HYMN OF THE MORAVIAN NUNS OF BETHLEHEM,

AT THE CONSECRATION OF PULASKI'S BANNER.

WHEN the dying flame of day
Through the chancel shot its ray,
Far the glimmering tapers shed
Faint light on the cowled head;
And the censer burning swung,
Where, before the altar, hung

The crimson banner, that with prayer
Had been consecrated there.

And the nuns' sweet hymn was heard the while,

Sung low, in the dim, mysterious aisle.

"Take thy banner! May it wave
Proudly o'er the good and brave;
When the battle's distant wail
Breaks the Sabbath of our vale,
When the clarion's music thrills
To the hearts of these lone hills,
When the spear in conflict shakes,
And the strong lance shivering breaks.

"Take thy banner! and, beneath

The battle-cloud's encircling wreath,
Guard it, till our homes are free!
Guard it! God will prosper thee!
In the dark and trying hour,
In the breaking forth of power,
In the rush of steeds and men,
His right hand will shield thee then.

"Take thy banner! But when night
Closes round the ghastly fight,
If the vanquished warrior bow,
Spare him! By our holy vow,
By our prayers and many tears,
By the mercy that endears,

Spare him! he our love hath shared!
Spare him! as thou wouldst be spared.

"Take thy banner! and if e'er

Thou shouldst press the soldier's bier,
And the muffled drum should beat
To the tread of mournful feet,
Then this crimson flag shall be

Martial cloak and shroud for thee."

The warrior took that banner proud,

And it was his martial cloak and shroud! HENRY WADSWORTH Longfellow.

INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP.

I.

You know, we French stormed Ratisbon;

A mile or so away,

On a little mound, Napoleon

Stood on our storming-day;

With neck out-thrust, you fancy how,

Legs wide, arms locked behind,

As if to balance the prone brow

Oppressive with its mind.

II.

Just as perhaps he mused, "My plans,
That soar, to earth may fall,
Let once my army-leader Lannes
Waver at yonder wall,"

Out-'twixt the battery-smokes there flew
A rider, bound on bound
Full-galloping; nor oridle drew

Until he reached the mound.

III.

Then off there flung in smiling joy,
And held himself erect

By just his horse's mane, a boy:

You hardly could suspect ·

(So tight he kept his lips compressed
Scarce any blood came through)

You looked twice ere you saw his breast
Was all but shot in two.

IV.

"Well," cried he, "Emperor, by God's grace

We've got you Ratisbon!

The marshal's in the market-place,

And

you 'll be there anon

To see your flag-bird flap his vans

Where I, to heart's desire,

Perched him!" The chief's eye flashed; his plans

Soared up again like fire.

V.

The chief's eye flashed; but presently

Softened itself, as sheathes

A film the mother-eagle's eye

When her bruised eaglet breathes:

"You 're wounded!" "Nay," the soldier's pride Touched to the quick, he said:

"I'm killed, Sire!" And his chief beside,

Smiling, the boy fell dead.

1 October 28, 1854, the battle of Balaklava, in the Crimea, was fought between the Russian and the allied French and English forces. By a misconception of Lord Raglan's order the light cavalry, six hundred and seventy strong, under Lord Cardigan charged the main body of the Russian army of twelve thousand They inflicted great loss upon the enemy, but only one hundrec and ninety-eight men returned from the charge.