+

tongue can tell,

"But, hark! the far bugles their warnings unite; That's what the brier-wood said, as nigh as my
War is a virtue, weakness a sin;
There's a lurking and loping around us to-night;
Load again, rifleman, keep your hand in !"

CHARLES DAWSON SHANLY.

THE BRIER-WOOD PIPE.

And the words went straight to my heart, like the stroke of the fire-bell.

To-night I lie in the clover, watching the blossomy smoke;

I'm glad the boys are asleep, for I ain't in the humor to joke.

HA! bully for me again, when my turn for I lie in the hefty clover up between me and
picket is over,
the moon
And now for a smoke as I lie, with the moonlight, The smoke from my pipe arises: my heart will
out in the clover.
be quiet, soon.

My pipe, it's only a knot from the root of a brier- My thoughts are back in the city, I'm every-
wood tree,
thing I've been;
But it turns my heart to the Northward - Harry I hear the bell from the tower, I run with the
gave it to me.
swift machine,

And I'm but a rough at best, bred up to the I see the red shirts crowding around the engine-
row and the riot;
house door,

But a softness comes over my heart, when all are The foreman's hail through the trumpet comes
asleep and quiet.
with a hollow roar.

For, many a time, in the night, strange things The reel in the Bowery dance-house, the row in
appear to my eye,
the beer-saloon,

As the breath from my brier-wood pipe curls up Where I put in my licks at Big Paul, come be-
between me and the sky.
tween me and the moon.

Last night a beautiful spirit arose with the wisp- I hear the drum and the bugle, the tramp of the
ing smoke;

O, I shook, but my heart felt good, as it spread
out its hands and spoke;

cow-skin boots,

We are marching on our muscle, the Fire-Zouave recruits!

Saying, "I am the soul of the brier; we grew White handkerchiefs wave before me-O, but at the root of a tree

the sight is pretty

Where lovers would come in the twilight, two On the white marble steps, as we march through
ever, for company.
the heart of the city.

"Where lovers would come in the morning - Bright eyes and clasping arms, and lips that
ever but two, together;
bade us good hap;

When the flowers were full in their blow; the And the splendid lady who gave me the havelock
birds, in their song and feather.

for my cap.

up from my pipe-cloud rises, there between me and the moon,

Looking in each other's eyes, like pigeons that A beautiful white-robed lady; my heart will be kiss and coo.

quiet, soon.

"And O, the honeyed words that came when The lovely golden-haired lady ever in dreams I the lips were parted,

see,

And the passion that glowed in the eyes, and the Who gave me the snow-white havelock — but
lightning looks that darted!
what does she care for me?

"Enough: Love dwells in the pipe- so ever it Look at my grimy features; mountains between glows with fire !

us stand:

jeweled hand!

I am the soul of the bush, and the spirits call I with my sledge-hammer knuckles, she with her me Sweet Brier."

With the red stream of my life-blood staining the To me, he pressed my hand, just ceased his the hefty clover.

"There, sir, ah! there was booty worth the "Come, friend, you've seen some stormy weather,

+

Take a message, and a token, to some distant | Too innocent for coquetry, too fond for idle
friends of mine,
scorning,
For I was born at Bingen, — at Bingen on the O friend! I fear the lightest heart makes some-
Rhine.
times heaviest mourning!

"Tell my brothers and companions, when they
meet and crowd around,

To hear my mournful story, in the pleasant vine-
yard ground,

That we fought the battle bravely, and when the
day was done,

Full many a corse lay ghastly pale beneath the
setting sun;

or seemed to hear,

And, mid the dead and dying, were some grown "I saw the blue Rhine sweep along, — I heard,
old in wars,
The death-wound on their gallant breasts, the The German songs we used to sing, in chorus
last of many scars;
sweet and clear;

And some were young, and suddenly beheld life's And down the pleasant river, and up the slant-
morn decline,

ing hill,

And one had come from Bingen, — fair Bingen The echoing chorus sounded, through the evening on the Rhine.

"Tell my mother that her other son shall com-
fort her old age;

For I was still a truant bird, that thought his
home a cage.

For my father was a soldier, and even as a child
My heart leaped forth to hear him tell of strug-
gles fierce and wild;

And when he died, and left us to divide his
scanty hoard,

I let them take whate'er they would, — but kept
my father's sword;

And with boyish love I hung it where the bright
light used to shine,

On the cottage wall at Bingen, — calm Bingen
on the Rhine.

“Tell my sister not to weep for me, and sob with
drooping head,

When the troops come marching home again with
glad and gallant tread,

But to look upon them proudly, with a calm and
steadfast eye,

For her brother was a soldier too, and not afraid
to die ;

And if a comrade seek her love, I ask her in my

name

To listen to him kindly, without regret or shame,
And to hang the old sword in its place (my fa-
ther's sword and mine)

For the honor of old Bingen, dear Bingen on
the Rhine.

"There's another,

- not a sister; in the happy days gone by

calm and still;

You'd have known her by the merriment that To-morrow, in-no matter where,

sparkled in her eye;

Than lie in that foul prison-hole-over there.

Our men sprang upon them, determined to die? I am dying-bend down till I touch you once

+

ALL day long the storm of battle through the Midnight came with ebon garments and a diadem
startled valley swept;
of stars,

All night long the stars in heaven o'er the slain While right upward in the zenith hung the fiery
sad vigils kept.

O, the ghastly upturned faces gleaming whitely Hark! a sound of stealthy footsteps and of voices
through the night!
whispering low,

O, the heaps of mangled corses in that dim sepul- Was it nothing but the young leaves, or the
chral light!