The Alleghanian. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1859-1865, 1865-01-19
And now


Though Heaven alone records the tear,
And fame shall never know her story,
Her heart has shed drop as dear
As ever dewed the field of glory.
The wife who girds the husbands sword,
Mid little ones who weep for wonder,
And bravely speaks the cheering word,
What though her heart lie rent asunder-
Doomed nightly in her dreams to hear
The bolts of war around him rattle,
Hath shed sacred blood as e'er
Was poured upon the fields of battle
The mother who conceels her grief,
While on her breast her son she presses
Then breathes Il few brave words and brief
kissing the patriot brow she blesses,
With no one but her secret God
To know the pain that weighs upon her.
Sheds holy blood rs e'er the sod
Received on freedoms field of honor"
While "Miss Secessia," North and
South, is the most bitter foe of The Gov
ernment, we would have the loyal women
the most devoted. Let her frowu down
that vile brood of Southern sympathizers
whose ".ShiG6oleth" is, 'the Union as it
was" aud impudently declare "yqu can
never conquer the South" Their hiss
betrays the serpert in the grass, and their
poisonous breath is decidedly copperish-
Make society too hot Tor them, until they
are forced to slink away to their dens of
infamy, or fly "beyond the lines" Away
with that rattle -ointed "peace" party
whose craven hearts would allow them to
purchase "peaee eon-any-terms," at the
price Of shame and dishonor Yes, let us
have peace, but "pray God it may come
In the shape Of white-winged angel, and
not in the form of a white-faced slave
chained under the bloody feet of an aris-
tocratic Rebellion" When we have
driven the last rebel to the WALL and
conquered an honorable peace, then may
We chant the funeral dirge:
''The piece of party called the party of peace,
Like everything else that deceases,
Has gone where the wicked from troubling
cease,
And the party of peace is in pieces"
Then, too, we would have every fibre of
the patriotic woman's heart abhor the
"execrable sum of all villainies," which is
tie "origin and handspring of the rebel
lion" This is the high-handed crime
which has wrapped around this nation the
grave clothes of putrefaction and tempted
the pulpit with the devil of silence! And
this is the incarnate fend which has
driven myriads of yoked, scourged, and
handcufed "human cattle;" in the person
of sable sons and tawny daughters, to the
shambles, and this is the insatiate monster
which is now immolating our brothers on
the fields Of blood. But in the Soundless
universe there beats the heart Of an awful
God, who is about to shiver the sceptre of
this great American Dagou forever. We
have failed to proclaim liberty" but the
instruments are now being tuned to sing
an eternal Jubilee
To the loyal women of the North would
we commit tho weaving of the warp and
woof of the winding sheet of slavery, and
the wedding garment of Union and Liber-
ty ''one and inseparable." Then let them
sound the bugle-call for this Last Charge,
and as the trusty warriors orally from the
hillside and gather from the plain" let
this be their "Battle-cry Of Freedom" to
cheer them on to victory.
'Now, men of the North will you join in the
strife
For country for freedom, for honor for life
The giant grows blind in his fury and spite
One blow in his forehead will settle the fight!
Flash full in his eyes the blue lightning of
steel
And stun him with cannon bolts, peal upon
peal
Mount, troopers, and follow your game to it's
lair,
As the hound tracks the wolf, and the beagle
the hare
Blow, trumpets, your summons, till sluggards
awakel
Beat, drums, till the roots of the faint-hearted
shake
Yet, yet, ere the signet is stamped on the
scroll,
Their names may be traced in the blood
sprinkled roll
Trust not the false herald that painted your
shield
True honor to-day must be might on the field
Her 'scutcheon shows white with blazon of
red:
The life-drops of crimson for liberty shed
The hour is at hand and the moment draws
nigh
The dog-star of treason grows dim in the sky
Shine forth from the battle-cloud, light of the
morn,
Call back the bright hour when the Nation
was born
The rivers of Peace through our valleys shall
run,
AS The glaciers of tyranny melt in the sun;
Smite, smite the proud parricide down from
his throne,
His sceptre once broken, the world is our
own!"
MISSOURI is FREE! The Constitution
al Convention of that State, on the 11th
inst, passed, by vote Of 60 to 4, an or
l;nanoo ,tterI, and foraver aholishino,