And there the pyramid of balls is reared to tell

And mark the hallowed spot where tuneful genius fell;

The vagrant winds around it now seem sighing

The requiem sad of "I am dying, Egypt, dying!"

Prophetic words by gallant Lytle penned—

Lytle

A laurel wreath with immortelles to blend!

A halo hovers round about this gifted son,

Whose deathless name with pen and sword was nobly won!

They come to mark with tokens of their love and pride

Each consecrated spot where bleeding heroes fell and died,

And gaze with reverence on some gently swelling mound

Which hides the dust of comrade in his sleep profound;

To picture to the mind—with melancholy pleasure trace

The unforgotten outlines of a dear, remembered face,

Which passed from loved ones and from life away,

A victim on the bloody field of fratricidal fray!

[Pg 22]

[Pg 22]

GENERAL JOHN B. GORDON.

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