The waters heaved,—and the bugle was blown
That reached the skies, and a shout was thrown,-
And a gun was fired,-and our foe went down
to the seaman's grave.

In

pomp

We lost not a man till that pall-flag reeled,
Till the bugle sung, by the last breath pealed,
Of our proudly sinking foe:-

O, then we leaped thro' the blood-tinged spray,
And we grappled again, but not to slay:

Brave hearts went down with their foes that day-
And now sleep in their arms below.

N.

SONG.

The Sailor's Pledge,-By the friend of

who fell with

Lawrence.

Sailor, farewell! The red pennant is streaming,

That calls thee away from my arms to the strife;
The sails are abroad, and the star flag is gleaming
In meteor pride, like a banner of light.

Sailor boy-God bless thee!

Oh, take this wave of hair,
And hear my parting prayer,

Now, while I caress thee.

O, may it prove a spell

To wake thy pulses swell!
Ne'er yield it but with life, boy,
T'will stay thee in the strife, boy.

Mary, for shame love-a sailor's girl weeping!

If at midnight thou hearest the thunder's deep voice,
Then pray for me, girl, while thy spirit is sleeping,

And fancy 'tis Victory bids thee rejoice.

That bright eyed girl-she wept:

To his heart he pressed her,
On his knees be blessed her,

And perished e'er she slept.

512

How short the race which man may run!
The journey of a one day's sun-
Which on the dial-plate of man,
Is measured by a single span.
Strange that so short a race with death,
Should put him so much out of breath.

M. D. C.

END OF VOLUME III.

B. EDES, PRINTER, BALTIMORE,