Anti-slavery bugle. [volume] (New-Lisbon, Ohio) 1845-1861, 1846-08-07

1 tAldlllCll IIdytlo W tue VOC OF ItOStS.
in all the churches of Boston; prayers that
God would curse the men of Cambridge,
make their wives widows, their children ia
th%erless, their houses a ruin, the men corpses,
meat for the beast of the field and the bird
Of the air. Last night the Bostonians made
a feint of attacking Charlestown, raining
bombs and red-hot cannon balls from Cops
hill, till they have burnt a thousand houses,
where the British burnt not half so many. -
Women and children fled screaming from the
blazing rafter5 Of their homes. The men of
Middlesex crowd into Charlestown.
In the mean time the Bostonians hastily
prepare a bridge or two; some pass over that
way, some over the Neck-all stealthily by
highland while the foe expect them at
Bunkers, amid the blazing town, they have
stolen a march and rush upon Cambridge it.
self. The Cambridge men turn back. The
battle is fiercely joined. You hear the can
non, the sharp report of musketry. You
crowd the hills, the housetops, YOU line the
Common, you cover the shore,-yet You see
but little in the sulphurous cloud. Now tn
Bostonians yield a little-a enforcement
goes over. All the men are gone; even the
grayheaded who can shoulder d iirelock.-
They plunge into battle, mad with rage,
madden with rum. The chaplains loiter be-
hind.
"Pious men, whom duty brought,
To dubious verge of battle fought,
To shrive the dying, bless the dead"
The battle hangs long in even scale. At
length it turns. The Cambridge men re-
treat-they run-they fly. The houses
burn. You see the churches and colleges 90
up a stream of fire. That librdry-founded
mid want and war, and lad sectarian strife,
e1,Yrlu r,tIorDl he tho g,vipr nf fr,-n ca,t,,
ries-the hope Of the poor scholar, the boast
of the rich one-is scattered to the winds
and burnt with fire, for the solid granite is
blasted by powder, and the turrets fall. Vic
tory is ours. Ten thousand men of Cambridge
lie dead eight thousand of Boston. There
writhe the wounded; men who but a few
hours before were poured over the battle
field a lava of fiery valor-fathers, brothers,
husbands, sons. There they lie, torn and
mangled, black with powder; red with blood (;
parched with thirst; cursing the load of life
they now must bear with bruised frames and
mutilated limbs. Gather them in the hasty
hospitals-let this mans daughter come to-
morrow and sit beside him, tanning away the
flies he shall linger out a life of wretched
anguish unspoken and insupportable, and when
he dies, his wife religiously will keep the
shot which tore his limbs! There is the
battle field. Here the horse charged there
the howitzers scattered their shells, pregnant
with death here the murderous canister and
grape moved down whole the crowded ranks;
there the huge artillery, teeming with murder,
was dragged DER heaps of men-wounded
friends who just now held its ropes, men yet
curling with anguish, like worms in the fire;
hostile and friendly, head and trunk are
crushed beneath those dreadful wheels. Here
a., -, g., -, ID,,ar, ,h,i- ,,nrl,ra,,1 sIat
That CHASTITY face was beautiful the day be-
lore-l sabre hewod its half away.
"The earth is covered thick with other
clay,
Which her own clay must cover, heaped
and pent,
Rider and horse, friend, foe, in one red bu-
rial blent."
Again It's night. Oh, what a night and
after what a day! Yet the pure tide of wo-
mans love-which never ebbed since earth
began-t1ows on in spite of war and battle.
Stealthily by the pale moonlight, a mother of
Boston treads the weary miles to reach that
bloody spot--a widow she, seeking among the
slain her only son. The arm of power drove
him forth reluctantly to the fight. A friend
ly soldier guides her way. Now she turns
over this face, whose mouth is full of purple
dust, bit cut the groued in his EXTREMIST ag-
ony-the last sacrament offered him by
earth herself; now she raises that form, cold,
stiff, stony and CHASTITY as a dream of hell
But, 10 another comes-she too a woman--
younger and thlrer, yet not less bold, a maid
en- from the hostile town, to seek her lover.
They meet-two women among the corpses
two angels come to Golgotha, seeking to
raise a man. There he lies before them
they look,-yes, It's he you seek, the same
dress, form, features too ;--'ti he, the Son,
the Lover. Maid and mother could tell TIM
face in any light. The grass is wet with
his blood. Yes, the ground is muddy with
the life of men. The mothers Innocent robe
is drabbled in the blood her bosom bore -
Their kisses, groans and tears recall the
wounded man. He knows the mothers
voice-that voice yet more beloved. His
lips move only, for they cannot speak. He
dies! The waxing moon moves high in
Heaven, walking in beauty mid the clouds,
and murmurs soft her cradle song INTO the
Stumbling earth. The broken sword re.
fleets her placid beams. A star looks down
and is imaged back in a pool of blood. The
cool night wind plays in the branches Of
the trees shivered with shot. Nature is
beautiful that lovely grass underneath theil
feet; those pendulous branches of the leafy
Sih, WV Stulos ulu Ihdt lOlidllllC mum llIllUH
the clouds with silver light! A groan Of
agony, hopeless and prolonged, walls out
from that bloody ground. But in yondel
farm the whiPporwiIl sings to her lover all
night long the rising tide ripples melodious
against the shores. So wears the night
away,-Ncture, all s%inless, roura that field
of wo.
The morn is up again, the dewy morn.
With breath all incense and with cheek all
bloom;
Laughing the clouds away with playful
ScOrn,
And living as if earth contained no tomb,
And glowing into day.
What a scene that morn looks upon! |
will not turn again. Let the dead bury theil
dead. But their blood cries out of the ground
against the rulers who shed it,-Cain,
where are thy brothersl What shall the
Fool answer =! what shall the Traitor say
Then comes thanksgiving in all the church.
es of Boston. The consecrated banners
stiff with blood and "glory,' are hung owe.