Poor child! the premonition seemed to be, That many trials were in store for her, Altho' their unveil'd form she could not see; The thought brought in her eyes a fi'ry blue: O, for some hope to which her heart could flee! Some healing balm the stony fates would stir! But ere the week had told its length'ning round The secret of her sick'ning fears was found.
Suspended hope for three long days--then came The welcome letter from our hero-friend; He was alive--unhurt, and just the same. And humbly thanked high heav'n for such an end; But ah! how many, many could he name, Who would, with his, their own dear voices blend No more along the lines of coming years; And to their friends could nothing leave--but tears.
"O! would, the feelings which my bosom fill'd," He said, "as still we glided down the tide, And all around in nature calm and still'd-- I could portray--I felt I could have died! No matter then, if soon I should be killed; If all I lov'd, and ev'rything beside, Should leave this beautiful, enchanting world, And into death's cold, cruel arms be hurl'd!"
"No sound was heard till late at night. The moon Then rose, and softly also rose the wind, And swept away across the low lagoon, Where battle soon would rage a very fiend, And o'er the next day's fair and glowing noon; And, raging in its lion anger, find Its grim and ugly den of horrors fill'd With precious blood terrific strife had spill'd.
"And Charley"--Thus this sad'ning part began-- "Is now among the noble ones laid low; Grim death will ne'er hew down a better man; And we, his friends, a better crave to know. Horror! I saw his life-blood as it ran, And then I thought--for Mary what a blow! 'Twill rend and crush her young and grieving heart! So good--and oh, how sad that _thus_ they part!
"He near the gunwale bravely--manly stood, When o'er the waters came the murd'rous shell, And with four comrades, swept him down in blood; They early in the carnage quickly fell; He rais'd his head from midst the oozing flood, And calmly listened to the changing knell; Then eyeing me, he said, 'Come Louis, come-- My life ebbs fast--I'll soon be going home.'
"Will you to Mary my last token bring, And promise, ere my eyes are sealed in death, To carry her this tiny diamond ring; And tell her then, that at my latest breath, I'm thinking of the songs she used to sing; And also tell her of my holy faith In her truth and her pure, undying love; Which can be seal'd but in the world above?