MITCHEL.

Waste and ruin will rush in,
Like the trampling swine.

Dare you be a man?

Now, for home and law and right,
Go, in God's name, to the fight!
Forward to the van!

MITCHEL.

BY W. FRANCIS WILLIAMS.

Hung be the Heavens with black."

HIS mighty life was burned away
By Carolina's fiery sun;

The pestilence that walks by day
Smote him before his course seemed run.

The constellations of the sky,

The Pleiades, the Southern Cross,

Looked sadly down to see him die,
To see a nation weep his loss.

"Send him to us," the stars might cry, You do not feel his worth below;

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Your petty great men do not try
The measure of his mind to know.

"Send him to us, this is his place,

Not 'mid your puny jealousies ; You sacrificed him in your race Of envies, strifes, and policies.

"His eye could pierce our vast expanse, His ear could hear our morning songs,· His mind, amid our mystic dance,

Could follow all our myriad throngs.

"Send him to us! No martyr's soul,
No hero slain in righteous wars,
No raptured saint could e'er control
A holier welcome from the stars."

Take him, ye stars! Take him on high To your vast realms of boundless space; But once he turned from you to try

His name on martial scrolls to trace.

That once was when his country's call
Said danger to her flag was nigh;

And then her banner's stars dimmed all

The radiant lights which gemmed the sky.

WHY?

Take him, loved orbs! His country's life, for these he wars;

Freedom for all,

For these he welcomed bloody strife,

And followed in the wake of Mars.

WHY?

BY RICHARD STORRS WILLIS.

TWENTY millions held at bay!
Why, Northmen, why?

Less than half maintain the day!
Why, Northmen, why?

With the sturdy iron will,.

With the pluck, the dash, the skill,
With the blood of Bunker Hill,
Why, Northmen, why?

Standing yet are Sumter's walls,
Why, Northmen, why?
Slumbering yet th' avenging balls!
Why, Northmen, why?

Charleston left to scoff at ease!
Richmond vaunting as it please!
Traitor-taunts on every breeze!
Why, Northmen, why?

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Hear our wounded eagle wail!
Why, Statesmen, why?
See our spangled banner trail!
Why, Statesmen, why?
Coward England mocks amain !
Courtly Paris shrugs disdain !
Cordial Russia throbs with pain!
Why, Statesmen, why ?

By this fierce, but fruitless fight,
On! Leaders, on!

By your waste of loyal might,
On! Leaders, on!

By the blood that soaks the sod,
By the Brave that bite the clod,
By the souls gone up to God!—
On! Leaders, on!

By our Past, so bright-renown'd,
On! Northmen, on!

By our Future, starry-crown'd!
On! Northmen, on!

By the South, deceived, misled,

By our Hundred Thousand Dead,

Who for South and North have bled!

On! Northmen, on!

December, 1862.

WHEN THE GREAT REBELLION'S OVER. 217

WHEN THE GREAT REBELLION 'S OVER.

ANONYMOUS.

CLIMBED the baby on her knee,

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With an airy childish grace;
Prattled in her lovely face,
"When will papa come to me?"
Papa?" soft the mother cried-
Papa! ah! the naughty rover !
Sweet, my pet, he 'll come to thee
When the great Rebellion's over!"

"Mamma once had rosy cheeks,

Danced and sang a merry tune;
Now she rocks me 'neath the moon,
Sits and sighs, but scarcely speaks."
Sad the smile the mother wore :
"Sweet, mamma has lost her lover,
She will blush and sing no more
Till the great Rebellion 's over!

"Till the hush of peace shall come,
Like a quiet fall of snow,

And the merry troops shall go
Marching back to hearts at home."-

“Papa — home ?" the baby lisped,