Litchfield enquirer., 1857-12-31

:: .trod,
 Some princess, where Niger rolls crested :: with foam, tn regal attire stands the tall golden rod, And with face uudismayed, makes the moss bank its ,hrc.ie. Yes, some comfort is left, though the future
 looks drear, And the tramp of the white steeds of winter we hear
 And conso.iug' the news that We learn every day,
 That their drivers concluded to come the long way
 And the bittersweet still has arranged in its hair,
 The red coral wreath that becomes her 50 well,
 And the cranberly-bush is delighted to wear Tue necklace of red that declares her belle. Bless God, though tonight shall the wild tenn pest ring,
 And the white squal fling eff the sharp sleet
 from her wing, That the Lord who controls, is thy buckler - and power, Who comes on the storms wing to cherish the
 flower.
 Far down meath the snow-drift, in greenest attire,
 The ground-pine sleeps warm with the ice for its vest,
 And the winter-green leaves with their berries of fire,
 Lay their heads without fear on its bosom
 to rest
 Now musing OCT the many strange events The rolling year in order fast presents, What stranger, bloodier, more revolting tale, Than that which came upon the burthcned
 gale. From India's shore, where child and maiden
 fell,
 While inaddened seapoys ragged like fends of
 hell :: No more, o father, shall thy faithful trust In him, thy nation tramped ill the dust, Yield to his care the mother and the child, He famed to sleep, or rocked with music mild j.: No more, o mother, shalt thou give with joy To the dark face thy daughter or thy boy, To escort far, through jungle and morass, Ger fiery sands or through the lonely pass, lill per gray walls St. Georges banner waves Where the coward Sultan still controls his
 slaves.
 The faithful scapoy now at morning hears The bugIe's call, but not as in the years That woke his dreams for muster and review, The anick drum beating the alarm tattoo With blood-shot eyes on all around he gleams, Hell in his vision, murder in his dreams Revenge his watchword--from his couch he
 hc starts
 "To-day shall bleed a thousand English
 hearts !"
 TT is Sahib--Vengeance what news for the
 hour
 Up! Hell they come--the English scale the
 tower
 T is Haveock charging through the clouds of Up! up Revenge the Indian cause is just An vain assurance-o ! the gates give way, Proud Delhi falls, aud England holds the day. Black scene of slaughter !--little less of blood Than thine, 0 Cawnpore, while the crimson
 Rood
 Flowed OCT thy walks, Q dark ensanguined
 stream,
 With the rcd sabres in the noontde gleam: As when the lightnings 'gainst the lurid sky, Dart their forked tongues, and rcddeu all on
 high.
 70 bloodiest picture on the Book of Time v o blackest record of revolting crime ! Bathed be the eyes in misery's warmest tears Of him who records all the groans and fears, That swept the land--one fearful bloody sigh About thy walls, Imperial Delhi. Save Mormondou, and Brigham Young's e.-
 tate,. ....,.. Small matter taxes memory to relate. Men trusted when be took his devious way Toward the tall mountains where the sunset
 lay; Peaceful beneath the shadow of the sky, He'd have full leave his scheme of life to try The liberal mind felt lenient towards the band, Compelled by force to leave their chosen land, With sorrow read the history of their wrongs, At twilight heard the ,exile's plaintive songs,