THE DYING POLE.
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Il stood. and l gaz'd on the dyfng man,

 Is he struggled hard for iife-- Or his country s host lie led the van,

 Till the close of that nobie strife. He lay on his back in pool of gore

 That had well'd from his wounded side But his eye was bright as it geam'd before, Mid the surge ofthe battles tide. The current ofwar had swept along,

 Bus the wind as 1t whistled by, Bare on it's pinion the shout of the strong, And the voice of victory. 1t came on the breeze, that thrilling sound, Aud lie knew that the field was won He sprang like a fawn from the gory ground A pd was dartipg wildly on--- But he gasp'd as ie sunk on the gory sod And his voice was faint and low; ssHc.orcd pss,ssnd d''--ssmy senl to tied''-- s'My curse to my country's ioc'------ ssris done. and no more those lightning rays iiiumine the eye of the dead srTis 0 CT. and the curse ofthe dying weighs Like lead on the foeman's blade.