Year: 1861

soldier of the Legion
Lay dying at Algiers
There was lack of woman's nursing,
There was dearth of woman's tears
But comrade stood beside HIM,
While his life blood ebbed away,
And bent in plying giances,
To hear what he might say
The dying soldier faltered.


As he took his comrades hand,
And he SAID, 81 never more shall see
Ny own my native land /;
Take a message and token
To some distant friend 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 the mournful story


In the pleasant vinyard ground,
That we fought the battle bravely-
And when the day was gone,
Full many corpse lay ghasty pale
Beneath the setting sun;
And midst the dead and dying,
Were some grown old in wars
The death-wounds on their gallant breasts,
The last Of many scars;
But some were young, and suddenly
Behind life's morn decline,
and one that came from Bingen,
From Bingen on the Rhine.
"Tell my mother that her other sons
Shall c0clfoTt her old ape
For was like truaut bird,


That thought his home cage;
For my father was soldier,


And even when a child,
My heart leaped to hear him tell
OF struggles fierce and wild
And when he died and left us


To divide his scanty hoard.
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 look upon them proudly,


With calm and steady eye,
For her brother was soldier, too,
And not afraid to die
And if a 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 it's place,
Ny fathers sword and mine,
For the honor of old Bingen,


Dear Bingen on the Rhrine.
ssThere's another--not a sister
In the happy days gone by,
You'd have known her by the merri ment
That sparkled in her eye
Too innocent for coquetry-


Too fond for idle scorning-
Oh, friends, think the lightest heart
Makes, sometimes, heaviest mourning;
Tell her the last night of my life
(For ere this moou be risen,
Ny body will be out of pain,


My soul be out of prison,}
l dreamed l stood with her, and saw
The yellow sun light shine
On the vine-clad hills of Bingen,
Fair 3ngen on the Rhine.
"I saw the blue Rhine sweep along
I heard, or seemed to hear,
The German songs we used to sing,
In the chorus sweet and clear
And down the pleasant river,


And up the slantiug hill,
The echoing horns resounded
d, Thro' the evening calm and still;
And her blue eyes were on me,


As we passed with friendly talk,
Down many path beloved of yore,
And well-remembered walk;
And her little hand lay lightly,


Confdingly in mine;
But we'll meet no more in Bingen,
Loved Bingen on the Rhine"
His voice grew faint and hoarsc


His grasp was childish weak
His eyes put on dying look,


He sighed and ceased to speak.
His comrade bent to list to him,


But the spark of life had fed,
And the soldier of the Legion


In 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 ccrses bestrewn
Yes, calmly on the dreadful scene,


Her pale light seemed to shine,
As it shown Oh distant Bingen,


Fair Bingen on the Rhine.
ZEHe who is passionate and hasty
is generally honest. II is your old, di'
semblng hypocrite of whom you must
ware. There is no deception in bul
dog it is only the cur that sneaks u