"Why, men, he was my brother born! My hero, all my youthful years! My counsellor, to guide and warn! My shield alike from foes and fears! And when he came to me, forlorn, "What could I do but hail him guest, And bind his cruel wounds with balm, And give him on his sister's breast That which he asked, the humble alm Of a safe pillow where to rest? "Come, then, and dare the wrath of fate! Come, if you must, or if you will! But know that I am desperate; And shafts that wound, and wounds that kill Your deed of dastardy await!" A murmur swept through all the mob; The base informer slunk afar; And lusty cheer and stifled sob Rose to her at the window-bar, While those whose hands were come to rob Her dwelling of its treasure, cursed; For round their heads the menace flew That he who dared adventure first, Or first an arm of murder drew, Should taste of vengeance at its worst. XXVII. A heavy tramp, a murmuring sound, Low mingling with the murmuring rain,-- Heard in the wind and in the ground,-- Came up the street--a tide of pain, In which the angry din was drowned. The leaders of the tumult fled; The door flew open with a crash; And down the street wild Mildred sped, Piercing the darkness like a flash, And walked beside her husband's bed. Slowly the solemn train advanced; The crowd fell back with parted ranks; And like a giant, half entranced, Sailing between strange, spectral banks, From side to side the soldier glanced. The sobbing rain, the evening dim, The dusky forms that pushed and peered, The swaying couch, the aching limb, The lights and shadows, sharp and weird, Were but a troubled dream to him. He knew his love--all else unknown, Or seen through reason's sad eclipse-- And with her, hand within his own, Or fondly pressed upon his lips, He clung to it, as if alone It had the power to stay, his feet Still longer on the verge of life; And thus they vanished from the street-- The shepherd-warrior and his wife-- Within the manse's closed retreat. XXVIII. Embraced by home, his soul grew light; And though he moaned: "My head! my head!" His life turned back its outward flight, Like his, who, from the prophet's bed, Startled the wondering Shunammite. He greeted all with tender speech; He told his children he should die; He gave his fond farewell to each, With messages, and fond good-by To all he loved beyond his reach. And then he spoke her brother's name: "Tell him," he said, "that, in my death, I cherished his untarnished fame, And, to my life's expiring breath, Held his brave spirit free from blame. "We strove alike for truth's behoof, With honest faith and love sincere,-- For God and-country, right and roof, And issues that do not appear; But wait with Heaven the awful proof."