BINGEN ON THE RHINE

A soldier of the Legion lay dying in Algiers,

There was lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of

        woman's tears,

But a comrade stood beside him, while his life-blood

        ebbed away,

And bent, with pitying glances, to hear what he might

        say.

The dying soldier faltered as he took that comrade's

        hand.

And he said, "I never more shall see my own, my native

        land;

Take a message and a token to some distant friends of

mine, For I was born at Bingen-at Bingen on the Rhine.

"Tell my brothers and companions, when they meet

        and crowd around

To hear my mournful story in the pleasant vineyard

        ground,

That w~ fought the battle bravely, and when the day

        was done

Full many a corse lay ghastly pale beneath the setting

        sun.

"And 'mid the dead and dying were some grown old

        in wars,

The death-wound on their gallant breasts, the last at

        many scars;

But some were young, and suddenly beheld life's mom

        decline,

And one had come from Bingen, fair Bingen on the

        Rhine.

"Tell my mother that her other sons shall comfort her

         old age,

For I was still a truant bird, that thought his home a

cage,

For my father was a soldier, and even as a child

My heart leaped forth to hear him tell of struggles fierce

and wild;

And when he died and left us to divide his scanty hoard,

I let them take whate'er they would, but kept my father's­

          sword,

And with boyish love I hung it where the bright li~ht

          used to shine

On the cottage wall at Bingen-calm Bingen on the

          Rhine.

"Tell my sister not to weep for me, and sob with drooping

        head,

When the troops come marching home again with glad

        and gallant tread,

But to look upon them proudly" with a calm and stead­

        fast eye,

For her brother was a soldier, too, and not afraid to

die.

And if a comrade seek her love, I ask her in my name

To listen to him kindly. without regret or sharile.

And to hang the old sword in its place (my father's

         sword and mine),

For the honor of old Bingen--d.ear Bingen on the Rhine.

,"There's another-not a sister: in the happy days gone

         by,

You'd have known her by the merriment that sparkled

in her eye; Too innocent for coquetry, too fond for idle scorning, 0 friend, I fear the lightest heart makes sometImes

         heaviest mourning;

"Tell her the last night of my life (for ere the moon be

risen My body will be out of pain-my soul be out of prison), I dreamed I stood with her, and saw the yellow sunlight

        shine

On the vinec1ad hills of Bingen-fair Bingen on the

        Rhine.

"I saw the blue Rhine sweep along-I heard, or seemed

        to hear,

The German songs we used to sing, in chorus sweet and

clear, And down the pleasant river, and up the slanting hill, The echoing chorus sounded through the evening calm

       and still;                                                                         ,

And her glad blue eyes were on me as we. passed with

        friendly talk

Down many a path beloved of yore, and well-remem­

        bered walk,

And her little hand lay lightly, confidingly in mine; But we'll meetno more at Bingen-loved Bingen on the

Rhine."

His trembling voice grew faint and hoarse,-his grasp

        was childish weak"­

His eyes put on a dying look-he sighed and ceased to

        speak;

His comrade bent to lift him, but the spark of life had

fled­

The soldier of the Legion in a foreign land is dead!

And the soft moon rose up slowly, and calmly she looked

        down

On the red sand of the battle-field, with bloody cors€s

        strawn;

Yea, calmly on that dreadful scene her pale light seemed

          to shine.

As it shone on distant Bingen-fair Bingen on the Rhine.

                                                                        Caroline Norton.