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BINGEN ON THE RHINE.
The dying soldier faltered, as he took that comrade's hand, And he said, “I never more shall see my own, my native
land: Take a message, and a token to some distant friends of
mine; For I was born at Bingen,-at Bingen on the Rhine.
“Tell my brothers and companions, when they meet and
crowd around, To hear my mournful story, in the pleasant vineyard ground, That we fought the battle bravely, and when the day was
done Full many a corse lay ghastly pale beneath the setting sun; And 'mid the dead and dying were some grown old in
wars, The death-wound on their gallant breasts, the last of many
scars ; And some were young, and suddenly beheld life's morn
decline, And one had come from Bingen,-fair Bingen on the Rhine.
“Tell my mother, that her other son shall comfort her old
age; For I was still a truant bird, that thought his home a cage. For my father was a soldier, and even as a child My heart leaped forth to hear him tell of struggles fierce and
wild ; And when he died, and left us to divide his scanty hoard, I let them take whate'er they would,—but kept my father's
sword; And with boyish love I hung it where the bright light used
to shine, On the cottage wall at Bingen,-calm Bingen on the Rhine.
“Tell my sister not to weep for me, and sob with drooping
head, When the troops come marching home again, with glad and
But to look upon them proudly, with a calm and steadfast
eye, For her brother was a soldier, too, and not afraid to die; And if a comrade seek her love, I ask her in my name, To listen to him kindly, without regret or shame, And to hang the old sword in its place (my father's sword
and mine), For the honor of old Bingen,-dear Bingen on the Rhine.
“ There's another—not a sister; in the happy days gone by You'd have known her by the merriment that sparkled in
her eye; Too innocent for coquetry,--too fond for idle scorning, O, friend ! I fear the lightest heart makes sometimes heaviest
mourning! Tell her the last night of my life (for ere the moon be risen, My body will be out of pain, my soul be out of prison),– I dreamed I stood with her, and saw the yellow sunlight shine On the vine-clad hills of Bingen,-sweet Bingen on the Rhine.
“I saw the blue Rhine sweep along,-I heard, or seemed to
hear, The German songs we used to sing in chorus sweet and
clear; And down the pleasant river, and up the slanting hill, The echoing chorus sounded through the evening calm and
still ; And her glad blue eyes were on me, as we passed with
friendly talk, Down many a path beloved of yore, and well-remembered
walk! And her little hand lay lightly, confidingly in mine,But we meet no more at Bingen,--loved Bingen on the
His trembling voice grew faint and hoarse,-hıs grasp was
childish weak, His eyes put on a dying look,-he sighed and ceased to
His comrade bent to lift him, but the spark of life had fled, -
down On the red sand of the battle-field, with bloody corses
strewn ; Yes, calmly on that dreadful scene her pale light seemed to
shine, As it shone on distant Bingen,-fair Bingen on the Rhine.
MRS. CAROLINE NORTON.
And yonder sits a maiden,
The fairest of the fair;
And she combs her golden hair.
With a golden comb she combs it,
And a wild song singeth she,
And powerful melody.
The boatman feels his bosom
With a nameless longing move;
His gaze is fixed above,
Till over boat and boatman
The Rhine's deep waters run;
How they brought the good news from
Ghent to Aix.
I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three; “Good speed !” cried the watch as the gate-bolts undrew, “ Speed !" echoed the wall to us galloping through. Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest, And into the midnight we galloped abreast.
Not a word to each other: we kept the great pace-
'Twas a moonset at starting; but while we drew near
At Aerschot up leaped of a sudden the sun,
HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS. 69
And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back
By Hasselt Dirck groaned ; and cried Joris, “Stay spur!
So we were left galloping, Joris and I,
“How they'll greet us !”-and all in a moment his roan
Then I cast loose my buff-coat, each holster let fall,
And all I remember is friends flocking round,