From the hot plains where they perish outnumbered,
Furrowed and ridged by the battle-field's plough,
Comes the loud summons; too long you have slumbered,
Hear the last Angel-trump-Never or Now!

As died the "Cumberland" so died the Varuna!-Noble ships and noble crews!

THE VARUNA.

SUNK APRIL TWENTY-FIETH, 1862.

BY GEORGE H. BOKER.

WHO has not heard of the dauntless Varuna?
Who has not heard of the deeds she has done?
Who shall not hear, while the brown Mississippi
Rushes along from the snow to the sun?

Crippled and leaking she entered the battle,

Sinking and burning she fought through the fray,
Crushed were her sides and the waves ran across her,
Ere, like a death-wounded lion at bay,

Sternly she closed in the last fatal grapple,
Then in her triumph moved grandly away.

Five of the rebels, like satellites, round her,
Burned in her orbit of splendor and fear:
One, like the pleiad of mystical story,

Shot, terror-stricken, beyond her dread sphere.

We who are waiting with crowns for the victors,
Though we should offer the wealth of our store,
Load the Varuna from deck down to kelson,

Still would be niggard, such tribute to pour
On courage so boundless. It beggars possession,
It knocks for just payment at heaven's bright door!

Cherish the heroes who fought the Varuna; Treat them as kings if they honor your way; Succor and comfort the sick and the wounded; Oh! for the dead. let us all kneel to pray.

THE FLOWER OF LIBERTY.

BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.

WHAT flower is this that greets the morn,
Its hues from heaven so freshly born?
With burning star and flaming band
It kindles all the sunset land;-
O, tell us what its name may be!
Is this the Flower of Liberty?

It is the banner of the free,
The starry Flower of Liberty!

In savage Nature's far abode

Its tender seed our fathers sowed;

The storm winds rocked its swelling bud,
Its opening leaves were streaked with blood,
Till, lo! earth's tyrants shook to see
The full blown Flower of Liberty!

Then hail the banner of the free,
The starry Flower of Liberty!

Behold its streaming rays unite
One mingling flood of braided light,—
The red that fires the Southern rose,

With spotless white from Northern snows,
And spangled o'er its azure, see

The sister stars of Liberty!

Then hail the banner of the free,

The starry Flower of Liberty!

The blades of heroes fence it round,
Where'er it springs is holy ground;
From tower and dome its glories spread;
It waves where lonely sentries tread;
It makes the land as ocean free,
And plants an empire on the sea!
Then hail the banner of the free,
The starry Flower of Liberty!

Thy sacred leaves, fair Freedom's flower,
Shall ever float on dome and tower,
To all their heavenly colors true,
In blackening frost or crimson dew,—
And God love us as we love thee,
Thrice holy Flower of Liberty!

Then hail the banner of the free,
The starry Flower of Liberty!

DIRGE FOR A SOLDIER.

IN MEMORY OF GENERAL PHILIP KEARNY.

BY GEORGE H. BOKER.

CLOSE his eyes, his work is done!
What to him is friend or foeman,

Rise of moon, or set of sun,
Hand of man, or kiss of woman
Lay him low, lay him low,
In the clover or the snow!

What cares he? he cannot know.

Lay him low!

As man may, he fought his fight
Proved his truth by his endeavor;
Let him sleep in solemn night,
Sleep forever and forever.

Lay him low, lay him low,

In the clover or the snow!

What cares he? he cannot know:
Lay him low!

Fold him in his country's stars,
Roll the drum and fire the volley!
What to him are all our wars,
What but death bemocking folly?
Lay him low, lay him low,

In the clover or the snow!

What cares he? he cannot know:
Lay him low!

Leave him to God's watching eye,

Trust him to the hand that made him.

Mortal love weeps idly by:

God alone has power to aid him.

Lay him low, lay him low,

In the clover or the snow!

What cares he? he cannot know:
Lay him low!

THE REFUGEE.

BY SAMUEL ECKEL, OF EAST TENNESSEE.

LONE upon the mountain summit,
Watching through the weary night,
For the cheering heart-glow glimmer
Of the Union camp-fire's light;