Wheeling daily intelligencer. [volume] (Wheeling, Va. [W. Va.]) 1852-1859, 1859-07-12
THE INTELLIGENCER
THE DYING SOLDIERS MESA GE
pY rnR noN. MRs. NoRroN.


A soldier of the Legion lay dying in Algiers;
There was lack of woman's nursing, there: was
dearth of woman's tears;
But comrade stood before him, while his life
blood ebbed away,
And bent, with plying glanees, TO hear what he
might say.
And he said, az never more shall see my own,
Take message, and token, to some distant
friends of mine
For was born at Bingen-at Bingen on the
Rhine.
Tell my brothers and companions, when they
meet and crowd around
To hear my mournful story, in the pleasant
vineyard ground,
That we fought the battle bravely, and when
the day was done,
Full many corse lay ghostly pale, beneath the
setting sun.
And midst the dead and dying were some grown
old in wars,
The death wound on their gallant breasts at the
last of many scars;
But some were young, and suddenly beheld life's
morn decline,
And had come from Bingen-fair Bingen on the
Rhine!
Tell my mother, that her other sons shall COM
fort her old age,
And was still a tenant bird, that thought his
home cage;
For my father was soldier, and even as a
child,
NV heart leaped forth to hear him tell of strug-
giles fierce and wild;
And when he died, and left to divide his
scanty board
let them take whate'er they would-but kept
my fathers sword;
And with boyish love hung it where the bright
light used to shine
On the cottage wall at Bingen-calm Bingen on
the Rhine.
Tell my sister not to weep for me, and sob with
dropping head,
When the troops are marching home again, with
glad and gallant tread,
But 10 look upon them proudly with calm and
steadfast eye,
For her brother was soldier too, and not afraid
to die.
And ifa comrade seek her love, ask her in
my name
To listen to him kindly without regret or shame;
And to hang the old sword in 80 place (my
fathers sword and mine,)
For the honor of old Bingen-dear Bingen on
Tue hhlne!
There's nnother-not sistcr;-in the happy
days gone by,
You'd have known her by the merriment that
sparkled in her eye;
Too innocent for coquetry-too fond for idle
scorning,
Oil friend, fear the brightest heart makes
Tell her the last night Of my life-(for ere this
moon be risen,
Ny body will be out of pain, my soul be out of
PRISON.
dreamed stood with her, and saw the yellow
sunlight shine,
On the vine clad hills of Bingen-air Bingen
on the Rhinel
saw the blue Seine sweep along-Il heard or
seemed to hear,
The German songs we used to sing, in chorus
sweet and clear;
And down the pleasant river, and up the slant
ing hill,
The echoing chorus sounded, through the even
ing calm and still;
And her glad blue eyes were on me, rs we pas
sed with friendly talk,
Down many path beloved of yore, and we'll
remembered walk;
And her little hand lay lightly, confidingly in
mine,-
But veil meet no more at Bingen-lOved Bing-
en- on the Rhine!"
His voice grew faint and hoarser; his grasp was
childish weak;
His eyes put on dying look,-he sighed and
ceased to speak;
His comrade bent to lift him. but the spark of
life had fed;
The soldier of the Legion in a foreign land was
dead,
And the soft moon rose up slowly, and calmly
she looked down
On the red sand of the battle field, with bloody
cOrpSeS strewn;
Yea, calmly on that dreadful scene, .,her pale
light seemed to shine,
AS once on distant Bingen fair Bingcn on the
Rhine!