Of shrinking nerve, and lonely heart,
And lettered lore, and tuneful art,
Who here his humble worship paid
In that most glorious temple-shrine,
Where to the Majesty Divine
Nature her noblest altar made.

No, blame him not, but praise the Power
Who, in the dear domestic bower,
Hath given you firmer strength to rear
The plants of love--with toil and fear--
The beam to meet, the blast to dare,
And like a faithful soldier bear;
Still with sad heart his requiem pour,
Amid the cataract's ceaseless roar,
And bid one tear of pitying gloom
Bedew that meek enthusiast's tomb.

BURIAL OF A VOLUNTEER.

BY PARK BENJAMIN.

'Tis eve! one brightly-beaming star
Shines from the eastern heavens afar,
To light the footsteps of the brave,
Slow marching to a comrade's grave.

The Northern wind has sunk to sleep;
The sweet South breathes; as low and deep
The martial clang is heard, the tread
Of those who bear the silent dead.

And whose the form, all stark and cold,
Thus ready for the loosened mould;
Thus stretched upon so rude a bier?
Thine, soldier, thine--the volunteer!

Poor volunteer! the shot, the blow,
Or fell disease hath laid him low--
And few his early loss deplore--
His battle done, his journey o'er.

Alas! no fond wife's arms caressed,
His cheeks no tender mother pressed,
No pitying soul was by his side,
As, lonely in his tent, he died.

He died--the volunteer--at noon;
At evening came the small platoon;
And soon they'll leave him to his rest,
With sods upon his manly breast.

Hark to their fire! his only knell,
More solemn than the passing bell;
For, ah! it tells a spirit flown
Without a prayer or sigh, alone!

His name and fate shall fade away,
Forgotten since his dying day,
And never on the roll of fame
Shall be inscribed his humble name.

Alas! like him how many more
Lie cold on Rio Grande's shore;
How many green, unnoted graves
Are bordered by those turbid waves!

Sleep, soldier, sleep! from sorrow free
And sin and strife: 'tis well with thee!
'Tis well, though not a single tear
Laments the buried volunteer.

THE BRIDAL MORNING.

[SEE ENGRAVING.]

Morn of hopes that, quivering, glow
With a light ne'er known before;
Morn of fears, which