Was he whom Mercy sped to save when Justice claim'd his life The pardon'd soldier! And, while yet the conflict raged around While yet his life-blood ebb'd away through every gaping wound While yet his voice grew tremulous, and death bedimm'd his eye He call'd his comrades to attest he had not fear'd to die! And, in his last expiring breath, a prayer to Heaven was sent That God, with His unfailing grace, would bless our President! U BARBARA FRIETCHIE. P from the meadows rich with corn, The cluster'd spires of Frederick stand, Round about them orchards sweep, Fair as a garden of the Lord, To the eyes of the famish'd rebel horde, On that pleasant morn of the early Fall, When Lee march'd over the mountain wall, Over the mountains winding down, Forty flags with their silver stars, Flapp'd in the morning wind: the sun Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then, Bravest of all in Frederick town, She took up the flag the men haul'd down. In her attic window the staff she set, Up the street came the rebel tread, Under his slouch'd hat left and right "Halt!"-the dust-brown ranks stood fast; "Fire!". out blazed the rifle blast. It shiver'd the window pane and sash, Quick, as it fell from the broken staff, She lean'd far out on the window sill, "Shoot, if you must, this old gray head, But spare your country's flag," she said. A shade of sadness, a blush of shame The nobler nature within him stirr'd "Who touches a hair of yon gray head Dies like a dog! March on!" he said. All day long through Frederick street All day long that free flag toss'd Ever its torn folds rose and fell And, through the hill-gaps, sunset light Shone over it with a warm good-night. Barbara Frietchie's work is o'er, And the rebel rides on his raids no more. Honor to her! and let a tear Fall, for her sake, on Stonewall's bier. Over Barbara Frietchie's grave, Peace and order and beauty draw And ever the stars above look down 0 THE RAVEN. NCE upon a midnight dreary, while I ponder'd, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten loreWhile I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber-door. "'Tis some visitor," I mutter'd, "tapping at my chamber-doorOnly this, and nothing more." Ah! distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December, And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Presently my soul grew stronger: hesitating then no longer, Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before; But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whisper'd word, "Lenore!" This I whisper'd, and an echo murmur'd back the word, "LENORE!" Merely this, and nothing more. |