And we, whose dear ones cluster there, We, mothers, who have let them go-- Our all, perhaps--how shall we bear That which another week may show? The love which made our lives, all gone, Our hearts left desolate and lone! Country! what to _me_ that name, Should I in vain demand my son? Glory! what a nation's fame? Home! home, without thee, I have none; Ah! stay--this Southern land not _mine_? The land that e'en in death is thine! A country's laurel-wreath for thee, A _hero's grave_--my own! my own! And neither land nor home for _me_, Because a _mother's_ hope is gone? Traitor I am! God's laws command That, NEXT TO HEAVEN, OUR NATIVE LAND! And I will not retract--ah! no-- What, in my pride of home, I said, That, "_I would give my son to go Where'er our_ HERO RULER _led_!" The mother's heart may burst--but still, Make it, O God, to know Thy will. NEW ORLEANS, LA. THE VOLUNTEERS TO THE "MELISH." BY WM. C. ESTRES. Come forth, ye gallant heroes, Rub up each rusty gun, And face these hireling Yankees, Who live by tap of drum. We Volunteers are wearied, By a twelve months' "sojourn"; We want to rest a little, And then we'll fight "again." We've won some five pitched battles, But will yield you our "posish"; And if you want some glory, Why pitch in now, "Melish." Don't refuse to leave your spouses; Our own are just as dear, And each lonely little woman Longs for her Volunteer. Don't mind your sobbing sweethearts; For though 'tis hard to part, We'll volunteer to cheer 'em, And console each troubled heart. For the sake of old Virginia, Come and fight! _that's if you can_, And let your prattling babies Know their daddy was a man. For you _we've_ fought and struggled; Had "no furloughs"--nary one-- We want a little resting, And so we're coming home. Then _forward_, bold Militia! "If you're coming, come along," Or, by the gods! we'll force you out To your duty--right or wrong. THE TURTLE. Caesar, afloat with his fortunes! And all the world agog, Straining its eyes At a thing that lies In the water, like a log! It's a weasel! a whale! I see its tail! It's a porpoise! a polywog! Tarnation! it's a _turtle_! And blast my bones and skin, My hearties, sink her, Or else you'll think her A regular terror--pin! The frigate poured a broadside! The bombs they whistled well, But--hit old Nick With a sugar stick! It didn't phase her shell! _Piff_, from the creature's larboard-- And dipping along the water A bullet hissed From a wreath of mist Into a Doodle's quarter! _Raff_, from the creature's starboard-- _Rip_, from his ugly snorter, And the Congress and The Cumberland Sunk, and nothing--shorter.