A STORY OF THE REBELLION.
The treacherous sands had caught our boat, And held it with a strong embrace And death at our imprisoned crew Was sternly looking face to face.
With anxious hearts, but failing strength, We strove to push the boat from shore;But all in vain, for there we lay With bated breath and useless oar.
Around us in a fearful storm The fiery hail fell thick and fast;And we engirded by the sand, Could not return the dreadful blast.
When one arose upon whose brow The ardent sun had left his trace, A noble purpose strong and high Uplighting all his dusky face.
Perchance within that fateful hour The wrongs of ages thronged apace;But with it came the glorious hope Of swift deliverance to his race.
Of galling chains asunder rent, Of severed hearts again made one.
Of ******* crowning all the land Through battles gained and victories won.
"Some one," our hero firmly said, "Must die to get us out of this;"
Then leaped upon the strand and bared His bosom to the bullets' hiss.
"But ye are soldiers, and can fight, May win in battles yet unfought;I have no offering but my life, And if they kill me it is nought."
With steady hands he grasped the boat, And boldly pushed it from the shore;Then fell by rebel bullets pierced, His life work grandly, nobly o'er.
Our boat was rescued from the sands And launched in safety on the tide;But he our comrade good and grand, In our defence had bravely died.
