Rio Bravo, thou wilt name not that lone corse upon thy shore, THE ORIGIN OF THE MARSEILLAISE. SCOURGE of mankind! with all the dread array, O. W. HOLMES. The city slept beneath the moonbeam's glance, He watched, he wept, for thoughts of bitter years Swept through the world the war-song of Marseilles ! From "Poetry, A Metrical Essay." "QUI VIVE!" 'QUI VIVE!" The sentry's musket rings, The channelled bayonet gleams; High o'er him, like a raven's wings Pale in the moonlight beams; O. W. HOLMES. On Egypt's burning plains, By the pyramid o'erswayed, With fearful power the noonday reigns, But let the angry sun From heaven look fiercely red, Unfelt by those whose task is done!-There slumber England's dead. The hurricane hath might But let the sound roll on! It hath no tone of dread, For those that from their toils are gone,- Loud rush the torrent-floods And free, in green Columbia's woods But let the floods rush on! Let the arrow's flight be sped! Why should they reck whose task is done?There slumber England's dead! The mountain-storms rise high In the snowy Pyrenees, And toss the pine boughs through the sky, Like rose leaves on the breeze. But let the storm rage on! Let the fresh wreaths be shed! For the Roncesvalles' field is won,-- On the frozen deeps repose But ah! the dreadful seal is broke In darkness walks abroad The pestilence, whose silent stroke In death is sleeping now, BALAKLAVA. DEAN TRENCH. MANY a deed of faithful daring may obtain no record here, Many a deed awhile remembered, out of memory needs must fall, But there are which never, never to oblivion can give room, With thine armies three that wondering stood at gaze and held their breath, With thy fatal lists of honor, and thy tournament of death. O our brothers that are sleeping, weary with your great day's strife, On that bleak Crimean headland, noble prodigals of life— Eyes which ne'er beheld you living, these have dearly mourned you dead, All your squandered wealth of valor, all the lavish blood ye shed. And in our eyes tears are springing, but we bid them back again; That for nothing, in our sentence, did that holocaust arise, Not for naught; to more than warriors armed as you for mortal fray, This ye taught; and this your lesson solemnly in blood ye sealed: |