IV.

But victory! victory!

Unto God all praise be rendered,

Unto God all praise and glory be;

See, Boy Britton, see, Boy, see,

They strike! hurrah! the fort has surrendered!
Shout! shout! my warrior boy,

And wave your cap, and clap your hands for joy.
Cheer answer cheer, and bear the cheer about.
Hurrah! hurrah! for the fiery fort is ours.

"Victory !" "victory!" "victory!"
Is the shout.

Shout! for the fiery fort is ours, and the field,

And the day are ours!

The day is ours, thanks to the brave endeavor

Of heroes, boy, like thee!

The day is ours, the day is ours!

Glory and deathless love to all who shared with thee,

And bravely endured and dared with thee,

The day is ours, the day is ours forever!

Glory and love for one and all, but, for thee,

Home! home! a happy welcome, welcome home, for thee, And a mother's happy tears, and a virgin's

Bridal wreath of flowers for thee.

But suddenly wrecked and wrapped in seething steam
The Essex slowly drifted out of the battle storm.
Slowly, slowly, down, laden with the dead and dying,
And there at the captain's feet, among the dead and dying
The shot-marred form of a beautiful boy is lying,

There in his uniform.

VL

Laurels and tears for thee, boy,

Laurels and tears for thee;

Laurels of light moist with the precious dew

Of the inmost heart of the nation's loving heart,

And blest by the balmy breath of the beautiful and the true, Moist, moist with the luminous breath of the singing spheres,

And the nation's starry tears;

And tremble touched by the pulse-like gush and start,

Of the universal music of the heart,

And all deep sympathy.

Laurels and tears for thee, boy,

Laurels and tears for thee,

Laurels of light and tears of love,

Forevermore for thee.

VIL

And laurels of light, and tears of truth,

And the mantle of immortality;

And the flowers of love, and immortal youth,
And the tender heart tokens of all true ruth,
And the everlasting victory.

And the breath and bliss of liberty,

And the loving kiss of liberty.

And the welcoming light of heavenly eyes,
And the over calm of God's canopy;
And the infinite love-span of the skies,
That cover the valleys of Paradise,
For all of the brave who rest with thee;
And for one and all who died with thee,
And now sleep side by side with thee;
And for every one who lives and dies
On the solid land, or the heaving sea,
Dear warrior boy, like thee!

VIIL

On, the victory, the victory

Belongs to thee!

God ever keeps the brightest crown for such as thou,

He gives it now to thee.

Young and brave, and early and thrice blest,

Thrice, thrice, thrice blest!

Thy country turns once more to kiss thy youthful brow,
And takes thee gently, gently to her breast,

And whispers lovingly, God bless thee, bless thee now,
My darling thou shalt rest!

Forceythe Willson.

Bugle Song.
Ι.

The splendor falls on castle walls,
And snowy summits old in story;
The long light shakes across the lakes,
And the wild cataract leaps in glory.

Blow, bugle blow; set the wild echoes flying;
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

II.

O hark, O hear! how thin and clear,
And thinner, clearer, farther going;
O sweet and far, from cliff and scar,

The horns of Elf-land faintly blowing!

Blow; let us hear the purple glens replying;
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

III.

O love, they die in yon rich sky,

They faint on field, on hill, on river;
Our echoes roll from soul to soul,

And grow forever and forever.

Blow, bugle, blow; set the wild echoes flying,

And answer, echoes, answer dying, dying, dying.

Tennyson.

Roll Call.

"Corporal Green !" the Orderly cried;

"Here!" was the answer, loud and clear From the lips of the soldier who stood near,— And "Here!" was the word the next replied.

"Cyrus Drew!"- then a silence fell,-
This time no answer followed the call;
Only his rear-man had seen him fall,
Killed or wounded, he could not tell.

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-sides 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 drink;
He murmured his mother's name, I think,
And Death came with it and closed his eyes."

'T was 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!"

Pyramus and Thisbe.

This tragical tale, which, they say, is a true one,
Is old; but the manner is wholly a new one.
One Ovid, a writer of some reputation,
Has told it before in a tedious narration;
In a style, to be sure, of remarkable fullness,
But which nobody reads on account of its dullness

Young PETER PYRAMUS-I call him Peter,
Not for the sake of the rhyme of the meter;
But merely to make the name completer -
For Peter lived in the olden times,
And in one of the worst of pagan climes
That flourish now in classical fame,
Long before either noble or boor
Had such a thing as a Christian name—
Young Peter, then, was a nice young beau
As any young lady would wish to know:
In years, I ween, he was rather green,
That is to say, he was just eighteen-
A trifle too short, a shaving too lean,
But "a nice young man" as ever was seen,
And fit to dance with a May-day queen!

Now Peter loved a beautiful girl

As ever ensnared the heart of an earl,