452 MARY A. FOSTER. [1850-60. Countless, unnumbered, bristling to the front With motley armor and with clanging trump, Victory is theirs to-day. But whose to-morrow, when with sword in rest, The silent soldiers pass the solemn quest ? The inquest of the future, when the hours Clear and impartial, call the warring pow- ers To judgment and to sentence. And who is worthy of the tested shield. The proven sword, the arms that cannot yield ? They, and they only, who forswearing all, Present and future at the battle call. Seek God alone and right. For none but such could dare so dread a strife. Where victory waits not upon hope or life ; But dimly gleams remotedly and afar, When with the dead its fated champions are. But so to die, is life. 'Twas here the sons of science strove and fell, How nobly let ourselves and children tell ; Facing the world's stern ignorance they fought. Contending aidless, inch by inch, and bought Our light with worse than death. 'Twas here the patriots, earnest of their time. Invoked the children of their race and clime So oft in vain to freedom ; here they led Where few would follow, for no victor's tread Awakes the silent field. 'Twas here the sages, prophets of our race. Piercing the shadowy future sought to trace The heights and depths of knowing, and thus kept Watch on the outposts while the nations slept Untroubled sleep, but dark. Noble and worthy then to perish here, Though seeming vanquished in the combat sere ; The holocaust to duty bravely done. The conflict waged till death, though still unwon. And ages keep the rest. SONG. Though the warm sunlight of thy brow By sorrow's blight is shaded ; Not from my heart, all faithful now, The light of love hath faded ; No, dearer far thou art to me. With tears alone for dower. Than when in beauty's matchless glee Thou shon'st, a starry power. Wlien triumph, in a brilliant shower Around thee dazzling fell, I would not ask so bright a flower In my poor heart to dwell. But now when grief hathdimm'd thy charms And summer friends have fled. Come — rest within these loving ai'ms Thy weary, drooping head. And I will be to thee a sun To dry away thy tears, And chase from thee, my cherished one, All sad and gloomy fears ; And I will wear thee in my heart, As some rare, priceless gem. And round tliee love and bliss shall dart Their radiant li<i-ht again.
