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DAISY SWAIN, 
 
 THE 
 
 FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 
 
 A TALE OF THE REBELLION. 
 
 JOHN M. DAGNALL 
 
 ILLUSTRATED. 
 
 BEOOKLYN, N. Y. 
 
 1865. 
 
?'^;t'>V 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by 
 
 JOHN M. DAGNALL, 
 
 In llie Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the 
 
 Eastern District of New York. 
 
 Smith & McDouqal, Electrotypers, 84 Beekmaa St. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 Reuben Swain— His Character — The Birth of Daisy. . . 7 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The Comet— The Northern Fanatic— The Southern 
 Demagogue — The First Shot at Sumter — The Bat- 
 tle—The Wounded Federal 23 
 
 CHAPTER ni. 
 
 Reuben's Alarm at the Sound of Battle — Daisy's Ab- 
 sence from the Cot — Her Return Home with the 
 Wounded Soldier 43 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Athol tells the Cottagers the Story of his Life— His 
 
 Convalescence and his Love of Daisy 60 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The Lovers— The Vow— The Adieu— The Storm— The 
 Guerillas— The Altercation 75 
 
Vi CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The AMction of Daisy— The Death of both her Parents 97 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The Funeral of Daisy's Mother— The Strange Visitor.. 106 
 
 CHAPTER Vin. 
 
 Athol's Letter to Daisy — She quits her Place of Birth 
 — Her Search of Athol — Her Despair — The Loyal 
 Peasants — The Guerillas — The Burning Hut — Its 
 Victims 118 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 Daisy a Captive — The Bivouac— Daisy's Doom 138 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Daisy's Rescue — ^Her Deliverer — Her Meeting with 
 Athol— The Battle— Death of the Lovers...... 154 
 
CHAPTEE I. 
 
 Beuben Jwain — !^i$ f hat|actet| — ^he Bii|th of Baisy. 
 
 Long ere ruthless civil war laid waste 
 
 The fertile Shenandoah Valley, there dwelt, 
 
 In all his rustic nature true, and free 
 
 As the wind, contented Keuben Swain. On 
 
 A green mound, close by a stream, zigzagging 
 
 Like an eel on sandy bed around the vale, 
 
 Reuben's lovely home, a neat white cot, stood 
 
 Raised on cedar spiles. This marked his prudent 
 
 mind ; 
 As ague poisons lurk in meadow damp 
 And spring freshets had inundate the plain. 
 
8 DAISY SWAIN, 
 
 No cupola his cottage roof adorned, 
 
 Nor did paintings decorate its inner walls 
 
 All sucli ornate pride lie left to autocrats, 
 
 To tilted lords, and traffic's purse-proud kings. 
 
 For, truly, Reuben's nature was too simple 
 
 And full of the most gentle virtues as 
 
 To even think of such vain, showy things ; 
 
 No, his i^ride was only that of self-respect. 
 
 Being one of God's true creatures, Reuben, 
 
 Ere each morning sun arose, would upon 
 
 His bended knees, at matin prayer, offer 
 
 Up his humble thanks to the Giver of aU good 
 
 For blessings which he hourly conferred. 
 
 Of health and vigor, with their many joys. 
 
 Cheering his path through hfe to ripe old age. 
 
 Accustomed from his earliest youth to waken 
 "With the day, Reuben always felt a joy 
 To see, peering through the gray light of dawn. 
 Streaks of the rising sun, and watch the flush 
 Of golden light resplendent spread along 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 9 
 
 The sky ; tlie verdant landscape o'er illume ; 
 Tip with purpling gleams the forest pines ; 
 Disperse the blue mists from the mountain's side. 
 
 Then, thus early in the fresh morning air, 
 Eeuben, with supple step, would saunter through 
 His well-cultured fields ; and, as he trod the grass 
 Bespangled o'er with crystal dew, he'd watch 
 "With gladsome eye his flocks upon the hillside 
 Browse, and judge, with reason clear, the yielding 
 Promise of his crops ; humming to himself. 
 As with joyous heart he homeward bent his steps, 
 Some tender breathing of his soul in song ; 
 For happy as his days were pure, untouched 
 By gnawing want, unstained by misery. 
 Lived gentle Reuben in his rural home. 
 
 Free he was from fear of loss, from cares, distrust. 
 The worldly-minded and penurious have ; 
 From pangs of dire adversity 
 Attending trade and constant trafficking ; 
 
10 DAISY SWAIN, 
 
 Eor in the bounteous vale where Keuben lived, 
 The only clouds which lower'd were filled with 
 
 rain ; 
 Eeviving parch'd lawn, drooping plant and flower. 
 
 Nor could the jade of fickle fortune coquet 
 With his pride, as vain were all her blandishments 
 Him to seduce from tranquil state. Yet, 
 Notwithstanding Reuben's days were balmy 
 As an Indian summer's cheering glow, still, 
 His life by no means was a listless dream 
 Of indolence, of apathy, of sloth ; 
 For an innate energy to labor 
 On his acres broad strung his nerves with strength ; 
 Gave tension to his muscles, suppleness 
 To his joints, an appetite for food, though 
 Simple, yet wholesome ; brought sleep to his eyes, 
 Ease to his mind, and to his heart tranquillity. 
 Beside, he earned from his patch of land, funds 
 Enough to keep himself in time of need ; 
 In case his strength might cease from old age. 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHEIfANDOAH. 11 
 
 Or stricken be by some infirmity. 
 
 This was the only selfishness he knew ; 
 
 And he took good care the surplus cash which he 
 
 Thus saved should cater to no banker's greed, 
 
 Nor usury's bait aUure it from his grasp, 
 
 Nor paper bonds with golden promises ; 
 
 For Reuben, in his lifetime, heard much of 
 
 Failures, bankruptcy, and breach of trust ; 
 
 How in a moment's time the rich, as well 
 
 As the poor man's all, had been from them 
 
 swept. 
 No, Reuben was sole guardian of his gold. 
 But his hoarded pile filled no chink in a waU, 
 Nor hole in the ground, but in an oaken chest. 
 It snugly laid concealed from prying eyes ; 
 Unsafe, one would think, from prowling burglar, 
 Whose greed for others' goods, on some darli 
 
 night. 
 Might tempt his predatory steps to roam 
 Those parts in quest of spoil, and noiselessly 
 Sack good Reuben's coffer of its treasure. 
 
12 
 
 But the numbing hand of time had scarcely 
 Affected Reuben's senses ; for his ear 
 "Was then as quick to catch faint sounds, as when 
 A boy, hunting squirrels in the wild woods ; . 
 And therefore sounds of friendly footsteps knew 
 From the stealthy tread of a sneaking foe. 
 Nor was his the sluggard's leaden sleep, who 
 "Will, even when his eyes are open, lie 
 In supine lethargy dozing, peering 
 Through a misty veil of film ; and bhnking 
 In the hght of day, soon again drop off 
 Unconsciously to sleep. But no such languor 
 Blurred the light of Reuben's eyes : once their lids 
 "Were raised, their lamps would brightly burn 
 
 renewed 
 "With vigor's oil, by which he'd soon discern 
 Strange visions, should they near him fiit at night; 
 Which as soon as seen about, his hand 
 Would on his gim, already primed to kill 
 The prowling wolf and panther sly, that sometimes 
 From their lairs in forests wild came, and raised 
 
THE FLOWEE OF SHENAI^DOAH. 13 
 
 Nocturnal havoc 'mong his sheep, be clasped. 
 
 Then, as to his neighbors of the plain, Eeuben 
 
 Knew their habits, tastes, and pedigrees too well 
 
 To fear his gold would jaundice their eyes. They 
 
 Keuben's gentle, upright nature also knew ; 
 
 Knew that the beam of divine justice shone 
 
 In his heart to every one ahke within 
 
 The vaUey ; and blending theirs with his, lived 
 
 In peace and harmony together : 
 
 For each one's sense of equity was just. 
 
 Honor was kind Reuben's guide ; probity 
 
 Their counsellor ; nothing foul corrupted 
 
 Reuben's mind ; nor was his taste depraved ; 
 
 His bev'rage was the same that Adam drank : 
 
 Water pure from clear springs and rocky founts. 
 
 This he knew would poison nought within, nor 
 
 Thrill his nerves awhile with spurious ecstacy. 
 
 To deaden the keen sensibiHty 
 
 Of body, heart, and soul, like alcohol. 
 
 The demon, that fires with delirium 
 
 The drunkard's brain, and fills the minds of men 
 2 
 
14 DAISY SWAIN, 
 
 With dark designs and treason's treach'rous guilt, 
 Angry quarrels, murder ; then remorse which 
 Struggles hard with sleep. No, Eeuben would 
 
 shrink 
 With loathing from the devil's nectared bane, 
 And aught which tended to engender heat 
 Of blood, burning thirst, and gusts of passions 
 
 vile. 
 Temperate wishes only were in his souL 
 
 The fleecy fabric shorn from his own sheep. 
 Woven on his own loom, sufficed to guard 
 His body 'gainst inclement gales, and warm 
 Him in the fiercest wintry blow ; and in 
 This simple raiment clad, Eeuben felt 
 As great as any Eastern nabob proud, 
 Bedecked with royal robes ; as nature's lord 
 Was he, and reigned supreme in his neat cot, 
 His castle proud on nature's realms built, 
 On a green lawn, within a bounteous plain. 
 Where creation was prohfic with her products. 
 
THE FLOWEE OF SHENANDOAH. 15 
 
 To Eeuben 'twas the loveliest spot on earth, 
 Where many sunny years of bliss he passed. 
 Sharing the joys of dear domestic life 
 With the partner of his soul, his Nancy dear, 
 More faithful, fair, and kind than half of those 
 Who blaze in vain, proud, ostentatious show : 
 One who knew her duties well, her womanly 
 
 sphere. 
 And the sweet pleasures of the virtuous heart ; 
 Which was the only bhss her husband sought. 
 
 There, in the quiet place wherein the happy pair 
 Found shelter, food, and rest, reason ruled 
 Their minds and guided them with judgment ; for 
 Too well they understood the sacred bond. 
 By which their two dear souls were bound as one. 
 To mar their wedded bhss with household jars, 
 Knowing angry breath in ears young is baneful : 
 And in sweet connubial union their love 
 Long ago had multiplied itself. The seed 
 From vigorous stem was cull'd, and free from 
 
16 
 
 DAISY SWAIIs". 
 
 Withering blight ; kind nature undertook 
 The task imposed ; and time brought forth a bud 
 Of grace, all tenderness, which doubly blest 
 Their yoke, and crovvned with joy their nuptial 
 couch. 
 
THE FLOWEE OF SHENAT^DOAH. 17 
 
 The germ in beauty's mould was cast, budded 
 Forth, and blossomed ; in sacred soil grew up 
 To vernal morn of life, fresh as a rose 
 In unmolested shade, or violet chaste 
 In all its virgin freshness, unassuming. 
 Modest, all rural grace, and simple charms. 
 
 The joy of her pure heart, all smiles, all cheer, 
 Like rising sunlight on a dewy lawn, shone 
 On her dimphng cheeks ; rouged with tincture from 
 Vermeil meads : health's purpling flood that 
 
 coursed in 
 Her azure veins. 
 
 The vital essence glowed 
 In her eyes, radiant, pure, and mild, like two 
 Bright orbs fixed in the coronet of Heaven : 
 Endowed they seemed with photographic power 
 To print from blooming flowers certain shades ; 
 As they one noon-time bright, while ardently 
 Fixed upon a variegated bed, drew 
 
18 DAISY SWAI1S-, 
 
 By some charmed affinity in their gaze, 
 
 Blended hues from both blue-bell and lily ; 
 
 And so bright withal, that e'en a lover's glance 
 
 might 
 Dim before their lustrous beaming, or be 
 Dazzled so his mind's eye would flashing see 
 Across his brain, a thousand stars glitt'ring 
 Eesplendent with heavenly jewelry. 
 
 Enrobed in raiment woven plain upon 
 Her mother's loom, she, by broach or bracelet 
 Unadorned, looked with more attractive grace 
 Than if bedecked in fashion's gaudy finery. 
 Besides, her form was faultless as the Venus 
 Of Milo, as fair, as tender to the view ; 
 Kequired no false blandishments to lure 
 The eye, nor stuffs to give herself proportion : 
 Her heart was void of all such guile, as truth. 
 Early to her God, had risen up her soul 
 To heaven, where her faith in Him reposed. 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 19 
 
 Thus arrayed in nature's simple beauty, 
 Daisy Swain, the flower of Shenandoah, 
 Since taken from her parent bed, was 
 Mildly nurtured with parental sway, 
 And prospered in her father's fostering hands, 
 Full sixteen years unconscious of a thorn ; 
 Unstained by care and sorrow's withering sigh 
 
20 DAISY SWAIN, 
 
 Nor had she felt the pangs of fickle love, 
 That sighs assent, then vanishes from sight. 
 She was her parents' joy ; their dear pledge of 
 Reciprocal love ; their pride of heart, whom 
 They idohzed with fond, indulgent care. 
 
 Truly, Reuben blest his happy lot, as 
 His dear wife and child made his cherished home 
 An envied Paradise, remote from power, 
 Despots, and proud high-toned authority. 
 For thus in quiet state he lived in vale of peace. 
 Where nature gave refreshing showers to 
 EVry living creature in the valley ; 
 High and low of birth ; and of mean degree. 
 There, playful zephyr breathed around his cot ; 
 And feather'd minstrels trilled their dulcet pipes 
 Melodiously from boughs of hickory green 
 And chestnut, whose leafy branches intertwined 
 Above its roof, and formed a canopy 
 Which screened, from scorching mid-day heat, 
 one of 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 21 
 
 The most happy men on this revolving orb ; 
 One in whose heart the pure flame of devotion 
 Burned, whose eye, when raised toward the Great 
 
 Supreme, 
 Saw His blessed spirit in the heavens 
 Poised on beams of holy light eternal ; 
 For in Him who gilds the clouds with serene light. 
 And moves them at His will, was the faith of 
 Keuben, who, although with eyes untutored. 
 Saw the book of God was always open 
 To His creatures ; bound with blue sky and 
 
 illumed 
 "With mingling tints of hills, woods, and plains, 
 
 which 
 Marked the pictured landscape as the blessed work 
 Of Hands unerringly Divine, and governed 
 By a Mind most potent to control all 
 Within the universal world. His who keeps 
 An eye benignant on His creatures. 
 Yes, Reuben saw God's kingly spirit throned 
 Among the hills, the forests, vales, and wilds ; 
 
22 DAISY swai:n-, 
 
 And heard His awe-inspiring voice thunder 
 In the torrent's roar, murmur sweetly in 
 The tingling rill, and whisper in the breeze ; 
 Felt His friendship in the warm sunlight, gave 
 Life, and joy, and hope to those who are not 
 Tied to earth by doubts and worldly things : 
 Saw God's glad eye peering through the stars by 
 
 night. 
 In concentric glimpses from His throne of 
 Glory, where, when heaven would untie 
 His human bands, Reuben knew full well that 
 His good soul being from its earthy matter broke, 
 Would gladly mount the void of viewless air. 
 And mingle with the spirits of the pure 
 And holy. 
 
CHAPTEK II. 
 
 ^be (^omet — $ho "^otithetin !tfanatic — (i)hc ^outhei|n 
 
 demagogue — ^he itfitist 0hot at ^umptcr^ — (^he 
 
 Battle — ^bo Moun4e4 itfeder^al. 
 
 Scarce liad the shock of party strife begun 
 
 To vibrate on the nation's heart, than from out 
 
24 
 
 Its dreadful depths a comet flash'd athwart 
 
 The lurid sky, and glanced its fiery gleams 
 
 Upon star-gazers' eyes. They shrank amazed. 
 
 With wonder and dismay alternate, 
 
 In their breathless stare. Timid hearts fluttered 
 
 With affright. Their fear-fraught minds imagined 
 
 That the face of heaven scowHng lowered ; 
 
 That darker frowns deformed the brow of night, 
 
 Just where the shadow marked its orbit's trail. 
 
 Foredooming to their terror-stricken hearts. 
 
 That soon their sun of day would be eclipsed 
 
 Forever in chaotic darkness. Even 
 
 Those not quite so superstitious foreboded 
 
 The celestial visitor ominous 
 
 Of evil dire unto Columbia's sons : 
 
 Some great misfortune to their nation, torn 
 
 By faction, on the brink of dissolution. 
 
 Would be rent asimder by domestic foes. 
 
 Thirsty for spoils, for power, and ambition. 
 
 Alas ! thus luckless did the omen prove ; 
 
 For dark spirits then in secret conclave 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHEIS-AKDOAH. 25 
 
 Thronged around us almost everywliere, 
 Scheming to fire our minds with discontent, 
 Intensify our party pride to frenzy ; 
 And to barter our blest inheritance * 
 
 To secret traitors and the fiend war, 
 Which often plague the world and banish 
 Men's repose. 
 
 'Twas in those momentous times. 
 
 That, with his hoary head absorbed, hxmg low 
 
 Upon his agitated breast, and with 
 
 His anxious visage haggard made by thoughts 
 
 EebeUious, there sat alone in his abode 
 
 A vulture-beak'd victim of unsated pride, _ 
 
 Deeply hatching in his subtle brains schemes 
 
 The most seditious to disturb the peace 
 
 And sever the bond of social hfe and 
 
 Friendship's holy wreaths, which bound us North 
 
 and South. 
 
 Matured, some wily thought his bent brows raised. 
 
 Quick as a meteor's flash in night's dark sky, 
 3* 
 
26 
 
 DAISY SWAIN, 
 
 A sudden flush of inward joy lit up 
 His scowling features. Then starting to his feet, 
 He paced, with nervous tread, the tapestry, 
 And rubbed his hands exultingly at some 
 HeUish plot his crafty mind conceived. 
 'Twas to kindle with incensive breath, 
 The igneous volcano of rebellion. 
 Smouldering in the breasts of freemen South : 
 
THE FLOWEE OF SHENANDOAH. 27 
 
 For, the aim of all his Hfe had been to earn 
 In their mad struggles, the short-lived glories 
 Of a puffed-up name, e'en tho' 'twere coupled 
 With foul and blasting infamy, likewise 
 His country's disgrace. 'Twas this false honor 
 Alone inspired his dark soul and made him, — 
 Hoping to attain his wished-for height — 
 Venal both to his constituents, and 
 Blushless at his own plans to embroil the States 
 In brutal, internecine conflict : for. 
 The fanatic's wily mind did well discern. 
 In the proud South, the darker shade of 
 Slav'ry, which to distort from features real was 
 The sole purpose of his crafty fancy. 
 There, upon his mental vision glittered. 
 From the Ethiopian's brow, a diamond black : 
 The dazzling prize so touched his covetous soul, 
 That down he knelt before his black idol ; 
 Crouched, spaniel-lilie, to kiss its feet ; 
 Turned up the white of his eyes to'ards heaven. 
 And implored the Lord on high to befriend 
 
28 DAISY SWAIN, 
 
 The poor, fat, dusky son of Africa, 
 
 Manacled with chains, which made his pierced 
 
 heart 
 Wail echoes the year round to their clanging sounds. 
 What sanctified disguise, base hypocrite ! 
 What a feint delusive the hand of power 
 To grasp ! Was it not a mask most guileful 
 Through which you sought to gain your own bad 
 
 ends ? 
 For you could well dissemble and disguise 
 Your dangerous intents. 
 • 
 
 Thus, under pretence 
 Of human good and his country's honor. 
 The favorite side he joined, the people's votes 
 By subtle craft and subterfuge to win : 
 In stately halls shrieked freedom for the blacks, 
 To a gloomy, narrow-minded concourse 
 Of visionary bigots and fanatics : 
 Told how the slaves in servile chains lingered 
 Out a hfe far worse than death itself ; and how 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 29 
 
 Their cruel masters flayed them so, till, through 
 
 Their lacerated flesh, their bones protruded. 
 
 " We must rise," he said, " and overwhelm 
 
 In one common ruin, these brute men ; must wrest 
 
 The beastly chattels from the monsters ; and if 
 
 Opposed by them in our incursions on 
 
 Their soil, our heels, where'er they tread, ruins 
 
 Kuthless marks must print whilst Hberating 
 
 From their cruel bonds, a disfranchised, abused, 
 
 Unpitied race." 
 
 Such were the vie^^ he vented 
 To his Hst'ning hosts, whose hearts he fired with 
 Indignation keen against the slaveholder. 
 Then him they sanctioned as their party choice ; 
 Rose him with their fulsome breath and votes from 
 Common life to an exalted station : 
 For, on the tide of popular favor. 
 Soon he floated into office, to rule 
 And gutter like a meteor for an hour. 
 
30 DAISY SWAIN, 
 
 1 
 
 Meantime, in the haughty South, a demagogue 
 Urged, from the rostrum, in the slave mart. 
 Excited, discontented freemen, 
 To spurn all future refuge 'neath the " flag 
 Whose starry folds wrapt freedom in her grave." 
 His ambition burned in ruthless deeds ; 
 For his pride was that of glaring pomp, love 
 Of conquest, and of fame that might resound 
 Through vaulted skies, till times remote should 
 
 hand 
 His glories down in the historic page. 
 There, the weak«mortal to true glory blind, 
 Stood venting forth the fervid emanations 
 Of his own proud, domineering soul, in 
 Gestures like the antics of an idiot. 
 To a crowd of lawless bullies, youths, and men. 
 Inciting them to raise the standard of 
 Revolt against their lawful government. 
 He said : the crisis called them to their duty ; 
 That if they would be freemen, they must leave 
 Their peaceful homes for high aims to attain. 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHET^ANDOAH. 31 
 
 By tailing arms up in defense of State rights ; 
 That their firesides and altars were endangered 
 By a factious horde of galling bigots, ^ 
 Then installed in office, who would them govern 
 With an iron rod, just as their ruthless wills 
 Proposed : invade their sacred fields, ransack 
 Their homes, and free, without law or price, their 
 slaves. 
 
 Thus harangued the fire-eating scorpion 
 With wrathful tongue unruly , soon he fired 
 His listeners' minds and hearts with loud 
 
 complaints 
 Of tyranny. Tyranny ! in a land 
 Where independence hfts her dauntless brow, 
 And where freedom is Columbia's boast ! 
 
 " If we had withered in the womb," he cried, 
 " Or that when we were infants at the breast, 
 Our mothers had, with deadly nightshade smear'd 
 Their nipples o'er, and then had, with their milk 
 
33 
 
 Thus impregnated witli the bane of death, 
 Suckled us to graves untimely, better 
 It would have been, than for us now to smother 
 In our freeborn hearts the chiding curse 
 Of Northern foes, whose galling enmity- 
 Has, in the South, Liberty's bright sun dimmed 
 With Discord's blackest cloud. 
 
 " But, friends, I say, 
 Let the infernal band of livid spectres 
 Of despair once cross our path ; the horde of 
 Hell-bom snakes will in their warped skins 
 Shrink dismayed before our might and strength : 
 We'll our bright meads redden with their blood ; 
 
 heap 
 With their marrowless bones, the pageant death, 
 On ev'ry Southern plain ; while, with shot, with 
 Shell, and murd'ring knife, we shall their States 
 
 invade : 
 Ay, plant as many bayonets on their fields 
 As there are blades of grass. Therefore, vaHant 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 33 
 
 Be. Endure with fortitude the toils of 
 
 War. Be warriors all in conflict, nor let 
 
 One of you a coward turn ; but when you find 
 
 The dastard Yankee wounded, bleeding out 
 
 His craven spirit on the ground, permit 
 
 No soft, mawkish pity your tears to crave, 
 
 As the hardest heart will sometimes melt 'fore 
 
 Dying eyes, but let your own eyes at him roll 
 
 "With fiery scorn. Let all your breath be charged 
 
 With Anger's poison ; and like a serpent 
 
 Hiss into his ears the venom'd bane ; you damn'd, 
 
 Sneaking, lily-livered Yankee, die ; 
 
 We no quarter show, no mercy have 
 
 For nigger-thieves ; then with your bayonets pin 
 
 Him to the ground." 
 
 Then, loud his maddened hosts. 
 With wild hurras, the demagogue applauded ; 
 Swore that they'd with fire and sword do deeds of 
 Kuthless stamp ; would pillage, burn, leave behind 
 Them death in every Yankee town ; and bear 
 
34 DAISY SWAIjS^, 
 
 Ensangumed trophies to their iree-made homes ; 
 Map out through fell havoc on rebeUious soil, 
 A nation of their own, for them to fix, 
 Till doomsday came, a firmer yoke upon 
 Their slaves. 
 
 Then soon the startling news on wings of lightning 
 
 Flashed through ev'ry part of fair Columbia's land ; 
 
 That, in the South, insurgents were, with bombs, 
 
 SheUing freedom's starry ensign on 
 
 Sumter's isolated fort, waving. 
 
 Eetribution, thereupoii, was promised 
 
 By the North. Futile were all peace petitions 
 
 To avert the strife ; as rage vindictive 
 
 "Was too blind for moral arbitration ; 
 
 And yet both sides were base enough to call 
 
 Upon high Heaven, in the clash to aid them. 
 
 Sounds of trumpet, drum, and shrilling fife were 
 Heard through all the land, rousing men to arms, 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHENAITDOAH. 31 
 
 Hurrying on the deadly conflict by 
 Parasites and cowards, both of North and South, 
 "Who feared to stain their own right hands in 
 Human gore ; and from window, pole, and peak, 
 Waved the civic garland of our liberties. 
 Inspiring chivalrous men to furious fight. 
 
 Then songs and bloody hymns were sung by sons 
 
36 
 
 DAISY SWAIN, 
 
 "Undaunted, as they thro' the madden'd nation 
 March'd straight on to the red fields of slaughter, 
 
 there 
 "With dearest blood to fertilize the soil. 
 And earn, in righteous cause, a glorious name. 
 Soon war and rapine wild, both far and near,*stalked 
 Madly o'er Virginia's soil. There, down in 
 
 \ 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. o7 
 
 The fertile valley of the Shenandoah, 
 Kesounded loud red War's fierce rattle. There 
 Advancing hosts of bannered foemen met, 
 Emblazoned gay, in pride of fancy dress, 
 And charged each foremost line with musketry. 
 Alert, the rebels bold with desperate dash 
 Hurled, with all their ardor wild, their forces strong 
 Upon their Federal foes. Fiercely flashed 
 The red artillery. Swiftly shrieking shells 
 
 '^^ ' ^^ ^]))^ 
 
38 DAISY SWAIN, 
 
 Burst in among the brave, and made their blood 
 In torrents flow. Then bayonets charged and 
 
 dashed 
 Against each ghtt'ring blade. Horse and rider 
 Plunged into the fray, and swelled the mortal strife 
 Of battle hot : while Death, through sulph'rous 
 
 clouds 
 Of smoke, grinn'd and gloated as he eyed firm 
 Heroes, from their shattered lines and columns, 
 Fall and swell the slaughter ; and where the 
 
 maimed 
 Lay, here and there, upon the gory field. 
 Bending the air with fitful cries and groans. 
 Writhing, like wounded snakes, from horrid 
 
 tortures. 
 
 So, in full retreat and loose array, down 
 The hill the Federals wildly rushed, o'erwhelm'd ; 
 Eank and file, hard pressed by the rebels : 
 Through thickets dense, 'cross fertile fields and 
 vales, 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 39 
 
 Dismayed their broken columns flew, leaving 
 On that bloody field many comrades brave, 
 Who now sleep in their trench-dug sepulchres. 
 Yet, one among the federal bands, wounded 
 And faint from loss of blood, footsore, halted 
 At a gurgling brook, where he, all smeared with 
 His Hfe-blood, stooped down ; and, in the hollow 
 Of his right hand, scoop'd drops of water few, 
 With which his burning thirst he quenched. 
 
 Then, from 
 The margin of the stream, he tried to raise himself. 
 Fearing, lest he there too tardy stayed, captured 
 He might be by some disloyal enemy 
 Prowling rampant round those parts, in hot 
 
 pursuit 
 Of straggling and of ambushed foes : but irksome 
 Was the task. The sinews of his knees 
 Were void of strength. His tired Hmbs the burden 
 Of his body could not bear. A shudder 
 Shook his jaded frame : 'twas the harbinger 
 
40 DAISY SWAIN, 
 
 Of comfortless despair which soon darkened 
 His fevered brain ; for, ere long, his head grew 
 So giddy, that the verdant landscape seemed 
 Unto his blurred eyes, just hke a green mist 
 Risen from the ground. Then, round and round, 
 
 his head 
 Eeeled. Faint and sick at heart, he stagg'ring 
 
 grasped, 
 With feeble hands, a willow twig danghng 
 Near him ; and with its friendly aid lowered 
 Himself down upon the damp grass, resolved 
 To abide the ordeal of strengthless fate. 
 
 Then wrapping himself up in the standard 
 Which he through a hard campaign had borne : 
 
 happy 
 In the thought that should his eyes ne'er open 
 
 more 
 To view the morning's light, its starry folds 
 Would be, at least, his shroud obsequious. 
 So, weary, worn, all gnashed, exhausted, quite 
 
THE FLOWER OF SIIEKANDOAII. 41 
 
 designed, lie let his weak frame throb and 
 
 struggle 
 'Gainst his parting life upon the humid ground, 
 "Where outstretched full length he lay beneath 
 A spreading willow, whose pliant branches 
 Waved above, and soothingly fanned his face, 
 All gaunt and spectre-like : yet, though grim 
 His features were, and shaded with the hue of 
 Death, still, in their fine outlines remained 
 Traces symmetrical, showing that they had 
 Been in the fairest mould of beauty cast. 
 
 But his fevered mind soon somnolent became. 
 
 In dreamy mood he thought of the home he'd left 
 
 Behind him, and of his aged mother 
 
 Far away : he fancied he saw her smile ; 
 
 And with her arms outstretched in fullness of 
 
 Joy, ready to clasp to her fond bosom 
 
 Her soldier son. He, likewise, thought he heard 
 
 Her soft voice say, " Oh ! Athol dear, how glad 
 
 Am I to see that you have home returned 
 4* 
 
42 DAISY SWAIIS^, 
 
 From the rebellious, frantic scheme, with none 
 But honored scars." Then, thoughtful, he smiled ; 
 
 but 
 'Twas only a sicMy gleam of joy. 
 As pale and ti:ansient as a streak of sunlight 
 Breaking through a rain-cloud, which shone upon 
 His wan face : for soon the past joys of home 
 And friends, his ardent fancy had conjured, 
 Quickly vanished before his reason's strength, 
 And left his mind in dark, despondent gloom. 
 Then he wept ; for he keenly realized 
 The true condition of his hapless phght 
 And how fallacious was the hope, in such 
 A dying state, of ever sharing, with 
 His tender parent, her gladsome care again. 
 
 Ah, then, he knew no good Samaritan 
 Was nigh with balm to heal his wound ; nor did 
 He hear an angel's hght foot fall upon 
 The ground, bringing an assauging draught to ease 
 His racking pains. No, he gave up his life 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 43 
 
 As lost, for each moment he heavier breathed, 
 And louder by spells, he groaned from his ache-;, 
 And also thought he heard the voice of death. 
 In the hollow moaning of the wind. 
 That fretful sighed around him : a fitful gust 
 Of which, just then, from off his temples smooth, 
 Detached some beaded drops of fevered sweat 
 Which clung like dew upon a hly's leaf 
 On his pale brow : one pellucid globule 
 Koll'd upon his half-closed eye-lash ; its gleam 
 His wandering mind, and vision dim, mistook 
 For the glitter of the vestal star twinkling 
 Through the willow's foliage above his head. 
 
 'Twas then twihght, yet no friendly succor 
 Came to his aid. Alone, the evening dew. 
 As 'twere, seemed to commiserate him, in 
 His hapless state, with tears compassionate 
 Shed on his languid form ; and when he saw 
 The Hght of day fast fading from his view, 
 Hope's bright beam flickered in his panting heart. 
 
44 DAISY SWAIN, 
 
 Still, he'd judge it folly to repine 'gainst 
 
 What Heaven ordained, as his conscience told 
 
 him 
 That man, soever good, and soldier brave, 
 Are sometimes in this checquered life destined 
 To suffer torturing ills, which often 
 Bring them, ere their lives have run the length of 
 The allotted span, down to early graves. 
 
 But it would, he thought, have been more 
 honorable 
 If fate, with her unerring hand, had hurled 
 Upon the field, rebellion's missile swift 
 Through his brain ; so that he could have fallen 
 'Mong many warring hosts unknown, but brave, 
 And mingled his with their courageous blood, 
 Than there, with feelings sore, linger and waste 
 Away by fever ; be flesh-conquered ; die 
 And rot : his body fill no hallowed vault 
 Nor soldier's grave, but lie exposed, where 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 45 
 
 Buzzards sought their prey : he shudder'd at the 
 
 thought, 
 And gasping, shrieked aloud, they soon would 
 Fly around his bier and riot on 
 His hfeless flesh. 
 
CHAPTEK III. 
 
 Reuben's M\^rn at the S5ound of Battle — daisy's 
 i^bsence tiiom the (^ot — |leti Eetmin !l^ome 
 with the Mounded ^oldieii. 
 * 
 Upon the balmy breeze of that same morning 
 Eeuben, the peasant, from his smiHng cot, 
 Heard the battle's horrid din resound, 
 And saw, afar, thick, sulphurous smoke dimly 
 Rear in black wreaths to'ards the glaring sun. 
 'Twas but an hour before the valley rang 
 With war's alarm, that in the morning ray, he 
 O'er his neat fields trod ; nor feared to meet 
 Friend or enemy of the warring bands. 
 Both were foes to him. 
 
 For when the roar of 
 Booming cannon echoed on his startled ear, 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHEIS-ANDOAH. 47 
 
 He thouglit that ere Jbhe evening came, he'd look 
 Upon his burning cot and wander round 
 A homeless man. But twiHght came. Long since 
 The battle's warhke blasts had died away ; 
 And glad he was to find his fields were still 
 Adorned with waving grain. 
 
 But when he saw 
 His beloved child was not at home to cheer 
 Him with her pleasing smile, and bless him at 
 The evening board, a poignant pang went 
 
 straight 
 To his heart, that some mishap his daughter 
 Had befallen. 
 
 For no tidings of her had 
 Arrived, since, in the gleam of morning's sunshine, 
 Her father's cot she quit, to saunter through 
 Her native vale ; and blithe and jocund wind 
 Amid its green retreats ; joyously scent 
 The woodbine wild, and quaff the balmy air ; 
 
48 
 
 DAISY SWAIIS" 
 
 And to let the zephyr of fragrant meads 
 Mellow in deeper tints her beamy face. 
 
 But as she gayly tripp'd with fawn-hke steps, 
 Through green paths, observing with enraptured 
 
 eye. 
 The varied landscape o'er — her soul's dehght — 
 And breathing sylvan sweets with spirits gay, 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHENAl^DOAII. 49 
 
 War's infernal gong througli the surrounding hills, 
 
 Reverbrated loud and pierced her ears. 
 
 The dread shocks her heart's blood stagnated. 
 
 Fear 
 Forced its livid pallor o'er her roseate cheeks, 
 Which marred awhile the lustre of their bloom. 
 But the rose ne'er drooped. The shock was but 
 A passing gust, which chilled awhile her warm 
 
 blood, 
 As she soon revived and glowed again in 
 All her fullness of sweet budding charms. 
 
 Then curiosity's incentive power 
 Entered her timid heart, and allured her 
 To a hillock's rocky crest hard by, to view, 
 If possible, the spot contentious where 
 Warring discord waved his flaming brand ; where 
 Freemen's hands fraternal were in kindred gore 
 Being imbrued. For she, long hidden from 
 The busy world in her elysian home. 
 Knew not what misfortune's cloud o'ershadowed 
 
50 DAISY SWAIN 
 
 Then lier sunny j)lain and leafy bowers, 
 Wherein some sixteen joyous springs she'd past, 
 Unknown to woes and cank'ring tortures keen. 
 
 Thence far across the Shenandoah plain. 
 Looming o'er its richly-cultured fields. 
 She saw the smoke of battle curhng rise 
 In clouds beneath the sun that fiery glared, 
 On her astonished sight, through a black'ning pall, 
 Which rose up from the scene of carnage. Wrapt 
 In amazement, she wondered at the sounds 
 The battle storm awoke, and why they roared 
 Unabated through the peaceful valley. 
 
 Ah ! she little dreamt that then the reign of 
 Peace and order in the North and South had been 
 Overthrown ; that 'twas the unhallowed work 
 Of bold, bad men, compelled to relinquish 
 Their high seats in senate halls ; and others 
 Who long nursed in hot-beds of human fraud 
 And folly, had nearly all their Hfe-long lives 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 51 
 
 Devoted their time and talents to grasp 
 The nation's spoils and tamper with its laws ; 
 That Columbia's realms, once free to all 
 Mankind in language, conscience, creed — domains 
 Extending from New Hampshire's snow-capped 
 
 cliffs, 
 As far as CaHfornia's golden shores, 
 "Wherein blest content, prosperity, and 
 Holiest liberty all fraternal dwelt, 
 Were then ruled by usurpation's edicts, 
 More galling to a people free than any 
 Arrogant ukase of a tyrant proud. 
 Who trembles night and day upon his throne. 
 
 At length the din of battle paused upon 
 
 Her ears. Twilight shadows round her gathered ; 
 
 And setting sun-beams faintly gleamed upon 
 
 A rolling cloud, whose ruffled crest, bright plumed 
 
 With crimson tints, passed o'er her. Thus 
 
 forewarned 
 Of night approaching the shadowy rock, 
 
52 
 
 On which she sat, up she quicMy rose, and 
 Down through the hillside's winding paths she ran 
 Towards the cot. 
 
 Scarce had she neared a glade. 
 Ere she heard, upon the evening wind, screams 
 Of woe. Bewildered quite, she quickly turned 
 Around and gazed about, above, below ; 
 Peeped through the murky glare of eve, but 
 
 nothing 
 Saw of hfe. Then she wondered whence the sound 
 Arose, and what it could have been : listen'd 
 Like a hare startled by game-dogs on the scent : 
 Still, all was silent round, save the rusthng 
 Of leaves, the barking of tree-toads, whimp'ring 
 Of bats, and the incessant buzz of insects. 
 Holding theu' nocturnal jubilees. 
 
 So, she fancied that the wail she heard was 
 Perhaps a catbu'd's woful mew, and hastened 
 On again along her woodland way. But ere 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHENAIS^DOAH. 53 
 
 Her nimble feet had measured paces few. 
 
 The groan again, more agonizing still, 
 
 Burst on her ears. Appalled at the sound, she 
 
 shrank, 
 Like the tendrils of a fragile flower 
 In a chill autumnal gust of wind, still. 
 Soon her doubting fears were gone ; as, she knew 
 Full well that such a sad lament could only 
 From a human soul distressed issue. 
 
 Then, soon. 
 
 Compassion moved her. Through a willow copse 
 
 She hied, slow pacing cautiously, and reached 
 
 The margin of the stream where lay half dead. 
 
 The wounded, soldier. Soon the tender fair one 
 
 Tremblingly bent o'er him and closely scann'd 
 
 Him with her pity-gleaming eyes. She saw 
 
 The Hght of Hfe still flickered in his heart ; 
 
 But wav'ring on the balance side of death 
 
 Whose shadow glimly danced upon his features, 
 
 Which in their livid aspect seemed to her 
 5* 
 
54 
 
 So beautiful, so mild. Then, with mute surprise, 
 She viewed his anguished mien, and wound all 
 
 bare : 
 And dropt in cleansing tears, the limpid chlorine 
 Of her soul, upon his bleeding scar. 
 A transitory smart he felt. He muttered 
 " Oh !" and casting up his glassy eyes, he saw, 
 Low bending o'er him, so grateful in the gloom, 
 And all compassionate, the maiden fair in 
 White robe meekly clad. 
 
 " O Heavenly Father ! 
 "What angel from thy throne of glory hath 
 Fled, to chant the sad requiem o'er my cold clay ?'* 
 He cried. " One whom a ruling Pro\idence 
 Hath hither sent, the friendless to befriend. 
 The helpless to save," she cried : saying which. 
 She brushed the matted locks back from his 
 
 brow. 
 Then, she from her side a napkin took. 
 Saturated o'er with dew, and with it laved 
 
THE FLOWEE OF SHENANDOAH. 55 
 
 His pallid brow ; his parched lips moistened ; 
 
 plucked 
 A plantain leaf whicli on the streamlet's margin 
 Grew, and with its cooling texture improvised 
 A bandage for his wound ; then tied it with 
 A ringlet of her auburn hair. 
 
 Meanwhile, 
 She made his prospects of recovery bright ; 
 Told him, that not far from thence safe, nestled 
 In a grove, he would within her father's cot 
 A refuge find. This cheering hope his soul 
 Elated. Forthwith his glad heart urged his hand 
 To be extended to the gentle maid. 
 She took it kindly in her own and raised, 
 With all the strength her fragile structure had. 
 Him from the blood-stained ground. Faltering, 
 He leaned his right arm on her shoulder. Halting 
 At alternate steps to breathe. Well she bore 
 The burden of his weight, without a murmur. 
 With maidenly resolution all the way 
 
56 DAISY SWAIN, 
 
 Thro' thicket paths, 'cross glades ; guided only 
 By the light which faintly glimmer'd from the cot. 
 
 Then, soon before its wicket gate they stood. 
 Quick the maiden pushed it open ; as quick 
 Upon its thongs elastic back it swung. 
 And grated harshly on the latch. The pointer 
 Barked and quickly scented the stranger ; while 
 The father to his feet started up, gTasped 
 His gun, and to the door ran just as she knocked. 
 The gentle tap he knew came from his daughter. 
 Quick the door flew back, creaking on its hinges, 
 Upon the threshold stood the anxious father, 
 "With extended arms to clasp his daughter ; 
 But back a pace he bounded, as his eyes 
 In started sockets stared upon his child. 
 All fagged, all faint, with the feeble soldier. 
 
 Soon the mute appeal of Athol's wound went 
 To the parents' hearts. Warm commiseration 
 Thawed from out their breasts the icy chill of fear. 
 
THE FLOWER OE SHEISTANDOAH. 57 
 
 * 
 
 As they soon placed him on a mattress near 
 Some hick'ry faggots blazing, a helpless. 
 But a welcome guest beneath their roof. 
 
 O'er 
 His prostrate form they hung in speechless trance, 
 And gazed in artless grief upon the gash 
 A bayonet's point had in his right arm 
 Punctured. Quickly, from the orifice of 
 The ugly scar, the mother cleansed with 
 "Water warm, the fetid pulse that flowed ; 
 Then, with a linen bandage, moisten'd o'er 
 With arnica, the wound she neatly bound 
 Within its styptic folds, and left it so ; 
 To nature's healing care and time for due 
 
 amendment. 
 This done, the daughter from her mother's 
 
 hand — 
 The one nearest her sympathetic heart — 
 Took a strength'ning draught ; a potent febrifuge 
 And charmed carminative it was, most 
 
58 
 
 DAISY SWAITf 
 
 Happily blended, and gave it to him 
 In do3es small, but oft. 
 
 In due time, it soothed 
 His fevered brain, allayed his burning thirst, 
 Stopped his stifled moans of anguish ; and caused 
 In the accelerated current of 
 His blood, health, that had in his faint nature 
 Dormant lain, to mount up to his bloodless cheeks, 
 And flush them with returning vigor's hue. 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHEl^ANDOAH. 59 
 
 Then the bland and soothing influence of 
 Sleep crept into his wakeful mind ; and deep 
 From the living world his thoughts immersed in 
 Her somniferous dews. 
 
 Thus, in soft composure 
 Wrapt, the parents, as they to their rest retired, 
 Prayed that Athol's future hardships might be 
 Few ; and bade their wilHng daughter keep 
 Her midnight vigil near his couch ; raise, 
 "When the fond task required, his wounded arm ; 
 To prop his drooping head upon the pillow ; 
 And wait upon her suffering friend as 
 For a loving brother's pains. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Mhoi tells the (^ottaget|8 the ^tot|vj of his Xsih — 
 1$\$ (Convalescence and his Love of Baisy. 
 
 At early dawn the wounded Federal, 
 
 Mucli improved in health and quite refreshed in 
 
 Spirits from his night's repose, awoke ; and glad 
 
 Was he to find himself so near kind friends. 
 
 Especially his frail rescuer, who 
 
 Then stooped o'er him, with helping hands and 
 
 raised 
 Him on his pallet soft. He knew no balsam 
 For his pains and aches more sanative than 
 The soothing office in which she was 
 Engaged, and thanked her for the kind attention 
 She had rendered. Daisy curtseyed low and 
 
 said : 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 61 
 
 That both her mother dear and father had 
 Taught her, long since, the divine injunction, 
 " To do good to others forget not ;" 
 And never, vrhen want and suffering implored 
 Her kind assistance, to withhold rehef. 
 
 As the impressive tones on Athol's ears 
 Fell from her lips, his head rechned, entranced 
 With dreamy thought, which Daisy soon observed : 
 But she knew not what was passing through his 
 
 mind, 
 Nor why hope's inward beam his countenance 
 
 brighten'd ; 
 For her gladsome gaze was too intently 
 Fixed upon his handsome face, admiring 
 The graceful contour of its features, which, 
 In his pride of youth, show'd her that scarce had 
 Twenty summers' blooms their roseate honors 
 
 shed 
 Upon his head. 
 
 6 
 
62 
 
 Then God's voice persuaded 
 Him to prayer ; and, in a benediction 
 Wliicli he gave, he prayed that Heav'n kind would 
 
 watch 
 The generous streams which flowed so purely 
 In their hearts, from being corrupted by 
 Misfortune's turgid dregs. 
 
 Meantime, all the folks 
 With Athol's modest mien enraptured felt ; 
 Yet wondered why a youth so devout of heart 
 Was in soldier's garb bedeck'd. But they soon 
 Dispelled the doubt which then their minds 
 
 engross'd ; 
 For they saw, m his ingenuous looks. 
 Bland and affable deportment, it was 
 Easy to address him on the subject 
 Of his life and ventures. So them he soon 
 Enlighten-d ; closely they gather'd round him, 
 And with mute attention drank his accents 
 As he spoke. 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 63 
 
 He first, with measured terms, 
 Denounced the poHtical fomenters of 
 The North and South : told how they had incited 
 The rebellion, and brought the country, then, to 
 
 such 
 A pass with their mad schemes for fame and pelf : 
 Related, from the day his patriot heart 
 First burned with martial fire to do battle 
 For his country, the warlike incidents of 
 His soldier life : told how high his feehngs 
 Ran, unbiass'd by sect or party, with love 
 Of duty to the cause of Union, right 
 Or wrong ; that, being one of the first aroused, 
 He joined a gallant legion of the North, 
 One thousand strong, all fine picked men, and 
 
 march'd 
 Unflinching to the strife, to overpower 
 The rebel chief's deluded myrmidons ; 
 To curb the proud, defiant spirit of 
 The would-be king, who, in his haughty pride, 
 Wish'd to sit enthroned amid his slaves ; but that 
 
64 
 
 The North had so far baffled his ambition : 
 That his Confed'racy was but parchment, 
 Which would, ere long, be all ablaze and scatter'd 
 To the four winds of earth in charred tinder : 
 And that the arch-traitor would himself, like 
 A rabid dog, be driven in a hole 
 Obscure, and kept there till remorse and grief 
 Devour'd him, for the murd'rous butcheries 
 He had caused, the widows and the orphans 
 He had made. 
 
 Athol, then, recounted o'er 
 What risks and dangers he had undergone ; 
 How oft they'd met the foe, and routed him 
 Through woods, down dales, 'cross floods, and 
 
 over 
 Kidges blue of Virginia ; till, elated 
 By so much success, they one day, while 
 Pushing their course on thro' the Shenandoah, 
 Were met by the enemy reinforced 
 With many battahons strong ; and in which 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHEIiTANDOAH. 65 
 
 Encounter, for the first time, the hot tide 
 
 Of battle turn'd against them : then described 
 
 How they stood the shock of kindred hosts, during 
 
 Full six hours its seething lava rolled 
 
 " Yet," he cried, " altho' the North-men brave fell 
 
 Fast and thi-ck around us, still we felt embolden'd 
 
 By our other deeds triumphant, that we'd gain 
 
 The fight ; but the unequal prowess 
 
 Of intrepid Jackson on our right, 
 
 Turned the fortunes of the day agamst us ; 
 
 And thousands now of our brave boys lie 
 
 Stiff and black upon that bloody field. 
 
 Terror-stricken, the remnant of our corps. 
 
 Then fled, pell-mell, m all directions ; 
 
 And I likewise, wounded as you see, took flight. 
 
 But, it seemed that I, alas ! was doomed to meet 
 
 A fate worse than that which I had then escaped : 
 
 To fall upon- the road and die, a prey 
 
 To craving hunger, thirst, and loss of blood. 
 
 But your noble daughter — God bless her — chanced 
 
 To hear my groans ; came where 1 dying lay , 
 6* 
 
66 DAISY SWAIK, 
 
 And, touched with pity at my hurts, my moans. 
 And aggravated feverish fits, minister'd, 
 With her cheering voice, sweet consolation 
 To me, just as I of hope was nigh bereft. 
 Then, all gentleness and patient meekness. 
 Here my guiding angel brought me. 
 
 Then as 
 Athol pantmg heavily, paused to gain his breath. 
 The daughter, in the meantime, thought it strange 
 He'd left his home, his friends and kindred, and 
 
 asked 
 Him, with tones persuasive, if his mother 
 Had not bade him stay at home to comfort her 
 Eather than to risk his life in battle. 
 
 " She did and said : ' Dear Athol, be not rash, 
 You*re too young yet to cope with stalwart men 
 Inured to camp life, whose trade it is to spill 
 Their fellow mortals' blood, when passions rife 
 Contending, bid them strike each other with 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 67 
 
 Vile implements of death. Why, then, do you, 
 Athol, so young and innocent, desire to swell 
 These hordes of harden'd men, perchance 
 To make your mother a childless parent, 
 For her with tears maternal to bewail 
 In aged widowhood, your dear loss, when 
 Here at home, you've health, rest, and ev'ry com- 
 fort.' " 
 
 Then, the emotions strong in Athol's heart, 
 
 Forced, from its clear springs, feeling tears to gush 
 
 Into his eyes. A nervous tremor shook 
 
 His frame. He back, exhausted, on his pallet fell. 
 
 Quite overcome, and wept in his despair. 
 
 That p'rhaps, he'd ne'er again, upon this earth, see 
 
 His fond parent more. 
 
 Touched at such a sight, 
 
 Tears warm and sympathetic glistened in 
 
 The old folks' eyes. His grief their daughter's 
 
 bosom 
 
 6* 
 
DAISY SWAIN, 
 
 "With compassion moved. Soon at his side, 
 His tender friend to pain stooped near him ; and, 
 With her sweet condoling breath, she whispered 
 In his ear, the sovereign balm of hope, to heal 
 His lacerated heart. He heard her voice, looked 
 Up, and saw the cherub bending o'er him. 
 Soon the cheering soul-hght of her eyes absorb'd 
 The grieving streams which coursed his anguish'd 
 cheeks, 
 
 m 
 
THE FLOWER OE SHENAITDOAH. 60 
 
 And lighten'd up his abject mind. From the 
 Earliest to the latest hour the dear fond girl 
 Her friend's kind wishes blest. He tasted in 
 The soothing draughts she gave, her mingled sweets 
 Of soul, and drank affection, full of hope, 
 In every drop that *suaged his pains. 
 
 So, as 
 Time roll'd on, Athol's frame evinced contempt 
 Of death ; and, ere a month elapsed, the tide of 
 Life, full high, in the crooked channels of his veins, 
 Return'd its purple flood. Restored at last, 
 He from his ailing couch arose, renewed 
 In lease of days and years, quite sound in health. 
 In spirits buoyant ; but with a sensation 
 In his heart unfelt ere he became thus 
 Convalescent. A sacred charm it was ; 
 Supremely divine ; so soul entrancing ; 
 But quite mysterious in its strange effects 
 Thro* all his being : but especially, 
 Did young Athol, when his benefactress 
 
70 
 
 Stood, so kind, so fair and pure before liim, 
 With lier brow serene as tlie effulgent moon 
 Beaming down thro' Heaven's blue dome, keenly 
 Feel, in his warm heart, that inward pleasure. 
 
 Was it the grateful services, which in 
 His hours of sickness, her gentle hand had 
 Render'd ? that which, day after day, he blest ? 
 The one, which from the cold damp ground, had 
 
 raised 
 His drooping head and bound with fingers fair 
 His wound? which smoothed his pillow? which 
 
 prescribed. 
 In that propitious hour, the remedy 
 Whose potent agency within his frame. 
 Made his soul feel loath to leave its feeble house 
 Of clay, that. caused the glow within his breast? 
 
 Was it her graceful form and beauty rare ? 
 Her dulcet voice that softly syllabled 
 Sweet Bible stories, and sang in accents 
 
THE FLOWEK OF SHENAIN^DOAH. 71 
 
 Toned divinely, choice psalmody, which had 
 In Athol's hours of fevered sleeplessness lull'd 
 His throbbing brain to rest ? or was it the power 
 Of Daisy's pity, that in Athol's heart, 
 Had softly struck the mute accord of 
 Sympathy divine ? 
 
 Such, in truth, it was ; 
 For the compassion of his cherubim had 
 In his heart enkindled the pure flame of 
 Love : for gratitude begets love ; and when both 
 Are happily in women's heart combined. 
 What panacea -so potent to remove 
 The anguish'd bosom's pain,, to raise the head 
 
 weigh'd 
 Down with cares, and solace give unto life's woes ? 
 
 Athol, then, the more he saw the maid, became 
 Enamored with her sprightly comeliness ; 
 With her spirit beneficent, and with 
 The beam celestial which sparkled brightly 
 
72 DAISY SWAI]^, 
 
 In the light blue eyes of Daisy : for he saw 
 
 The beam of truth in her heart illumed 
 
 Her cheeks with virtue's flame. In her presence 
 
 He would quite forget his past disaster. 
 
 And seldom thought that he had peril'd death 
 
 Upon the field of slaughter, so overjoyed 
 
 Was he, that he felt he could in seas of 
 
 Carnage wade, aye, a thousand dangers brave, 
 
 To pin so fair a jewel to his heart. 
 
 And keep the precious treasure there for life. 
 
 So, thus, while the maid in Athol's bosom 
 Was the only bhss ; the only vision that 
 Beguiled his mind ; the sole angel who came 
 To cheer him in death's dread hour : his treasure 
 Rarest that moved his bosom with the throb 
 Of fond affection. Daisy, herself, felt swayed 
 By some resistless influence in his soul. 
 'Twas the same power which she'd infused in his 
 
 heart. 
 That in her own rebounded, and there found 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHET^ANDOAH. 73 
 
 Its sweet abiding place ; strange affinity 
 That tied tlieir two souls with dearest amity : 
 For the more he amended, the more she droop'd. 
 Alternate gay and pensive were her looks. 
 Her languishing mien evinced her heart was 
 Fraught with love, which Athol saw and heard 
 
 breathe 
 In her tender sighs ; and knew her condolement 
 Was the purest emblem of a constant mind ; 
 That her modest sweetness showed her virgin 
 
 soul : 
 And that, although her tongue was then too coy 
 To breathe the tender vow, yet her silence 
 Was but the dumb rhetoric of her heart, 
 More eloquent of love than her sweet tones could 
 
 lisp. 
 His fond gaze likewise made her looks obey 
 Her passion's impulse, burning in her heart, 
 So fervently ; as it summoned the blush, 
 Which her chaste bosom wore, to carminate, 
 
 As like a peach's rind, her modest cheeks. 
 
 7 . 
 
74 DAISY SWAIj^. 
 
 'Twas thus that her affection for Athol 
 Her affliction became ; for, when he had 
 Recovered to that normal state which makes 
 Health laugh at death, she leaner grew, and 
 
 proved, 
 By her paUor and sigh spontaneous. 
 The hidden pow'r which he exerted o'er her. 
 To him, in short, a thousand nameless actions, 
 Spoke the evidence of a tender wound 
 In her breast. Thus did the dominant passion 
 That sways the world entire, enchain the hearts 
 Of both the rescued and the rescuer. 
 

 CHAP TEE V/ 
 
 One bright morn as the lovers near the cot 
 Breathed forth their vows, Athol, in his own, took 
 Daisy's hand, and pressed it tenderly ; drew 
 
76 DAISY SWAIN-, 
 
 Her to his breast and sigh'd within her ear 
 
 The ardent nature of his love. Pallid 
 
 Spread her rosy cheeks. She trembled, and 'gainst 
 
 Her restraint, hung down her head in silence. 
 
 Athol, whose heart was fuU, stood mute awhile. 
 
 He scarce knew what to say, and deeply sigh'd : 
 
 But dared at length his passion to reveal. 
 
 He told her that he much admired her from 
 
 The time her eyes first on him gazed, and that 
 
 He then adored her fondly, so much so, 
 
 A king his bliss might envy ; that, if she were 
 
 His own, a soldier's and a lover's soul 
 
 She'd crown ; that when his term of service ended, 
 
 He'd hail her as his future bride ; united, 
 
 Blest with her, in bitter winds of winter. 
 
 And in snow's incessant fall, in ev'ry 
 
 Vernal hour he'd with her live forever. 
 
 Her heart's true partner. 
 
 Now, what a shock was 
 That to one whose bosom was susceptible 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHENAIS^DOAH. 77 
 
 And tender; soon her head reclined all 
 
 Pensive, which betrayed that something undefined 
 
 Was working in her mind. Some affliction 
 
 That spoke her sadden'd thoughts, tho' mute her 
 
 voice. 
 In that still mood, she seem'd so like a bird 
 Allured, pent up in a cage with her captor 
 Near her, enamored, patiently gazing, 
 And awaiting its dulcet strains to hear. 
 As he then did the sanction of her smile. 
 So, in brief time, from his panting heart, she 
 Eaised her drooping head, and with her face 
 Upturned, threw her radiant eyes, bedimm'd with 
 
 tears. 
 Full on his own. 
 
 She told him that 'twere worse 
 Than death from him to part ; that a prey she'd 
 Be to separation's pain and sorrow ; 
 That none could comfort her but him ; then said : 
 
 " Alas ! when thou art gone, foul darkness will 
 
 17* 
 
78 
 
 Be seen wliere once tliy lightsome footstep shone." 
 Then she hinted fears that, he now being well, 
 Would forever leave her in affliction, 
 And bade him, strenuously, to stay with her. 
 Where peace and undivided love reposed. 
 
 But when Athol heard her fear-fraught words, he 
 Swore he'd never from his pUghted faith depart : 
 That sacred was his word : his mind too pure 
 And high : his heart too merciful and just ; 
 In short, an honorable youth he was. 
 And loath'd the very name of infamy : 
 That naught within the wide world could seduce 
 Him from her, from truth, nor rectitude. 
 Then he told her that, although he'd suffer'd 
 From an outward wound — a bloody gash, that 
 He then suffer'd from an inward pang, 
 A heart-bruise deep, which naught could heal save 
 
 but 
 Its kind : — " the tyrant god which thro' the world 
 
THE FLOWEE OF SHENANDOAH. 79 
 
 Roams free, and robs its victims of their peace 
 And liberty." 
 
 Then Daisy looking up 
 With aspect mild, all inexpressive grace. 
 Her countenance beaming with approving smiles, 
 Which showed that Athol had with tones un- 
 daunted 
 Sued her not in vain, gladly promised 
 To commit her hand forever to his trust. 
 Athol then upon the head of his betrothed 
 Called Heaven's blessings down, and sealed his faith 
 With kisses on her dimpling cheek ; gave her 
 From vest pocket, his own portrait color'd. 
 Which she kissed with ardOr sweet, and said; "ah! 
 Thy much-loved image, Athol, in my heart shall 
 Be enshrined, by friendship guarded until 
 Life is gone, as I feel assured thou hast 
 Indeed an upright heart, a fervent soul. 
 And temper gen'rous — ^jewels which fame nor 
 Gold can buy." 
 
80 DAISY SWAIN, 
 
 So, when the sullen clouds of doubt 
 Flit from her mind, hope's bright sunshine Daisy's 
 
 thoughts 
 Illumined and stamped its vignette bloom upon 
 Her cheeks. With unmixed ardor in her heart 
 She hailed the joyous day when hand in hand 
 Together she would with her Athol walk 
 On sunny paths, and rove in vernal meads. 
 Where birds and bees and flowers the hght obey, 
 And to their happy sights their silken plumes 
 Disclose. For, then, no frowning clouds she 
 
 thought 
 Were in the sky, ominous of fortune's wrath. 
 Would cause a tear of agony to start from 
 Out her gladsome bosom ; that no lightning 
 Would flash and 'strike the bHss from out their 
 
 barque 
 Of hope, while tossing to and fro on life's 
 Tempestuous billow. 
 
 'Twas then the noontide hour. 
 
THE FLOWER OF' SHENAITDOAH. 
 
 81 
 
 The fluid gold of light down from its throne 
 Of blue began to sickly gleam upon ' ^ 
 
 The mountain's slope, as Athol stood prepared 
 Upon the cottage steps to take his leave. 
 In tearful eyes, the old folks held him by 
 The hands ; and much regretted that they were, 
 So soon, deprived of their companion — 
 
82 
 
 Their dear daughter's choice, — and welcomed him 
 
 again, 
 If saved while warring with his brethren 'gainst 
 Traitors armed in his own country of birth. 
 Told him, too, that if he'd fall defending 
 His dear native land, they'd bless his name ; but 
 Hoped that God would spare him. 
 
 Then Daisy flung 
 Her arms around his neck, and cHnging to him 
 Prayed, as on he moved to go, that for the love 
 Of God and her he'd soon again return. 
 But, while Athol on the door-step stood wiping 
 From his humid eyes, the parting tear, he saw 
 The sunbeam from the casement faded fast. 
 And heard afar deep-noised rumbling thunder ; 
 Saw the distant light grow faint and sombre ; 
 And, hov'ring in the west, that thick, dark clouds 
 Announced a hostile sky ; that a storm was 
 Gathering. Still his ardor was undaunted : 
 He cared not for the thunder's angry voice, 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHENA^'DOAII. 8 
 
 But wish'd to hasten thither on his journey. 
 To report at Washington for duty. 
 
 But just as he pronounced the farewell word 
 " Adieu," unusual darkness o'er the face 
 Of nature spread. A vivid flash lit up 
 The gloom. On through the immeasurable void 
 
84 
 
 Of air, the war of elements roared and made 
 The welkin ring tremendously. — A flash — 
 A rattle, — down burst clouds of drenching rain. — 
 Fiercely howled the wind among the trees ; they 
 
 groan'd — 
 Strained heavily and rustled off their leafy pride : 
 But a gust still more powerful wrenched from 
 Its roots an aged oak which grew hard by. 
 The crash, the old man startled to his feet. 
 Quickly he ran to the window to see 
 The damage done, when in a glaring sheet 
 Of vivid hghtning which just then illumed 
 The dark profound, his quick eye saw, along 
 The hillside, a troop of mounted horsemen 
 All drenched unto the skin, slowly wending 
 Their way onward to'ards the cot. , 
 
 Foremost in 
 The van, a stately creature tower'd, bedecked 
 Full proud in coat of grey all button'd up 
 But somewhat faded ; for, its nap appeared 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHEI^-Al^DOAH. 87 
 
 As if it had seen many dreary seasons. 
 
 Armed he was from the saddle to his teeth 
 
 With revolvers three, a sabre, carbine, 
 
 And a dirk, showing what a monster of 
 
 "War and human blood was he ; and the eye 
 
 That fiercely rolled beneath the knitted brow 
 
 Of this rough type of man, plainly showed 
 
 He was both bloody and remorseless 
 
 At his trade. His nag, likewise, looked mean, 
 
 spare. 
 Not half fed ; and its hide and harness was 
 With mud and grease and lather much befouled. 
 
 Soon at the cottage door the guerilla 
 Pranced his jaded steed, and deigned to knock. 
 
 The noise 
 Of such a rap unusual startled all 
 The inmates to their feet at once. Quickly 
 The daughter to the door hastened, and with 
 A curt'sy low and smile serene, welcomed 
 From the fitful wind and rain, the stranger. 
 
The inmates all, save Atliol, looked amazed 
 Upon his gaudy form, from the knee-top boots 
 He wore, to his slouch hat by tassel girt. 
 Then soon, kind Beuben's hberal hand took 
 By the reins, the fellow's neighing palfrey, 
 And tied it to a hickory post close by. 
 As kindly, the matron spread before him 
 A meal, of which he heartily ate, eyeing, 
 In the meanwhile, the federal youth disguised, 
 Whom he pierced, as 'twere intuitively. 
 
 So, when the chief his appetite appeased. 
 He hit upon a theme to drag to hght 
 The truth he thought in Athol lay concealed. 
 "Kind friends of peace," he said, "I humbly thank 
 Tou. May your happy hves, unsullied 
 Flow down the stream of time, free from care and 
 
 pain. 
 May good health your daily walks attend. 
 And cheerfulness sit smihng on your brows." 
 At this, all but Athol him their thanks retum'd. 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 89 
 
 " Think not, my friends," lie said, " that I speak 
 
 In this vein to curry favor. No, I'm 
 
 Quite averse to flatt'ry, yet ne'er displease ; 
 
 And have a soul too dignified to kneel 
 
 And servile bend for selfish motives. These 
 
 My unobtrusive nature never has ; 
 
 For, truth I admire undisguised, and scorn 
 
 Concealment." (Fixing his eyes on Athol.) 
 
 " Honest ambition is my only pride, 
 
 Which I hope to mark along with other 
 
 VaHant heroes, firm, proud, and defiant. 
 
 Who've joined the cause of right 'gainst usurp'd 
 
 might. 
 Contesting every inch of Southern soil 
 Against the pilf'ring Yankees : those minions 
 Of that perjured hypocrite who now sits 
 Upon his abohtion throne, awing 
 The vulgar North to his way of thought, while. 
 We of the South brand him with contempt and 
 
 hate. 
 
 And spurn his mean authority. Tisn't 
 
 7* 
 
00 DAISY SWAIN, 
 
 The nature of the Southern heart to crouch 
 Before a tyrant. What ! the pride and valor 
 Of the chivaky cringe to an uncouth 
 Abohtionist. What humihation ! 
 All of us would rather see the fruitful South 
 One vast wilderness. Aye, e'en suffer death. 
 Extermination first, before we'd stoop 
 To his yoke. Ko, the people South are bound 
 As one huge bulwark of strength to defend 
 Themselves to the last man against his sway ; 
 Till freedom's banner, the stars and bars, shall 
 Wave triumphantly o'er every State in 
 The Confed'racy." 
 
 Then Athol to his feet 
 Arose and cast upon the rebel braggart 
 A contemptuous sneer, and said with warmth : 
 
 "Sir, 
 The honor'd President elect whom you've 
 Deprecated vilely, is one of 
 The greatest men of modem times. Fate, once in 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHEJS'ANDOAH. 91 
 
 A thousand years, scarce gives us such a man. 
 
 The mental calibre that he's got 
 
 Rarely springs from out the dross of earth, to show 
 
 The world Heaven's model of a statesman. 
 
 With such a giant intellect possess'd. 
 
 He'd rise in any sphere of hfe and shine ; 
 
 As the aids which humbler minds require he 
 
 scorns. 
 Being a ripe scholar, a sage, and wit, but 
 No pedant ; no display he makes of what 
 His mind contains. He's too retiring, meek, 
 Timid, and, I may say, bashful, to parade 
 His learning. Such modesty feeble minds 
 May despise ; but it shows his profound sense, 
 And proves he has a cultivated mind. 
 Nor pomp of speech has he, the ignorant 
 To dazzle, the weak dismay : his words are 
 In the simplest garb arrayed, and full of 
 Thoughts pregnant with truth and wisdom. 
 Yet, sometimes, I'll admit, that when he feels 
 In playful humor and an auspicious chance 
 
92 
 
 Prompts its display, he'll tell a good joke ; 
 But, otherwise, he's a man of feeling ; 
 His heart is full of pity for his kind ; 
 So tender at times that his sympathies 
 Towards the human race are so great, they cause 
 His bosom pain ; and what you call tyranny. 
 Is nothing more than his firmness with which 
 He guides the Senate and rules the States. In 
 
 short," 
 Continued Athol, " his name is cherished 
 In ev*ry loyal heart, who, at his voice 
 Commanding them, pour out their blood and 
 
 treasure 
 In streams abundant, with which triumphant yet 
 He'd crush the lawless spirits now rampant 
 In the trait'rous South ; and I, as one, have. 
 At the just call of his great mind, resigned 
 Both health and ease, and will lay down my life 
 Itself an hostage on the bloody field. 
 To disenthrall the enslaved, and liberate 
 The free from the fangs of your cruel chief. 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 93 
 
 Who, both white and black, now holds in 
 
 bondage. 
 Ruling and ruining them remorselessly." 
 
 Indignant wrath then burned in Athol's blood. 
 He dared, scoffingly, his manly spirit 
 To unfold, and, unrestrained, continued : 
 " But we'll yet lower the lofty pride of 
 That pusillanimous puke, and drive him 
 To the verge of hell, where fiery dragons 
 Him will sting to death, ere his guilty soul 
 Falls in the flames, to writhe in tortures there 
 Forever with the damn'd, for urging, with 
 His barb'rous will, millions to fell slaughter." 
 
 This roiled the rebel's temper. He, angry. 
 Made with his clench'd fist a thrust at Athol, 
 Who dext'rously warded off the blow ; 
 Then to the door ran, with mouth all foaming 
 With rage, and shouted to his armed band, 
 "Foes— 
 
94 DAISY SWAIN, 
 
 Enemy — hither hasten — quick." Soon they 
 The house surrounded, hooted, halloo'd, rushed 
 Through the door, and hke hungry tigers, pounc'd 
 Quite furious on their prey. 
 
 Then all within 
 The cot was dire confusion. Bitterly 
 The mother and the daughter wailed. Morose, 
 The guerilla chief jerked the old man up 
 Off his knees, and " villain, traitor," term'd him. 
 While with abject mien and supplication low, 
 Reuben tried to melt the chieftain's caUous heart, 
 And bade him listen ere he claim'd him : raised 
 His eyes up heav'nward, and told him he was 
 Innocent : implored his freedom to restore. 
 While, meantime, Daisy wrung her hands with 
 
 anguish : 
 In mercy lifted up her voice on high : 
 Bent her knees, and murmuring, bade him spare 
 Her father's hoary head : to be merciful 
 And just for the sake of her dear mother, 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHENAI^DOAH. 
 
 95 
 
 Stricken down witli age, wlio, if of her spouse 
 Bereft, wouldn't L".ve to see the morrow's Hght, 
 As God would call her from life's checquered 
 
 scenes. 
 " Thou hast the power to wound or heal, to bHght 
 Or bless :" but all was dead and still about 
 The chieftain's heart — too callous and to all 
 The finer feelings cold. Nor even could 
 
96 DAISY SWAIN. 
 
 The nervous tremor of her hands, that clasp'd 
 His knees, vibrate soft pity to his heart. 
 Nor her sighs, nor tears, nor accents tender. 
 Nor e'en the melting sweetness of her eyes. 
 Nor their fascinating gaze, from which the heart 
 Of one less hard would sure destruction found. 
 All her pleadings were, alas ! in vain ; as 
 The bold ruffians, in the remnant of the storm. 
 Quickly bore their captives from the vale, and 
 
 thrust 
 Them in a loathsome dungeon South. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ^he Affliction of Baistj— ^ho Boath of both hejj 
 ;^at|ent$. 
 
 Down beside her senseless mother Daisy 
 
 Knelt, and loudly called to Heaven for justice ; 
 
 Pour'd forth in fervent pray'r that mercy yet 
 
 Divine might smooth the captives' way — vain hope. 
 9 
 
98 DAISY SWAIN, 
 
 Bitterly, all that long and dreary night, 
 
 She wept her father's and her lover's hapless fates ; 
 
 And when the next day serenely dawn'd, 
 
 It brought unto her mind no smiling light, 
 
 For, joyless all the hve-long day, she thought 
 
 Of them o'erwhelm'd by tyranny : 
 
 Knelt, with her heart o'ercharged with woe, and 
 
 pray'd 
 The right'ous soon would triumph o'er and sink. 
 To fathomless depths, their stern oppressors down ; 
 Hop'd that they'd by divine vengeance be pursued ; 
 That the wrath of Heaven v/ould upon them 
 Hurl its thunderbolts and doom their overthrow ; 
 "Wish'd her aged father would again be 
 Free as the rolling cloud, enjoying once more 
 The blessings of hberty ; and that the wind 
 From heaven, unconfined, would soon play round 
 Her lover's brow, to dare again the foe. 
 Till vict'ry crown'd his arms, and conquest, with 
 Eenown, his freedom brought. For she knew her 
 Athol's noble heart was far too valiant 
 
THE FLOWEE OF SHEl^ANDOAH. 99 
 
 To shrink from treason-tainted foes ; aye scorn'd 
 At danger ; could hear taunts and wear his chains 
 In fetter'd reahns like a Christian martyr. 
 
 But such hopes her mother's mind rehef denied : 
 Soon reason fled her fever'd brain ; for when 
 By her injurious foes borne down, faint she 
 Lay outstretched, pale nigh breathless, upon 
 A bed of anguish. 
 
 Many nights Daisy 
 Watch'd with ghstening eye around her couch ; 
 And heard, in her mother's stifling moans, death, 
 In fullness of glee, with bony hands twang'd 
 At her heart-strings, the solemn tones which tell 
 Where the broken in spirit shall go. Yes, 
 The tale is told : hopeless of recovery 
 Was her state ; for soon her weakened lungs closed 
 Their spongy cells against the air of life. 
 A sigh, a gasp, a rattle in her throat : 
 Her fitful struggles ceased, and all was still. 
 
100 DAISY swahs-, 
 
 Her spirit fled its earthly confinement, 
 And soared far beyond life's narrow bounds. 
 
 If ever innocence knew distress 'twas when 
 Daisy, bending o'er her dying parent, 
 Heard her last breath, and felt her heart was reft 
 Of life's warm beat. In her deep despair she 
 Trembling knelt beside her deceased mother ; 
 And from her weeping eyes she pour'd upon 
 Her cold remains many fond, fihal tears. 
 Then she raised her sorrowing head on high, 
 And cried aloud : " To thee. Great God above, let 
 My imploring voice ascend. O Lord of 
 Mercy ! hear my prayer. Thou hast the power 
 To raise or quell the storm. The strugghng worm 
 Thou canst protect. Then, O Lord of Hosts! 
 
 deign 
 To dispel the black'ning gloom which now 
 
 o'ershades 
 The future of a helpless orphan just 
 Deprived of fond maternal care. Her voice 
 
THE FLOWEE OF SHENANDOAH. 101 
 
 That once impressed celestial precepts on 
 
 My heart, is hush'd in death. Nor does my father 
 
 Hear his suppliant child beseeching Thy 
 
 Benign protection : for, far from me, alas ! 
 
 He has been cruelly torn, and futile have, 
 
 I fear, his claims for mercy been ; unfelt 
 
 On apathetic hearts his pleading soft : 
 
 Still hearing naught but insults vile, has sank 
 
 Beneath oppression's weight ; and p'rhaps his 
 
 soul 
 Has from its earthly cell been disencumbered. 
 And upward wing'd its way to heaven for peace, 
 Leaving me an orphan here forlorn, the sole 
 Survivor of the wreck." 
 
 Too true, alas ! 
 
 Was her prediction : for, unhappily, 
 
 In mouldy dungeon vilely smear'd with 
 
 Damps infectious, her father, hopeless, sleepless. 
 
 Many midnight hours, quickly pined beneath 
 
 His darksome prison roof ; and while he droop'd 
 9* 
 
102 
 
 DAISY SWAIN^, 
 
 And lonely breath'd, despairing of each daylight's 
 
 dawn, 
 He thought that safe, secure, tho' far away. 
 All whom he loved remained in sunshine bright. 
 
 He saw his white-washed cot, and the tall trees 
 Which rose above it proudly, tinted with 
 The beam. Heard the gurgling brook meandering 
 
THE FLOWEE OF SHENAI^DOAH. 103 
 
 Past ; and fancied, in its twirling eddies, 
 That lie saw the trout disport : his daughter, 
 Too, quite fair ; serene as mild mid-noon in 
 Mayday, sitting on its green bank twining 
 A wreath of flow'rets gay with which to crown 
 Her lover's honored brow, in token of 
 The laurel he might wear. 
 
 But yet, he knew. 
 The Fed'ral then with circhng arms did not 
 Her slender bosom twine, as, like himself, he pined 
 In dungeon deep, in sad captivity. 
 Inly mourning the loss of her whom his soul 
 Loved best on earth. 
 
 Then forebodings sad soon 
 Banish'd from his mind the remember'd joys 
 That thronged upon his soul. He feared and wept 
 To think that both his wife and child suffered : 
 Yet still at intervals he felt consolement 
 In the thought that they unshared his woes. 
 Hoped 
 
104 
 
 DAISY SWAITT, 
 
 And prayed tliat no dire ills hung o'er their heads, 
 And that his wife and lovely daughter solely 
 Mourn'd his loss of fondness. This 'twas that 
 
 cheer'd 
 Him ; for a degree of bliss he felt in 
 His heart that he might see them soon again. 
 'Twas but a mock'ry of joy, as forced was 
 The glow ; ghastly the smUe ; his haggard cheeks 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 
 
 105 
 
 And hollow eyes that hope destroyed. For, fast 
 He sank : and, on the self-same night his wife's 
 Christian spirit fled into eternity, 
 Death freed Eeuben from his clanking chains. 
 
CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 ^he if unet|al of !t£)ai$\}'$ iiotheti — $he ^ttiange "^isitoji. 
 
 The decease of Daisy's mother caused among 
 
 The neighbors of the vale a hoHday 
 
 Of grief. Promptly, the solemn call of death 
 
 Brought them to the cot where they found Daisy, 
 
 With a heavy load in her once lightsome heart, 
 
 Sadly bending her lithe form gently o'er 
 
 The unconscious relic of her parent. 
 
 As she her drooping head raised up to greet 
 Them, they saw how changed was the gay flower. 
 How withered in its charms ; how doleful, too, 
 Was her low voice that once rang through the 
 
 meads 
 As cheer'ly as the morning bird's : whilst she. 
 With tearful eyes, the tale to them rehearsed 
 
THE FLO WEE OF SHENANDOAH. 107 
 
 How of father, mother, lover, robbed by 
 A band of ruthless foes, who scorned to Hsten 
 To her voice that sued for mercy, but mock'd 
 Her heart so rent and sorely vexed with their 
 Injustice. 
 
 Some with their indignant tongues 
 Branded them with the foul names of scoundrel, 
 Churls, and tyrants cruel ; whilst others 'mong 
 The band of mourners who had their feehngs 
 Touched, unrestrainedly, their sister streams 
 Of pity commingled with those of Daisy. 
 
 Then, as with one voice, they all together 
 Offered her sweet friendship's balm to solace 
 The repining sorrow that preyed upon 
 Her heart. 
 
 She sigh'd and thank'd them as they all 
 Around her mother's bier in solemn pray'r 
 Familiar knelt : and when the funeral rite, 
 
108 DAISY SWAIN, 
 
 Impromptued from the lips of a rough peasant. 
 Was ended, silently and slow the corpse 
 Was borne along a wild landscape and laid, 
 Down in its narrow bed, dug in a mound 
 Which nature made. 
 
 There, at her mother's shrine, 
 'Neath a cypress, whose sombre branches waved 
 With sympathetic sorrow o'er the rude slab. 
 Which mark'd her earthly resting place, Daisy, 
 In the evening starhght, many a silent hour 
 Would sit and watch the clouds of autumn roll, 
 And teU to the passing winds in broken sighs. 
 The death of father, mother, and the loss 
 Of love and friendship, that undiminished 
 Yet burn'd in her lamp of hope, fed by the beam 
 Of faith and truth's undoubted ray. 
 
 Yet, at times, 
 She feared her own death would, ere long, com- 
 plete 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHEKANDOAH. 109 
 
 The scene ; for, in her breast she felt a cipher 
 Writ that soon her earthly form she'd yield up 
 To the God of nature, to undergo 
 Creation's change : as the bhghting grief 
 In her heart she felt, was too deep for the rose 
 On her cheek to re-blossom more. 
 
 "But why 
 
 Eegret," she said, " Heaven may yet send me 
 
 A cup of sweet relief, consecrated 
 
 By faith, to guide my inexperienced youth 
 
 Thro' Hfe's thorny ways. Does not the author 
 
 Of life and death dispense with righteous hands 
 
 To his poor creatures, bliss or pain, as best 
 
 Befits them ? Surely, then, I should my lot 
 
 Endure without repining : for metals 
 
 Are with red heat refined and freed from dross. 
 
 In affliction's burning furnace our souls 
 
 Are purified ; and if we can resist 
 
 Temptations, which are but the devil's tricks 
 
 To wean us from the Lord, why, surely, futile 
 10 
 
110 DAISY SWAITf, 
 
 Then must be ev'ry allming gnise 
 The tempter wears to snare us from the path 
 Of virtue, and blot out the good resolves 
 That love for the All-powerful once hath 
 Fixed within the heart. 
 
 In her breast these truths 
 She recorded, then from her pale hands raised 
 Her head and wander'd to the blest retreat, 
 The chosen spot of love ; for Athol's nature 
 At her heart-strings yet unalt'rable play'd. 
 
 " Ah ! here alas ! how often have our hearts 
 With mutual endearment entwined, our hands 
 United fondly. O hapless object 
 Now of my distress, thou art, perchance, long 
 Since number'd with the good. Aye, mute thy 
 
 tongue 
 That softly sung of love. Yet, p'rhaps, thou Hv'st in 
 Prison languishing, but wearing out thy chains 
 "With hope and fortitude. Ah ! Athol dear, 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHEISTANDOAH. Ill 
 
 Tho' mountains and wide-spreading plains divide 
 Us, still I boast a priv'lege, a dear one : 
 Fancy wafts me to thy arms. Yet, oh ! if thou 
 Wert here, how much lighter would my burdens be.'' 
 Such were the thoughts sad Daisy spoke, while 
 
 gazing 
 O'er the fair scenes of soft dehght, where 
 At the sequester'd spot she Hnger'd till 
 The evening's breeze in fitful gusts began 
 To moan among the leaves, and mountain clouds 
 Around the place a dusky shade diffused. 
 Thus night being close at hand, dispelled from 
 Her mind the train of placid thoughts and warn'd 
 Her hence. 
 
 Soon upon the breeze she heard the tramp 
 Of horse — affright'd ran — ^reach'd the cot — turn'd 
 
 round. 
 And saw a shadowy form hard by, hovering 
 Near. Quick the door she shut ; but soon a rap 
 Vibrated on her startled ear. Trembling, 
 
112 DAISY SWAIIS-, 
 
 She thro' the window gazed alarmed, and thought 
 She saw the chieftain returned back to burn 
 The cot, as twihght shadows veil'd the man. 
 And made his garb appear hke gray. 
 
 Now listen 
 To her mind by prudence temper'd, her caution 
 Spoke with earnest warmth. " Who in evening's 
 
 mantle 
 Sombre wrapt comes here ?" " A friend," was the 
 
 response. 
 " A friend, forsooth ! at such an hour I Perchance 
 A foe, as none but the intrusive would 
 Invade a lonely maiden's sanctuary : 
 None but the designing prowl about in 
 Gloomy shades of night, dark deeds to do. 
 In order that their evil work may the 
 Mortal eye elude, and you seemed fashioned 
 For no good intent." 
 
 " Call not suspicion 
 To your mind, lone maid ; I'm not on mischief 
 
THE FLOWEE OF SHENANDOAH. 
 
 113 
 
 Bound. Heaven is my witness. My mission 
 Is a holy one, and needs precaution. 
 To guard against impending ills I must 
 Shun the cheerful beam of day, and wander 
 Only when the night shrouds the world in gloom. 
 The letter which I carry in my vest 
 
 '^^V^-^ -^ 
 
 ^^'^-v.;:. 
 
114 
 
 Declares the object of my visit, and will, 
 
 Pm sure, remove your doubts : it's from Athol." 
 
 When she heard the gentle name of Athol, 
 She felt conscious that the stranger's ends were 
 Right ; and without further parley bade him 
 Enter. Then he proffer'd her the letter. 
 Which she gladly took, and turn'd it round and 
 
 round. 
 Her bosom heaved convulsed with deep emotion. 
 The sudden chiU of fear quit her blood, 
 And stay'd the with'ring grief that blanch'd her 
 
 cheeks 
 With paly dye, and sooth'd her thorny pains. 
 
 Then while Daisy, in the dim twilight, cast 
 A joyous look upon its superscription, 
 The stranger saw how beauteous was the maid. 
 How serenely fair in ev'ry feature. 
 Then, with the light of new-born hope, she from 
 The folded letter raised her languid eyes. 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHEl^TAl^DOAH. 115 
 
 And said : " Tho' the lines seem to have been 
 
 penn'd 
 By a trembling hand, yet I can trace in 
 Them the ornate style of dear Athol ; and may 
 Fate charter freedom's blessings to the brave 
 Who brought them. May ev'ry adversity 
 Give him renew'd courage, till his name shall 
 Be upon the rolls of fame enshrined, and 
 Honors, like his days, brighten full of years." 
 The stranger bow'd his grateful thanks. 
 
 " How was 
 Dear Athol when you saw him last," she said. 
 " In health and hope quite buoyant ; for, to me, 
 His confidant, he often speaks of you 
 As being far above all mortal stars 
 That shine. My praises, too, with his can now 
 Be joined." Concluding which, Daisy look'd 
 
 straight 
 At the stranger, and caught the quick glance of 
 His eye, but in it saw he was sincere : 
 
116 DAISY SWAIN, 
 
 Then, gently curtseyed at tlie flatt'ring words 
 Which he had spoken. 
 
 "Most loth am I, fair maid, 
 To bid you now farewell ; but the pale star 
 Of eve shoots down its lustre, and ghame might 
 Tinge your cheeks if here I tarried longer." 
 " O, sir," she said, " my tongue hath not power 
 Of words to tell the emotions that now 
 I feel : But give Athol this token of 
 My love, and murmur in his ear these vows 
 Of mine : Tell him that, ' so long as time shall 
 Last, his image wiU remain and still be 
 Cherish'd at my faithful heart, and that, Hke 
 The stream near which he's now encamp'd, my 
 
 love 
 For him is deep and pure.' " 
 
 Delighted with 
 The kindly, task enjoined, the courier 
 Promised faithfully her commands he would 
 
THE FLOWEE OF SHENANDOAH. 117 
 
 Obey. Then botli their hands in friendship's grasp 
 Were soon combined. 
 
 Hastily forth he salhed, 
 And nimbly mounted on his roan steed, 
 Which restlessly on the emerald sward paw'd 
 The deep green grass. " Adieu," he said. " Good 
 
 bye" 
 " And may kind Providence guard you safely 
 On your way," was her response. Then quickly, 
 The horseman and his charger, to her sight 
 Were lost, in the gloom of night enshrouded deeply. 
 
CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 J^thol's Letter! to !t?)ai$y — $he (§uit$ hej| Iti^lace of 
 
 Bitjth — ;i^et| $ear|ch ot J^thol — !^et| !ti)e$paij| — 
 
 ^he Loijal !t?ea$ant$ — ^he ^uei|iUa$ — 
 
 ^he Bujjning l$ni — B$ "J^ietims. 
 
 In the calm silence of that evening hour, 
 As Daisy sat musing o'er the joyful news 
 Which Athol's letter might contain ; the moon, 
 Hastening from her eastern bowers, full flushed 
 Arose and brightly shone o'er all the vale ; 
 Glanced radiantly a trembling ray of light 
 Upon the cottage window. 
 
 A welcome boon 
 Was the refulgent beam to Daisy : 
 For, soon with cheeks by joy's warm glow suffused, 
 She fondly pressed the letter to her lips. 
 And, then, by love's pure torch read these words : 
 
THE FLOWEE OF SHENAJ^DOAH. 119 
 
 " In the field, near Philomont, Virginia, 
 
 "August 23, 18G2. 
 " Deae Daisy : — 
 
 " Although tyrant rapine hath 
 Keffc me from thee, nor time, nor distance, nor 
 The hard severities which fate compels 
 Me to endure, hath blurr'd the impressions 
 Which thy dear love hath made upon my heart. 
 For when my mind on thy fond image dwells. 
 Cheerfully I bear my aches and pains and 
 Meet the dull monotonies of camp Ufe. 
 Amidst all the hardships incident 
 To a soldier, and my perils on the field, 
 The heart-melting ecstasy still burns 
 In my breast, that I shall soon again see 
 Her whom my fond heart passionately adores. 
 Be then thyself thus warm with hope : for, in 
 Grief or absence. Heaven's just hand weighs well 
 The lot of human life. Neglect no means 
 Which may be best to mitigate your pains ; 
 And when this inhuman conflict's o'er 
 
120 DAISY SWAIN, 
 
 And the last battle shall have been fought and 
 
 won, 
 And death thro' ev'ry danger hath my life 
 Preserved, the black'ning clouds which now veil 
 
 our 
 Hopes will have cleared away and then we'll bask. 
 Unrestrained, in the sunshine of love, till 
 Death puts an end to all our earthly joys. 
 
 " But God alone knows when the feast of car- 
 nage 
 Will be o'er, as the giant North, firm in 
 Her strength and lavish with abundant means. 
 Still pours forth, in myriads strong, new heirs 
 To gloiy. Therefore, blood must yet be bought 
 With blood ; for' unavailing thus far hath 
 Proved the threats of laws and force of aims 
 To quell the civil hate and strife. Euin 
 Yet rolls its sweeping tide of misery along 
 Virginia's blood-stained fields, where, mingling 
 Their lamentations with the woundcds' groans. 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 121 
 
 Houseless are many old and young, besides 
 How much of woe unseen, how much untold. 
 
 " Even while I pen these lines, the news hath 
 Reached me that the self-same subtle fiend who 
 Has been the cause of all your wrongs, now ' 
 Leads a ruffian guerilla gang through 
 The gorges of the Blue Ridge, to forage 
 In the plains of ill-fated Maryland ; 
 To steal horses, pasturing herds, and gi'ain, 
 From the husbandmen : and p'rhaps, as they 
 
 through 
 The Shenandoah pass, the marauders 
 Will pillage, bui-n, and make your rich valley 
 One devastated waste. But rest assur'd 
 That all their agencies of hell will not 
 Our vigilance oppose. We now sleep upon 
 Our arms, ready at a moment's warning 
 To rise combined as one to check their course. 
 
 " But if the lurking rebel should evade 
 
 Our watchfulness, in friendly guise he may 
 11 
 
123 DAISY SWAIl^, 
 
 In all his pompous pride come to the cot 
 Again, and evermore darken the light 
 That beams in thine eyes so blue. Consequently, 
 Forego no merit of good intent. 
 But rather seek safety in flight : as 'tis 
 Always best to fly when arm'd dangers threaten 
 Unarm'd innocence. Therefore, be on your guard : 
 The rest I'll leave to your own sagacious heart. 
 
 " Athol." 
 
 " May bhss from heav'n around thee dwell. To 
 see 
 Thee soon, dear Athol, I'll try. Aye, even 
 Before the glowing sun to-morrow doth 
 Shine in the meridian, I will be on 
 My lonesome way. Then quick, O smiHng morn 
 Awake, that I may go in search of him who'll 
 Find my heart as firm, as pure and holy 
 As his own. But if I should find him not — " 
 Here awhile she paused — then said : " Why 
 then I'U 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHET^ANDOAH. 123 
 
 Weep him dead." Just tlien a fleeting cloud roll'd 
 Athwart the moon, and wrapt both her and earth 
 In the opake shroud of night. 
 
 Then sleep, with 
 Her bland Morphean folds, her hearvj eyes soon 
 Sealed in soft repose, where, deep in dreamland's 
 Magic bowers, she lay unconscious but a spell, 
 
124 DAISY SWAIN. 
 
 For broken was her rest, which made the night 
 So long and irksome seem, that soon she from 
 Her restless couch arose, hsten'd, but heard 
 No sound save the sigh of the low breeze. 
 Then casting up an anxious eye toward 
 The orb-bespangled crown of night, she saw 
 The paly lustre of the morning star 
 Faded languidly before the gleam of 
 Breaking day, which, afar upon the peaks 
 Of the high distant hills, shone trembhngly. 
 
 Then in her satchel dainties few she pacFd 
 For hfe's support, and cheering succour by 
 The way, where'er she'd shape her course, o'er hiii, 
 Thro' grove, down dale. But yet, at first, too weak 
 Her resolution seem'd to quit her place 
 Of birth, and where her parent lay 
 In rude grave : for alone to leave the grave 
 Neglected, would evince no longer love 
 Nor filial duty. Thus was her mind sway'd 
 By the fond pow'r of attachment. 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 125 
 
 At length 
 Reason came to her aid. Loose purpose might 
 Lead to hfe's disgrace, and to linger there 
 Was to be undone. She shudder'd at the thought, 
 And said, she'd put her trust in Him who grants 
 Or takes away ; would go wherever fate 
 Or fortune her might waft ; and then, with fixed 
 Eesolve, forth in the noontide beam she went 
 Where her dear mother's dust reposed, and there 
 
 pluck' d 
 Off the grave a reed that trembling grew : 
 Then turn'd her fair face to'ards her childhood's 
 
 home 
 She loved, and casting one last look upon 
 Her mother's blest abode, she, weeping, dash'd . 
 Into a wood. 
 
 There her startled eyes peer'd 
 
 Bound and round. Thick incumbent shadows 
 
 scowl'd 
 
 About her. Ev'ry now and then she fear'd 
 11* 
 
126 
 
 DAISY SWAIN 
 
 Some beast of prey would pounce upon and eat 
 Her. But on she rov'd o'er plains and forded 
 Unknown floods. Her bed sear'd leaves of 
 
 autumn ; 
 Her piUow some bleak rock. Nor fear then 
 
 blanch'd 
 Her care-worn cheeks ; for the first tremor long 
 Since vanish'd from her breast. Fortitude 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHENAISDOAH. 127 
 
 All her power of endurance had summon'd, 
 And arm'd her with fix'd resolution : 
 With which she heeded not the howling of 
 The tempest, the lightning's vivid glare, 
 
 Nor the peahng thunder's crash. 
 
 » 
 
 Yet one day. 
 As th© sun declined, she, weary, languid, 
 Faint, within a silent shelter'd spot sat 
 Veil'd in gloom, and there of hope bereft, sigh'd 
 And said : " Alas ! nothing but thorns my way 
 Beset. Want, woe, and strife my pilgrimage 
 Doth vex. Fruitless my search hath been. Way- 
 ward 
 Still my destiny ; for it seems Heaven doth 
 Deny me the expected joy to heal 
 The gnawing smarts which my misfortunes bring. 
 Then if I'm doom'd to die, why not here in 
 This wild wood ; for my wearied soul I feel 
 Wants to be enchain'd no longer down to earth. 
 But yearns to soar to the blest abode where 
 
128 DAISY SWAI]^, 
 
 Shines yon bright and happy star. 
 
 Gazing upward, 
 Her ejes then caught a Hght gleaming dimly 
 
 through 
 The umbrage of the wood. Both hope and fear 
 Soon took the place of her desj^air. She knew 
 Not whether friend or foe resided whence 
 The glimmer faintly shone ; yet something innate 
 Panted at her heart that a lone maid would 
 There be welcom'd, and soon the spot she reached; 
 Found to her great joy, the light proceeded 
 From a peasant's humble habitation. 
 
 She knock'd the door. The panel gave the 
 
 sound. 
 A female voice within demanded, " Who 
 Is there?" "One whom the winds blow fierce 
 
 about ; 
 A poor exile who wanders far and wide, 
 Houseless, friendless, and forlorn," said Daisy. 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHETq'Aiq^DOAH. 
 
 The last word scarcely feU from her lips ere 
 The door wide open on its hinges swung. . 
 
 Tenderly they mark'd her mournful mein. 
 And saw too well her sunken eyes exprest 
 The haggard sign that deep corroding care 
 
 129 
 
 Was eating up her mind : how faint she was 
 From hunger and her toilsome journeyings. 
 
 But soon they from their homely board bestow'd 
 On Daisy choicest fare — the gen'rous mite 
 
130 DAISY SW Alls'. 
 
 Unask'd ; for, tlio' scanty was the portion 
 Nature gave to them, yet they spared not when 
 The hungry craved, the houseless needed shelter ; 
 For they good-natured were, if not refined 
 With the gloss of worldly worth. Charity 
 Comes from the soul : its promptings are divine ; 
 This Daisy knew, and estimated rightly 
 Their gen'rous hearts by what their hands had 
 given. 
 
 All amazed they listen'd to the story 
 Of her woes, and felt indignant at the deeds 
 The cruel rebel done, and him denounc'd 
 A brute. Then she told them that 'twas fear 
 Which made her leave her native home, and 
 
 love. 
 That sadden'd all her thoughts, to wander so 
 With beating heart and eager hopes to find 
 Her lover youth, a soldier brave, who gloried 
 To be foremost in the fight ; and tho' in 
 Many an adverse battle tried, yet smiled 
 
THE FLOWEE OF SHENAIS'DOAH. 131 
 
 On dangers past, and lived the open foe 
 Of traitors to their country. 
 
 Then she from 
 Her bosom Athol's vignette drew. They gazed 
 Admiringly upon his handsome face ; 
 But quickly alternating their dehght, 
 With much surprise they said : 
 
 " Alas ! not long since 
 A squad of Fed'ral soldiers, arm'd with weapons 
 Of death, came down yonder mountain's steep, 
 Singing songs of freedom and strains of love. 
 Their leader's features strong resemblance bore 
 Unto this likeness, but more swarthy 
 His complexion seemed ; but this may have been 
 Caused by his exposure to the scorching sun. 
 Nor were his cheeks so round and full ; still. 
 This can be attributed to his love 
 And distant thoughts of you ; but his hair, like 
 This, was black as a raven's wing." 
 
132 DAISY swArsr, 
 
 "Then fright, 
 Unknown before, seized our hearts, for 'twas 
 The first time that our wond'ring eyes ere saw 
 Men dressed up in clothes fantastic. " Fear not," 
 The leader said, "we are your friends : ours is 
 No hostile banner : it waves for freedom. 
 Law, and order, not for spohation : 
 And on many a hard-fought field against 
 The foe it has been reared. Therefore be not 
 Alarmed ; your hves are safe : no invaders 
 Now your quiet retreat explore." 
 
 " Thus he spoke. 
 Soft as the accents of a child, and yet, 
 As he turned round to face his men, I thought 
 I saw an insidious smile play round his mouth ; 
 Still we *sposed they were sincere, that men train'd 
 Up to mortal combat, and who'd achieved 
 Heroic deeds whilst sternly battling with 
 Frantic hordes of lawless foes, surely would 
 Not stoop their honors to defame and blight 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH, 133 
 
 The laurels they so nobly earned, to hurt 
 
 The harmless and injure the confiding. 
 
 But, alas ! faithless were those friends : they 
 
 proved 
 Themselves our greatest enemies ; for when 
 We gave them all the food and drink they 
 
 needed ; 
 In short, to ev'ry one impartially 
 Our gen'rous care extended ; they, after 
 Partaking of our hospitality. 
 Stole from the plow my husband's oxen : took 
 My best two milch cows, then shot our poultry ; 
 And carried on their depredations till 
 Nearly all the means with which we life 
 Supported, they knavishly purloined. 
 
 " But mark, this is not all : the knaves added 
 
 Insult to injury ; for when we ask'd 
 
 Payment for the chattels which they'd stolen, 
 
 Harsh and rude the wretches laugh'd, and drove 
 
 Before them our sheep, horses, hogs, and cattle : 
 12 
 
134 DAISY SWAIN 
 
 Ev'n now the thankless and irreverent tongues 
 Of the audacious roughs ring in my ears." 
 
 " Can aught in human nature be less kind ? 
 Hard it is indeed to bear such wrongs," said 
 
 Daisy, 
 " Yet none the less, my friends, have they, I find. 
 Subdued the gen'rous feelings of your hearts. 
 BoTint'ous strangers, now farewell Quick must I 
 Pursue my way, to resolve whatever 
 Fate decrees me." 
 
 Just then appalling sounds 
 Of horror wild arose upon her ears. " Death 
 To foes : captivity to traitors : slaughter 
 And'slav'ry yet shall triumph." Daisy shrank 
 With fright, and cold sweat beaded on her brow. 
 
 Soon the same guerillas bold, with torches 
 In their hands, and with augmented force 'proach'd 
 her. 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHETiTANDOAH. 135 
 
 She gave a piercing shriek and fainting fell 
 To earth. " A female spy," the rnffians cried, 
 Then looking down they thought the damsel dead, 
 And raised her prostrate form up from the ground, 
 And bore her to a darksome glade hard by the hut. 
 
 Then back they to the cot their hasty steps 
 Retraced. Their presence to the old folks' hearts 
 
136 
 
 Wild terrors brought. Quick, the peasant pale with 
 Horror leaped from his bed and on his knees 
 Begg'd the rebels to spare the helpless lives of 
 Both himself and wife. 
 
 " Yes, we shall," they cried, 
 " If you own our sway, our cause defend, and leave 
 This place, wherein a moment since we saw 
 You aid and comfort give unto a foe." 
 
 But the peasant scom'd to quit his home, and 
 said : 
 " His constancy to his country was due, 
 And that he*d rather die than sell his birthright 
 To those who fought to oppress and conquered 
 To enslave." 
 
 This roused the rebels' ire. They 
 Struck, then kick'd their kneeling foe. For mercy 
 Pray'd the wife. But her tears nor lamentations 
 Could melt their stony hearts. Soon the cot 
 
THE FLOWEK OF SHEIfANDOAH. 137 
 
 In burning ruins blazed. Writhing bands rose 
 Up amid the sheeted flames imploring 
 The avenging angel down to hurl 
 Red bolts of wrath upon and strike the hearts 
 Of the inhuman wretches dead with fright. 
 While amid their last screams of agony 
 Were heard, "We treason hate, and traitors scorn; 
 True to the Union die — ^loyal to the last." 
 12* 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ltj)ai$tj a (^apilve — ^he Bivouac — !)^ai$y'$ )l^oom. 
 
 Not till their victims' charr'd remains exhaled, 
 Through murky wreaths of smoke, a pestilence 
 Most baleful, did the rebels quit the hut 
 In search of injured Daisy, whom they found 
 Much convulsed and with all her sense nigh fled. 
 
 Through dark desert ways and rugged paths 
 they, 
 Unmindful of her piteous cries, her sobs, 
 Her plaints and bitter wailings, brought her to 
 A cavern deep, scoop'd out between two hills. 
 And laid her in a dark recess wherein 
 Her fate should be determin'd by their chief, 
 "Who'd not, as yet return'd. 
 
 So, round a blazing fire, 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 139 
 
 The murd'ring crew caroused. Some the weed 
 
 fum'd. 
 Some sang ribald songs by turns and smutty jokes 
 Got off, whilst others quaffed and pass'd around 
 A vile inebriant distillation. 
 
 Drink, comrades, drink," more loquacious than 
 
140 DAISY SWAIN, 
 
 The rest, cried one. " Drain your canteens to tlie 
 
 dregs. 
 'Tis the most potent of all drinks, to rouse 
 Our sluggish blood to life and fortify 
 Us 'gainst dangerous night damps. Besides, it is 
 Our chieftain's birthday night. Then let us all 
 Be merry, jocund, gay, and laugh at folly 
 As it flies on pleasure's wing. For, why should 
 We work our own annoy, when now we have 
 A chance to pass a lucid interval 
 From a life attended with so many 
 Dangers ? True, to lead this wild course has been 
 Our own choice ; or, rather, we were aU forced 
 Into it by the roving propensities 
 Of our natures, and ungovernable wills 
 That could not bear restraints, nor drudgeries, 
 Nor the enervating dull routines of 
 The regular soldier. No, my comrades ; among 
 These hills we are free to do what we please. 
 Here we can and do despise the outer world. 
 Where glaring vice and luxury prevail ; 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 141 
 
 Where laws are made most stringently to force 
 City villains into decency. 
 But here, full of adventurous love, among 
 These mountain passes, we simply practise 
 The ancient virtues of our ancestors, 
 With a valiant chief whose freeborn soul nought 
 Can turn from perilous ways; aye, one who spurns 
 The niggard Yankees* selfish yoke and hates 
 Their clannish, over-jealous natures. Still, 
 Sometimes when he's not aware, I notice 
 That his high-toned spirits are much dejected. 
 So much so, in fact, he seems to struggle 
 Against some opposing fate, the cause of 
 Which I opine I know. So, if you'll cease 
 Your drowsy murmurs, and open your ears, 
 I'll breathe into them, the sad incident 
 Of his Hfe which yet preys upon his mind. 
 
 "Two years have scarce elapsed since he was 
 smitten 
 With the peerless charms of a Yankee maiden 
 
142 
 
 Whose father, a Puritan bom and bred, 
 Lavish'd on her with unsparing hands, 
 The wealth he'd gain'd running niggers from 
 Africa into the Isle of Cuba, 
 Hoping, thereby, that his gifts of fortune. 
 Along with her accomplishments, would add 
 Great dignity to his high lineage ; 
 Grace the pious stock from which she sprang. 
 And draw around her swarms of wealthy suitors." 
 
 " Our noble chief, a Virginian by birth, 
 "Was always at her father's house a welcome guest ; 
 For he thither often went to interchange 
 With her father mutual thoughts concerning 
 Their clandestine interests in the slave trade. 
 So, whilst in social converse, the father learnt 
 That Agar was descended from one of the 
 Eldest and most distinguished families 
 Of old Virginia. Then coupling this news 
 With the proud notions of himself, he saw 
 That such high blood, with wealth united, would 
 
THE FLO WEE OF SHEI^ANDOAH. 143 
 
 Confer mucli honor on his house, and offer'd 
 
 Agar his daughter's hand in marriage, 
 
 With vested rights in estates as portion 
 
 Of her marriage dower. Agar consented, 
 
 And promised to solemnize the nuptials 
 
 When he'd returned from Paris, where he'd gone • 
 
 Some months before the war broke out. 
 
 But in 
 That gay city, where vice and shame strut round 
 Enrob'd in meek-sainted guise, wine and women 
 Soon his youthful bosom fired. Held spell-bound 
 By the charming witch'ries of the gay lorettes, 
 Who hold their bacchanals at the Chateaux 
 Des Fleurs and Mabille, soon his unthinkin j 
 And blind reason brought him down deep into 
 The gulf of dissipation, which soon made 
 Him needy ; for, amid his orgies, he thought 
 Not of the ruin he was bringing 
 On himself, but, to relieve his pressing wants, 
 Continued to make frequent demands 
 
144 DAISY SWAIISr, 
 
 For means from her father, and gate his lands 
 In Virginia to him as surety 
 For supplies. 
 
 " At last the day of reck'ning 
 Came. The Yankee complain'd of tardy payment ; 
 Felt touch'd to the quick in consequence, 
 And vouchsafed to lend our chief no more funds. 
 
 " So, one bright morning, the captain awoke 
 To the consciousness that shadowy ills 
 Obscur'd his stores at home ; and once more . 
 
 steer' d 
 His shatter'd barque across the ocean wave. 
 On arriving home he found his domains 
 Were laid wasto by the war which fiercely raged 
 Upon his native soil, his slaves set free ; 
 In short, his happy home, and what remained 
 Of his once fair realms, confiscated were 
 By the Federal jackals. 
 
THE FLOWEE OF SHENANDOAH. 145 
 
 " But yet his cup of 
 Mis'ry was not full : one drop it lack'd 
 More turgid still. Adverse fate deign'd to add 
 Poignancy to his misfortunes : for with 
 Harsh disdain the maiden's father on him 
 Fix'd an eye malignant, and with anger 
 Bade him never more to cross his threshold. 
 
 "Struck with such unkindness, our chieftain 
 took 
 It in his heart to loath forever more 
 The Yankees, and swore he'd hold dread reverence 
 O'er their heads, joined our cause, then took these 
 
 hiUs 
 To—" 
 
 Awe-struck, they him beheld. He came with 
 
 Hurried tread. Amazed, he stood awhile as 
 
 If some boding ill gleam'd through his eyes. 
 
 Soon his abject crew bent to his pride, and quit 
 
 The bivouac his wishes to fulfill : 
 
 12 
 
146 
 
 To forage round and ransack spots, wliich, in 
 Open day, their footsteps fear'd to tread. 
 
 When gone, the ingrate bold the weak maid 
 eyed 
 O'er and o'er ; gave her many a wishful look ; 
 And urg'd by lust, the leafy couch approach'd 
 On which she slumbering lay. She started up 
 As from a trance, with hair dishevell'd much, 
 And features fix'd in stern expression wild. 
 And on him threw the keenest dart of scorn. 
 
 Barb'rously severe he her accused of 
 Trait'rous complicity, and, indignant. 
 Said : " Haughty fair one, now thy doom's decreed. 
 Thou shalt have but one hour more to Hnger here, 
 If now thou dost not to my wishes lend 
 A gracious ear." 
 
 Down on her knees Daisy 
 Look'd up at him with mild, imploring eyes. 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 147 
 
 And with anguish in her bosom, wailing, 
 Said : " Alas ! he's thought severe who thus con- 
 demns 
 The innocent and unhappy. Hast thou 
 Not one friend to whom the sacred heart relies 
 For truth and honor ? If not, then such have 
 I — one ardent, noble, kind : In faith and hope 
 Unfaltering we are bound." 
 
 But her soft pleadings 
 Could not move his hardened heart : It was bereft 
 Of all that's meek and tender. He heeded not 
 Her tears, her firm faith, nor virtue proud, 
 But said : " You'll never see your lover more. 
 In prison he now wears his chains. P'rhaps ere 
 Now, the Yankee's rotten carcase has been 
 To the buzzards thrown." " Then if Athol is 
 To me forever lost," she cried, " God bless 
 His soul. His image so dear to my sight shall 
 In my heart be firmly fixed, nor ever 
 From my cherish'd memory fade. But thou, 
 
148 
 
 Vile minion of all that's mean and great, 
 The willing tool of that vain man whose pride 
 Is phrenzy, whose ambition's but despair, 
 Whose heart is void of ev'ry spark divine, 
 The curse of orphans and the cause of 
 Many a widow's tear, know that you may 
 Glitter in your infamy awhile ; 
 But the potent grasp of might shall be soon 
 Wrested from you : The majesty of pow'r 
 Is in the avenging sword held in the hand 
 Of Heav'n i 'twill yet descend upon and burst 
 Your vaunted bubble to the sun, aye, blast 
 Your lauded greatness : Deeds of retribution 
 Deal unto the mean and base ambitious fools 
 Upon the gibbet ; and righteous justice 
 Yet shall hurl upon thee its avenging ire. 
 For the wrongs which thou hast cruelly brought 
 Upon my Athol's hapless head : Aye, you 
 Who came into that happy home where dwelt 
 In blessed peace the innocent whose ears 
 Were strangers to the blast and din of war. 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 149 
 
 And vilely brought, therein, mucli misery. 
 Wretchedness and mourning. My father's name 
 Blasphem'd with curses foul, then reft him from 
 Me, and in a dungeon dire, him thrust, to pine, 
 To starve, and die : my aged mother caused 
 Through pining grief to sink into her grave 
 Ere she'd time to don a widow's mourning weeds ; 
 And me an outcast orphan made for hfe. 
 But remember, yours is but a weak boast 
 Of transitory power. Successful guilt 
 Can but triumph awhile : For soon before 
 The keen, relentless weapons of the Noi-th, 
 Both your stuck-up pride and cause shall 
 Tumble : 'tis to them alone revenge is 
 Given. Beware." 
 
 At this, in drunken fury. 
 
 The chieftain laugh'd outright, and said: "Murmur 
 
 Not, my dear, fond bird. Do you think I'd injure 
 
 A bosom so fair. Beauty like thine was 
 
 Form'd for joy ; and you must own I'm now 
 13* 
 
150 
 
 Your lawful lord." 
 
 Then lie strove witli eager arms 
 To grasp her. As quick she from his touch re- 
 
 coil'd. 
 " Shrink not," he angrily cried. " Succumb 
 To my power thou must, or, in this dense wood 
 Unseen by mortal eye, from Hfe to death 
 Thou soon shalt pass ; for, longer my mind 
 Thy indiff 'rence can't bear, thy peevish censures 
 Endure : nought but thy consent to be my bride 
 Can satisfy my burning soul." Saying which, 
 He grasped her by her long dishevell'd hair. 
 "Swear," he cried, "ere this dagger's keen edge 
 
 shaU 
 In your heart's blood be imbrued." 
 
 *^ No, no," she said, 
 " Eate will ne'er permit me to touch thy hand. 
 It hath the stain of murder'd blood ; and such love 
 As thine, the tender-hearted would defile : 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 151 
 
 Forever unhappy she'd be whose bosom 
 Hath therein sincere passion glowing. No, 
 My honor Hves for one most dear to my heart. 
 Therefore, if my ardent troth for him I love 
 Can't kindle in thy breast compassion's warmth, 
 Why longer the sacrifice delay ? Why 
 TantaHze your victim like a cat ere 
 You destroy ? or Hke the venom'd adder 
 Coil your folds around ere you sting to death 
 Your prey ? For well I know he who would not 
 Spare my father's Hfe will not spare my own ; 
 And death would end the tortures which now rack 
 My beating heart. But beware. He yet lives 
 For whom my soul with sacred fervor burns. 
 He whom thy bold hands hath svray'd with cruelty. 
 But who will yet thy proud triumph guilt 
 Avenge." 
 
 Then reviving wrath the chieftain's soul 
 Inflam'd. The name of Athol moved his heart 
 To hate ; and black as night he frown'd and spent 
 
152 DAISY SWAI]S^. 
 
 His rage on helpless Daisy, who struggled 
 
 At his feet. Her clasp'd hands cHnging round his 
 
 knees ; 
 "With dripping eyes to Heav'n raised and crying, 
 " Oh ! God of mercy ! is there no friend nigh ?" 
 " There is a friend," a deep gruff voice behind 
 A rock exclaim'd. " Arrogant knave, forbear." 
 The rebel heard the voice. It rived his heart. 
 His stern determined look he took from off 
 The mortal place, and quick with fright he started 
 Back, recoil'd and dropt unstain'd upon the 
 
 ground 
 His sheathless dirk, which high above her head 
 He held. 
 
 Again he heard the voice upon 
 The midnight blast exclaim, " Outcast of earth 
 Is searching among these hills, to ravish 
 Helpless women, then to thrust them from you 
 As in scorn, to miu'der in cold blood 
 Thy vaunted chivalry ? The crimes which you've 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 153 
 
 Already done, now cry aloud to Heaven 
 For vengeance. Therefore, thou rebel reprobate I 
 Beware. If you murder her nigh strangled 
 At your feet, hell's furies, that now thirst 
 Unceasing for your blood, wiU pursue you 
 Everywhere. Horrid sounds will rise on 
 Ev'ry wind and in your blood-stained conscience 
 Howl these words : * Seducer, coward, murderer.' " 
 
 Pale turned the chieftain's cheeks : His joints 
 trembled 
 As if by an intermittent ague shook. 
 Then he quickly, like a fleeting shadow, 
 Vanish'd through the gloom, whilst the voice, 
 
 meantime, 
 Hard on his trail, cried : " Thou curst, abandon'd 
 
 wretch. 
 Well may'st thou fly from guilt's alarms. 
 But never from your wicked conscience. 
 
CHAPTEK X. 
 
 !lj)ai$\}'$ Bescuo — ItiJeij ^tDelivcjiei^ — lljicti Meeting with 
 j^thol — ^he Battle — Beath of the Lovei|$. 
 
 When the cliieftain deep into the forest shade 
 Had fled, the stranger from his covert hied 
 To the gloomy spot where Daisy's cries for 
 Mercy had arisen, and found her there 
 Half dead by fear, murmuring in despair. 
 
THE FLOWEE OF SHENANDOAH. 155 
 
 Soon lie from tlie ground her faint form raised, 
 And in her livid cheeks beheld how much, 
 Alas ! her inmost heart was wounded. Then 
 From the rocky cell along a vernal path 
 He bore his fragile trust in safety, 
 Until a hazel glade he reached, where obscur'd 
 From curious sight, he halted near 
 A tinkHng rill, which down a pebbly steep 
 Slow trickling ran, and with its ice-cool water 
 Daisy's fevered temples lav'd. 
 
 Soon with 
 Open eyes she hailed the breaking morn's gray 
 
 light; 
 Her ears caught the plaintive murmur of the rill ; 
 Her low voice muttered, " Where am I ? By whom 
 Thus held hand bound ? Who's my dehverer ?" 
 
 'Twas then the stranger read with glad surprise 
 Her brighten'd looks, and thro' her gleaming eyes 
 Saw her life was safe ; but yet a symbol 
 
156 
 
 There reveal'd some hidden secret in her heart. 
 Which, altho* her charms had been by the keen 
 
 bHght 
 Of sorrow faded, still show'd that the soft tinge 
 Of beauty lingered on her care-worn cheeks. 
 
 " Oh, Sir," she said, " to you I owe my life. 
 To you my grateful thanks are due. Never 
 Can my heart renounce thy hallow'd friendship's 
 
 claim." 
 Then she told him all about her hard fate : 
 "What wrongs she'd from the rebels borne, and how 
 Of father, mother, friends bereft ; and one. 
 Also, who found her young, torn from her fair. 
 " Ah !" she sigh'd, " oft together we have form'd 
 Our mutual faiths with fondest truths, and sealed, 
 With true love sighs, our promised hymen vow. 
 But being then of him and friends bereft 
 By that pamper'd son of vice and tyranny. 
 No one was left who could my griefs assauge ; 
 And oft I've visited the blissful bowers 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 157 
 
 Where we were wont to meet, and wander'd often 
 O'er and o'er again our fiel oi cheerful love ; 
 But all those once bright scenes were clouded ; 
 Nor sun, nor moon, nor stars had light for me. 
 Each hour his absence wrung my heart. Many 
 Long, sad days I heard no tidings of him ; 
 And feared I was, alas ! forever doom'd 
 His friendship's bitter loss to taste, when — " Here 
 She paused to wipe away the tears that dimm'd 
 Her 
 
 " Alas !" her friend then cried, " how strange 
 
 Do secret sympathies human souls pervade ! 
 
 The hardest heart in grief like thine would feel 
 
 A share ; and even now to see thee weep, 
 
 Connects with thine my own remember'd joys 
 
 Unto thy wretchedness ; for thy plight afflicts 
 
 My heart, and, like me, I learn thou art to love 
 
 And keen despair a prey, — a victim of 
 
 The self same ruffian vile who thrust me in 
 
 A dungeon dark, where many weary days 
 
 14 
 
158 DAISY SWAIN, 
 
 And nights I, caged up like an untamed beast, 
 Imprison'd sat, a hapless vassal bound, 
 Pining in darkness, famisli'd, and benumbed 
 By damps, clanking my slavish chains, and 
 
 counting 
 Many a weary hour of my dull life 
 Away, thinking that if I could but rend 
 The links that gall'd my heart, I'd quickly fly 
 To the dear pledge whom to my first-born hopes 
 Was known — one whose face I found in pride of 
 iBeauty fair, and in whose lustrous blue eye 
 Her gentle spirit shone. O that Daisy 
 Now were nigh to hear my voice, I'd — " 
 
 Daisy felt 
 Like being lifted to the clouds, and fixed 
 Her eyes fuU on the stranger. " I see, I see 1" 
 She cried, " thou art none else but Athol I 
 This yeoman's guise is all delusion I" 
 With one accordant pause an attitude 
 They struck ; and mute awhile they stood in aU 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHEITANDOAH. 159 
 
 The silent eloquence of love ; then rush'd 
 Into each others' arms. 
 
 Heart to heart they press'd — 
 Burning kisses seal'd their lips. Raptures raised 
 Their two embodied souls to heaven, for 
 They knew not where they stood. Creation, too, 
 Her grateful voice uplifted ; as the sky, 
 Just then, with joyous light an unclouded 
 Aspect wore. Gaily the birds, in pairs. 
 On lithe wings flutter'd about them. Their jocund 
 
 songs 
 Attuned made the welkin'ring with mirth. 
 
 Soon from the wretched Daisy Athol's presence 
 Banish'd care ; her falling tears dried, and caus'd 
 Life's mantling current high to mount her face. 
 Her humorous heart then dimpled her cheek with 
 Smiles. The lucid gladness over all 
 Her features spread. Sonorous and clear she 
 vented 
 
160 DAISY SWAIN, 
 
 Forth a joyous laugh at seeing Athol 
 
 In disguise. He, too, in sweet astonishment 
 
 Smiled and said : " 'Tis done to cheat the rebel's 
 
 sight ; 
 For, the human mind, you know, is well versed 
 In deceit : The sire of falsehood practised 
 It ; the rebels follow him ; we copy 
 Them — ^perhaps with more consummate art." 
 
 'Twas 
 
 Thus that their strange meeting on each other 
 Much unsullied pleasure did bestow. Then 
 Daisy mildly said : " Come, Athol, let us 
 Hasten from this place : It is the shrine of 
 Rebels, and the air around is tainted 
 With their breaths. Come, let us go ere the 
 
 brood of 
 Vile cut-throats bar our paths." 
 
 "No, Daisy, no," 
 Cried Athol, "Fame, honor, truth, forbid it. 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHENAI^DOAH. 161 
 
 The dastard sycophant who mock'd at me 
 Scarce heal'd of my wounds, and yon an orphan 
 Made, to suffer from hunger and p'rhaps die, 
 Unpitied, among my friends a speedy fate 
 Must find : as justice for the wrongs the brute 
 Has done, the crimes which he's exulted o'er 
 Demand his doom. Yet, being a scout, it would 
 Be prudent, now to leave ere danger may 
 In direst form arise and disconcert 
 My well laid plans to capture the guerrillas, 
 For our corps is now encamp'd upon the edge 
 Of this small stream just where it runs through 
 yonder cedar grove." 
 
 Then they clasped their hands and sighed the 
 
 vow that 
 
 They would, when the battle ceased and he had 
 
 Swept with giant strength the proud survivor 
 
 Of their wrongs from earth, be wed. So, Daisy, 
 
 Hailed the dawn of that bright day, thinking 
 
 much 
 
 .1.4.* 
 
162 DAISY SWAIK, 
 
 Of tlie sweet promise and of many years 
 Of bliss in store, and said whatever might 
 Betide, she'd share his fate on future fields 
 Of proud renown or fall with him in victory. 
 So, trusting in Heaven for strength and quick 
 "With nimble feet she with him flew, to dare 
 The paths which Athol oft had dared before. 
 
 Then ere the redd'ning sun that day had set, 
 Sounds of drums and war's alarms were heard 
 
 upon 
 The wind. Hosts of men with hollow eyes, 
 Haggard cheeks, and with their bright arms 
 
 gleaming 
 In the sun, cross'd Potomac's flood to wage 
 Impious war upon Antietam's plain. 
 There McClellan brave, his country's pride, but 
 Short-hved faction's hate, unfurled his banner 
 To the vent'rous foe, and led in proud array 
 His daring thousands forth, who far and wide 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHEISTANDOAH. 163 
 Dispersed Lee*s plund'ring hosts. 
 
 In Daisy's eyes 
 It was an awful sight to see, face to face, 
 Christian freemen stand in line of battle dread 
 Hurhng ruin, waste, and death around her : 
 Terrible the vengeful shouts and horrid yeUs 
 "Which rose amid the thundering cannon's peal : 
 Heart-rending cries of mortal agony, 
 And shrieks of death from mangled corse ascend- 
 ing. 
 
 And when the discordant din of strife had 
 Died upon the evening breeze, she bounded 
 'Midst the heroic slain, and called, with cries 
 Of sadness, the name of him who promised 
 Her, ere long, the nuptial ring. So, onward, 
 "Wild in aspect, across the bloody plain 
 She flew, searching, with tearful eyes along, 
 With brothers o'er brothers bending, fathers 
 O'er slaughter'd sons, and friends loudly mingling 
 
164 
 
 DAISY SWAIiq-, 
 
 Their lamentations with the wonnded's groans. 
 Her Athol's bleeding form ; when soon, among 
 The ghastly slain, she spied, prostrate upon 
 
 The ensanguined ground, the guerilla chief, 
 Athol's mortal foe, 'gainst whom he strove in 
 Eage of battle hot, and triumph'd o'er at last 
 For, a deadly minie ball from Athol's 
 Well-aimed carbine had gone whizzing where 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 165 
 
 The chieftain stood, ui-ging on his men, and sank 
 Him 'mid the rebel dead. 
 
 Seeing his fate, 
 She raised her hands on high, and utter 'd " God 
 Be praised, thy retribution's just :" then hurried 
 On in grief, low bending, scrutinizing. 
 In the moon's pale beam, ev'ry pallid face 
 That lay cold in death, to find her love. 
 
 Soon from the blood-stained grass a muttered 
 prayer 
 "With mournful groans upon her ears sounded. 
 Quickly whence the moans arose she hastened ; 
 And there, alas ! quite faint, expiring, saw 
 Her lover writhing in his wounds, bleeding 
 Fast, all welt'ring in his life blood, gasping 
 Hard for breath ; his dark hair drenched with 
 
 gore ; his 
 Musket by his side, its handle firmly gTasped. 
 
166 
 
 DAISY SWAIN, 
 
 Franticly, slie called him by his name ; stooped 
 And fondly clasped her Athol to her heart, 
 Brushed the matted locks back from his brow and 
 Gazing on his dying eyes, she bade him speak 
 
THE FLOWER OF SHET^AIfDOAH. 167 
 
 One dear fond word to her, his Daisy fair. 
 He muttered " Oh ! is that you, love, my bride ?" 
 Then gave a gurghng sound and lay a breathless 
 corpse. 
 
 Swift frenzy lit her eyes. A mortal pang 
 Her heart struck. She gave a shriek and cried 
 
 aloud, 
 " Oh ! God, thy will be done," then fell upon 
 Her lover's clay-cold corse, kissed his bloodless lips 
 And on his mangled bosom died. 
 
 rrsns. 
 
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