Tri-weekly journal. (Evansville, Ia. [i.e. Ind.]) 1847-188?, 1847-06-19
From the National Era.
THE ANGELS OF BUENA VISTA.
By J. C. WHITTIER.

armies, mlnisterlng to the wants OF Americans
as well as Mexicans with impartial tenderness.
Speak and tell us, our Ximena, looking north
ward far away,
Ger the camp of the invaders, DER the Mexican
array, Ii
Who is ioosing? who is winning7 are they far,
or come they near?
Look abroad and tell u.s. sister whittier rolls the
storm we hear.
'Down the hills of Angosture still the storm of
battle rolls;
Blood is flowing men are dying-God have
mercy on their souls!'
Who is loosing who is winning!-"Over hill
and over plain,
see but smoke of cannon clouding through the
mountain rain"
Holy Mother! keep our brothers. Look Ximena,
look once more:
"Still sec the fearful whirlwind rolling darkly
as before,
Bearing on lin strange confusion, friend and foe
man, foot and horse,
Like some wild and troubled torrent sweeping |
down its mountain course
Look forth once more, Ximena! "Ah! the smoke |
has rolled away,
And see the Northern rifles cleaning down
the ranks of gray.
Har that sudden blast of bugles! there the troop
of Minon wheels:
There the Northern horses thunder, with the
cannon at their heels"
"Jesu, pity! how it thickens! now retreat and
now advanced
Right against the blazing cannon shivers Pue
bias charging lance?
Down they go, the brave young riders; horse
and foot together fall;
Like the plowshare in its fallow, through them
ploWs the Northern ball I"
Nearer came the storm, and nearer, rolling fast
and frightful on:
"Speak Ximena speak and tell U.S. who has lost
and who has won."
"Alas! alas! know not! friend and foe togeth-
er fall,
Ger the dying rush the living; pray my sisters,
for them allr'
$40! the wind the smoke is lifting: Blessed
Mother, save my brain
can see the wounded cralling slowly out from
heaps of slain
Now they stagger, blind and bleeding; now
they fall, and strive to rise;
Hasten, sisters, haste and save them, lest they
die before our eyes,
"Oh my hearts love oh my dear one lay thy
poor head on my knee;
Dost thou know the lips that kiss thee? Canst
thou hear me, canst thou see?
Oh my husband, brave and and gentle! oh my
Bernal, look once more
On the blessed Cross before thee! Mercy! mercy!
all is oer"
Dry thy tears, my poor Ximena; lay thy dear
one down to rest;
Let his hands be meekly folded; lay the Cross
upon his breast;
Let his dirge be sung hereafter, and his funeral
masses said;
To-day, thou poor bereaved one, the living ask
thy aid.
Close beside her, family moaning, fair and
young, soldier lay, ' t
Torn with shot and pierced with 1ances, bleed
ing slow his life away
But, as tenderly before him the lon Ximen;
knelt,
She saw the Northern eagle shining on his pis
tol-belt
With a stifed cry ofhorror straight she turne,
away her head;
With q sad and bitter feeling looked she bacl
upon her dead;
But she heard the youths low moaning, and hi
struggling breath of pain,
And she raised the cooling water to his parch
ing lips again.
Whispered low the dying soldier, pressed he
hand, and family smiled;
Was that plying face his mothers? did sh
watch beside her child?
All his stranger words with meaning her VIC
man neart Supplleu' ~
With her kiss upon his forehead, "Mother
murmured he, and died.
ga bitter curse upon them, poor boy, who lie
thee forth,
From some gentle, sad-eyed mother, weepir
lonely in the North
Spake the moumful Mexic woman, as she la
him with her dead.
And turned to soothe the living and bind Il
wounds which bled.
Look forth once more. Ximena "Like clol
before the wind
Rolls the battle down the mountains, leavil
blood and death behind
All they plead in vain for mercy; in the dU
the wounded strive
Hide your faces holy angels oh, thou Christ
God, forgive!"
Sink, oh Night, among thy mountains! let
cool, gray shadows fall;
Dying brothers, fighting demons-drop thy CT
tains over all
Through the thickening winter twilight, wi
apart the battle rolled,
In its sheath the saber rested, and the cannon
lips grew cold.
But the noble Mexic women still their III
task pursued, ...sH
Through that long, dark night Of sorrow, We
and faint, and lacking food;