Richmond dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1884-1903, 1885-03-07

Impressed by the beauty Of a poem
which first appeared in the Dispatch
two or three weeks ago, the subject
being General Gordon and the title Of
the poem I" Suspense ut was signed
J. l.. O., Charlottesville. Val sent
copies TO several friends at distance.
The verses have been republished at
the different places. A friend in Hall
fax. N. s., herself gifted poet, pro-
nounces the poem be.at;Is', and adds
~ did not intend 10 write anything
about Gordon. felt so keenly the
cruel, treacherous conduct Of Gladstone
and his colleagues with regard to him
that / felt il would be impossible to
write calmly. When you sent me
Suspense, with your criticism on the
expression Of England's 'slumber,' !
could keep silence no longer; so wrote
the answer which enclose, with
copy Of the original, republished, as
you see, in the Morning Chronicle"
Now, had deprecated the charge of
Slumber," which appeared in the
original poem. Behold, my correspond
ent charges something very much worse.
/ think she is mistaken in this, as so
many others have been. After study
ing with great interest and as closely as
have been enabled to do the trouble
in the Soudan and the career Of General
Gordon, for whose character j have
conceived profound love and reverence,
have come to the conclusion that it
was at no time possible for the British
Government to render him an efficient
support. Let this pass, however.
send you my friends poem, for it may
afford many Of your readers pleasure
TO peruse it.
Khartoum. January 20, 1885
what Of the Great Commander?
He is lying cold and still;
Where the waves OF the blue Nile wander
Round the slopes OF Khartonm's hill!
Dead-in the land of the inidel-
Where the traitors have made his grave.
Slain-like the Lord he served so well.
BY the men he came To save.
They may talk of his gallant daring
Wherever his fame Is known.
The winds are this message bearing:
They left him 10 die alone.
In the fight he stood single handed
Under that burning sky:
Where the Mosem hordes were banded. 4
The hero went out 10 die
simple I'm faith and brave and tender.
These taunts on his name were cast:
In the face OF his grand surrender.
"Fnnatic-enthusiast!"
AS he marched alone over burning seas
The doubt and the sneer might rise;
But the rulers. who sit ut home In ease.
Accepted his sacrifice.
His country has tears upon her.
Are they tears OF grief or shame"
He went out for England's honor.
In the strength of his stainless name.
We know how he bore the burden
Alone. through the storm and sun.
The soldier that claimed no gnerdon.
Save his Captains own Well done
Alone. on the ramparts he waited
For the rescue that never came.
The cruel foe with his thirst unsated
BY the prey he had sworn 10 claim
Was weaving network round him.
At last came the hour Of doom
At his post of death they found him,
Still watching 10 save khartoum
shall he yield 10 their sabres ?-neVer!
Not a nerve or pulse grew fAint.
As he made his last cndeavor,
Brave martyr and shriven saint
with one prayer To the God OF battle.
Who his strength and shield had been.
lie rushed through the roar and rattle.
To fire the magazine.
Too late AS we tell the story
He has passed from our praise or blame;
Living and dying for England's glory.
We only can feel her shame.
While Moslem and Turk were rallytng-
The honor of England's realm
Was soiled by the cruel dalying
OF the men who hold her helm.
In the ravaged fortress city,
Where through hunger. loss and heat.
His soul i'm its tender pity
Has hallOwed each blood-stained street. (
Where only the fiag Of the stranger
Can float through the desolate gloom.
Silent In death-but rescued from danger. I
He is lying alone In kharioum.
February 25. 1855.
From Toronto. i'll return for - Sus-
pense.'' comes the following poem on
Burnaby, which is cut from the Toronto
Mail. Fred. Burnaby has, too. such
a host of admirers that'this may be ac-
ceptable
Dead In the Desert.
FREDERICK GUsTAVUs BURNABY, KILLED
IN EGYPT JANUARY II, 1885.
Close up in front. and steady. iads,' old
stewart cries. They're here ~;
And distant Cheops echoes back our SOL
diers' answering cheer; 4
One moments pause-a year N seelils~and
swift the Arab horde
Poufs forth its mingled tide OF hate and
spear and scythe-like sword;
As demons light, so fight the children of the
desert plain.
Their naked breasts defy our steel again
and yet again:
But steady as the granite cliff that stems
raging sea
Above the van OF battle looms our Bay
ard " BurDaby.
Broken The square Is pierced, But only
for n moment, though,
And shoulder-strap To shoulder-strap our
brave lads meet the foe;
And on this day the Bedouin learns, In the
Mahdi 4 shattered might,
With what God-like majesty the Island
legions fight,
But oh, the cost. the bitter cost! For ere
the set of sun
The bravest heart of Alba \ isle It's earthly
course has run,
And Britain weeps sad. bitter tears whilst
hush'd with victory,
For ON Metemneh's blOod-red sand lies no.
BILE Buinaby.
Avenged Behold what hetacombs around
the dead man lay;