Rhode Island American And Gazette

THE LATE MRS. L. P. SMITH.—One of her last productions was a dirge, written at the request of a friend, who was engaged in a work upon some portions of the annals of Poland and when he came to that affecting passage of history where Kosciusko fell. and was supposed by all Warsaw to have been dead, he wished to introduce a hymn, as sung on that night of grief by the holy sisters of the convent. The following lines were furnished a few days after the request was made, they are all full of eloquent beauties.

DIRGE.

Through Warsaw there is weeping,
And a voice of sorrow now.
For the hero who is sleeping
With death upon his brow:
The trumpet-tone will waken
No more his martial tread,
Nor the battle ground be shaken
When his banner is outspread!

Now let our hymn
Float through the aisle,
Faintly and dim
Where moon beams smile!
Sisters, let our solemn strain.
Breathe a blessing o'er the slain!

There's a voice of grief in Warsaw,
The mourning of the brave,
O'er the chieftain who is gathered
Unto his honour'd grave;
Who now will face the foeman?
Who break the tyrant's chain?
The bravest one lies fallen
And sleeping with the slain.

Now let our hymn
Float through the aisle,
Faintly and dim,
Where moon-beams smile;
Sisters, let our dirge be said
Slowly o'er the sainted dead!

There's a voice of woman's weeping,
In Warsaw heard to-night,
And eyes close not in sleeping,
That late with joy were bright,
No festal torch is lighted.
No notes of music swell,
Their country's hope was blighted,
When that son of freedom fell!

Now let our hymn
Float through the aisle,
Faintly and dim,
Where moon beams smile;
Sisters, let our hymn arise
Sadly to the midnight skies!

And a voice of love undying,
From the tomb of other years,
Like the west wind's summer dying
It blends with manhood's tears;
It whispers not of glory,
Nor fame's unfading youth.
But lingers o'er a story
Of young affections truth.

Now let our hymn
Float through the aisle,
Faintly and dim,
Where moon-beams smile;
Sisters, let our solemn strain
Breathe a blessing o'er the slain!