Graham's Magazine Vol XXXII No. 6 June 1848

XIX

'Twas midnight, as with silent tread,
Like one who bears the coffined dead,
His valiant troopers Marion led
Through long and dark defile;
And on they marched till morning light
With streaks of crimson touched the night;
Then, unannounced by trumpet-clang,
Fell on the slumb'ring foe;
Swift to his post each warrior sprang,
Above, around, below;
And soon in close and eager strife,
As o'er the tomb meet Death and Life,
The hostile forces stood;
The sabre flashed in day's bright eye,
The whizzing shot, death-winged, swept by,
The turf grew red with blood;
And where the charge was hottest made,
Where boldest fell the flashing blade,
Was Huon foremost there;
And ever near his daring hand
The youngest, gentlest of his band,
Stood Lennard on that day;
Fierce raged the conflict o'er the dead,
Until, o'erpowered, the vanquished fled;
Yet ere they left the fray
One aimed the bloody lance he bore
At Huon's heart – a moment more,
And Lennard fell, his life-blood o'er
The green turf welling fast;
The blade that sought his leader's breast
His hand aside had cast;
Swift to his aid his comrades prest;
The death-hue on his forehead lay
As Huon flung both sword and lance
With quivering lip away,
And met in Lennard's dying glance
The smile of Morna Grey.

XX

Beside the Santee's murmuring wave,
They made the early dead a grave;
And sometimes on its borders green
The passing traveler has seen
A spot where pale wild roses blow
The lofty oaks and firs below —
The turf is verdant with the spray —
There sleeps the dust of Morna Grey.
And Huon? – Still his daring arm
Was lifted in his country's aid,
Though life had lost its sunniest charm,
And o'er the future hung a shade;
And time would fail me now to tell
Of all the deeds his valor wrought,
How, when Fort Moultrie's color fell,
He mounted 'mid the flames and shot
The merlon height, and fixed on high
The starry banner 'mid the sky.
Nor how he died – the nobly slain,
In bearing from the battle-plain
The flag intrusted to his care.
But deeds like these were common then
As life, and light, and air;
Brave deeds that shall forever round
Our nation's annals cling;
Perchance some louder harp shall sound,
Some bolder spirit sing.
For me – the first pale star on high
Herald's the night with beaming eye,
And down the west has rolled the sun —
My song is o'er – my task is done.

NOTE

During the Revolution, a young girl plighted to an officer of Marion's corps, followed him without being discovered to the camp, where, dressed in male attire, and unknown to him, she enrolled in the service. A few days after, during a fierce conflict that occurred, she stood by his side in the thickest of the fight, and in turning away a lance aimed at his heart received it in her own, and fell bleeding at his feet. She was buried on the banks of the Santee. He was afterward distinguished in the service at Fort Moultrie, and at Savannah, where he received his death-wound in carrying off the flag which was intrusted to him.

THE POLE'S FAREWELL

BY WM. H. C. HOSMER

Warsaw, farewell! Alone that word
Fame's dark eclipse recalls;
The voice of wail alone is heard
Within her ruined walls —
Her pavement rings beneath the tread
Of bondsmen by their master led.

Hope kindles on my native shore
No more her beacon fires —
The Northern Bear is trampling o'er
The dust of fallen sires,
And signal ever to destroy
Hath been his growl of savage joy.

Oh! for one hour of glory gone —
An arm of might to hurl
The Czar, in thunder, from his throne,