CAPTURE OF ARKANSAS POST, ARK.,
JANUARY 11TH, '63.
LONELY on the border path,
Lonely by the flashing stream, Lonely 'mid the wildwood treads
The man who would his land redeem. His comrades, 'round the bivouac fires, Sleep on their weapons but to rise, When fierce and vengeful foes approach, To watch and guard as warriors wise Proudly on the beaten track,
He clasps his rifle to his breast,
And thinks of home, of dear ones there-
His country, with dark strife distressed,
A vow is uttered, as alone
The sentinel resumes his round:
"My land beloved I'll vindicate,
Tho' blood shall steep the darksome ground." His comrades hear the battle-sound,
And stricter are their vigils now;
In readiness stand every form,
And Honor lights each manly brow.
The loud command, so sharp and shrill,
The quietude an echo gives;
"Attention men! To arms! Advance!
Defeat the foe, and Freedom lives."
Sweet morn in grand effulgence reigns,
But where are they—the forest band?
Amid the strife, to live or die
For Freedom, and their native land.
HE WOULD NOT LEAVE ME ON THE FIELD.
AT THE CAPTURE OF PORT HINDMAN, ARK.,
JANUARY 20Tтн, '63.
I AM dying, mother! slowly dying,
Beneath the holly shade;
Upon the hill-side near the river,
My fainting form is laid.
A wounded comrade's arm is round me
Soothing me to rest—
Softly pillowed is my fevered head
Upon his heaving breast.
In the conflict, fierce and wild,
The Southren ranks to sever-
Foremost struggling in the strife,
We wounded fell together.
In his arms he gently raised me,
Nature's strength returning,
While sternly in his eye a vengeful fire
Was like a meteor burning.
He would not leave me on the field to die
'Mid the thousand slain;
And he bore me from the storm of battle,
Weak and tott'ring in his pain.
He is sleeping, mother! sweetly sleeping
A rest that knows no waking;
And soon shall we, our duty done,
A heavenward march be making.
GRAND MILITARY REVIEW AT BEAUFORT, S. C.,
Headquarters, Dep't of the South,
HILTON HEAD, S. C., Jan. 25, 1863.
¶ III. THE Chief Quartermaster of Department Will give Captain Mary a riding garmentA long, rich, skirt of comely hue,
Shot silk, with just a suspicion of blue,
A gipsy hat, with an ostrich feather,
A veil to protect her against the weather,
And delicate gauntlets of pale buff leather;
Her saddle with silver shall all be studded,
And her pony-
-a sorrel-it shall be blooded:
Its shoes shall be silver, its bridle all ringing
With bells harmonizing well with her singing.
And thus Captain Mary,
Gay, festive, and airy,
Each morning shall ride
At the Adjutant's side
And hold herself ready, on all fit occasions,
To give him of flirting his full army rations.
By Command of, Etc.
CHARLES HALPINE.
OUR IRISH AMERICAN HEROES.
MOONLIGHT BATTLE NEAR THE BLACKWATER, VA.,
JANUARY 30TH, '63.
THEN fling out the banner, on high let it wave
O'er the land of the Exile's affection,
And cursed be the coward, and branded the slave
Who refuses that flag his protection;
"Tis the emblem of freedom on sea and on land,
No tyrant shall ever profane it,
By Heaven! it thus shall continue to stand,
Tho' we spill our heart's blood to maintain it.
Then up with the banner, up, up with the flag,
While millions of freemen surround it,
Our children whenever we sink in the grave,
Shall inherit that flag as we found it;
No renegade traitor with dastardly hand,
Nor foreign assailant shall rend it,
While an Irish-American stands on the soil,
With a heart and an arm to defend it.
Then fling out the banner, up, up with the flag,
Before which proud Albion's red ensign
Trailed humbly in dust, an anathemized rag,
Degraded at Yorktown and Trenton;
Then up with the standard, up, up with the flag,
Hurrah! 'tis the flag of the world,
We swear before Heaven to fight and to save,
Or to fall while it still is unfurled.
REBEL DECLARATION OF THE RAISING OF THE BLOCKADE OF CHARLESTON.
HARK! the tide of war approaches,
As it came in months agone,
And the traitor fiend encroaches
On the soil where we were born
Sounds the bugle-call, alarming,
Hosts at rest again are arming,
And 'gainst vile invaders swarming,
As they did in months agone.
Crush them now, that they hereafter
May be known as friends that were;
Free us from the scorn and laughter
Of Britannia's haughty slur,
If our trust has been misplaced,
And our shames yet uneffaced,
Our volunteers have ne'er disgraced
The holy cause that bids them on!
Children let us be no longer;
Let us crush them now, or say
That their valor is the stronger-
That our own has had its day.
Fight to end this red effusion,
Fight to end this cursed delusion,
And break up this dire confusion
That pervades our land to day.
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