A DASH THRO' THE LINES.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XIX, Issue 21, 20 February 1891, Page 11

A DASH THRO' THE LINES.

(Written for the Pilot.) A royal night for the row before UB, The moon goea down in a bank of cloud. One star to westward trembles o'er ua, Wrapped like a corpse in its palid shroud. The lamp burns dim in the fisher's dwelling Filled with the Southern rjfugees ; Hist I to the cannon's thunder swelling Far away on the tired breeze. I can hear the creek's black waters lapping The sandy beach and the wooded shores. And the flying wind like a night bird flapping lta dusky wings o'er the idle oars. Five miles off is the wide, wide river ; Five miles off the Potomac flood ; I can scarcely tell why I pauB3 and shiver, Dragging the boat up out of the mud. 'TiB a risky thing we're about, old fellow, Deserters afloat on the river wide, Where the gunboats peer, with their eyes so yellow, Like panthers loose on the sullen tide. TiB the last, last time I shall venture over, Risking my neck for the gold so bright ; Just one long whiff of the Maryland clover, One last daßh thro' the lines to-night. Lift up the lantern and hold it steady ; Call out the women, the children, too ; The moon is down and the boat is ready, But the blockade running is yet to do. All aboard 1 Push off now, qi ickly, We must hug the shore till the river shines. Look where those lights burn pale and sickly, Over there are the Union lines. I can see the river straight before us : Muffle the oars, nor cry, nor speak ; Let us hurry on thro' the darkness o'er us, Into the river and out of thj creek. Woman, hush ! there are foes behind us, The wolves are seeking their prey abroad ; Quiet the children or death will nod us - For you the riyer, for me tha cord. Hist I 'tis only the black waves creeping Under the stern of our trusty boat. The Yankee gunners must all he sleeping To leave us here on the tide afloat. God be thanked, we are h»lf way over I Near at hand are the welcome shores, I can smell the blooms of the Maryland clover; How for the land, now btnd to the oars. Haste, make haate, ere itu grey dawn whitens Over the East, fur I dreamt Jast night I walked thro' a lan I that no beam e'er lightens, With a troop of spectres gaunt and white. 1 must reach the shore but to look once only On a face upraised to the skies above ; 'Mid the greeu woods, tnere in her cottage lonely, Waiting to greet me, is she I love. She — there's a light — hush, hush, stop rowing ; Keep quite still in your places here. Tis the lamp from a prowling gun-boat glowiDg Over the waters far arjd near. Make for the land — strike out — they've seen us. Zip I 'twas the bullet's deadly hiss ; But there s many a watery gap between vs — They may fire again — to they fire and miss. They re bearing down on us, sure and steady. Zip, zip, zip — how the water boils 1 Crouch, so the next shot finds us ready — A few strong pulls and we'll 'scape their toils. We'll hurry in where thr hank curves under, That fringe of trees whosa long boughs enlace ; Then while their cannon boom and thunder We'll seek the woods (or our hiding-place. A few more strokes and we leave the river ; The land lies there where the long waves swell ; God I how the ricochet bullets shiver, Till the air is strong with the sulpher smell 1 One str< ke more — Oh, my God 1 'tis over 1 That last shot told ; i»h, they aimed aright I Good-by to the Maryland fields of clover, And — tell her — 1 cannot — come — to-night. Louisville, Ky.

Elviba Sydnob Millbb,