Illumed with fluid gold, his near approach Aslant the dew-bright earth and colored air, And sheds the shining day, that burnished plays Efflux divine! Nature's resplendent robe! THOMSON. CLXXXIII.-CALLING THE ROLL. 1. "CORPORAL GREEN!" the orderly cried; This time, no answer followed the call; Killed or wounded, he could not tell. 2. There they stood in the failing light, These men of battle, with grave, dark looks, While slowly gathered the shades of night. 3. For the foe had crossed from the other side, That day, in the face of a murderous fire Two stalwart soldiers into the line, 4. "Ezra Kerr!" and a voice said "here !" "Hiram Kerr!" but no man replied: They were brothers, these two; the sad wind sighed, "Deane carried our regiment's colors," he said, 5. "Close to the roadside his body lies; I paused a moment, and gave him to drink; For that company's roll, when called at night, 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, 2. 'Tis nothing-a private or two, now and then, 3. "All quiet along the Potomac to-night," Where the soldiers lie peacefully dreaming; 4. A tremulous sigh from the gentle night-wind 5. There is only the sound of the lone sentry's tread, 6. His musket falls slack-his face, dark and grim, As he mutters a prayer for his children asleep, 7. The moon seems to shine as brightly as then, 8. Then drawing his sleeve roughly over his eyes, 9. He passes the fountain, the blasted pine-tree; Yet onward he goes, through the broad belt of light, 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!" 11. "All quiet along the Potomac to-night;" While soft falls the dew on the face of the dead: THE BRAVE AT HOME. 1. THE maid who binds her warrior's sash, Though Heaven alone records the tear, As ever dewed the field of glory! 2. The wife who girds her husband's sword, Was poured upon the field of battle! 3. The mother who conceals her grief, While to her breast her son she presses, To know the pain that weighs upon her, 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, |