THE "BIVOUAC OF THE DEAD."

New Zealand Tablet, Volume III, Issue 134, 26 November 1875, Page 6

THE "BIVOUAC OF THE DEAD."

BT THEODORE o'HARA. Tho muffled drum's sad roll has beat The soldier's last tattoo ! No more on life's parade shall meet That "brave and fallen few ; On fame's eternal camping ground Their silent tents are spread, And glory guards, -with solemn round, The bivouac of the dead. No rumour of the foe's advance, Now swells upon the wind, No troubled thought of midnight haunts Of loved ones left behind ; No vision of the morrow's stx-ife, The warrior's dream alarms, No braying horn nor screaming fife At dawn shall call to arms. Their shivered swords are red with rust, Their plumed heads are bowed, Their haughty banner, trailed in dust, Is now their martial shroud — And plenteous funeral tears have washed The red stains from each brow, And the proud forms, by battle gashed, Are iree from anguish now. The neighing troop, the flashing blade, Tho bugle's stirring blast, The charge, the dreadlul cannonade, The dm and shouts are past — No war's wild note, nor glory's peal, Shall thrill with fierce delight Those breasts that never more may feel The rapture of the light. Like the fierce Northern hurricane That sweeps his great plateau, Flushed with the triumph yet to gain Came down the serried ioe — Who beard the thunder of the fray Break o'er the field beneath, Knew well the watchword of that day Was victory or death. Full many a norther's breath has swept O"i r Angostura's plain, And long the pitying sky has wept A"bo\e its uioulder'd slain ; The raven's bci-emn or eagle's fiig'hh, Ox .shepherd's pensive lay, Alone now wake each solemn night That frowned o'er that dread fray. rfons of the dark and bloody ground ! Ye mxist not slumber there, Where stranger steps and tongue rebound Along the heedless air ; Your own proud land's heroic soil Shall be your fitter grave ; She claims from war its richest spoil — The ashes of her brave. Thus, 'neath their parent turf they rest, Ear from the gory field, Eoi'ne to a Spartan mother's breast On many a bloody shield; Tho sunshine of their native sky Smiles sadly on them here, And kindred ey^s and hearts watch by The heroes' sepulchre. Best on, embalmed and sainted dead, l)ear is the bluod ye gvive; No impious i'lolsti-p here shall tivad The herbage oi jour grave ; Nor shall jour glory be torgot While lame lit_r record k^ips, Or honor points the hallowed spot Where Valor proudly sleeps. Your marble minstrel's voiceless stone, In dcathlcsb song shall tell, When many a vanished year hath flown, The story how ye foil; Nor w reck nor change, nor winter's blight, Nor time's remorseless doom, Can dim one ray of holy light That gilds your glorious tomb.

Coai. — "Few realise 1 lie power stored in coal for man's use. It is itated as a scientific tact, tlint in a boiler of fair construction, a pound of coal wi 1 conveil nine pounds of water into steam. Each pound ol •team will represent an amount of energy or capacity tor performing work eqimsnent U 74(j,(jGG foot pounds, or ior the whole nine pound** 6,720. 0u0 fool pounds. In otl.er words, one pound ol • oal has done at much wori in evaporating nine pounds oi water into nine pounds cf iteum, ag trould Lit 2,232 tons ten feet bigb..