'Twas on that dark and fearful morn, That anxious hearts beat high! And many from their friends were torn Beneath the wintry sky. But hark! what cannon roar is that? Terrific--but sublime-- Wafting some mortals to their graves, Far from their Northern clime. As the battle rag'd, voices high Echoed along the shore, For death or victory was nigh Amid the battle's roar. The Yanks appeared to gain the ground, Their hopes were sure and high, Our little boats then hove in sight, Which caused their men to cry. Magruder, for example sake, The cannon first did fire, When soon their boats were made to quake-- When one embrac'd his sire. But death hath taken for his own Their Captain, Lee, Monroe-- And many more they lost that day, Whose death they'll long deplore. But were we favored? Sure we were, For victory was ours! But death had stolen our gallant Wier; Our tears did fall in showers. Another one, deserving most, The brave and noble son! Sherman! thy country's pride! is lost-- A death most nobly won. Come, all ye people, far and near, Example you must take, For Texas men and women are Heroes for country's sake! DEATH OF GEN. ALBERT SIDNEY JOHNSTON. By GEORGE B. MILROR, of Harrisburg. The sun was sinking o'er the battle plain, Where the night winds were already sighing, While, with smiling lips, near his war-horse slain, Lay a valiant chieftain dying! And as he sank to his long, last rest, The banner--once o'er him streaming-- He folded 'round his most gallant breast, On the couch that knows no dreaming. Proudly he lay on the battle-field, On the banks of the noble river; And the crimson stream from his veins did yield, Without a pang or quiver! There were hands that came to bind his wounds, There were eyes o'er the warrior streaming, As he rais'd his head from the bloody ground, Where many a brave was sleeping. "Now, away," he cried--"your aid is vain! My soul will not brook recalling! I have seen the tyrant enemy slain, And like Autumn vine-leaves falling! "I have seen our glorious banner wave O'er the tents of the enemy vanquish'd-- I have drawn a sword for my country brave, And in her cause now perish! "Leave me to die with the free and the brave, On the banks of my own noble river-- Ye can give me naught but a soldier's grave, And a place in your hearts forever!" GOD BLESS OUR SOUTHERN LAND. Respectfully inscribed to Major-General J. B. Magruder, and sung on the occasion of his public reception in the city of Houston, Texas, Jan. 20, 1863. God bless our Southern land, God save our sea-girt land, And make us free; With justice for our shield, May we on battle field Never to foemen yield Our liberty.