Again it booms! O Mystic Veil, upraise!
—Behold, 'tis lifted? On the darkness drawn,
A picture lined with light! The people's gaze,
From sea to sea, beholds it till the dawn!
A death-bed scene—a sinking sufferer lies.
Their chosen ruler, crowned with love and pride;
Around, his counsellors, with streaming eyes;
His wife, heart-broken, kneeling by his side:
Death's shadow holds her—it will pass too soon;
She weeps in silence—bitterest of tears;
He wanders softly—Nature's kindest boon;
And as he murmurs, all the country hears:
For him the pain is past, the struggle ends;
His cares and honors fade—his younger life
In peaceful Mentor comes, with dear old friends;
His mother's arms take home his dear young wife.
He stands among the students, tall and strong.
And teaches truths republican and grand;
He moves—ah, pitiful—he sweeps along
O'er fields of carnage leading his command!
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MIDNIGHT, SEPTEMBER 19, 1881.
