OH! SENTRY! TELL ME OF THE NIGHT.

AT THE DESTRUCTION OF WARRINGTON, FLA.,

NOVEMBER 23d, '61.

Oн, sentry, tell me of the night,

How dawns the slow approaching day?
Will darkness e'er give place to light?
Will this drear gloom ne'er pass away?
Can you discern a single star

Amid the low'ring clouds on high?
Is there no hope of coming day?
Oh! tell me sentry, ere I die!

Have courage, comrade! courage, man-
For though the night is dark and drear,
Tho' light'ning's flash and thunder's roll
Proclaim the howling storm is near.
Still 'neath the frowning clouds I see,

A faint streak in the north'ren sky;
While far and near on every hand,

I hear the picket's watchful cry.

Yes, sentry, 'tis the cry that woke

The north'ren legions from their sleep,
Then ev'ry heart cried-" Wake!—to arms,'
While mothers bow'd their heads to weep-
To think their children North and South,

Were thus arrayed in mortal fray;
But oh! my wounds-they bleed afresh,
Oh! tell me, sentry, of the day.

"Have courage, comrade: day is nigh,
Tho' its approach is slow indeed,
And your unsightly bleeding wounds

A mother's tender care must need:
But, see!-amid the threat'ning clouds,
While earth with heaven's thunder jars,
I now behold amid the light,

A Constellation of bright Stars !"

"I thank you, sentry, for those words, For eased would be my dying pain, Could I but see the light of day

Or those bright Stars shine once again.
But then, alas! I see no light,

Except the rebel foe's watch fire,
These bleeding wounds obscure my sight,
Tell me-of day-e'er I expire!"

"Have courage, comrade, look again ;

The light, which there your dim'd eyes greet, Proceeds man, from the burning stores

Of our base foe in wild retreat!

The Constellation of bright Stars,

Which 'mid the clouds are shining thro',

Are those upon the Union Flag,

As our brave boys the foe pursue!"

Joy then is mine!—the day is ours!
The sun of vict'ry soon will shine,
Again upon our country loved,

And rescued by God's hand divine!
Oh! raise me, sentry, to my feet,
Let me behold the foe's dismay,
There-gently-so:-I see them now-

And our bright "Stars" Hurray!-Hurray!"

With that last cry of heart-felt joy
The wounded soldier gave up life
To wake no more at reveille-

To mingle never more in strife!
For him, shame not to drop a tear,
Nor value light the fame he won,
For men who thus their country serve
Are quite as great as WASHINGTON !

.J. HENRY HAYWARD:

THE BATTLE ARMOR.

BEFORE THE BATTLE AT LANCASTER, MO.,

NOVEMBER 24тн, '61.

THERE was deep and wond'rous meaning
In the Northern legend old,
That when Eric forged his armor,
From his lips an anthem rolled-
Rolled above the sounding anvil
Diapasons high and brave,
Telling of the victor's laurel,

Telling of the hero's grave.

There he stood, the swart and earnest,
Turning in his brawny hands
Many a helmet on his anvil,

For the knights of many lands;

And the high, heroic music,

Mingling with the hammer's peal,

Gave to Eric's armor virtue

Never known before to steel.

Over all shone Eric's helmets,

In the van, like warrior-stars; Dazzling, flashing, his sacred armor On the battle's sounding cars; Helm and haukbert were enchanted In that old and wond'rous timeFor he made his simple smithy

Glorious with the gallant rhyme.

Let us learn from that grand armor
By the earnest Northman made,
What the loyal soul must fashion
When the battle is arrayed-
When the Constitution's threatened,
When the traitor-shadow falls,

When the trump of Truth is sounding
Many a charge on Treason's walls.

'Tis the patriot's mighty armor:

Forge it, nurse the gallant thought-
Thought to which a Stark and Warren
All their mighty armor wrought;
Sword and cannon then enchanted
By the patriotic flame,

Shall triumphant, bear us over
Every dastard traitor's frame!

WILLIAM ROSS WALLACE.

I DREAMED MY BOY WAS HOME AGAIN.

SECOND FIGHT AT VIENNA, VA.,

NOVEMBER 26TH, '61.

LONELY, weary, broken hearted,
As I laid me down to sleep,
Thinking of the day we parted,
When you told me not to weep,
Soon I dreamed that peaceful Angels
Hovered o'er the battle-plain,
Singing songs of joy and gladness,
For my boy was home again.

Tears were changed to loud rejoicing,
Night was turned to endless day,
Lovely birds were sweetly singing,
Flowers bloomed in light array;
Old and young seemed light and cheerful,
Peace seemed everywhere to reign,
My poor heart forgot its sorrow ;
For my boy was home again!

But the dream is past: and with it
All my happiness is gone;

Cheerful thoughts of joy have vanished,

I must still in sorrow mourn.

Soon may peace, with all its blessings,

Our unhappy land reclaim;

Then my tears will cease her flowing,

And my boy be home again!

CHARLES CARROLL SAWYER.