'An orderly'--is it?--'of Colonel Dunbar?'
'He fought like a lion!' (I knew it!) and passed
Untouched through the battle, 'unhurt to the last?'
--My father is safe,--mother!--safe!--what a joy!
And here is Macpherson,--our barefooted boy!"

Poor Alice!--her grief has been tearless and dumb,
But the pressure once lifted, her senses succumb:
Too quick the revulsion,--too glad the surprise,--
The mists of unconsciousness curtain her eyes:
'Tis only a moment they suffer eclipse,
And words of thanksgiving soon thrill on her lips.

To Beechenbrook's quiet, with tenderest care,
They hasten the wounded, wan soldier to bear;
And never hung mother more patiently o'er
The couch of the child, her own bosom that bore,
Than Alice above the lone orphan, who lay
Submissively breathing his spirit away.
He knows that existence is ebbing; his brain
Is lucid and calm, in the pauses of pain;
But his round boyish cheek with no weeping is wet,
And his smile is not touched with a shade of regret.

No murmur is uttered--no lingering sigh
Escapes him;--so young,--yet so willing to die!
His garment of flesh he has worn undefiled,
His faith is the beautiful faith of a child:
He knows that the Crucified hung on the tree,
That the pathway to bliss might be open and free: