New-York daily tribune. [volume] (New-York [N.Y.]) 1842-1866, 1847-05-24
NETWORK TRIBUNE.
From the National Ira.
THE ANGELS OF BuENA VISTA.
BY &c wHITTTEk.

wnTTIES.
letter writer from Mexico states that at the terrible
hght OF Bgena Vista Mexican women were seen hover
ing near the field Of death for the purpose Of giving aid
and suceor to the wounded. One poor womsH was
found surrounded BY the manned and suffering Of both
armies rninsterng the wants OF Americans well a.
Mexicsns with impartial tenderness
syEAK and tell US our Ximens looking Northwsrd far
Der the camp Of the INVADERS the Mexican array,
losing WHO'S winning are they Tar or come lhey
near We hoai'
Look abroad and tell US sister whittier rolls the storm
"Down the hills OF ADgosturs still the storm o. Ds's
Blood IA aowinc men are dying God have mercy on
Who Is losDgi who IS winning y" over hHi Anu over
see hui smoke Of cannon eloudiog through the noun
Holy Mother keep our brothers Look Aimena look
once 49,
su see Toe fearful whrlwind rolling dsIky as before
BearDg on in strange confusion, freno and foemsn loot
"a borse mountain course"
~. .os wild and troubled torrent sweeping down its
Look forth once more Ximena "Ah the smoke has
A'"~ lied svav Iof gray.
And zee the Northern rifles cleaning down the ranks
Usrkl tha, sudden blast Of buges there the troop OF
Minon vheels Their heels
There the Northern horses thunder with the cannon a,
"Jesu pity how 1t thckens now retreat and now ad
vance ling lance :
Right against the blazing shvers Pueblas chsrg
Down they the brave young riders horse ana 100,
Like the piowshsre 10 is fallow through them pows
Nearer came the storm and nearer, rolling fast and
,,igh,f,,i an has won
aspeak Xinena speak and tell us who has lost and who
Alas alas know not friend and Toe toeether iai'
DER the DYING rush the living pray, ny sisters Tor
them all "
so, the wind the smoke is lifting Blessed Mother,
my brain ,. lol pan, sIsln.
Nov they sisgger. blind and bleeding now they isl:
and strive TO rise lOur eyes "
Hasten ssters haste snd them lest they die before
"Oh my hearts love oh my dear one lay thy poor
head I'm nv knee me, csnst thou see
D.t thou know The lips that kss thee Csnst thou hear
oh my husband, brave and gentle oh my berna look
once more is DER ~
On the blessed Cross be fore thee Mercy mercy all
Dry thy my poor Xmens ley thy dear one down
ls, hi. hand, be meeky folded lay the Gross upon
Let his drge be sung hereafter and bis funeral masses
To-day thou poor beresved one the living ask thy aid
Close beside her, family moaning, fair and young
soldier Law bis life away
Torn with shot and pierced with lsnces bleeding slow
But as teuderly before him the lorn Ximens kneit
She saw the Northern Eagle shining on his pistolbet
With a shaed cry Of horror straight sbe turned away
her head loehoi
With sad and bitter feeling looked she back upon her
But she heard the youths low mosnng and his strug'
Cling breath of pain, again.
And she raised the cooling water to his parching hps
family smiled her child
Was that plying face his mothers did she watch beside
All his stranger words with meaning her womans heart
supplied be, and died
With her kiss upon his forehead, Mother murmured
bitter curse upon them poor boy who led thee forth
From some gentle. sad eyed mother weeping lonely in
the North I" her dead,
Snake the mournul Mexic woman. as she laid him with
And turned 10 soothe the living and bind the wounds
which bled.
Look forth once more, Ximena Like cloud before
The wind death behind ,
Rolls the battle down the mountains leaving blood and
All they plead ia vain for mercy In the dust the
wounded strive; forgive
Hide your faces. holy angels oh, thou Christ OF God
Sink, oh Night among thy mountains let the cool, gray
shadows fall: Islli
Dyng brothers, fighting demons-drop thy curtain over
Through the thckeniDg winter twilight wide apart the
battle rolled grew cold.
In its sheath the sabre rested and the csnnons lips
But the noble Mexc still their holy task pursued
Through that long dark night Of sorrow worn and faint
and lacking food they hung,
Over weak and suffering brothers with tender care
And the dying foeman blessed them in strange and
Northern tongue.
Not wholly lost oh Father is this evil world of ours
Upward through ia blood and ashes, spring airesh the
Eden flowers; their prayer.
From its smoking hell OF battle Love aud Pity send
And s, Thy winged angels hover dimly in our air