43. beautiful lines.
A member of the First New Jersey regiment, at Alexandria, Va., was buried near the hospital, having died the night previous. A correspondent of the Newark Daily says: “Who he was I could not learn, but the scene was a sorrowfully impressive one--the dying boy, in his delirium, frequently lisping, in the agonies of his dissolution, the name of the loved ones at home.”* * * * * * *
The candle dimly burned, the room was small,
The shadows flickered on the floor and wall,
The raging wind outside went roaring past,
While leafless trees bent, groaning, to the blast!
Upon a bed of anguish and of pain,
For four long weeks that noble boy had lain
Without a friend, save his own comrades, near,
Thus murmured he — the dying volunteer:
“God bless you, comrades!
lay me down to sleep;
No mother dear or sisters here to weep.
I'm dying, slowly, comrades; by my side
Oh!
lay my trusty musket-once my pride.
My hands are feeble, too, I am not strong;
I shall not trouble you now, comrades, long;
So hear my childish talk, my nervous fear,
I'm dying, comrades,” said the volunteer.
We cooled his tongue, and bathed his feverish face,
Yet in his eye the gloss of death could trace;
We smoothed the bed, and softly laid him there,
We turned back from his brow his curly chestnut hair;
And while the wind outside went raging past,
While leafless trees bent, groaning, to the blast,
We laid his trusty musket by his side--
He grasped it, held it to his heart — and died!
