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The pathos which from rival eyes
Mirth, sparkling like a diamond shower,
All parties feared him: each in turn
Too honest or too proud to feign
His patriotism perished.
While others hailed in distant skies
Our eagle's dusky pinion,
He only saw the mountain bird
Stoop o'er his Old Dominion!
Still through each change of fortune strange, Racked nerve, and brain all burning,
His loving faith in Mother-land
Knew never shade of turning;
By Britain's lakes, by Neva's wave,
RANDOLPH OF ROANOKE.
He held his slaves, yet made withal
His harshest words of proud rebuke,
He held his slaves: yet kept the while
He saw but Man and Woman!
Across his threshold ventured.
And when the old and wearied man
His latest thought, his latest breath,
O, never bore his ancient State
None trampling with a calmer scorn
On foreign hate or favor.
He knew her faults, yet never stooped
But none beheld with clearer eye
The plague-spot o'er her spreading, None heard more sure the steps of Doom Along her future treading.
For her as for himself he spake,
When, his gaunt frame upbracing,
As from the grave where Henry sleeps,
So from the leaf-strewn burial-stone
And hark! from thy deserted fields
From quenched hearths, where thy exiled sons
The curse is on thee, wolves for men,
And briers for corn-sheaves giving!
O, more than all thy dead renown
THE ANGELS OF BUENA VISTA.
THE ANGELS OF BUENA VISTA.
PEAK and tell us, our Ximena, looking northward far away, O'er the camp of the invaders, o'er the Mexican array, Who is losing? who is winning? are they far or come they near? Look abroad, and tell us, sister, whither rolls the storm we hear.
"Down the hills of Angostura still the storm of battle rolls; Blood is flowing, men are dying; God have mercy on their souls!"
Who is losing? who is winning? — « Over hill and over plain,
Holy Mother! keep our brothers! Look, Ximena, look once more: "Still I see the fearful whirlwind rolling darkly as before, Bearing on, in strange confusion, friend and foeman, foot and horse, Like some wild and troubled torrent sweeping down its mountain course."
Look forth once more, Ximena! "Ah! the smoke has rolled away; And I see the Northern rifles gleaming down the ranks of gray. Hark! that sudden blast of bugles! there the troop of Minon wheels;
There the Northern horses thunder, with the cannon at their heels.
"Jesu, pity! how it thickens! now retreat and now advance! Right against the blazing cannon shivers Puebla's charging lance! Down they go, the brave young riders; horse and foot together fall; Like a ploughshare in the fallow, through them ploughs the Northern ball."
Nearer came the storm and nearer, rolling fast and frightful on : Speak, Ximena, speak and tell us, who has lost, and who has won? "Alas! alas! I know not; friend and foe together fall,
O'er the dying rush the living: pray, my sisters, for them all!"
"Lo! the wind the smoke is lifting: Blessed Mother, save my brain!
I can see the wounded crawling slowly out from heaps of slain. Now they stagger, blind and bleeding; now they fall, and strive
Hasten, sisters, haste and save them, lest they die before our eyes!"
"O my heart's love! O my dear one! lay thy poor head on my
Dost thou know the lips that kiss thee?
canst thou sce?
Canst thou hear me?
O my husband, brave and gentle! O my Bernal, look once more On the blessed cross before thee! mercy! mercy! all is o'er!"