That the Stars and Stripes flutter before them,
In triumph, wherever they go:
Do they know how the hearts are throbbing,
Do they know how the eyes are wet
With a deep, high, grief and gladness,
At this part of the Nation's debt?

Ah me! I am only a woman,-.
Not even my voice is strong
To give them a rousing welcome-
A cheer as they pass along.

But hark! how the men are cheering,

All down along the shore;

And the crews of the passing vessels
Give out another roar;

And once more the echoes waken,

As the blue-coats answer back,-
And the steamer is round the headland,
And the waters close over her track.
October, 1861.

THE WAY WE WENT TO BEAUFORT.

Full fifty sail we were that day,
When out to sea we sped away,

With a feeling of brooding mystery;
Bound-there was no telling where,
But well we knew there was strife to share,
And we felt our mission was bound to bear
A place in heroic history.

The man at the helm, nothing knew he,
As he steered his ship out into the sea,

On that morn of radiant beauty;

And the ships outspread their wings, and flew
Like sea-birds over the water blue,

One thought alone each man of us knew—
How best to do our duty.

Not a breath of wherefore or why was heard,
Not a doubting thought or a doubting word,
Or idle speculation;

But a spirit of inspiring trust
Filled each man's breast, as it always must,
When leaders are brave, and a cause is just
And ours the cause of the nation.

And thus we went-the hurricane's breath
Was felt in our track, like the blast of death,
But we had no thought of turning;
Onward and onward the good fleet sped,
Locked in its breast the secret dread,
To break in gloom over treason's head,
Where we should soon be learning.

But brave Dupont and Sherman knew

"And on her brow a softened light,
As of a star concealed from sight
By some thin veil of fleecy white,

Or of the rising moon behind the rainy vapors of the night.

"The sisterhood that was so sweet

The Starry System sphered complete,
Which the mazed Orient used to greet-

The Four-and-Thirty fallen stars glimmer and glitter at her feet.

"And lo! the children which she bred,

And more than all else cherished, To make them strong in heart and head, Stand face to face as mortal foes, with their swords

crossed above the dead!

"Each hath a mighty stroke and stride,

And one is Mother-true and tried,

The other dark and evil-eyed;

But we hoped it was a nightmare, till the news was brought from town,

The Son stabbed, and the Mother fell;

our banner down.

In my bitter grief and anguish keen, I felt the an

cient ire

Of Bunker Hill and Lexington course through my veins like fire,

irreproachable.

"And then the battle-trumpet blew,

And the true Brother sprang, and drew His blade to smite the traitor through; And so they clashed above the bier, and the Night sweated bloody dew!

"Now, whichsoever stand or fall,

As God is great and man is small,

The Truth shall triumph over all

heart upon the land,

I wept when, on my thin gray locks, I felt Frank's

manly hand,

And saw my grandsire's musket gleam within his clenchéd grip,

And read the clear and stern gray eye that chid the quivering lip;

Read that the eye would smile no more until it saw the foe,

Whilst the lips were loth to shape the words, "Dear mother, I must go."

BY G. WILLIS WHITE, JR.

He lay on his couch in the silent hour,
And the midnight lamp burned dim,
And he thought of the reins of despotic power,
That none could hold but him;

But his brain was fevered and weary with thought,
And his body was racked with pain,

While his heart beat fast when his memory sought

To bring back old times again.

He figured his profits-a good round sum
They seemed to his fevered mind;
But a spectre grim there seemed to come,
When a balance he sought to find;
He saw on the wall, and in clear relief,

A ghostly group of mechanics appear,
And they built a gallows, and talked of a thief,
Who, dreading his death, was standing near;

On that lightning-chord the South breeze sighed a sad Æolian moan,

And my heart grew sick, on looking up, to see the dove had flown.

Neighbors say there's been a battle, and that we have lost again;

Was that dove my poor boy's spirit? Is his name among the slain?

NEW YORK, Oct. 26, 1861.

ZAGONYI.

BY GEORGE H. BOKER.

Bold captain of the Body-Guard,
I'll troll a stave to thee!

My voice is somewhat harsh and hard,
And rough my minstrelsy.
I've cheered until my throat is sore
For how our boys at Beaufort bore;
Yet here's a cheer for thee !

I hear thy jingling spurs and reins,
Thy sabre at thy knee;

The blood runs lighter through my veins,
As I before me see

Thy hundred men, with thrusts and blows,
Ride down a thousand stubborn foes,
The foremost led by thee.

With pistol snap and rifle crack

Mere salvos fired to honor thee

Ye plunge, and stamp, and shoot, and hack
The way your swords make free;
Then back again-the path is wide
This time-ye gods! it was a ride,

The ride they took with thee!

No guardsman of the whole command
Halts, quails, or turns to flee;
With bloody spur and steady hand
They gallop where they see

Thy leading plume stream out ahead,
O'er flying, wounded, dying, dead;
They can but follow thee.

So, captain of the Body-Guard,
I pledge a health to thee!

I hope to see thy shoulders starred,
My Paladin; and we

Shall laugh at fortune in the fray,
Whene'er you lead your well-known way
To death or victory!

-Philadelphia Press.

RHODE ISLAND TO THE SOUTH.

BY GEN. F. W. LANDER.

Once on New England's bloody heights,
And o'er a Southern plain,
Our fathers fought for sovereign rights,
That working men might reign.

And by that only Lord we serve,
The great Jehovah's name;
By those sweet lips that ever nerve
High hearts to deeds of fame;

By all that makes the man a king,
The household hearth a throne-
VOL. III.-POETRY 5

Take back the idle scoff ye fling, Where freedom claims its own.

For though our battle hope was vague
Upon Manassas' plain,

Where Slocum stood with gallant Sprague,
And gave his life in vain;

Before we yield the holy trust
Our old forefathers gave,

Or wrong New England's hallowed dust,
Or grant the wrongs ye crave-

We'll print in kindred gore so deep The shore we love to tread,

That woman's eyes shall fail to weep O'er man's unnumbered dead.

THE WIDE-AWAKE MAN. Dedicated to the Stay-at-Home Black-Capes. Now, while our soldiers are fighting our battles, Each at his post to do all that he can, Down among rebels and contraband chattels, What are you doing, my wide-awake man?

All the brave boys under canvas are sleeping,
All of them pressing to march with the van,
Far from the home where their sweethearts are weep-
ing,-

What are you waiting for, wide-awake man?

You, with the terrible warlike moustaches,
Fit for a colonel or chief of a clan,
You, with the waist made for sword-belts and sashes,
Where are your shoulder straps, wide-awake man?

Bring him the bottomless garment of woman!
Cover his face lest it freckle and tan;
Muster the apron-string guards on the Common,
That is the corps for the wide-awake man.

Give him for escort a file of young misses,

Each of them armed with a deadly ratan; They shall defend him from laughter and hisses, Aimed by low boys at the wide-awake man.

O, but the black-cape guards are the fellows! Drilling each day since our troubles began"Handle your walking-stick!" "Shoulder umbrel

las!"

That is the style for the wide-awake man.

Catch me confiding my person with strangers! Think how the cowardly Bull Runners ran! In the brigade of the stay-at-home black-capes Marches my corps, says the wide-awake man.

Such was the stuff of the Malakoff takers,

Such were the soldiers that scaled the Redan; Truculent housemaids and blood-thirsty Quakers Brave not the wrath of the wide-awake man.

When the brown soldiers come back from the borders,

How will they look while his features they scan? How will he feel when he gets marching orders, Signed by his lady-love, wide-awake man?