Louisiana capitolian. (Baton Rouge, La.) 1879-1881, 1881-05-17

name aud fame. Bounteous treasures
are not nationally expended TO guard
your solemn resting. places. The loving
mantle of governmental authority does
not spread its capacious folds over youi
remains; but we, your comrades, know
you were true to your great commander,
true to your eolors, trueto your country,
true 10 your cause, and we ASK for you
no epitaph more glorious than Here
hes o Confederate soldier who followed
Jackson and fell rs freeman" As he
fell with his face to the foe and his mus
ket il his hand, the true martyr of the
fight, his companions may have swept
on to victory; as the best means OF pro.
tecting the spot where he fell--this
somebody's darling who fought with
StoDewall.
Private soldier though he may have
been, buried iu a nameless grave, sleep.
ing beneath simple wooden bonrd, in.
scribed to the memory Of the unknown
dead, he WIS
Somebody's darling so young and so brave,
Wearing yet on his sweet pale face,
Soon 10 be hid In the dust Of the grave.
The lingering light of his boyhoods grace.
Matted aud damp are the curls Of gold
kissing the snow of that fair young brow,
Pale are the lips OF that delicate mold
Somebody's darling is dying now.
Back from the beautiful blue.veined brow
Brush bis wondering waves of gold
Cross his hands on his bosom now,
5 mehody's darling isstill and cold.
4 A.. Il
Mufmur prayer soft and low,
One bright curl from its fair mates take,
They were somebody pride you know,
Somebody Is hand has rested there,
Was it q mothers soft and white
Or have the lips OF q sister fair
Been baptlsod in the waves Of light
God knows best he was somebody's love,
Somebody's heart eDshrined him here,
Somebody waited his name above
Morn and night and the wings OF prayer
Somebody wept when he marched away,
Looking 50 handsome, brave and grand,
Somebody's kiss on his forehead lay,
Somebody clung to his parting hand.
"somsbody watching and waiting for him.
Yearnnr to hold him again to her heart,
And there he lies with his blue eyes dim,
And the smiling childlike lips apart.
Tenderly bury the fair young dead,
PauSug todf0p on MS gTaVsa tear
Carve on the wooden slab DER his head,
Somebody's darling lies buried here"
Hero Of and private soldier in Jack
sons command, we picture IN touching
pathos your desolate mother. The ten.
der memories of your infancy are crowd
ing upon her; the precious recollection.
of your manhood are rising before her
the thought of the strength and support
YOU would have been is present with
her. Aud yet, when giving snch o true
son to his country, ] think ! can hear
her exclain, IN the language Of the
Spartan maudate-"Come back, my SOU
with your shield or upon it'' The brush
of reality does not color the picture
which presents this mother with grief
stricken gaze before the body OF bel
loved and lost, lying cold and still upon
that shield, exclaiming from the very
veins of her heart, II would not ex
change my dead son for any living one
in Christendom
A learned professor, in giving the his.
tory of q drop of water, traces it as lift
cd in the form of vapor from the surface
of the ocean, waited by the breeze over
the land. cooled by aud precipitated up
on some mountain rock, from which, by
rill and riverlet it once again will fine
its way back to the sea 1t has left, So
it seems proper that upon such an occa
sion as this, our hearts should be recall
ed to the contemplation of such scenes
as | have described, and the waters o
our love he rolled back once more to the
ocean of strife we have lett, so that al
long as 'Fame her record keeps" w
may never forget the glory of comrade:
who are not here to-day, but are resting
where they wearied and lying where
they fell, in the hallowed spots upor
distant battle fields.
In the eloquent language Of Bates
ave have gems in the urn of history .
which we have q right to be proud.
If Scotland's plaided soldier can tinj
music IN his bagpipe as he chants TIN
slogan of vctorv--if the son Of TIL
mountain land of Tell who yet disdain
the cap of Gessler winds through hi
mellow horn with patriotic pride hi
Gran DIES Vache'--if along the vine
clad hills Of the Rhine and the sum,
banks of the smiling Seine, the French
man goes wild under the magic of hi
Marseilase--if 'God Save the Queen
is the part ofstaid old England, may W
not too, worship the genius that INSPIRED
our Land of Dixie ~ If the thistle o
old Caledonia is worshipped with Cal
vanistic devotion, as it waves upon tn
verge of Ben LOmoud or casts its shad
ows in the Clyde il the red cross of ST
George has its staff over the palace O
st. James, upheld by the strength Of tn
British lion, while its folds that flute
in every breeze in the boast of heraldr
and the pride of power: if the Ottoman
bows before the crescent with the East
ern idolatry as it floats over the Bosphc
rus and around the Golden Horn if til
young eagles of France are tedged IN
der their "heur de lis" and step beneat
its folds with an historic pride, may W
not, too, look bacl; with the purest enc
tions and remember with the sweetes
and saddest affections the cross of 81
Andrew, with its stars and bars, as j
moved in triumph over hundred battl
fields aud was baptised in the best bloc
of the land ere it became the "conquere
banner" immortalized in verse by til
inspired pen our own poet, Father Ryar
"Furl that banner, he says true tis glory,
Yet It's wreathed around with glory,
And twill live in song and story
Though its folds are in the dust.