Alaska sentinel., 1906-10-18
Ss<kfEeeS<e$a335333333F

s sN<ktkeeske$AsssssssssFs ]
 
 ~-.o--SoNo-~S~~~~
 The Bivouac of the Dead. The muffied drums sad roll has beat The soldiers last tattoo: No more on life's parade shall meet That brave and fallen few. On fame's eternal camping ground Their silent tents are spread, Aud Glory guards with solemn round, The biyouac of the dead. No runor of the foes advance Now swells upon the wind; No troubled thoughts at midnight haunts Of loved ones left behind; No vision of the morrow's strife The warriors dream alarms; No praying horn nor screaming fife At dawn shall call to arms. Their shivered swords are red with rust, Their plumed heads are bowed; Their naughty banner, trailed in dust, Is now their martial shroud. And plenteous funeral tears have washed The red stains from each brow, And the proud forms, by battle gashed, Are free from anguish now. The neighing troops, the flashing blade. The bugle's stirring blast. The charge, the dreadful cannonade, The din and shout, are past; No wars wild note nor glory's peal Shall thrill with fierce delight IA. Il The rapture of the fight Like the fierce northern hurricane That sweeps his great plateau, Flushed with the triumph yet to gain, Came down the serried foe. Who heard the thunder of the fray Break OCT the field beneath, Knew well the watchword of that day Was Victory or Death" Long had the doubtful conflict ragged Ger all that stricken plain, For never hercer fight had waged The vengeful blood of Spain; And still the storm of battle blew, Still swelled the gory tide; Not long, our stout old chieftain knew, Such odds his strength could bide. Twas in that hour hls stern command Called to a martyrs grave The flower of his beloved land, The nations flag to save. By rivers of their fathers gore His hrst-born laurels grew, And we'll he deemed the sons would pour Their lives for glory, too. Full many a norther's breath has swept Ger Angostura's plain, And long the pitying sky has wept Above its mouldered slain. The ravens scream, or eagles flight Or shepherds pensive lay, Alone awakes each sullen height That frowned OCT that dread fray. Sons of the Dark and Bloody Ground, You must not slumber there, Where stranger steps and tongues re-
 sound
 Along the needless air. Your own proud lands heroic soil Shall be your filter grave: She claims from war his richest spoil The ashes of her brave. Thus heath their parent turf they rest, Far from the gory field. Borne to a Spartan mothers breast On many a bloody shield: The sunshine of their native sky Smiles sadly on them here, And kindred eyes and hearts watch by The heroes sepulchre. Rest on. embalmed and sainted dead! Dear as the blood ye gave: No impious footstep here shall tread The herbage of your grave; Nor shall your glory be forgot While Fame her record keeps, o Honor points the hallowed spot Where Valor proudly sleeps. Ton marble minstrers voiceless stone h deathless song shall tell, When many a vanished age hath flown, The story how ye fell; Nor wreck, nor change, nor winters
 blight,
 Nor Times remorseless doom, Shall dim one ray of glory's light That gilds your deathless tomb. Theodore O'Hara.
 
 LOSING BRAZIL TRADE. Lack of Merchant Marine Puts Unit
 ed States Far in Rear. Brazil Is country of varied and