[written for the Richmond Dispatch.]

After the "Champagne" of Monaural.
by. P. O. T.

‘ Thy mother's check is red with blood,
And thine in too with wine!
We would not wear her badge to-day?
Who does not mock at thine?
With Death's cold terrors at thy heart,
Through all that
Drink! for they mother's call,
"Where is thy brother, Cam?"

Virginia's boys! How beautiful
In while sleep they Be!
Dead at their mother's bosom, Scott!
Doing not die!
Of all none
Hath fallen on thy head!
She dote deny thee, Scott to die
Amid her brave young dead.

Led, lost old man! one maudlin tear
Above that field of death
Had won thy memory a sigh,
Amid Gehenna's breath!
But now very deny
Thy fellow ship in flame!
And be at thy deed,
thy shame.

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William C. Scott (3)
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