There they stood in the failing light,

These men of battle, with grave, dark looks,

As plain to be read as open books,
While slowly gathered the shades of night.

The fern on the hill-side was splashed with blood,
And down in the corn, where the poppies grew,
Were redder stains than the poppies knew ;
And crimson-dyed was the river's flood.

For the foe had crossed, from the other side,
That day in the face of a murderous fire,
That swept them down in its terrible ire;
And their life-blood went to color the tide.

"Herbert Kline!" At the call, there came
Two stalwart soldiers into the line,

Bearing between them this Herbert Kline,
Wounded and bleeding, to answer his name.

"Ezra Kerr !"—and a voice answered "Here!"
"Hiram Kerr !"-but no man replied.

They were brothers, these two, the sad winds sighed,
And a shudder crept through the cornfield near.

"Ephraim Deane !"—then a soldier spoke :

"Deane carried our Regiment's colors," he said; "Where our Ensign was shot, I left him dead, Just after the enemy wavered and broke.

"Close to the road-side his body lies;

I paused a moment and gave him to drink;
He murmured his mother's name, I think,
And Death came with it and closed his eyes."
'Twas a victory; yes, but it cost us dear,-

For that company's roll, when called at night,
Of a hundred men who went into the fight,
Numbered but twenty that answered "Here!"

THE LOST STEAMSHIP.

BY FITZ-JAMES O'BRIEN.

"Ho, there! fisherman, hold your hand!
Tell me what is that far away—

There, where over the Isle of Sand

Hangs the mist-cloud sullen and gray?

"There at the foot of yonder nodding beech,

That wreathes its old, fantastic roots so high,
His listless length at noontide would he stretch,
And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
"Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,

Muttering his wayward fancies, he would rove;
Now drooping, woful-wan, like one forlorn,

Or crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless love.

"One morn I missed him on the customed hill, Along the heath, and near his favorite tree; Another came,-nor yet beside the rill,

Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he;

"The next, with dirges due, in sad array,

Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne;— Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn."

THE EPITAPH.

Here rests his head upon the lap of earth
A youth to fortune and to fame unknown;
Fair science frowned not on his humble birth,
And melancholy marked him for her own.

Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere ;
Heaven did a recompense as largely send;

He gave to misery (all he had) a tear,

He gained from heaven ('twas all he wished) a friend.

There they stood in the failing light,

These men of battle, with grave, dark looks,

As plain to be read as open books,

While slowly gathered the shades of night.

The fern on the hill-side was splashed with blood,
And down in the corn, where the poppies grew,
Were redder stains than the poppies knew ;
And crimson-dyed was the river's flood.

For the foe had crossed, from the other side,
That day in the face of a murderous fire,
That swept them down in its terrible ire;
And their life-blood went to color the tide.

"Herbert Kline!" At the call, there came
Two stalwart soldiers into the line,

Bearing between them this Herbert Kline, Wounded and bleeding, to answer his name.

"Ezra Kerr !"—and a voice answered "Here!" "Hiram Kerr!"-but no man replied.

They were brothers, these two, the sad winds sighed, And a shudder crept through the cornfield near.

"Ephraim Deane !"-then a soldier spoke :

"Deane carried our Regiment's colors," he said; "Where our Ensign was shot, I left him dead, Just after the enemy wavered and broke.

"Close to the road-side his body lies;

I paused a moment and gave him to drink; He murmured his mother's name, I think, And Death came with it and closed his eyes." 'Twas a victory; yes, but it cost us dear,

For that company's roll, when called at night, Of a hundred men who went into the fight, Numbered but twenty that answered "Here!"

THE LOST STEAMSHIP.

BY FITZ-JAMES O'BRIEN.

"Ho, there! fisherman, hold your hand!
Tell me what is that far away-

There, where over the Isle of Sand

Hangs the mist-cloud sullen and gray?

See! it rocks with a ghastly life,

Raising and rolling through clouds of spray, Right in the midst of the breakers' strifeTell me, what is it, fisherman, pray?"

"That, good sir, was a steamer, stout

As ever paddled around Cape Race, And many's the wild and stormy bout

She had with the winds in that self-same place; But her time had come; and at ten o'clock,

Last night, she struck on that lonesome shore, And her sides were gnawed by the hidden rock,

And at dawn this morning she was no more."

"Come, as you seem to know, good man,
The terrible fate of this gallant ship,
Tell me all about her that you can-

And here's my flask to moisten your lip.
Tell me how many she had on board-
Wives and husbands, and lovers true→
How did it fare with her human hoard,
Lost she many, or lost she few?"
"Master, I may not drink of your flask,
Already too moist I feel my lip;
But I'm ready to do what else you ask,

And spin you my yarn about the ship: 'Twas ten o'clock, as I said, last night,

When she struck the breakers and went ashore,

And scarce had broken the morning's light,

Than she sank in twelve feet of water, or more.

"But long ere this they knew their doom,

And the captain called all hands to prayer;

And solemnly over the ocean's boom

The orisons rose on the troubled air: And round about the vessel there rose

Tall plumes of spray as white as snow, Like angels in their ascension clothes, Waiting for those who prayed below.

"So those three hundred people clung,

As well as they could, to spar and rope; With a word of prayer upon every tongue, Nor on any face a glimmer of hope.

But there was no blubbering, weak and wild—

Of tearful faces I saw but one,

A rough old salt, who cried like a child,
And not for himself, but the Captain's son.

"The Captain stood on the quarter-deck,
Firm but pale, with trumpet in hand.
Sometimes he looked on the breaking wreck,
Sometimes he sadly looked on land.
And often he smiled to cheer the crew-
But, Lord! the smile was terrible grim-

Till over the quarter a huge sea flew,

And that was the last they saw of him.

"I saw one young fellow, with his bride, Standing amidship upon the wreck; His face was white as the boiling tide,

And she was clinging about his neck.
And I saw them try to say 'Good-bye,'

But neither could hear the other speak;
So they floated away through the sea to die-
Shoulder to shoulder, and cheek to cheek.

"And there was a child, but eight at best,

Who went his way in a sea we shipped,

All the while holding upon his breast

A little pet parrot, whose wings were clipped. And as the boy and the bird went by,

Swinging away on a tall wave's crest,

They were grappled by a man with a drowning cry, And together the three went down to rest.

"And so the crew went one by one,

Some with gladness, and few with fear;

Cold and hardship such work had done,

That few seemed frightened when death was near, Thus every soul on board went downSailor and passenger, little and great; The last that sank was a man of my town, A capital swimmer-the second mate."

Now, lonely fisherman, who are you,

That say you saw this terrible wreck?

How do I know what you say is true,

When every mortal was swept from the deck?