LAMENT
FOR THE LATE NATHANIEL M'LAIN.
INSCRIBED TO HIS SISTER, MRS. MILTON M. HALE.
"That soldier had stood on the battle-plain,
Where every step was over the slain;
But the brand and the ball had passed him by,
And he came to his native land—to die."—L. E. L.
Where every step was over the slain;
But the brand and the ball had passed him by,
And he came to his native land—to die."—L. E. L.
My brother! O my brother!
My soul is sad to-night:
I'm thinking of the fatal news—
The dark and withering blight—
That fell upon my spirit,
When on lightning wings it sped,
And told me thou, beloved one,
Wert sleeping with the dead.
My soul is sad to-night:
I'm thinking of the fatal news—
The dark and withering blight—
That fell upon my spirit,
When on lightning wings it sped,
And told me thou, beloved one,
Wert sleeping with the dead.
When rang the deadly clarion
Beneath a southern sky,
Thou, thou wert there, my brother,
To dare, to do, or die;
Beneath a southern sky,
Thou, thou wert there, my brother,
To dare, to do, or die;
