Over the river victory shouts of gladness, Great waves of joy rise above seas of woe; Over the river comes a wail of sadness, A city's fallen, or a chief laid low; Alas! for us! we must sit still and ponder Upon the woes of battle all the day, And dream, and sew, and weep, while our thoughts wander Over the river! Let us watch and pray. PRIVATE MAGUIRE. "Och, it's nate to be captain or colonel, Divil a bit would I want to be higher; But to rust as a private, I think's an infernal Predicament, surely," says Private Maguire. "They can go sparkin' and playin' at billiards, With money to spend for their slightest desire, Loafin' and atin' and drinkin' at Ballard's, While we're on the pickets," says Private Maguire. "Livin' in clover, they think it's a trifle To stand out all night in the rain and the mire, And a Yankee hard by, with a villainous rifle, Just riddy to pop ye," says Private Maguire. "Faith, now, it's not that I'm afther complainin', I'm spilin' to meet ye, Abe Lincoln, Esquire! Ye blaggard! it's only I'm weary of thrainin', And thrainin', and thrainin'," says Private Maguire. "O Lord, for a row! but Maguire, boy, be aisy, Kape yourself swate for the inimy's fire; General Lee is the chap that shortly will plaze ye, Be the Holy St. Patrick!" says Private Maguire. "And, lad, if ye're hit (O, bedad, that infernal Jimmy O'Dowd would make love to Maria!) Whether ye're captain, or major, or colonel, Ye'll die with the best then," says Private Maguire. STONEWALL JACKSON. By a lady formerly of Richmond. _Tune_--"_The Coronack._" Unmoved in the battle, Whilst friends and foes swerved, Midst roaring and rattle, His heroes were nerved. On Manassas' red plain, Their unyielding front, Gave their chieftain that name, So strong in war's brunt. He swoops from the mountain, Like our own regal bird; O'er Potomac's blue fountain, His war scream is heard. Though his foeman be brave, They shrink from his sword, Who its mighty power gave, Is the triumphant Lord! Again from the mountain, Through forest and valley, Once more near that fountain, His invincibles rally. Like our own mountain eagle, He swoops on the foemen, And the cohorts of Lincoln Fly and cower before him! * * * * SOUTHERN SONG. _Tune_--"_Wait for the Wagon._" Come, all ye sons of freedom, And join our Southern band, We are going to fight the Yankees, And drive them from our land. Justice is our motto, And Providence our guide; So jump into the wagon, And we'll all take a ride. CHORUS.--So wait for the wagon! the dissolution wagon; The South is the wagon, and we'll all take a ride.