* * * * *

And thou farewell, grim tyrant old!
Who, who would call thee back!
Thou cam'st with bloody footstep, bold;
Thou leav'st a blood-stained track.

Go! Find a grave in the billowy surge
That ne'er can wash thee clean;
The wail of millions be thy dirge--
Thy judge--the Great Unseen!

And when the resurrection morn
Shall seek thy name to blot,
Ho! Heed the voice that asks in scorn,--
Thou liv'dst and reign'dst for what?

Passion unbridled, stubborn pride,
Avengers, thine to rue,
Of outraged virtue, truth defied,
Shall 'balm in blood thy due,
Lost eighteen sixty-two.

MY BIRTHDAY.

TO S---- 1864.

The night is strangely, wildly dark;
The thunders fiercely roll,
And lightnings flash their angry spark;
But thou absorb'st my soul.
I have no care for storm-king's cloud,
How black soe'er it be;--
No truant thought for earth's dark shroud:
I'm thinking, love, of thee.

To-night the God of battles views,
With deprecating eye,
A scene where demons wild infuse
A thirst for victory.
'Tis His, not mine to guide the storm;
'Tis His to calm the sea:
My spirit hovers 'round thy form.
I'm thinking, love, of thee.

Time's cycle once again has wrought
Its round:--I'm twenty six.
Another mile-stone's gained--sad thought--
Toward deep, silent Styx.
I count no laurels I have won;
Years bring no joy to me,
While yet alone I wander on
In timid thought of thee.

Years six and twenty have been mine
To journey on alone:
Shall I as many more repine,
Before I am undone?
Or shall the journey henceforth take
A brighter phaze for me?
Shall I next six-and-twenty make
My journey, love, with thee?

If so, good-bye grim doubt and fear:
Adieu to arid sand.
All Hail! Oh prospect bright and clear!
All Hail, oasis grand!
Hand joined in hand, heart linked with heart,
Come joy, come hope, come glee!
United, ne'er on earth to part,
I'll always think of thee.

If not, Good-bye! The spirit breaks;
The fountain soon must dry.
If not, good God! The temple shakes;
It totters! What am I?
A wreck of hope!--An aimless thing!
A helmless ship at sea
To whose last spar love still must cling,
And sigh:--Alas!--for thee.

MRS. ANNIE McCARER DARLINGTON.

Annie McCarer Darlington, the daughter of Charles Biles and Catharine
Ross Biles, was born July 20th, 1836, at Willow Grove, in Cecil county,
about four mile