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RICHMOND. JULY, 1862.

RICHMOND, the summer that shines on thy towers
Will tremble and shudder and turn from her flowers,
Will creep over fields where our strong armies paused,
And die at the sight of the blood thou hast caused.
    Thou city of slaves,
For thee and thy sins earth is teeming with graves.

For thee and thy dark sins, O Richmond, beware,
Lest the dread wings of Pestilence move in the air;
Lest Famine thy strength and thy loveliness blight;
Lest the arm of Jehovah be lifted to smite:
    For never before
Such fair vines of promise such bitter fruit bore!