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Browsing named entities in a specific section of Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 5. (ed. Frank Moore). Search the whole document.

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Malcolm (search for this): chapter 82
d Madge's curls, and, stooping over, kissed her: “Your father was my captain, child!--I loved him as my life.” Then suddenly he galloped off, without a word more spoken. I burst the seal, and Blanche cried out, “What makes you tremble so?” O God! how could I answer her? How should the news be broken? For first they wrote to me, not her, that I should break the blow. “A battle in the swamps!” I said: “our men were brave, but lost it!” Her quick eye caught the tell-tale page, not writ in Malcolm's hand; And first a flush flamed through her face — and then a shadow crossed it: “Read quick, dear May — read all, I pray — and let me understand.” I dared not read it as it stood, but tempered so the phrases That scarce at first she guessed the worst — kept back the fatal word, And told twice over of his shout, his charge, his comrades' praises, And then — the end: till she — a statue!--neither spoke nor stirred! Oh! never yet a woman's heart was broken so comp
Malcolm Blake (search for this): chapter 82
24. the Captain's wife. by Theodore Tilton. My sister Blanche, her child, and I, were on the lawn that morning. “Oh! could a wife's strong love,” she sighed, “ward off a soldier's fate!” Her voice a little trembled then, as if through some forewarning; When up the lane a soldier rode, and halted at the gate. “Which house is Malcolm Blake's?” he cried: “a letter for his sister!” Blanche, murmuring as I took it, asked--“And none for me, his wife?” The stranger fondled Madge's curls, and, stooping over, kissed her: “Your father was my captain, child!--I loved him as my life.” Then suddenly he galloped off, without a word more spoken. I burst the seal, and Blanche cried out, “What makes you tremble so?” O God! how could I answer her? How should the news be broken? For first they wrote to me, not her, that I should break the blow. “A battle in the swamps!” I said: “our men were brave, but lost it!” Her quick eye caught the tell-tale page, not writ in
Jesus Christ (search for this): chapter 82
s it stood, but tempered so the phrases That scarce at first she guessed the worst — kept back the fatal word, And told twice over of his shout, his charge, his comrades' praises, And then — the end: till she — a statue!--neither spoke nor stirred! Oh! never yet a woman's heart was broken so completely! So unbaptized with helpful tears! so passionless and dumb! She stood there in her agony, till little Madge asked sweetly: “Dear mother, when the battle ends, then will my father come?” I laid my finger on her lips, and led her to her playing. Poor Blanche I the winter on her cheek grew snowy as her name! What could she do but kneel, and pray, and linger at her praying? O Christ! when other heroes die, moan other wives the same? Must other women's hearts yet break, to keep the Cause from failing? God pity our brave lovers then, who face the battle's blaze! And pity wives made widows now! Shall all be unavailing? O Lord! give Freedom first, then Peace I and to Thy Name th
Blanche (search for this): chapter 82
, as if through some forewarning; When up the lane a soldier rode, and halted at the gate. “Which house is Malcolm Blake's?” he cried: “a letter for his sister!” Blanche, murmuring as I took it, asked--“And none for me, his wife?” The stranger fondled Madge's curls, and, stooping over, kissed her: “Your father was my captain, child!--I loved him as my life.” Then suddenly he galloped off, without a word more spoken. I burst the seal, and Blanche cried out, “What makes you tremble so?” O God! how could I answer her? How should the news be broken? For first they wrote to me, not her, that I should break the blow. “A battle in the swamps!” I said: “our me, till little Madge asked sweetly: “Dear mother, when the battle ends, then will my father come?” I laid my finger on her lips, and led her to her playing. Poor Blanche I the winter on her cheek grew snowy as her name! What could she do but kneel, and pray, and linger at her praying? O Christ! when other h
Theodore Tilton (search for this): chapter 82
24. the Captain's wife. by Theodore Tilton. My sister Blanche, her child, and I, were on the lawn that morning. “Oh! could a wife's strong love,” she sighed, “ward off a soldier's fate!” Her voice a little trembled then, as if through some forewarning; When up the lane a soldier rode, and halted at the gate. “Which house is Malcolm Blake's?” he cried: “a letter for his sister!” Blanche, murmuring as I took it, asked--“And none for me, his wife?” The stranger fondled Madge's curls, and, stooping over, kissed her: “Your father was my captain, child!--I loved him as my life.” Then suddenly he galloped off, without a word more spoken. I burst the seal, and Blanche cried out, “What makes you tremble so?” O God! how could I answer her? How should the news be broken? For first they wrote to me, not her, that I should break the blow. “A battle in the swamps!” I said: “our men were brave, but lost it!” Her quick eye caught the tell-tale page, not writ in