Chapter X

O crushed but invincible city!
O broken but fast-rising city!
O glorious and unconquered city,
Still Queen of the North and the West!

The long, golden years of the future, with treasures increasing and
rare,
Shall glisten upon thy rich garments, shall twine in the folds of thy
hair!
From out the black heaps of thy ruins new columns of beauty shall
rise,
And glittering domes shall fling grandly our nation's proud flag to
the skies!
From off thy wide prairies of splendor the treasures of autumn shall
pour,
The breezes shall sweep from the northward, and hurry the ships to thy
shore!
For Heaven will look downward in mercy on those who've passed under
the rod,
And happ'ly again they will prosper, and bask in the blessings of God.
Once more thou shalt stand mid the cities, by prosperous breezes
caressed,
O grand and unconquered Chicago, still Queen of the North and the
West!

THE RAILROAD HOLOCAUST.

[NEW HAMBURG, N.Y., FEBRUARY, 1871.]

Over the length of the beaten track,
Into the darkness deep and black,
Heavy and fast
As a mountain blast,
With scream of whistle and clang of gong,
The great train rattled and thundered along.

Travelers, cushioned and sheltered, sat,
Passing the time with doze and chat;
Thinking of naught
With danger fraught;
Whiling the hours with whim and song,
As the great train rattled and thundered along.

Covered and still the sleepers lay,
Lost to the dangers of the way;
Wandering back,
Adown life's track,
A thousand dreamy scenes among;
And the great train rattled and thundered along.

Heavily breathed the man of care;
Lightly slept the maiden fair;
And the mother pressed
Unto her breast
Her beautiful babes, with yearning strong;
And the great train rattled and thundered along.

Shading his eyes with his brawny hand,
Danger ahead the driver scanned;
And he turned the steam;
For the red light's gleam
Flashed warning to him there was something wrong;
But the great train rattled and thundered along.

"Down the brakes!" rang the driver's shout:
"Down the brakes!" sang the whistle out:
But the speed was high,
And the danger nigh,
And Death was waiting to build his pyre;
And the train dashed into a river of fire.

Into the night the red flames gleamed;
High they leaped and crackled and streamed:
And the great train loomed,
Like a monster doomed,
In the midst of the flames and their ruthless ire--
In the murderous tide of a river of fire.

Roused the sleeper within his bed:
A crash, a plunge, and a gleam of red,
And the sweltering heat
Of his winding-sheet
Clung round his form, with an agony dire:
He moaned and died in a river of fire.

And they who were spared from the fearful death,
Thanked God for life, with quickened breath,
And groaned that too late,
From a terrible fate
To rescue their comrades was their desire,
Ere they sunk in a river of death and fire.

Pity for them who, helpless, died,
And sunk in the river's merciless tide:
And blessings infold
The driver bold,
Who, daring for honor, and not for hire,
Went down with his train in the river of fire.

SHIP "CITY OF BOSTON."

"We only know she sailed away,
And ne'er was heard of more."

Waves of the ocean that thunder and roar,
Where is the ship that we sent from our shore?
Tell, as ye dash on the quivering strand,
Where is the crew that comes never to land?
Where are the hearts that, unfearing and gay,
Broke from the clasp of affection away?
Where are the faces that, smiling and bright,
Sailed for the death-darkened regions of night?
Waves of the ocean, that thunder and roar,
Where is the ship that we sent from our shore?

Storms of the ocean, that bellow and sweep,
Where are the friends that went forth on the deep?
Where are the faces ye paled with your sneer?
Where are the hearts ye have frozen with fear?
Where is the maiden, young, tender, and fair?
Where is the grandsire, of silvery hair?
Where is the glory of womanhood's time?
Where the warm blood of man's vigor and prime?
Storms of the ocean, that bellow and pour,
Where is the ship that we sent from our shore?

Birds of the ocean, that scream through the gale,
What have ye seen of a wind-beaten sail?
Perched ye for rest on the shivering mast,
Beaten, and shattered, and bent by the blast?
Heard ye the storm-threatened mariner's plea,
Birds of the bitter and treacherous sea?
Heard ye no message to carry away
Home to the hearts that are yearning to-day?
Birds of the ocean, that hover and soar,
Where is the ship that we sent from our shore?

Depths of the ocean, that fathomless lie,
Where is the crew that no more cometh nigh?
What of the guests that so silently sleep
Low in thy chambers, relentlessly deep?
Cold is the couch they have haplessly won;
Long is the night they have entered upon;
Still must they sleep till the trumpet o'erhead
Summons the sea to uncover its dead.
Depths of the ocean, with treasures in store,
Where is the ship that we sent from our shore?

GONE BEFORE.