128. THE LAST REVOLUTIONARY.
OH! where are they, those iron men
Who braved the battle's storm of fire,
When war's wild halo filled the glen,
And lit each humble village spire?
When hill sent back the sound to hill,
And might was right, and law was will?
Oh! where are they, whose manly breasts
Beat back the pride of England's might?
Whose stalwart arm, laid low the crests
Of many an old and valiant knight?
When evening came with murderous flame,
And liberty was but a name?
I see them in the distance, form
Like spectres on a misty shore;
Before them rolls the dreadful storm,
And hills send forth their rills of gore;
Around them death, with lightning breath,
Is twining an immortal wreath.
They conquer! God of glory, thanks!
They conquer! Freedom's banner waves
Above oppression's broken ranks,
And withers o'er her children's graves;
And loud and long the pealing song
Of jubilee is borne along.
'Tis evening, and December's sun
Goes swiftly down behind the wave;
And there I see a gray-haired one,
A special courier to the grave;
He looks around on vale and mound,
Then falls upon his battle-ground.
Beneath him rests the hallowed earth,
Now changed like him, and still and cold;
The blood that gave young freedom birth
No longer warms the warrior old;
He waves his hand with stern command,
Then dies, the last of glory's band.
HARK! from the sullen deep a fearful sound,
Which dies away where echo ne'er replies:-
While clouds of fiery vapor roll around,
And, like a wintry fog, obscure the skies.
The ship's a wreck!-in scattered fragments lies,
A smoking ruin on the combing swell!
The red flues have collapsed, and havoc flies
In volleyed thunder!—like the bolt that fell
On that ill-fated boat—the lost, the mourned Moselle!
A moment past, and the proud ship was gliding,
Like a swift dolphin, through the yielding seas,-
A moment past, and Beauty, coy, confiding,
Charming as love, and courteous still to please,
Rung her light bells and wrangled with the breeze.
Where are they now?-the lovely and the brave,
The staid, the gay, so late in health and ease?—
Some, in their berths below, have found a grave,
Some toss upon the surge,—some struggle down the wave!
O what a cry of woe burst from the deep!
What shrieks of terror pierced the vaulted sky!
What icy chills around each heart did creep!—
What black despair gleamed from each straining eye!
Some, flayed alive, upon the waters lie,
And writhe and groan in agony of pain :-
O it were mercy now bestowed, to die,
And sink unconscious down th' unfathom'd main,
For life is misery,-death is the wretch's gain!
Some vainly grapple with the burning wreck,
That slowly settling, tends the depths below;
While others, maddened in life's sudden check,
Blaspheme their GOD! and the last hope forego,
Despairing in th' extremity of woe!
A few resigned upon the waters lie,
And gazing upward with a dying throe,
Await their dissolution,-not a sigh
Disturbs the soul whose wing is quivering for the sky.
The dying boy invokes his sinking sire,
The struggling sire no foothold may recover,—
Husband and wife in either's arms expire, In either's arms, the maiden and her lover;— Strangers and friends are calling to each other, Childhood imploring aid,―alas! in vain! The dashing seas each cry of anguish smother, Hearts cease to beat, and voices to complain, And Death sits paramount, triumphant on the main ! Silence is on the sea!-save the dull moan Of the dirge-chanting wind and hoarser swell; While bends night's goddess from her azure zone, To kiss the enamored wave that owns her spell. For these, the dead, there tolls no funeral bell, Nor hearse, nor pall, nor mourning friends appear:Th' affrighted sea-bird screams their passing knell, Upon whose grave no flowers the Spring shall rear, But sea-weed floats around to deck their watery bier. EDWARD A. MCLAUGHLIN.
GOLD!-many hunted, sweat, and bled for gold;
Waked all the night, and labored all the day;-
And what was this allurement, dost thou ask?
A dust, dug from the bowels of the earth,
Which, being cast into the fire, came out
A shining thing, that fools admired and called
A god; and, in devout and humble plight,
Before it kneeled-the greater to the less!
And on its altar sacrificed ease, peace,
Truth, faith, integrity-good conscience, friends,
Love, charity, benevolence, and all
The sweet and tender sympathies of life;
And, to complete the horrid, murderous rite,
And signalize their folly, offered up
Their souls, and an eternity of bliss,
To gain them-what?-an hour of dreaming joy—
A feverish hour, that hasted to be done,
And ended in the bitterness of woe!
131. THE STORMING OF VERA CRUZ.
THE night is wild and bitter, the prairie lies in snow ;
And hark! the wolves are howling, as round the fort they go.
Close in their guarded stable the horses snort with fear:
Pile on the logs still higher, we'll give the night to cheer!
While some the haunch are broiling, and others spice the wine,
And some deck out the table with torches of the pine,
And some bring in the red game, or pastry crisply done,
I'll tell the story, comrades, how Vera Cruz was won!
You should have seen our transports, a hundred in a row:
Like stately swans they floated, majestical and slow.
Two days we headed southward, out on the boundless sea,
Two days gray Orizaba towered upon our lea.
At last the distant city flashed on the sea-board dim;
And crouched before it, watching, the lion-castle grim.
Close by the beach we anchored: with a mighty shout
The boats were launched, the oars were down, and the long line
shot out
A moment in the breakers :-God help the gallant band!
The creamy foam is o'er them!--huzza! they gain the land!
The starry flag is planted, a beacon blazing wide!
A hundred guns exulted; ten thousand men replied
That night we slept untented, and often waked to hear
The jackal snarling round us, the foeman scouting near.
With day the battle opened: a dread incessant roar
From fleet, and fort, and castle, billowed o'er the sea and shore;
And while we dug the trenches, still blew the fiery gale,
And still above, about us, pattered the iron hail.
Sudden a trumpet sounded: we looked, and o'er the crest
Galloped a thousand lancers, their lances laid in rest.
"Now at them!" cried our leader: we mounted quick and bold.
"One charge upon the cravens !" and in the dust they rolled.
Again!" and riding down them, we crushed the rabble rout,
As with his hounds the hunter the harvest tramples out.
The norther next assailed us: the sand in clouds arose,
As when across the desert the deadly Simoom blows;
The tents went down like rushes when tempests hurtle by;
The whizzing bombs incessant hissed viewless through the sky;
And the great sun in anger broke redly through the haze,
Like some fierce god of battle, his armor all a-blaze!
Till night the conflict deepened; and when the darkness fell,
Death fiercer rode the whirlwind of raging shot and shell.
From trench and fleet we thundered: the leaguered walls
replied;
The stout old castle answered, flaming on every side;
The hum of bombs enormous filled all the hollow air,
And the sky blazed with comets shaking their fiery hair.
We heard the plunge of round-shot, embrasures crumbling down,
The shrieks and wails of women from out the fated town,
The bells in terror ringing, the crash of falling domes:
We saw the red fire leaping high over happy homes;
It played on roof and steeple, it flashed from ocean's swell,
Till sea and town shone lurid like the red mouth of hell!
Four days the battle lasted; four hapless nights and days:
Days black with smoke of Tophet, nights lit with sulphurous
The fifth beheld a ruin. Where once had stood the town,
Were wall, and church, and dwelling, in chaos tumbled down.
The foe implored our mercy, and ere the set of sun,
Our flag was on the ramparts. Thus Vera Cruz was won.
132. AMBITION, FALSE AND TRUE.
I WOULD not wear the warrior's wreath,
I would not court his crown;
For love and virtue sink beneath
His dark and vengeful frown.
I would not seek my fame to build
On glory's dizzy height;—
Her temple is with orphans filled;
Blood soils her sceptre bright.
I would not wear the diadem,
By folly prized so dear;
For want and woe have bought each gem,
And every pearl's a tear.
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