Illumed with fluid gold, his near approach
Betoken glad. Lo! now apparent all,

Aslant the dew-bright earth and colored air,
He looks in boundless majesty abroad;

And sheds the shining day, that burnished plays
On rocks, and hills, and towers, and wandering streams,
High-gleaming from afar. Prime cheerer, light!
Of all material beings first, and best!

Efflux divine! Nature's resplendent robe!
Without whose vesting, beauty all were wrapt
In unessential gloom; and thou, O sun!
Soul of surrounding worlds, in whom best seen
Shines out thy Maker, may I sing of thee?

THOMSON.

CLXXXIII.-CALLING THE ROLL.
FROM SHEPHERD.

1. "CORPORAL GREEN!" the orderly cried;
"Here!" was the answer, loud and clear,
From the lips of a soldier standing near;
And "here!" was the word the next replied.
"Cyrus Drew!" and a silence fell;

This time, no answer followed the call;
Only his rear-man saw him fall,

Killed or wounded, he could not tell.

2. 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 slope 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.

3. 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 tire;
And their life-blood went to color the tide.
"Herbert Cline!" At the call there came

Two stalwart soldiers into the line,
Bearing between them Herbert Cline,
Wounded and bleeding, to answer his name.

4. "Ezra Kerr!" and a voice said "here !"

"Hiram Kerr!" but no man replied:

They were brothers, these two; the sad wind sighed,
And a shudder crept through the corn-field near.
"Ephraim Deane!"—then a soldier spoke:

"Deane carried our regiment's colors," he said,
"When our ensign was shot; I left him dead,
Just after the enemy twavered and broke.

5. "Close to the roadside his body lies;

I paused a moment, and gave him to drink;
He murmured his mother's name, I think;
And death came with it and closed his eyes."
'Twas 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!"

CLXXXIV.-THE DYING SOLDIER.

1. THE shadows of evening are thickening. Twilight closes, and the thin mists are rising in the valley. The last charging squadron yet thunders in the distance; but it presses only on the foiled and scattered foe. The fight is over! And those who rode foremost in its fields at morning, where are they now? On the bank of yon little stream, there lies a knight, his life-blood ebbing faster than its tide. His shield is rent, and his lance is broken. Soldier, why faintest thou? The blood that swells from that deep wound will answer.

2. It was this morning that the sun rose bright upon his hopes; it sets upon his grave. This day he led the foremost rank of spears, that had crossed the foe's dark line; then death shouted in the onset! It was the last blow that reached him. He has conquered, though he shall not triumph in the victory. His breast-plate is dinted. His helmet has the traces of well-dealt blows. The scarf on his breast! she would shrink but to touch it now, who placed it there.

3. Look on yon crimsoned field that seems to mock the purple clouds above it! Prostrate they lie, drenched in

their dark red pool; thy friends and enemies; the dead and dying; the veteran, with the stripling of a day; the nameless trooper, and the leader of a hundred hosts. Friend lies by friend; the steed, with his rider; and foes, linked in their long embrace their first and last-the gripe of death. Far o'er the field they lie, a gorgeous prey to ruin! White plume and steel *morion! saber and *yataghan! crescent and cross! rich vest and bright *corslet! They came to the fight as if they came to a feasting. Glorious and glittering, even in death, each shining warrior lies!

4. His last glance still seeks that banner! The cry that shall never be repeated, cheers on its last charge. Oh, but for strength to reach the field once more! to die in the foe's front! Peace, dreamer! Thy place in the close rank is filled; and yet, another waits for his who holds it. Soldier! she who sped thee on thy course to-day, shall seek thee, with her blue eyes, in the conquering ranks to-morrow; but she shall seek thee in vain! Proud heads shall bow for thee. Bright eyes shall weep for thee.

5. Heath! thou wilt be the soldier's pillow! Moon, let thy cold light, this night, fall upon him! But, morning, thy soft dews shall tempt him not! The soldier must wake no more. He is dead! The cross of a knight is on his breast! his lips are pressed to his lady's token! farewell!

Soldier,

CLXXXV. THE PICKET.

1. "ALL quiet along the Potomac," they say,
"Except, now and then, a stray *picket
Is shot, as he walks on his beat to and fro,
By a rifleman hid in the thicket,"

2. 'Tis nothing-a private or two, now and then,
Will not count in the news of the battle;
Not an officer lost, only one of the men,
Moaning out, all alone, the death rattle.

3. "All quiet along the Potomac to-night,"

Where the soldiers lie peacefully dreaming;
Their tents, in the rays of the clear autumn moon,
Or the light of the watch-fires, are gleaming.

4. A tremulous sigh from the gentle night-wind
Through the forest leaves slowly is creeping,
While the stars up above, with their glittering eyes,
Keep guard; for the army is sleeping.

5. There is only the sound of the lone sentry's tread,
As he tramps from the rock to the fountain,
And thinks of the two in the low trundle-bed,
Far away in the cot on the mountain.

6. His musket falls slack-his face, dark and grim,
Grows gentle with memories tender,

As he mutters a prayer for his children asleep,
For their mother, may Heaven defend her!

7. The moon seems to shine as brightly as then,
That night, when the love yet unspoken
Leaped up to his lips, and when low murmured vows
Were pledged, never more to be broken.

8. Then drawing his sleeve roughly over his eyes,
He dashes the tears that are welling,
And gathers his gun closer up to its place,
As if to keep down the heart-swelling.

9. He passes the fountain, the blasted pine-tree;
The footstep is *lagging and weary,

Yet onward he goes, through the broad belt of light,
Toward the shade of the forest so dreary.

10. Hark! was it the night-wind that rustled the leaves? Was it moonlight so suddenly flashing?

It looked like a rifle:-"Ha! Mary, good-bye!"
And the life-blood is ebbing and plashing!

11. "All quiet along the Potomac to-night;"
No sound save the rush of the river;

While soft falls the dew on the face of the dead:
The picket's off duty forever!

THE BRAVE AT HOME.

1. THE maid who binds her warrior's sash,
And smiling, all her pain dissembles,
The while beneath the drooping lash,
One starry tear-drop hangs and trembles;

Though Heaven alone records the tear,
And fame shall never know her story,
Her heart has shed a drop as dear

As ever dewed the field of glory!

2. The wife who girds her husband's sword,
'Mid little ones who weep and wonder,
And bravely speaks the cheering word,
What though her heart be rent asunder;-
Doomed nightly in her dreams to hear
The bolts of war around him rattle,-
Has shed as sacred blood as e'er

Was poured upon the field of battle!

3. The mother who conceals her grief,

While to her breast her son she presses,
Then breathes a few brave words and brief,
Kissing the patriot brow she blesses;
With no one but her loving God,

To know the pain that weighs upon her,
Sheds holy blood as e'er the sod

Received on Freedom's field of honor!

CLXXXVI.-THE LOST PLEIAD.

FROM OTWAY CURRY.

THE PLEIADES are a group of seven small stars, situated in the neck of the constellation Taurus, and regarded by some astronomers as the central point round which our universe of stars is revolving.

According to fable of the ancients, the Pleiades were the seven daughters of Atlas, and were turned into stars, on account of their amiable virtues and mutual affection. Only six of the group are visible to the naked eye. The ancients supposed the seventh concealed herself, out of shame for having bestowed her love upon a mortal, while her sisters were the favorites of divine personages.

In the following beautiful poem, the lost Pleiad is represented as having gradually disappeared from the heavens to wander away, on its mighty circuit through "the deep deserts of the ancient night and faroff universe," but yet, in the coming ages, again to return, after having completed its sublime revolution.

1. MILLIONS of ages gone,

Didst thou survive, in thy enthroned place,
Amidst the assemblies of the starry race,
Still shining on—and on.