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ON THE SHORES OF TENNESSEE.
“Move my arm-chair, faithful Pompey,
In the sunshine bright and strong, For this world is fading, Pompey
Massa won't be with you long;
And I faip would hear the south wind
Bring once more the sound to me, Of the wavelets softly breaking
On the shores of Tennessee.
"Mournful though the ripples murmur,
As they still the story tell, How no vessels float the banner
That I've loved so long and well.
Dreaming that again I see
Sailing up the Tennessee.
* And, Pompey, while old Massa's waiting
For Death's last dispatch to come, If that exiled starry banner
Should come proudly sailing home, You shall greet it, slave no longer
Voice and hand shall both be free That shout and point to Union colors
On the waves of Tennessee."
b “ Massa's berry kind to Pompey;
But ole darkey's happy here, Where he's tended corn and cotton
For dese many a long gone year. c Over yonder Missis' sleeping —
No one tends her grave like me. Mebbe she would miss the flowers
She used to love in Tennessee.
a Slow; voice slightly tremor; with as much variety as would be given by an old man, in the circumstances. b Change the voice; ondeavor to give the full but subdued voice of a faithful slave. c Raise both hands.
d "Pears like she was watching Massa
If Pompey should beside him stay,
How for him she used to pray ,
White as snow his soul would be,
While he lived in Tennessee."
e Silently the tears were rolling
Down the poor old dusky face,
In his long accustomed place.
As they gazed on rock and tree
Of the rolling Tennessee.
Master, dreaming of the battle
Where he fought by Marion's side,
Stoop his lordly crest of pride.
Once he held upon his knee,
Ralph Vervair, of Tennessee.
Still the south wind fondly lingers
'Mid the veteran's silver hair;
Still the bondman close beside him
Stands behind the old arm- n-chair,
Shading eyes, he bends to see
Turns aside the Tennessee.
Thus he watches cloud-born shadows
Glide from tree to mountain-crest,
From d raise the hands still more and clasping them as you utter the last stanza, raising the eyes to heaven. e Narrative style; pure voice; more animated. f Raise one hand above the eyes as if shading them while looking in the distance, step forward.
Softly creeping, aye and ever
To the river's yielding breast. g Ha! above the foliage yonder
Something flutters wild and free! “ Massa! Massa! Hallelujah!
The flag's come back to Tennessee !"
h “Pompey, hold me on your shoulder,
Help me stand on foot once more,
As they pass my cabin door.
Give a freeman's shout with me
Evermore in Tennessee !"
j Then the trembling voice grew fainter,
And the limbs refused to stand ;
Glided to the better land.
Man and master both were free,
With the rippling Tennessee.
MAY 19, 1863.
GEORGE H, BOKER.
While Sherman stood beneath the hottest fire,
That from the lines of Vicksburg gleamed, And bomb-shells tumbled in their smoky gyre, And grape-shot hissed, and case-shot screamed;
Back from the front there came,
Weeping and sorely lame,
g High pitch, with much animation. h Weak voice; low pitch ; slow and labored utter
i Raise the pitch; full tone. Narrative style; low and full, with measured utterance: slow tine to the close,
Stilling his tears, he limped his chief to meet,
But when he paused, and tottering stood,
Shocked at his doleful case,
Sherman cried, “Halt! front face! Who are you? Speak, my gallant boy!" “A drummer, sir:--Fifty-fifth Illinois." !
* Are you not hit ?" "That' nothing. Only send
Some cartridges : our men are out; And the foe press us.” “But, my little friend" • Don't mind me! Did you hear that shout ?
What if our men be driven ?
O, for the love of Heaven, Send to my Colonel, General, dear!" “But you ?” “0, I shall easily find the rear."
“I'll see to that," cried Sherman; and a drop, Angels might envy, dimmed his
eye, As the boy, toiling towards the hill's hard top, Turned round, and with his shrill child's cry
Shouted, “O, don't forget !
We'll win the battle yet!
PYRAMUS AND THISBE.
JOHN G. SAXE.
This tragical tale, which, they say, is a true one,
Young PETER PYRAMUS-I call him Peter,
But merely to make the name completer-
years, I ween, he was rather green,
a nice young man as ever was seen, And fit to dance with a May-day queen!
Now Peter loved a beautiful girl
So Thisbe's father and Peter's mother
Began the young couple to worry and bother,