The Rhode Island Republican

POETRY.

Description of a Field of Battle.

A sullen cloud, veiling the darken'd waste,
The hostile tumult of conflicting foes
And ceas'd along the plain, the trumpet's
Blast still and silent in the vacant air
As I approach'd; a herd of ravenous wolves
Rush'd to the mountains, leaving far behind
Those mangled carcasses they made their prey.
At length the moon shed forth a stream of
Gilding each beam, each round convex'd
hollow breast-plain
little
Worn
It surrounded all the scene. Lost there
that sad spectacle of death, he might have
felt
monotony balm, though I was
in
sorrow
I
hope which first-conducted him to birth
Of life, affection, hopefulness and place
Still as I nearer drew, the moonlit plain,
Lay in confused heaps, of either foe,
Look'd black and slimy in the midnight air
It mostly, where some plodding chief had fall'n
Low and disfigured on the ensanguin'd ground
Yet all was still, unless a feeble groan
Arose, scarcely, (indistinguishable on the ear,
From the bellowing breath'd, as they pass'd
In dark and mournful echoes o'er the brave
Clos'd the moist lips, burnish'd cuirasses, overthrown,
And poh to picca I Across the illumined
The lofty crests Of the dispersed steeds
Neigh'd, wildly galloping in wayward course
Or, led by instinct, halted in a line,
Waiting the well-known signal: Now resumes
the moon her dangerous path;
And sudden darkness overspread the land:
In sadness I returned towards the camp.
It was a dreadful sight! such as
The looking on had almost fill'd these eyes
With tears, to see those, whom the morning's breeze
Had usher'd forth with joy-inspiring hope,
Full of achievement, energy and life,
Fallen like the rays which from the evening sun,
Sink in the western wave, but ne'er alas!
Like them again to rise.