The Nevada Democrat., 1858-12-15
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From the California Express
DEATTI'S MARCH
Br rnr rRA1RIE BARs

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bY rHE pRAIRIE BARB.
10, where they go, yOn pale faced host
And ghostly throng of spectres serel
Their muhled feet and silent tread
In mournful sounds fall on my ear
Their shrouded banners sickly gleam--
see them through the dingy light -
And dropping wave and, with'ring die
In the eternal, rayless Night
On chargers pale their leaders ride,
Plague, Pestilence and war,
And, raven plumed with funeral p0mp,
They loom up, darkling, from efar;
And fierce and sad their bugle blast
Comes, wildly shreking, DER the plain
And, from the hills unto the dales,
'Tis echoed sadly back again.
The Morning King faints on his throne,
paleness darkens his fair brow;
And droopingly. his golden hair
Falls on the howery realm below;
4. The drowsy Thunders scowling, ope
Their trembling jaws and burning eyes,
And believing forth volcanic fire, .
Shoot lightning glances through the skies
Enyelop'd in Eallow cloud
Up-steaming from the wastes below;
From filthy cesspools budding forth,
The hybrid monsters upward grow =
And stretching wide their palsed limbs
With trembling, yet unerring hand,
Upon th' unconscious, smiling landl
The face Of Natures veil'd in gloom.
mournful silence grapes her MEN,
Upon the hills, adown the vale,
And DER the fow'ry meadows greon;
Whilst grave old monarchs Of the wood,
Whose cycles ages roll'd around,
Cast of the vosture Of their youth
In yellow fragments to the ground.
The sily'ry flock and creamy herd,
Which sparkle on the hillside sheen,
With steaming tongue and flashing eye,
Sink down beside the boiling stream
And the sweet minstrel OF the grove
Hath hush'd his tender voice above
No more he pipes his am'rous lays
Unto the mistress Of his love.
Adown the vale where Ceres smiles,
And where her golden mantle lies,
O'er orchards, blushng ripe with fruit,
The envenom'd clouds arise -
Wide DER the fields Of waving grain,
The sallow phantom's arms expand,
And to the nesting hamlet, cleaning white,
Points the death dealing, with'rd hand
The matron drops her daily task,
And all her earthly cares depart
No more the busy fingers ply
The homespun garb and household art;
Her toiling swain forsakes the field -
The idle plough rusts in the mould,
And spade and harrow, sickle, scythe,
Refuse their merits to unfold.
Yet, o, not here alone doth thrive
The scorpion brood of fever'd woes
By blooming vale and hillside green,
Or where the singing streamlet flows;
But in yon hive of humming life =
Where rosy health doth never bloom,
Where fragrant breeze and balmy air,
Breath not upon the sultry gloom
There where yon curling veil of smoke
EuWroatls the GOmbro CitY'S brow
Where busy art and thriving Trade
Through different channels daily flow;
Where Commerce keeps open court
And merchant princes councils hold,
Where Mammon reigns Av'rice sways,
And Virtues bought and Truth il sold
But, now, the buzzing murmurs cease -
The crowded mart is throng'd no more
And, now, the demon stalks abroad
And hangs his drapery on each door -
On palace portal tow'ring high,
On sov'nly hoyel groveling low,
On golden gate, on rusty keep,
Alike the mourning shadows show
The op'nng buds of Childhoods Spring
Lie, closed, upon an early bier -
The ringing whoop Of bursting health
No more salutes the parents ear;
And growing youth, whose rosy dreams
Twin'd garlands on the Futures brow,
With hoary winters veteran sires,
Stoops TO the final level now.
The hallow,d shrine where lovers kneel
And plight their troth on bridal morn,
Lies crumbllng, the holy ground,-
And hearts, asunder, weep forlorn
The roses fade on beauty's cheek,
And dew-drops sparkle in the eye,
Sad thoughts hang ON the quiv'ring lips
Then vanish in a dying sigh
The gilded flies of Fashions train,
That bask in Folly's tinsel'd ray
I'm aatad plaa hnniad hrQnst
The glow-worms breath their lives away
And all the purse-prOud gossamer,
Which sweeps the crowded thoroughfare,
With all their veld hypocracy,
Cast off the pious masks they wear
The rev'ler in the festive hall,
Where drunken Bacchus red-cheeks glow,
Doth pour the sparkling poison down
The last draught he'll take below -
The goblet shivers in his grasp,
The reeling earth before him flies,
And Reason totters on its throne
As the inebr'ate, wretched, dies
The sighing winds a requiem sing,
And dirges sad float DER the sea,
The tolling bell of parting Time
Rings forth doleful symphony;
And weeping Natures rising choir
Join voices in the mourning strain,
While slowly winds the cortege on,
That fills the silent funeral train
For, there they go, yon pale-faced host,
And ghostly throng Of spectres serc,-
Their mufed feet and silent tread
In mournful sounds fall on my ear
Their shrouded banners, sickly, glean--
see them through the dingy light =
And, dropping, wave and, withring die
In the eternal, rayless Night