II.

Oh! widow'd woman, sitting in thy weeds, With thy young brood around thee, sad and lone, Thy fancy sees thy hero where he bleeds, And still thou hear'st his moan! Dying he calls on thee--again--again! With blessing and fond memories. Be of cheer; He has not died--he did not bless--in vain: For, in the eternal rounds of GOD, HE squares The account with sorrowing hearts; and soothes the fears, And leads the orphans home, and dries the widow's tears.

Charleston Mercury.

Sonnet.

Written in 1864.

What right to freedom when we are not free? When all the passions goad us into lust; When, for the worthless spoil we lick the dust, And while one-half our people die, that we May sit with peace and freedom 'neath our tree, The other gloats for plunder and for spoil: Bustles through daylight, vexes night with toil, Cheats, swindles, lies and steals!--Shall such things be Endowed with such grand boons as Liberty Brings in her train of blessings? Should we pray That such as these should still maintain the sway-- These soulless, senseless, heartless enemies Of all that's good and great, of all that's wise, Worthy on earth, or in the Eternal Eyes!

Charleston Mercury.

Grave of A. Sydney Johnston.

By J. B. Synnott.

The Lone Star State secretes the clay Of him who led on Shiloh's field, Where mourning wives will stop to pray, And maids a weeping tribute yield.

In after time, when spleen and strife Their madd'ning flame shall have expired, The noble deeds that gemm'd this life By Age and Youth will be admired.

As o'er the stream the boatmen rove By Pittsburg Bend at early Spring, They'll show with moist'ning eye the grave Where havoc spread her sable wing.

There, 'neath the budding foliage green, Ere Night evolved her dewy breath, While Vict'ry smiled upon the scene, Our Chieftain met the blow of death.

Great men to come will bless the brave; The soldier, bronzed in War's career, Shall weave a chaplet o'er his grave, While Mem'ry drops the glist'ning tear.

Though envy wag her scorpion tongue, The march of Time shall find his fame; Where Bravery's loved and Glory's sung, There children's lips shall lisp his name.

"Not Doubtful of Your Fatherland."