O wondrous Youth! through this grand ruth
    Runs my boy’s life its thread;
  The General’s fame, the battle’s name,
    The rolls of maimed and dead
  I bear, with my thrilled soul astir,
    And lonely thoughts and fears;
  And am but History’s courier
    To bind the conquering years;
  A battle-ray, through ages gray
    To light to deeds sublime,
  And flash the lustre of this day
   Down all the aisles of Time!

  Ho! pony,—­’tis the signal gun
    The night-assault decreed;
  On Petersburg the thunderbolts
    Crash from the lines of Meade;
  Fade the pale, frightened stars o’erhead,
    And shrieks the bursting air;
  The forest foliage, tinted red,
    Grows ghastlier in the glare;
  Though in her towers, reached her last hours,
    Rocks proud Rebellion’s crest—­
  The world may sag, if but my nag
    Get in before the rest!

  With bloody flank, and fetlocks dank,
    And goad, and lash, and shout—­
  Great God! as every hoof-beat falls
    A hundred lives beat out! 
  As weary as this broken steed
    Reels down the corduroys,
  So, weary, fight for morning light
    Our hot and grimy boys;
  Through ditches wet, o’er parapet
    And guns barbette, they catch
  The last, lost breach; and I,—­I reach
    The mail with my despatch!

  Sure it shall speed, the land to read,
    As sped the happiest shell! 
  The shot I send strike the world’s end;
    This tells my pony’s knell;
  His long race run, the long war done,
    My occupation gone,—­
  Above his bier, prone on the pier,
    The vultures fleck the dawn. 
  Still, rest his bones where soldiers dwell,
    Till the Long Roll they catch. 
  He fell the day that Richmond fell,
    And took the first despatch!

GEORGE ALFRED TOWNSEND.

* * * * *

THE YEAR OF JUBILEE.[A]

[Footnote A:  Sung by negro troops when entering Richmond.  George Gary Eggleston, in his collection of “American War Ballads,” says that it soon found favor among the people and “was sung with applause by young men and maidens in well-nigh every house in Virginia.”]

  Say, darkeys, hab you seen de massa,
    Wid de muffstash on he face,
  Go long de road some time dis mornin’,
    Like he gwine leabe de place? 
  He see de smoke way up de ribber
    Whar de Lincum gunboats lay;
  He took he hat an’ leff berry sudden,
    And I spose he’s runned away.

      De massa run, ha, ha! 
      De darkey stay, ho, ho! 
      It mus’ be now de kingdum comin’,
      An’ de yar ob jubilo.