Thus thinking o'er life's promise-breaking dreams, Its lights and shadows made of hopes and fears, I say that Death is kinder than he seems, And not the King of Tears.

[Footnote: 6: It may not be out of place to state that this ode was written at the express and urgent request of the ladies of Warren county, North Carolina, and recited by the author, August 8th, 1866, on the occasion of the completion of the monument, erected by the ladies of Warren county, over the ashes of Miss Annie Carter Lee, who was the daughter of General Robert E. Lee and Mary Custis Lee; born at Arlington, Va., June 18th, 1839, and died at the White Sulphur Springs, Warren county, North Carolina, October 20th, 1862.

The monument was unveiled in the presence of a great concourse of people, and with Major-Generals G.W.C. Lee and W.H.F. Lee, in attendance, as representatives of their family.]

THE CADETS AT NEW MARKET.[7]

Their sleep is made glorious, And dead they're victorious Over defeat!

Never Lethean billows Shall roll o'er their pillows, Red with the feet Of Mars from the wine press So bitterly sweet!

Sleeping, but glorious, Dead in Fame's portal, Dead, but victorious, Dead, but immortal!

They gave us great glory, What more could they give?

They have left us a story, A story to live-- And blaze on the brows of the State like a crown, While from these grand mountains the rivers run down, While gra.s.s grows in graveyards, or the Ocean's deep calls, Their deeds and their glory shall fresco these walls.

[Footnote 7: Delivered at Virginia Military Inst.i.tute, 1870.]

OUR HEROIC DEAD.

I.

A King once said of a Prince struck down, "Taller he seems in death."

And this speech holds truth, for now as then 'Tis after death that we measure men, And as mists of the past are rolled away Our heroes, who died in their tattered grey, Grow "taller" and greater in all their parts Till they fill our minds as they fill our hearts.

And for those who lament them there's this relief-- That Glory sits by the side of Grief, Yes, they grow "taller" as the years pa.s.s by And the World learns how they could do and die.

II.

A Nation respects them. The East and West, The far-off slope of the Golden Coast, The stricken South and the North agree That the heroes who died for you and me-- Each valiant man, in his own degree, Whether he fell on the sh.o.r.e or sea, Did deeds of which This Land, though rich In histories may boast, And the Sage's Book and the Poet's Lay Are full of the deeds of the Men in Grey.

III.

No lion cleft from the rock is ours, Such as Lucerne displays, Our only wealth is in tears and flowers, And words of reverent praise.

And the Roses brought to this silent Yard Are Red and White. Behold!

They tell how wars for a kingly crown, In the blood of England's best writ down, Left Britain a story whose moral old Is fit to be graven in text of gold: The moral is, that when battles cease The ramparts smile in the blooms of peace.

And flowers to-day were hither brought From the gallant men who against us fought; York and Lancaster!--Grey and Blue!

Each to itself and the other true-- And so I say Our Men in Grey Have left to the South and North a tale Which none of the glories of Earth can pale.

IV.

Norfolk has names in the sleeping host Which fill us with mournful pride-- Taylor and Newton, we well may boast, McPhail, and Walke, and Selden, too, Brave as the bravest, as truest true!

And Grandy struck down ere his May became June, A battle-flag folded away too soon, And Williams, than whom not a man stood higher, 'Mid the host of heroes baptized in fire.

And Mallory, whose sires aforetime died, When Freedom and Danger stood side by side.

McIntosh, too, with his boarders slain, Saunders and Jackson, the unripe grain, And Taliaferro, stately as knight of old, A blade of steel with a sheath of gold.

And Wright, who fell on the Crater's red sod, Giving life to the Cause, his soul to G.o.d.

And there is another, whose portrait at length Should blend graces of Sidney with great Raleigh's strength.

Ah, John Randolph Tucker![8] To match me this name You must climb to the top of the Temple of Fame!

These are random shots o'er the men at rest, But each rings out on a warrior's crest.

Yes, names like bayonet points, when ma.s.sed, Blaze out as we gaze on the splendid past.

V.

That past is now like an Arctic Sea Where the living currents have ceased to run, But over that past the fame of Lee Shines out as the "Midnight Sun:"

And that glorious...o...b.. in its march sublime, Shall gild our graves till the end of time!

[Footnote 8: That splendid seaman, Admiral Tucker.]

MAHONE'S BRIGADE.[9]

A METRICAL ADDRESS.

"In pace decus, in bello praesidium."--_Tacitus_.

I.

Your arms are stacked, your splendid colors furled, Your drums are still, aside your trumpets laid, But your dumb muskets once spoke to the world-- And the world listened to Mahone's Brigade.

Like waving plume upon Bellona's crest, Or comet in red majesty arrayed, Or Persia's flame transported to the West, Shall shine the glory of Mahone's Brigade.

Not once, in all those years so dark and grim, Your columns from the path of duty strayed; No craven act made your escutcheon dim-- 'Twas burnished with your blood, Mahone's Brigade.

Not once on post, on march, in camp, or field, Was your brave leader's trust in you betrayed, And never yet has old Virginia's shield Suffered dishonor through Mahone's Brigade.

Who has forgotten at the deadly Mine, How our great Captain of great Captains bade Your General to retake the captured line?

How it was done, you know, Mahone's Brigade.

Who has forgotten how th' undying dead, And you, yourselves, won that for which Lee prayed?

Who has forgotten how th' Immortal said: That "heroes" swept that field, Mahone's Brigade?

From the far right, beneath the "stars and bars,"

You marched amain to Bushrod Johnson's aid, And when you charged--an arrow shot by Mars Went forward in your rush, Mahone's Brigade.