Donelson.

The bitter cup

Of that hard countermand

Which gave the Envoys up,

Still was wormwood in the mouth,

And clouds involved the land,

When, pelted by sleet in the icy street,

About the bulletin-board a band

Of eager, anxious people met,

And every wakeful heart was set

On latest news from West or South.

“No seeing here,” cries one — “do n't crowd —”

“You tall man, pray you, read aloud.”