LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. Chap.?i.?^Upyright No UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. ''Oh! blindness to the future ! kindly giv'n, That each viay fill the circle mark'd by Heav'n, Who sees with equal eye, as God of all, A hero perish, or a sparrow fall:' —Pope. ECHOES FROM THE CANNON BY / CORNELIA J. MATTHEWS JORDAN EDITED BY THERESA JORDAN AMBLER BUFFALO, NEW YORK CHARLES WELLS MOULTON 1899. 43149 Copyrighted, 1899, by THERESA JORDAN AMBLER. TWO COPIES RECEIVED. '■^-.. btJOi^O COPY, ...~--S.1l To VIRGINIA AND MISSISSIPPI, Mothers of Princes, Soldiers and Statesmen and The United Daughters of the CONFEDERACY. This Volume Is dedicated by the Compiler. CAN WE FORGET Can we forget Those heroes brave, who living yet, Must scan us with their spirit eyes In mute reproach and sad surprise? If ever there should come a time When their dear names and deeds sublime Shall cease to be the lofty theme Of musing thought and tender dream ; If ever ive for whom they fell Should fail the noble truth to tell, Of how they rushed at Duty's call, Nothifig witholding — venturing all In that great Cause of bloody cost, So sacred— tho' so wholly lost ! -C.J.M.f. INTRODUCTION. THE poem entitled Corinth and several others con- tained in this volume were published for the first time soon after the Civil War, when sectional feeling seemed to have so warped the minds of the people that they were recognized on the one hand only among the S2:)oils of War, and consigned to the untimely grave pre- pared by those whose victories they failed to extol; and on the other, while like Longfellow's "Arrow and Song" they may have found lodgment somewhere during the long period of Peace, which it has been the privilege of our Southland to enjoy, they have doubtless faded from the memory of some, who through their devotion to a cause doomed to suiier the eternal blasting and destruction of a sword more powerful than the arm that wielded another in its defense, will now take up the refrain of the '*song," again proclaiming amidst the distant muttering of War "honor to whom honor is due," — again carrying those piercing "arrows" more strong than weapons of steel to defend the helpless, to strip from the conqueror, though he may have won the spoils, some of the trophies to b3 divided beneath the shadow of the sword of a common foe. The echoes of fife and drum, the rolling waves of bugle and cannon call forth from the ashes of that per- ished Phoenix, arms and strength to bear a nation's colors and now it has been accorded — a child of the Co7ifederacy born to a member of Beauregard's staff amidst the "storms which threatened Corinth," the privilege of offering again to the public these lyric verses as a just tribute to the memory of one who ever tried with her pen to vindicate the wrongs of those, whom sword and fire would despoil, and who, if she were here today, would INTRODUCTION. place fresh wreaths of laurel upon those brows, which amid the eulogies being heaped upon our Northern brothers now seem to be forgotten. United we stand again upon the battle field, where not only shot and shell shall prove of what metal we are made — but the '* Pesti- lence that walketh in darkness or the Destruction that wasteth at noon" may wipe out of our ranks those who might have otherwse lived to labor and to wait in that state of life unto which it had pleased God to call them. *The Burning of Corinth,' " published herein for the first, time, pours forth in melody akin to the rotes of that most graceful bird, whose song is said to be sweetest in death, the rhapsodies inspired by a sense of injustice, a perception of the plan, which would overrule if possible the eternal fitness of the Universe in order to carry death and des- truction in its path. Hoping that all, who read these songs thus uttered before the Invisible Hand had again touched the chords that must vibrate within the hearts of those who suffered during the four years of that awful struggle, will recognize above any feeling of animosity the task which I have undertaken iu introducing this volume as one of love and reverence for the memory of her who was to me the embodiment of purity and truth, I have, in following out the motive of her lines, endeavored to act in accordance with her injuncton to me in my childhood: *'Thy heart is like this stainless page Daughter ! — in thy youth, Let wisdom on its tablet trace The fadeless lines of Truth." Theresa Jordan Ambler. Lynchlurg^ Va., Ay gust 1st, 1899. CONTENTS. Page The Burning of *' Corinth," 9 Corinth, 15 Richmond : Her Glory and Her Graves, 33 Battle of Manassas, ..... 55 Our Fallen Brave, 60 The Death of Jackson, .... 62 The Cadets at New Market, 65 The Graves of our Home Heroes, 68 Mt. Airy, ....... 71 Marking the Spot where Stuart Fell near Rich mond, 77 A Voice from the Ground, . . . . 78 Song of the Maryland Exiles, 79 The Forest Grave, 82 *' Trust in God," 84 In Memoriam, 91 En-Avant, ...... 93 The Missing Form, 94 The 2nd Virginia Cavalry, 96 On Guard, 97 Davis and Lee at Richmond, 98 Flowers for a Wounded Soldier, 100 Col. S. Gibbon, 10th Va. Infantry, . 101 Burial of Lieut. Wm. L. Goggin, Jr., 102 Tl CONTENTS. Tho Departure of our Volunteers, Side by Side, .... 15urial of tho Seven "Lynchbnrgers," *'Do they think of me at Home?'' General Garland, Captain D. A. Ringo, '1\^ a Widowed Friend in the North, Flowers from the Battlefield — Shiloh, Lee's IMrthday, Our Gallant Dead, Tho Soldier's Dream, To a Distinguished Tolitician, . Lines, Additional Words to "Maryland Tears for the Fallen Brave, The Old Confed, Words of Welcome to our Confederate The Unveiling of the Monument, Dust to Dust, A Fast-Day Hymn, Leslie, .... Up and Onward, The Fmpty Sleeve, . War Pictures, Virginia! — A Battle Song, Hope and Wait, Jehovah-nissi, Past and Gone, Virginia's Champion, The Old Confed, Victory! .... Veterans, CONTEN"TS. vii Only a Picture, 183 Wounded at New Market, . 185 The Snow, .... 187 The Prisoner of Fortress Monroe, 188 To a Wounded ex- Confederate, 193 The Death of the Young Partisan, 195 Virginia's Dead, 201 An Appeal for Jelt'erson Davis, 204 Farewell to the Flag, 207 THE BURNING OF "CORINTH." JSTD this is "duty" — such the name they give to puerile deed, When of a petty Tyranny they'd seek to sow the seed; This is the work of Conquerors! — by Irave hands proudly wrought, Thus by the iron grip of Poiuer^ they'd seek to strangle Thought. Ah, foolish dream! — a higher will controls our mental fate. What God himself bestows on each, man may not ^^ con- fiscate^^ ; Burn* on — light up the pyre — behold amid the kindling blaze — A thousand memories swiftly throng — *'the light of other days. ' ' Brave gallant hands ! could not some nobler work your zeal employ. Or are such bloodless deeds as this your highest martial joy? *" It will be recollected that by order of the Provost Marshall the recent publication of Mrs. C. J. M. Jordan, entitled "Corinth and other Poems of the War," was siezed as an incendiary document a few days since. The whole edition has since been committed to the flames and entirely destroyed." — Lj^nchburg "Republican," August 24th, 1865. (9) 10 THE BURNING OF ''COKINTH." Pray tell me wliat the grave offence these little pages gave That o'er them War-iuorn Conquei'ors Should thus so madly rave. Was it that on them names are traced, that must outlive your own, When 'neath the Truth's emblazoned light your puny suns go down? Was it for Jackson's praise, the man, whom angels honor now — And who while struggling with us wore God's seal upon his brow? Ye may not snatch one jewel bright from his immortal crown, Or cloud his martyred spirit's joy with your poor human frown. Or was it that, when Johnson died, he left a hero's name That will defy the blasting touch of Envy's kindling flame? Hark! from the plains of Sliiloh comes an echo loud and clear **He did his duty and he fell a blood-crowned martyr here." On — light the pyre his memory all your anger will outlast Nor can your burning torch consume the pages of the Past; A glorious halo — light surrounds those grand historic names, That will outlive the fading glare of these poor feeble flames. **THE BUKNIKG OF CORIiq"TH.'' 11 Burn on — burn out the simple lines a woman's hand hath traced, But know that when in ashes laid tliey luill not he effaced; They will not perish though a Tyrant's will decrees they must — *' Corinth" will live when on Ms crumbling urn is written ''dusty On with the work — light up the pyre the while we sit and wait, With folded hands and upward glance at Thought's bright Temple-gate. August 28th, 1805. ^ CORINTH CORINTH. [April, 1862.] ' ' Praeteritorum Mem oria E ven to rum . ' ' AND of the Pioneer — behold ! I come To drink thy balmy airs, enchanting West — And musing, pause amid thy yernal groves -^ Bright Mississippi ! Here the smile of God, Hath shone in days agone as once alas, I deem it shone in Eden. Here the Sun, Eesplendent emblem of creative Light, Once threw his radiant beams protectingly O'er Nature's virgin charms and answering shades. Long cloistered in lone haunts, delighted met The Day God's loving dalliance. Then the deer In dreadless freedom roamed these trackless wilds. Dumb monarch of the forest, and these woods Echoed no ruder sound than Redbird's note. Or sportive squirrel's chirp, or the low hum Of tuneful bee, as daintily he sipped The fresh, cool dew from untrod violets. Here, too, the fearless Red Man boldly scanned His rich, broad domain — Lord of all he saw — The rolling river and the pathless woods, He proudly strung his matchless bow and marked With burning glance his undisputed prize. Anon, as Evening shadows soft and still (15) 1() CORINTH. Wooed from hor covert wild his dusky nuiid, The wiiiting skilT unloosed from river niargo, 15ore lier light, iiiry form o'er moonlit waves, AVhile to the music of his plashing oar ller voice gave sweetest echoes. Nought to wake A fear within his breast, he bowed in love, Untutored, reverend love to the Great Spirit; And while in mortal pangs the stricken game Gasped at his feet, his soul rejoiced to think Of future pastimes in the Huntsman's Heaven. But hark, a boding sound! The woodman's axe Clangs on the stillness like a note of war ; A now light flickers through these leafy aisles And sends its struggling beams through all the West. The lordly savage tleos aghast before The march of civilization. Speedily The ponderous timbers clear, and homes are built. And towns spring up as if by magic wrought. While from the spot whore erst the wigwam sat, The wreathing smoke in circling eddies mounts From the rude chimney of the Pioneer. Yea, through the forests mingling with the sound Of choral echoes floats the merry peal Of children's laughter. Lowing herds the while Browse in the meadows, and the ploughshare turns The ready-yielding sod, from whose black depths Leaps forth, ere long, tlie green expanding blade. Alas I ah\s ! that o'er a scene so fair. Time should write fearful chancres. CORINTH. 17 Lo! today Over the village spires, dark and high, Floats the red signal of a Nation's wrath. Hushed are the sounds of agricultural toil, And the old music of the housewife's wheel Mingles no more with the low tuneful hum Of cradle lullabies. War, fearful War, Noddeth his sceptred head and silence falls On all the haunts of household revelry. The song and jest are hushed and Sadness lays Her warning finger on the lips of Mirth, While Thought foreboding, looks with prophet glance To the dark veiled Future. Would to God That from her mystic shrine some Priestess mild Might meet the dread Avenger, and command The billows of his wrath, till passive all. Each wave of passion should lie calm and still As moonlight on the ocean. Would to God Some angel from His Heaven might descend. And o'er my Country spread his sheltering wing. Till past the threatening storm. Alas! alas! No kindly Sybil speaks — no ^'' peace he .s'/i7/," Is echoed o'er the waters; dark and cold And high and higher still the mad waves rise — Till the black tempest gathers; from afar Comes the dread, muttering thunder — long and loud liolls the foreboding sound. Virginia bares Her white breast to the shock, while round her brow Plays the red, lurid lightning. Pale she stands In the hot glare, pale bat unyielding still Though her fair bosom is thick set with scars, 18 COKINTH. And every feature marred by dreary lines Traced by the hand of War. Majestic still She riseth proudly from the Northman's blow Strengthened and calm. The thrilling victory-cry Raised at Manassas sends its bugle-call To the far western wilds, and, hark! is heard A glad response from Shiloh. Just when Spring Leaped from her violet couch, all beautiful ; When forest aisles echoed the cheerful notes Of Nature's choristers; when vernal glades Sheltered the rippling flow of laughing streams* Vocal with hidden melody; when birds Carrolled in leafy shades, and lambkins played In the green meadows where a thousand flowers Opened their starry eyes ; when the sweet homes Of Corinth, smiling through her grand old trees. Gleamed forth like nests half hidden ; when the world Put on its brightest robe, and Earth shone forth In her old pristine beauty, lo ! a cloud Settles above this Eden ; Corinth stands Girded with battle armor ; flaming swords Flash from her rural gates, and through her bowers Wind the dark slime-prints of the Serpent's trail. Brightly the morning dawns — that April morning Whose noon-day sun. O'er Shiloh's bannered hosts and battling legions Shines clear upon. As pure a light as crowned the brow of Eden, Before the fall, Bathes lovely Corinth, as her hills re-echo Brave Joh^-sok's call. CORIN^TH. 19 "Up to your places, men! see they are pressing — ■ The foe, the foe ! "Stand by your colors firm — let not usurpers Trample them o'er. ^*AU on the die is cast — Life, Truth and Honor — Thinkof it well! "Look to the God of Right — meet the Invader, With shot and shell. "See! in your native South, cherished homes smiling Through wood and glen; "Save them from Spoiler's touch — save them, or daring. Perish like men! "Thousands upon you wait — wives, sisters, mothers; A Nation's eye "Looks with confiding trast; stand by your colors! Conquer or die!'''' Never a word in vain spoke the great Leader ! Glad to obey. Valiant and daring men, buoyant and eager. Rush for the fray. Forward, with gallant step, firmly advancing, On, on they move. Where, face to face with Death, warm throbbing bosoms Bulwarks shall prove. Quickly the line is formed, all in their places. All to a man, He in the very front fearlessly dashing, Leading the van. Darkly with Nature's hymn in chorus blending. The fearful peal Of cannon-thunder through the air resoundeth, With clash of steel. 20 COEINTH. Bright forms are there, of many a Southern dwelling The joy and pride; Young warriors brave, stern veterans worn and hoary, Standing beside. Beautiful brows, which e'en the winds of Heaven Ne'er rudely kissed, Shine mid the darkness, like those stars whose brightness The clouds assist. Fair youthful bosoms brave the shock of battle, With iron will; Young hearts, untried in life's stern conflict, proving Invincible. What is it nerves them thus to meet the struggle, With dauntless hand? But that like heroes they will die or rescue Their native Land. Loud swells the battle din — bold leaders cheering Their gallant men, Speak but the magic words, Home^ Wife or Mother, Then strike again. What can their spirits quail? not the fierce mutter Of Tyrant's curse : Breasts which their Southern valor proudly nourished, No cowards nurse. See, o'er the gleaming village spires of Corinth, proud and high, Our Country's Flag floats out to meet the breezes dallying nigh; While they who view from Shiloh's plain, its waving folds afar, Welcome its pure and holy light, as Glory's beacon star. CORINTH. 21 Brave hearts grow braver 'neath tliat light, and careless bosoms warm, As, proud and high, it waves amid the battle's darkening storm. Dim fading eyes, through dust and smoke, its stars and bars descry; And mutely bless the glorious Cause for which they're proud to die. On, on the foeman presseth close, our columns onward move; Each eager with his own right arm the other's strength to prove. Loud rolls the deafening cannon's peal; wood, rock and hill reply ; While, through the vaulted Heavens is heard the South- ron's victory-cry. High o'er the fearful battle's din the glorious poeans swell. Till on the clouded noonday air, is borne, alas ! a hnell. Brave eyes with saddest tears are dim, and dauntless bosoms warm. Press forward eagerly to shield their prostrate Leader's form. Strong arms enfold him tenderly, and stout hearts, true and tried, Are firm no more, while bending now, their fallen Chief beside. They gather round the crimsoned sod that holds his dying head ; Their burning tears fall thick and fast upon his gory ' bed. 22 CORINTH. TIloy note the swiftly waning pulse, they gaze into his eyes, While sullen Death, to all their prayers, a last fond hope denies. lie calmly views the weeping throng ; he bids them all be true; llo points them to our honored Flag, still waving high in view, Amid the battle smoke, behold! its gleaming colors bright — As o'er his spirit breaks the dawn of Heaven's unfading light, Ilis gaze is fixed ; the warm life-stream now darkens all the sod; The golden cord is loosed, and Johxsox's soul is with its God! ISouthrons, behold him now! Eartli's every trace Gone from his lineaments : Heaven's purer grace. Solemn, yet beautiful, Lighteth his face. Come with a noiseless tread ' Look on your Leader dead! — Xoble was he ; Never a braver heart Yielded its blood to thwart Bold Tyranny. Slander's envenomed breatli Wounds not majstic Death; CORIN'TII. 23 Love girds him now; All his brave duty done Bright laurels nobly won, Circle his brow. Heaven rest the spirit brave ! Comrades! draw near! Bear his corpse tenderly Back to the rear — Tears from a Nation's eyes Honor his bier. God be the widow's friend, Comfort and solace send — God be her stay. Hear when his orphans cry. Hear, and their needs supply, Father, alway! Thus, prayerful lips caught up the dirge, and bore it to His throne. Whose word declares: I will not leave the fatherless alone! And many an eye was dim with tears, as from that dear- bought fi^ld. They saw their glorious Leader borne — alas, his broken shield ! They saw his placid brow serene, calm, beautiful and blest ; As from the noisome strife of earth they bore him to his rest. A wail, a dirge, a tear for him, and with the cannon's roar, Those mournful funeral echoes sweet, mingle their tones no more 24 CORINTH. ^'' Close up the ra?iks, close i(p the raiils^'''' and veterans worn and scarred, Rush to the rallying battle-call of noble Beauregard ; His gallant charger hotly spurred, he dashes to the front? Braving the fiery rain of shells — daring the very brunt. A thousand eyes rest anxiously upon his dauntless form; A thousand prayers go up for him amid the leaden storm. No cowering fear is in his eye, no look of dread dismay ; But, like an eagle, fearless, bold, he views his mangled prey. He views his columns firm and true, his grand unbroken line. And glowing thoughts light up his face and in his dark eyes shine. The musket's rattle quick succeeds the cannon's deaf- ening roar, As o'er the dark contested field legions on legions pour. All through the fearful aisles of death, bold leaders proudly dash. And thrilling war-cries strangely blend, and glittering sabres clash. Backward, through reddened paths of blood, the sullen foe is driven, While o'er the scene, still calmly smiles the Sabbath light of heaven. On speed the hours, those fearful hours of struggle and of death. Until amid Night's solemn hush men pause and take their breath — COKIKTH. 25 Aye, pause to nurse their fainting strength — new prowess still to try, When breaks the slow returning dawn along the eastern sky. The holy stars shine tranquilly, the moon looks down the while, On many a pallid, war-worn brow, and many a dying smile, Young lips that seemed but made to quaff Life's golden chalice bright. One moment drank and now behold the goblet drain'ed quite. Oh Life, oh Death, if ever ye a godlike power may wield, 'Tis when ye stand thus face to face, on Glory's carnage field; 'Tis when ye grasp each other's hand amid that mortal strife. Whose issues with a Nation's hope, a Country's weal is rife. Behold! along the eastern sky, faint streaks of dawn appear — The stars are fading one by one, the day again is near; Night shadows gone, no reveille awakes where none have slept; Morn lights anew the gory couch where Death his vigil kept. The line re-formed, the freshened air stirs with the can- non's breath. And straightway now begins again the fearful work of Death. 26 COEINTH. *'0m, 0/i, j*jre<§s Ofij the foeman turns his vanquished files again, Minions! though Johksois" leads no more he has not died in vain!'''' The words like magic stir the hearts of bold and gallant men, We counted not the bloody cost of daring courage then; They counted not the sacrifice, no patriot heart denies, When Honor, Freedom, Liberty, make up the glorious prize. Behold ! above tlie shining spires of Corinth proud and fair, The Flag bequeathed hut yesterday floats in the morning air; They bless its light, they think of him, who with his dying breath, Whispered their noble battle-cry of ^^ Victory'''' or ''Death!'' And pledged anew to Uod and Truth, to Justice and to Right, With swelling hearts and dauntless arms, they boldly dare tjie fight. Thoy dare the foeman's vaunted strength — they meet his burnished blades. And blood again flows silently through vernal forest glades; The sword and sabre fiercely clash, the cannon's peals resound. Like thunder tones through woodland haunts, and smil- ing vales around. COKIKTH. 27 His serried columns closer press their boasted strength to wield, While dark forebodings stir the hearts that bleed on Shiloh's field. A cloud hangs o'er our Southern sky, dull thunders darkly roll, And gloom now shades each patriot brow, and fills each patriot soul ; The dauntless arms that yesterday, struck terror and dismay, Where e'er their dreaded files were turned are worn and spent today. They see the Northman's strengthened hordes they hear the boasting cry, While loud his echoing guns resound along the vaulted sky; They mark his fresh-formed lines, their own thin bat- tered ranks the while ; And almost fear that on our Cause just Heaven lorgets to smile. They pant, they burn, they fight, they fall, thev grapple with dismay! While slow before the foeman, see ! our brave Right Wing gives way. The centre wavers—* ' God of right defend our Southern Flag.'' And Polk's sad prayer is echoed by the burning tones of Bragg : ** Wilt yield my hoys, while Hardee stands toith cfraniie lines and true — Shall bleeding comrades vai^ily turn their pleadiiig eyes on youV 28 CORINTH. The words awake the old heart-throbs, that proud and warmly beat, When patriots know no harsher sound than that one word — defeat. They lift again their dripping blades — they press their bleeding lines, And yet, doth Victory long delay her glad exulting signs? Polk cheers his brave, devoted men with blessing and with prayer. While Beagg and Hardee firm and bold refuse to know despair; But whose the brow, the glorious brow, and whose yon towering form. That shines amid the darkness now — a rainbow through the storm? A thousand voices shout his name and brave eyes brightly shine. As gleams the sword of Breckinridge along the battle- line. He points to Corinth, fair and bright — Heaven's light around her shed ; And asks them if her vines and flowers must yield to vandal tread. He asks them if their country's hope shall foolish prove and vain; Or if the hearts by God made free, shall wear the vassal's chain. An onward charge — a fearful rush upon the exulting foe. Speak their reply — while ball and blade responsive answer no. CORINTH. 29 The hours wear on — those fearful hours whose memory long shall dwell, Deep, deep within the Southron's heart, its holiest chords to swell; He hears the battle's angry din, the rush, the charge, the roar. He knows that many a closing ear will heed those sounds no more — He sees his martyred battle -slain in mangled heaps around, While pale and bleeding, worn and scarred, the wounded strew the ground. He marks the calm, bright sun's decline and sadly thinks of those Who saw with him that day begin, but will not see its close. His heart grows heavy with the thoughts — the burning thoughts that swell. As here and there he marks the spot where some brave comrade fell; Some daring brother, firm and true, who brave and fear- less stood. Where Freedom's torch is fed with fire, and Truth is sealed with blood. Swift to the river's frowning marge the sullen foe is driven, While evening breezes softly bear an army's thanks to Heaven. Lo ! far beyond the gory plain the Day God sinks to rest. The Eagle seeks his eyrie now, the Dove her covert nest. 30 COKINTH. The guus at last are silent, hushed the cannon's fiery breath, Night veils the scene, and bannered liosts pause in tlieir work of death. The moon looks calmly down again, lier pale rays kiss the dead, And holy stars keep quiet watch o'er Honor's slumbering head. The foeman's eye looks grimly back o'er all that crim- soned plain. And frowns to see the fearful work his hand hath wrought in vain. His vaunting legions proud and strong, by brave hearts still defied, His cruel hopes and purposes by righteous Heaven denied — His numbers slain, his banners torn, his minions held at bay. While calm and bright sw^eet Corinth smiles still in the moonlit ray. Her vine-girt homes safe sheltered still, their waving trees among. And still her own wild Western lays by laughing maidens sung; Her walls unbroken firmly stand, her gates are still un- riven, And high o'er frowning battlements her spires still point to Heaven. CORINTH. 31 Thus may she stand, a monument of Southern valor tried, Of firm, enduring fortitude, and high, ennobling pride — Thus may she stand while rolling years speed on their changing way, And prouder strongholds yield at last, or melt before decay — Thus may her blooming daisies spring unbruised amid the sod, Till wars shall cease and nations own the calm sure Peace of God. Child of the South, brave Beauregard! Thy peerless brow, all Glory-starred New laurels now shall wear ; New trumpet-tongues thy fame shall find. New woven wreaths thy temples bind Of fadeless beauty rare. And while our Country's banner waves O'er Western wilds, o'er hero graves — Thine be the fearless hand. To lead through fiery pathways warm The fainting march, the battle- storm — Shiloh's devoted band. Thine be the sword that flashes high. While foeman's step is lurking nigh Our own bright border land. And when beneath her sheltering vines The blazing hearth-fire brightly shines. And Peace rings out her bells ; CORINTH. Thine be the crown that hides no thorn, The vernal bays by Conquerors worn "When Victory's pa?an swells. On with the fate that waits the free — Thy Country's praise shall follow thee — Her blessing proudly won; Go where thy daring footsteps go, Through future paths of joy or woe — Thou brave and peerless one. The God of Truth his favors shower Upon thee to thy latest hour ; And may the sweet acclaim Of unborn children, proudly show The deathless glories Fame may throw Around a Hero's name. CoRixTH, Miss., April, 1S6^. RICHMOND: HER GLORY AND HER GRAVES. Patriae infelici et Memoriae Alortuorum fidelis. Part First. ■ PON her rock-girt hills she stood, The City of the brave and good, Virginia's boast and pride: — God's sunshine on her brightly smiled. As Fortune on some favored child. Whom Heaven no gift denied. The morning light around her shone In roseate hues like Glory's own — The Day a splendor wore. That over Rome's imperial towers. Or Babylon's enchanted bowers, It never threw before. Sweet Night embraced her, like a friend, Who would the quiet pillow tend And dreams of rapture share, — While from the far off midnight skies. The stars looked down with sentry eyes Upon the slumberer fair. (33) 34 RICHMOND. And side by side in solemn strength, As the swift years rolled on, at length ". A rival City grew, — A rival in whose still embrace. Lay the calm brow and marble face, The gentle and the trne. Here twilight shadows, soft and gray. Stole through the muffled paths alway, "With tender, noiseless tread — And the sweet moonbeams kissed the gronnd Of Hollywood, with awe profound. As we would kiss the dead. But Richmond, in her living pride. Looked on tliis rival by her side With only tenderness; For in that rival's bosom deep ller lost ones found the tnmquil sleep That weary eyelids bless. Ah I little dreamed she then that those, In whom her loftiest hopes repose, Would by the battle thrust. Ere long, witli all their youthful charms, Be folded to her rival's arms, Commingled ^'diu Behold ! we bow us in the dust — Ood rides today, as when Throughout His broad creation rang, The joyful song the angels sang, Of " Peace — good luill to men,'*'* Hark! in the distance now is heard The tramp of liorses hotly spurred — They come — behold ! they come -— And all along each crowded street The wild throngs press with hurried feet Unmindful where they roam. And mothers pale, look on the scene, "With grave, sad brows and stricken mien *' All— all is lost!" they cry- Alas ! our Country's hapless fate ! Homes, hearts and hopes, all desolate, Would we could only die ! 44 RICHMOND. ''Would thou— would'st to thyself, oh God! Take us who faint beneath Thy rod, With bruised hearts and sore ; Better to close oar eyes, than see The want, the woe, the misery, That lie, alas! before!" And timid children shrink with fear. As the rude sound approacheth near — The sound of marching feet, And closer cling to parent hands, At the loud swell of martial bands, That echo through the street. A smothered wail — a bugle note. That mingling on the red air float — A banner torn and furled. Make up the last, sad, woeful clause In the brief story of a cause. To sudden ruin hurled. Part Second. Oh ! there were scenes of anguish. Ere that Sabbath sun went down ; Sounds of woe were heard in Richmond, When her gates were overthrown. April decked her hills with roses, Scattering odors fresh and sweet. But the tramp of battle horses. Crushed the dasies at her feet. KICHMOND. 45 Aged eyes looked on the picture, With their fading light serene, But the hoariest head had never Bowed before a sadder scene, — Only yesterday unbending, In her fortitude and pride. With a Roman will she struggled 'Gainst the foe so long defied. Now a pale and crownless mourner, All her glory overthrown — Weeping Rachel for her children, Sits disconsolate and lone. Aye ! disconsolate and lonely Is our widowed Queen to-night, As within her darkened chambers, Burn no flaming torches bright. She hath doffed her crown and scepter, With their jeweled splendor's glow, For the sackcloth and the ashes Of an immemorial woe. She had ventured all save honor — All upon a single die. And behold, to highest Heaven, Goes her agonizing cry ! Think you He will fail to hear it — He — the God of power and might. As upon His throne of Glory, Lo, He sitteth * 'judging right?" 46 RICHMOKD. Clouds of darkness round about Him, Long may hide Him from our eyes, But, my Country! He will never Scorn thy bleeding sacrifice ! He will not forget the record Of thy suffering and thy wrong And although his vengeance tarries, 'Twill, at last, be sure and strong, — It will follow where the ruins Of thy homesteads, fair and grand. Tell the dark and mournful story Of oppression's ruthless hand. It will note the low mounds rising, From thy bosom far and nigh. Pointing out the green turfed chambers, Where thy fallen heroes lie. Aye, thy fallen! — those who perished In a struggle most sublime. And whose glory is not measured By the fading light of time. Prominent among them, bearing Seals upon their foreheads bright. Are the brave who fell, oh Richmond! Thy beleaguered homes in sight. Those who shed their life blood freely. For thy safety and defence. And to whom thy love and blessing Were the highest recompense. BICHMOND. 47 Oh, what e'er of all thy grandeur, Conquering power and vengeance craves. Unto thee, alone, remaineth. Still, the glory of thy graves ! None may rob thee of this guerdon ; 'Tis a proud, though mournful prize, And it shines a glowing picture. To the world's admiring eyes. It will tell in song and story. Of a prowess sorely tried — How brave hands upheld the banner. Which their life-blood darkly dyed , How they rushed into the conflict. Full of faith in God and Right- How they fell, at last, undaunted, 'Neath the crushing car of might. Walker with his calm soul waiting, And his feet already shod, "?or the ''forward" march, that led him To the bosom of his God, — Pegram with his bold eye kindled. And his proud lips red and warm With the kisses of his bride-wife. As he dared the battle-storm : Harrison" and Price and Allan^, — Noble trio, firm and true, Hallowell, McCaitce and Grattan^, Pollard, Nimmo, Dove and Crew, 48 richmo:n'd. Lee and Wyatt — those who perished When the strife had but begun — And those brave lamented brothers, Nicholas and Robinsojt — Hardgroye, Johnston, Walthall, Ellet, Christian, Dabney, Tucker, Brown, Warwick (Brothers,) Tompkins, Mitchell, Strother, Green and Symington Waldrop, Wynne — alas! why need T Thus the mournful list prolong? None do need my humble tribute — Each will live in fame and song. Each will live, beloved and cherished— Honored, while the lips of time Tell the grand, enobling story Of a martyrdom sublime ; Live in memory's holy chamber. Sacred, guarded, undefiled, — Live, while lives one stricken mother, Still to mourn her noble child. Lift thy weeping eyes, oh Eichmond ! See them in their beauty glide? Crowns their blood-washed foreheads wearing, Sealed, redeemed and glorified. Safe from ills that vex us sorely, They have passed beneath the rod; Gilead's balm their death-wounds healing — Lo ! with Christ they live in God ! EICHMOND. 49 Never more our life-paths blessing, Nevermore our griefs to share, Shall we feel their love's caressing, Or behold their faces fair ; Yet their pure and gentle spirits, Disenthralled, will hover still, O'er the ruined shrines and places. Which they once were wont to fill. In the solemn hush of twilight, We shall feel their presence near, When far in the distant heavens, One by one, the stars appear. We shall see them in our visions. Clothed in new celestial grace. When some holy dream at midnight Brings us back the buried face. When we seek the graves that hide them. In their chambers dark and deep; Smoothing with our hands the grasses Waving o'er their dreamless sleep. They will look upon and bless us, Smiling on our work of love, As they note the pious duty. From their sinless home above. This remains — a mission holy, None may venture to deny- E'er to shield, protect and honor Places where our fallen lie. 50 EICHMOKD. E'er to guard from rude obtrusion The lone couches where they sleep ; Tenderly above their ashes, Loving watch and ward to keep. And when Spring returns in beauty, Life and light and joy to giye, To the hidden germs that slumber, And to aching hearts that live, — Bringing flowers, of vernal sweetness. O'er the narrow couch to spread, — Lilies pure and budding roses. Breathing incense o'er the dead. Thus thy martyred sons, Oh Richmond! Still may claim thy loving care. Though within thy darkened dwellings, Vacant all thtir places are, — Thus thou still may'st nobly honor Those who perished from thy side, Calling on thy name in accents, Low and tender ere they died. Aye, — and those who came as sta?igers, Falling in the deadly strife, — Names unknown and unrecorded. Save in God's own *'Book of Life;" Love them too — revere their ashes ; Guard from ruthless hand profane. Every spot whose soil is hallowed By a Southern martyr slain. KICEMOND. 51 *' Storied urn," or lettered marble, Are not needed here to tell, That these pale unconscious sleepers Did their Spartan duty well : — Did their duty when they gathered Eound that Banner, folded now To the battle tempest baring Each a dauntless breast and brow. Did their duty, when they bore it Through the long and bloody strife — Aye, at last, to shield and save it. Yielding each a hero's life, — Did their duty, when in dying. Mingling with their parting prayer, Eose the wish that God would make it Still His highly favored care. Ended now is all the struggle — Lost the cause they died to save ; Folded is the war-worn banner, Crimsoned with the blood they gave. But not lost, and not forgotten. Shall they be — the true and tried, Who upheld it long and nobly. Through the battle's angry tide. Passed are they to shores supernal. Far beyond the rolling flood ; Sealed each martyr's brow immortal. With the sacrament of blood — 52 RICHMOls^D. Grounded arms for crowns of glory ; Swords exchanged for Heavenly palms ; On their death-wounds Christ the Healer Pours the sweet Celestial Balms. Then why mourn them? — we who're blindly Groping in this nether dark — Vainly yearning, in our weakness, O'er our wrecked and ruined barque! Eather let our best thanksgiving Else to Him, who smote in love — Giving us the blow and anguish ; Them the peace and crown above. Oh Eichmond! though thy homesteads dear Once rang with joyous echoes clear Of laughter, song and mirth, Though now a brooding shadow lies About thy paths, and flowing eyes Surround each lonely hearth — God to be gracious still, will not Forget — nor on thy fallen lot, Cease to extend His smile, If but amid the dread alarm Alone on His sustaining arm Thou wilt but lean the while. Thy past — the crown that decked thy brow Is but a faded glory now. Its light no more we see. RICHMOND. 53 Lost, lost thy sceptre in an hour — A blighted oak, a fallen tower Are emblems all of thee Thy forehead wears the mourner's wreath Of cypress, and thy burning breath Floats out in fevered sighs ; Thy goodly mansions, once so fair, Show vacant places here and there. And tears bedim thine eyes. Niobe of cities ! grief hath drunk Thy spirit up, and sorrow sunk Its arrows in thy heart ; To see thy bravest champions fall. To hear thy sufferers vainly call. Hath been thy destined part. Yet girt with Truth's immortal will, Great in thy desolation still. Fair in thy swift decay — Like Rome amid her ruins grand. Like Thebes a marvel through the land Thou sitt'st a Queen today. And unborn nations yet will own Thy sceptred rule, when years have flown And by thee, side by side. The great and good will stand to claim The honor due thy glorious name — Virginia's boast and pride! 54 RICHMOis'D. War's blighting breath may still consume Our temples fair — our roses' bloom His ruthless hand may smite — But wrong shall not always assail — Immortal Truth must still prevail ; God ivill defend the Right! BATTLE OF MAiq^ASSAS. 55 £ BATTLE OF MANASSAS (July 21, 1861.) LEAR rises now the glorious Sun ]S"o cloud bedims the sky, As proudly from his eyrie, shines The Eagle's burning eye. And high above Manassas' plains His pinion soars today. Where North and South, dread foemen, meet In battle's fierce array. They meet, but not as brothers meet By distance parted long — They meet in bitterness of soul, In conflict, wild and strong. The one comes followed by ^Hhe ponq) And circumstmice of War,^^ Gay banners floating to the breeze. Rich ensigns from afar. The other stands with brow serene, Nor stoops to mark the spoil — Calm in the light of Truth he stands Upon his native soil. 56 BATTLE OF MANASSAS. The one comes boasting in his might Of numbers great and strong — One impulse stirs the other's breast — The burning sense of wrong. And Beauty for the Northman spreads A banquet rich and rare, While Woman, in the Southron's home, Bows her meek soul in prayer. They meet, glad Nature's hymn is hushed, AVood, hill and field around Re-echo but the clash of steel, The cannon's deafening sound. Fierce grows the struggle, fiercer still Beneath the noonday light ; Upon our soil the red blood flows Oh God, defend the right. Swell high tlie piean, Southern hearts, aye swell it to the skies, To God, the God of Battles, let the glad Hosannas rise; His eye beheld the struggle, and His arm was near the while. And on our cause, our glorious cause, it pleaseth Him to smile. The fight is o'er, the day is won, the victory is ours. No more the cloud of Tyranny above us darkly lowers; BATTLE OF MAKASSES. 57 The figlit is o'er, that dreadful fight, which Nature paused to see, And lo ! before ou7' conquerors, the Northmen swiftly flee. Their leaders backward haste their steps, confusion marks their line, Nor pause they now to taste the feast, or pledge the sparkling wine ; They heed not Beauty's stricken gaze of terror and dis- may. Nor e'en the booty which they thought would glorify the day. That day is ours, and now with honors bright and Glory " starred. We'll crown our gallant Johnso:n" and our noble Beau- EEGAKD, We'll crown them both with laurel wreaths from vernal Southern bowers We'll deck their brows with garlands fair, of gorgeous tropic flowers. And Smith, the gallant Kirby, aye the Blucher of the day, Shall duly share the homage which to heroes bold we pay : And wheresoever our glorious Flag, its Stars and Bars unfold. The names of Hamptoi^", Elzey, Jackso^n^, Stuart, will be told. 58 BATTLE OF MAl^ASSES. Nor will the pen of record, which the hand of Fame employs, Forget the bold achievements of our own Virginia boys — Brave Latham with his Battery, exposed to shot and shell. While '* thick as hail" around him the vandal bullets fell. The daring, fearless Daj^iel, who received a miscreant ball, Our noble Major HAKRisoi^', among the first to fall; J And Alexander, firm and true, old Campbell's favored son — And many 7nore — whose names are linked with Glory and renown. The day is ours, alas! we pause, in tears we pause to tell, A wail was heard in Heaven when the gallant Bartow fell— The wail of fearless men-in-arms, by dauntless courage led, The wail of struggling Freedom for a noble champion dead. And lo ! among the fallen, in our bleeding ranks we see The noble forms of Radford, Irvij^e, Johjs^soj^, Fisher, Bee; Green wave the turf above them, honored be the mant- ling sod Which now hides the mortal caskets of the spirits gone to God. BATTLE OF HARASSES. 59 A blessing to their memory, a tear upon their graves, Where shines the Southern Cross, and where the sweet Magnolia waves; We will tell it to our children, how they fought and how they died — With their swords unsheathed for victory, gleaming high above each side. Loud swell the grateful anthem, let it reach unto the skies, To God, the God of Battles, let the Alleluia rise ; And loud resound the echo glad, o'er mountain wild, and crag. The noble Eagle folds his wing above our Southern Flag. The fight is o'er, the day is won, the Sun sinks in the West, Past now the glorious Sabbath that was not a day of rest; Night shades the gory field, sweet Night with holy hush and calm — To Davis and his "rebel host" she gives the Victor's palm. % Major Harrison fell in the engagement of the 18th ultimo. e^ 60 OUR FALLEN BRAVE. OUR FALLEN BRAVE. " I J II EV fell! — ill Freedom's cause they fell, I ^ 'I'ho Tioblo patriot band, ^ And Freedom for their sakes, becomes A mourner through the Land. They rushed to Victory or Death, They struck for liberty. And Victory's tears now gild their swords — Our fallen and our free! They met the Tyrant's vassal-hordes ; No faltering hearts Avere there — Our Country's truth their battle-cry* Our Country's weal, their care. They marc^hed into the jaws of Death ; No wavering pulse they knew, And minions crouched before their blades. Our valiant and our true! They fought as patriots, fearless, bold. As patriots too they fell. And struggling nations yet to be Their daring deeds shall tell. Aye, nations yet unborn shall smile. To learn that Victory Embalmed with tears their shattered shields. Our faithful and our free! OUR TALLEN^ BRAVE. 01 They sloop — no wail of sorrowing Lovo May broak thoir (loop roposc, Nor blast of bugle, fifo or drum Thoir dull cold car unclose. They sleep — they are not dead the while, Though funeral banners wave — They live in memory's holy place. Our beautiful, our l)ravo! They live in licarts that fondly prize, The proud immortal trust. And Fame's unfading chaplet crowns, Palo slumbercrs in the dust. Their story shall but nerve our arms, Thoir names our War-cry be, And Glory's star shall light their graves, Our fallen and our free. Jamcary 2'2nd, 1862. 62 THE DEATH OF JACKSON. THE DEATH OF JACKSON. "RIGHTLY the moon o'er pallid corpses streaming, Mingled her soft rays with the cannon's breath, Where Southern braves their noble columns leading, Marched through the fearful avenues of Death — And where, with dauntless heart and hopes elate, Virginia's idol met a Hero's fate. Oh quiet stars! from your serene dominion. Look down in pity on our human woe, — Weep, weep with us, the great, strong arm is stricken. The form so dearly loved is prostrate now; And he who lately cheered his legions on, Must from the crimsoned field himself be borne. Winds of the night, waft hither balm and healing, Stop with your cooling breath the fevered tide : Comrades draw near, and through the shadows bear him, "Where gentle forms may gather to his side. Oh, God ! in mercy raise the drooping head And send Thine angels to attend his bed. Lo ! 'round that couch how many fond hopes hover, As day by day, the prostrate Chieftain lies Cheerful and calm, while thousand hearts are welling With tears that stain an anxious Nation's eyes. And he whose laurels, blood and carnage won. Breathes the meek Christian's prayer, "r% luill he clone.'''' THE DEATH OF JACKSOK. 63 And shall we, Father, 'spite the proud example. Still strive to wrestle with Thy wise design, And on frail arms of flesh too sure relying Forget, in human aid, the Source divine? No, Thou wouldst teach us by thy mystic plan. That Man's best expectation is kot mai^. The hero's eye is dim, its fading vision Soars far beyond the narrow bounds of Time, He sees the eternal hills their palms uplifting. And all the glory of their light sublime. And he would "cross the river" Sin has made And "rest forever" in their grateful shade. Hark ! from his couch the sound of grief and wailing Go with the lightning's speed from shore to shore — His hour has come — the death-dews slowly gather — The Warrior's mission is forever o'er. Hope lingers still, and Love still clasps his head. But Love nor Hope may wake the unconscious dead. And thou couldst perish — thou whose lightest warning With terror filled the invader's trembling files Whose name was music to the countless thousands Who hung with fervor on thy word or smiles — Ah, wise monition! — who may now deny. How frail is life since such as thou couldst die. But what, though faltering lips the story telling. Link the dread "dust to dust" with thy dear name; What though a Nation's voice, in tones of wailing. From shore to shore the painful truth proclaim — 64 THE DEATH OF JACKSON. What though the grave thy noble form shall hide, Will not thy dauntless spirit still abide? Yes, be thy requiem grand, the battle-chorus Of clashing bayonet and rolling drum. Meet that the gladdening shouts of victory swelling, Should waft thy great soul to its final home. What though no light relume that faded eye — Minions! he lives — the brave can never die. Immortal Jacksoi^, from thine ashes springing, The deathless form of Liberty shall rise. Blest with the baptism of thy blood all holy, To rear her gore-washed alter to the skies. And who that scorns the tyrant's yoke to wear, Will not delight to render homage there? Eest from the strife, brave spirit nobly yielded, To free thy Country from the Oppressor's curse; Hence through the lapse of years thy memory cherished. That Country's grateful heart shall proudly nurse. And all high thoughts that purest worth may claim. Will glow and kindle at thy glorous name. Martyr to Freedom, o'er thy grave now bending, A noble nation droops her mourning head, While Love with trembling hand the bright wreath twineth. Of Summer flowers to deck thy lowly bed. Wear now the fadeless crown so nobly won. Hear from the Master's lips, ''Servant of God, well done." THE CADETS AT KEW MARKET. 65 Eest from the strife, aye, rest thee now forever, Where mortal footsteps shall no more invade ; Rest on the bosom of thy G-od, reposing Beneath the Heavenly Palm tree's mystic shade. Thy Country's heart thy mausoleum be, Oh fallen Champion of the brave and free! THE CADETS AT NEW MARKET.* g^ NWARD they come, they come! I'Mid the wild battle-hum I Fearfully chanted — ^ Boys in their youthful prime, Flowers of a radiant clime, Veterans in soul sublime. Firm and undaunted. Rushing the die to throw. That the wide world may know AVho saved the Valley ; When, like an angry tide Up the broad mountain side. Swept the proud foeman's stride Fresh from the Rally. *To that brave band of young heroes, the Cadets of Virginia Mil- itary Institute, boysia years, patriots in their devotion to the South, and veterans in their soldierly skill and daring, these lines, commemor- ative of their gallant defense of the Valley of Virginia in the battle of New Market, on the 15th of May, 1864, are respectfully inscribed. Q^ TiffE CADiSTS AT KEW MARKET. Oh, the grand charge they made! Through the walled esplanade Armed to resist them ; Eeady with blood to buy Freedom and liberty, Ready to dare and die, God to assist them. Presh on each forehead fair. Sealed with a mother's prayer Fervently spoken, Hope's sunny trace and smooth Gleamed with the dew of youth. Types of the stainless truth Not to be broken. Right through the leaden storm Pressed every fair young form Mantled with glory; Never a heart dismayed. Never a faltering blade. Though with each step they made Their footprints gory. Woe to our startled foes ! As their young voices rose 'Mid the fierce thunder; Armed with the shield of Right, Davids, in that stern fight. Coped with Goliath's might To the world's wonder. THE CADETS AT KEVV MARKET. 67 Sadly through tears we tell How in their beauty fell The martyred seven-, Freed by the battle thrust, Eose their bright souls from dust, Bearing a nation's trust, Blood -sealed to Heaven. Shall we their deeds forget To whose sweet memories yet Proud tears we render? Lost to a world's renown, Ripe for a fadeless crown. Early their san went down In radiant splendor. High on the roll of fame Live every glorious name Through coming ages ; Let the bright record won By the proud duty done Shine through all time upon History's pages. Long live the V. M. L, Cradle of chivalry ! Fame's golden portal; AYhile the loud battle din Echoes our land within, Ne'er may she cease to win Glory immortal. 68 THE GRAVES OF OUR HOME-HEROES. THE GRAVES OF OUR HOME-HEROES. EIIOLD! they sleep— Our own defenders bold, who lately stood Like brothers, side by side, where Southern blood Darkened Virginia's soil, a crimson flood. How still they lie ! They who were wont to leap like bounding deer At the shrill bugle's call or comrade's cheer — All quiet now, heeding no footstep near. Above each breast, The Spring-birds warble, Sammer breezes blow. And Winter's hoary frosts and mantling snow Fall softly, as to shield the dust below. Ah ! 'tis but dust. That with its kindred dust reposes here ; Ashes to ashes cleaving, Darkness drear Wedding the solemn Night, 'till stars appear. I know they live — The brave and beautiful whom we call dead. And Heaven's own Day-star brightest beams doth shed By the still waters where their steps are led. THE GKAVES OF OUR HOME-HEROES. 69 To that fair Land, Where comes no blighting change, no dark decay, To dull the brightness of the spirits ray ; They walk anew the Christ-illumined Way. But do they see The burning tears that fall, the weary dearth Of smiles and joy where they were loved on earth— The vacant places all, at home and hearth? Are they aware That light went from us with their parting look. That solemn shadows veiled fair Nature's book. When Death our sunshine and their presence took? I call their names, But the winds only answer — they are still. While the memories sad, though sweet, my bosom fill. And spirit-tones respond, '''"Father^ thy will.'*^ Oh, then farewell! Ye for whom hearts have bled in anguish here ; On whose pure brows, all glorified appear That seal of sorrowing love, affection's tear. Farewell, farewell. Ye brave, lamented ones — the earth may quake. The stars go out in night, the mountains shake. But nought save God's own voice your sleep may break. 70 THE GRAVES OF OUB HOME-HEROES. Rest, ye beloved! Here where in vernal beauty willows wave, And young birds sing and modest violets lave Their fragrant lips in dews that gem the grave. Sleep, calmly sleep! While War's dark, boding thunders round us roar, And battle-tempests lash and billows pour Their strength in vain against Death's tranquil shore. Rest, ye beloved ! There where by mortal cares no more opprest. Safe, safe forever on the Eternal breast. The good repose,''/Ae toeanj are at rest.'''* A while farewell ! Our parting must be brief; the same chill tide That bore ye brave and gentle from our side AVill bear us too — where tears no more divide. A little while. And past our vain regrets — our yearning's o'er. We too shall reach that calm, majestic shore Where ye abide, ^^ not lost, hut gone lefore.^'* March SI, 1S65. MT. AIUY. 71 MT. AIRY.* Skpt. t)th, IHGO. TUKAI) oncG more thy stately balls, "iwOii wliosc worn paths and [)ictured walls, The golden sunlight brightly Tails, Mt. Airy. 1 bear again the rural ehinie Of bird-notes in their wordless rhyme, Sweet echoes of the olden time, Mt. Airy. When bounding feet thy tbresliold prest. And merry song and sportive jest. Leaped from the lips of host and guest, Mt. Airy. When through the rosy mists of morn Was heard the huntsman's cheerful horn. As down thy slopes the chase was borne, Mt. Airy. *Mt. Airy, the jjrem of the Shenandoah Valley, is the princely estate of John (5. Meeni, Hsut over all relentless War Hath rolled his dark, funereal car, And lo, on all tlie gory scarl Mt. Airy. MT. AIltY. 73 TFt^'o l);ililin«jj liosU UuMr buinuM' Hprcuid, — \\{^V{\ l('U(l(ii's I)<)1(1 their (M)linnn« 1(mI, And Ikm-c l)r:iv(^ licjirls (Jicir hlood lijiv(^ sIkmI, Ml.. Airy. Uoro Sfcotiowall JjK^kHon foujijlifc ami pniycd, Uoio Awhhy dri^w hirt |;iillaiil bladci, — And (Jilmor, knightly record made, Mt. Airy. More linudvinrid^e caTiie, lo niool, and foil 'I'lio h:ird, reniorHulusH hand of Hpoil, — \Vh(ui ?n;i,ilyr-blood bodowod tliy Hoil, Ml. Airy. And li(M'(^ ])ravo Early \m dannil(^MH form Moved prondiy tliron^h Iho batlh^Htorni, 'Mid doafoiiin^^ (duiers and grootlngs warm, Mi. Airy. TVovv oneo ajj^Jiin a pnaci^fnl Hun Shifios all thy <;lowing Hcenen upon, — Tho strugglo o'er, tlio canK<^ not won, Mt. Airy. And tlioy aro gone for wbom we wc^ep, Ah o'er her burial treasurcH de(^|), l<\)nd momorios holiest vigilH kei^j), Mt. Airy. TTark, tbrouf^h tliy mnrmurin^ l;itti(;e-vinoB, E'(Mi now a voic-e from "Sciven i'iruw," ItH HMjuiom with thy breeze eombirmH, Mt. Airy. 74 MT. AIRY. And mingling with its dirgelike moan, A plaintive wail, — a dying groan, From Boonsboro's gory field is borne, Mt. Airy. These, — sad, responsive echoes meet. In every whispering zephyr sweet, That comes thine own wild hills to greet, Mt. Airy. For by swift disease laid low, The stalwart form and princely brow. On whom the grave mast gathereth now, Mt. Airy. He fell not as the others fell, 'Mid the rude sound of shot and shell, — Yet^ nobly at Ms j^ost, as loell, Mt. Airy. Aye, nobly laid his brave heart down. Where grateful lips his worth might own. — Their tender praise his spirit's crown, Mt. Airy. They sleep, but not upon thy breast — The patriots' name their proud bequest, — Their slumber is the hero's rest, Mt. Airy. Soft mingling with the shadows low. That dim the sunset's amber glow. Come pictures of the long ago, Mt. Airy. MT. AIRY. 75 Bright pictures of the bygone days At Eetrospection's tearful gaze, Float softly through the twilight haze, Mt. Airy. I see once more the matron kind. In whose pare heart and gentle mind; All lovely attributes combined, Mt. Airy. I watch again his fevered sleep. For whose dear memory, fond and deep, A sister's tenderness I keep, Mt. Airy. And she is here, that gifted one, On whose pale brow Heaven's glory shone. Whose crown of Life was early won, Mt. Airy. All, all are here — about me glide The loving forms, and near ray side The sealed brows of the glorified, Mt. Airy. All, all are here, and yet I weep, As tearful thoughts of those that sleep. Come ever with thy voices deep, Mt. Airy. The bird, the breeze, the stream and flower, Each move me with mysterious power. In this lone, musing, sunset hour, Mt. Airy. 76 MT. AIRY. Yet from the gay and laughing throng, AVhose careless mirth and gleeful song, To present hopes and joys belong. Mt. Airy. I love to turn my ardent gaze And see through memory's distant haze The golden * 'light of other days." Mt. Airy. I love to hear mid echoes low, Of song-bird's note and river's flow, The voices of the long ago, Mt. Airy. And as the twilight shadows creep. My prayer goes up that God will keep Thy living oQcs, and those that sleep, Mt. Airy. That ever as the years roll on, To the eternal ages borne, His love may all thy circle crown, Mt. Airy. Marking the s^ot where stuakt fell. ^1 MARKING THE SPOT WHERE STUART FELL NEAR RICHMOND. June 18th, 1888. NO gatheriug war cloud veils the skies of June, No startling sound of bugle or of drum Puts summer's harmonies all out of tune As marching lines with measured footsteps come. O'er all the landscape now sits gentle Peace Like brooding dove above her quiet nest Whea from the fowler's snare she hath release And fears no more the arrow for her breast. The hills and valleys smile in verdure bright ; The fields with nodding daisies blossom white, And Nature's pulse beats loyally and light As here we meet where memory's wave-tides swell To mark the spot where Stuart, the dauntless, fell. 78 A VOICE FKOM THE GKOUND A VOICE FROM THE GROUND. Soldiers' Cemetery, Lynchburg, Va., May 9th, 1885. ORGET us not, us who are lying here Iq slumber deep and dismal, darkness drear, The while your busy footsteps onward pass Above us through the tangled, waving grass That hides us low; pause near the lonely spot, And in your joy of life forget us not. Forget us not who once were glad as you 'Mid the bright sunshine and the glistening dew, Walking abroad, loving the teeming earth, With all its glow of beauty, sounds of mirth, Till, for your sakes, and with no slavish fear. We met the direful fate that laid us here. Forget us not — we do not ask to be Like haunting ghosts marring your human glee ; But as in Memory, holy things are kepu O'er which Affection's loyal tears are wept. So in your hearts' deep hidden shrines and dear We would be cherished who are sleeping here. Forget us not, as side by side we lie, Nor pass our lonely mounds unheeded by. For though our palsied, mouldering hands uphold No more our blood-stained Banner's tattered fold, Still through the ages while to us remain Your loving tears, we have not died in vain. SONG OF THE MARYLAND EXILES. 79 Forget us not — but as the years roll by Bring the sweet otferings love would ne'er deny — The buds and blossoms of the joyous May — And on our lowly graves your tributes lay, And say to strangers and to children dear. — "These did their duty who are lying here." SONG OF THE MARYLAND EXILES. Corinth, Miss., April 30th, 1862. w E'VE left our own dear native hills In stranger lands to roam — We've parted ties that sweetly bind The soldier's heart to home. We bade adieu to Maryland The tyrant's heel was there, How could we see his torch profane Her glorious temples fair. Oh, Maryland, dear Maryland Though distant far we roam, Our hearts still warmly, warmly beat For kindred hearts at home. Ah— wonder not that Freedom's call We dared not hear in vain. Before us lay the panting South Behind the despot's chain. 80 SONG OF THE MARYLAND EXILES. We gazed upon thy verdant liills Our childhood paths were there; God only saw the burning tears That sealed our parting prayer Oh, Maryland, etc. God only knew the struggle wild That swept our bosoms o'er. As faded from our longing gaze Thy swift, receding shore. He only knew the burning thoughts That mocked us to the last, The cherished hopes discarded now Their joys forever past. Oh, Maryland, etc. Our childhood homes, — we saw them still Their clinging vines among — The sheltering roof-trees deepening shade That o'er the casement hung. And dear home-faces gathered all Where last they met our own ; The mute pale lips that paler grow AVithout our answering tone. Oh, Maryland, etc. There, there are faithful hearts and true That fondly for us yearn. And there are bright though tearful eyes That wait our quick return, SONS OF THE MARYLAND EXILES. 81 A sister's smile — a wife's embrace, A mother's voiceless prayer; The sinless kiss of infant lips Await, await us there. Oh, Maryland, etc. Then chide us not that loving ties Still urged their holy spell. As sweet Potomac's murmuring waves ISighed back our last farewell, And blame us not that thronging fast Came memories of Lang Syne, As o'er those placid waves we saw Our native skies decline. Oh, Maryland, etc. The darkness of that hour doth still Athwart our memory stray. And fondly yearns the loving heart For dear ones far away. And lonely is the exiles lot In sadness doomed to roam There never to his ear may come The voices of his home. Oh, Maryland, etc. Yet well we know affection true Would still our pathway light — That love with prayer and blessing breathes Our absent names tonight, 82 THE FOREST GRAYE. And so we ask no prouder fate Than by the South to stand Till Freedom's star shall guide us back Once more to Maryland. Oh, Maryland, etc. THE FOREST GRAVE.* Lynchburg, November 2nd, 1865. KNOW a spot — a lonely spot, Where Autumn winds are sighing. And where, upon the withered sod, The drifted leaves are lying. There, busy insects lately hummed And summer birds were singing. As through the air, the butterfly Its gladsome way was winging. The wild wood violet blossomed there. Its tender smile unheeded And clinging vines their shelter gave, — Alas! no longer needed. But now no joyous note is heard The solemn stillness breaking — Low, whispering winds a dirge instead Seem for the lost one making. *Iu a quiet, lonely forest churchyard, in thecounty of Bedford, is the grrave of Dr. John A. Nelson, a youna: and promising surgeon in the Con- federate army, who, after distinguished service iu the hospital and on the field, fell in a'volunteer charge at Raccoon's Ford, Culpeper county, on the 11th of October, 1SG3, in the 2Sth year of his age. THE FOREST GRAVE. 83 He slumbers there for whom we wept With yearning hearts and broken, When in the dust we laid him down, Our tearless grief unspoken. All full of hope we sent him forth, — No joy had love denied him, But soon they brought him back to us, A broken sword beside him. 'Twas hard to look upon his face, In its calm, marble beauty. And feel that resignation now Was but our simple duty. Alas ! with quivering lips and pale. We tell the mournful story, Of how he fought and bravely fell Upon the field of glory. But God knew best — for him we loved Remains no bitter token. The while we tread Life's altered paths With chastened hearts and broken. And we will mingle praise with prayer To Him who ever liveth. That after toil — sleep, blessed sleep. To His beloved He giveth. 84 "TRUST IN GOD," Elk Hill, Bedford, Va., 1863. \ c *WAS the Sabbath calm and holy and the balmy -^ airs of June Echoed back the Sky-lark's warble and the y King-dove's sadder tune; On the plains of old Virginia, where the brightest sunbeams play, And the flowers their sweetest odors yield, our gallant army lay; From their tents, their guns beside them, stepped tha soldiers one by one, Gazing idly in the distance, dreaming idly in the sun; Some were thinking of the future, some were musing of the past. Some were praying for the victory that must crown our hopes at last. The last letter of a brave and gallant Virginian— Charles D. Saunders, of Lynchburg — written to his mother, a few hours before his fall in battle, closed thus — "It is Sunday, but not the Sunday for having sweet communion with God, for hearing his gospel preached and going to Church withmy Afoi/ier, but one, when we have to be on the w^atch for a vandal foe, and ready to move at any moment. We left Culpeper Court House on Tuesday — but, I hear the booming of artillery and must prepare to move — trust in God. Rector's Cross Roads, Fauquier Co., V., June 21st, 1863." 85 Here and there a valiant lover leaned upon his gleaming sword, Thinking of his absent Mary and her tender parting word ; Would her welcome be as kindly, would her smile be as before, Should he live to hear her greet him when the bloody fight is o'er? Or if fate decreeded against him, and his dying couch must be Where the soil is wet and gory with the life-blood of the free; With no gentle form beside him, none his parting prayer to tell. Would she weep to hear the story, how he fought and fell? Laughing lips made merry music for the dreamers on the ground, For despite their sober musings, many a sportive jest went round. Groups of young and ardent faces made the glowing scene more fair. Kinging tones of gleeful voices filled the solemn Sabbath air. Now and then a folded letter with its tell-tale face was found. Here and there a thumb worn Bible open lay upon the ground. Soldiers on the bare sod seated pondered words of hope and cheer. One was at his table penning tender lines to **mother dear." 86 As he traced the loving sentence, ah, me thinks I see him now, Brightly shone the light of beauty and of youth upon his brow. And his dark eyes beamed with rapt are as his young heart leaped the while To behold in musing fancy still that mother's gentle smile. Pen in hand his fond thoughts wander to his distant home afar. Where in love's own chosen circle he had shone the brightest star; Memory stirred his heart a moment and he brushed away a tear, As the contrast was presented of the picture there and here. There where Sabbath bells were chiming and to hear the Gospel sweet. Sober age and happy childhood hurried on with eager feet; Here where flashing sabres glittering in the noontide fervid glow Told of stout hearts all undaunted waiting proudly for the foe. Hark, what sound is that which startles like the meteors flaming glare, 'Tis the cannon's booming thunder rolling fiercely through the air; Lo! the vandal hosts approaching — see their blazoned emblems shine. Comrades up to death or victory — quickly form the battle line. 87 Such the watchword, such the warning, and behold in martial might, Stood unnumbered gallant Southron's ready waiting for the fight, Thousands led and legions followed through a pathway all untrod. And our hero to his letter added only *' trust in God." Quick as thought with ardor burning for the victory yet unwon. He too, stood beside his comrades with his battle-harness on; Bold and fearless as a Lion, stood he in his youthful pride, While the rolling columns pressing, gathered closer to his side. Many a brave heart fell before him, many a veteran worn and grey, Saw *'the last of earth," departing with the slow, declining day- Youthful forms o'f t fondly shielded from the rude wind's kissing breath. In the freshness of life's morning rushed to clanger and to death. One lay clasping sword and musket, while his heart's blood sheathed them both. And the ring upon his finger told a tale of plighted troth. He had met the conqueror calmly with his bright eyes turned above. And the last sweet name he murmured was the Mary's of his love. 88 Loud and louder grows the thunder of the Cannon's fear- ful roar, Nearer draw the fiery troopers close and closer than before ! Proudly swells the Southron's bosom as the foeman's steel gives way And despite his strength and numbers yields to valiant hearts the day, See a fair young form reclining on a comrade's shielding arm, Mind the hail of flying missels they are bearing him from harm! Who goes there? — but still they bear him toward the setting of the sun. And a dying couch is pillowed for that brave and gallant one. While the gaping wound is flowing with his life-blood's purple tide, He remembers those who loved him more than all the world beside. And he breathed each household name beloved, with blessing and with prayer, Asking God in pitying love to make them each and all His care. Gathering up his failing strength to say what must be quickly said As a friendly hand smoothed back his hair and raised his drooping head ; Ere his spirit passed the portal of its fading house of clay He a word of comfort whispered for the dear ones far away. ^'TUtJST IK god/' 89 ** There's a letter still unfinished, (I must speak the mes- sage low,) "For my pulse is surely failng, and my hand is palsied now), **Tell my father and my mother that I love them both in death, *'Tell my sisters that I blessed them with my very latest breath ! **They will miss me, oh how sadly — they will think 'twas hard to die, **When the future held bright pictures for my young and eager eye, *'But a guiding Hand hath led me through the paths in which I trod "And I've tried in darkest moments to be still, and trust in God." Here the dying voice grew fainter, a listening ear bent low. But no sound, not e'en a whisper, broke the solemn still- ness now! He had passed the Vale of shadows leaning on the Savior's rod, And his soul in peace immortal stood before a smiling God. Comrades linger still a moment, stay your falling tears the while See how beautiful and lovely was his last sweet dying smile ! As ye stand again without him on the crimson carnage- field. Let the faith which made him victor be your buckler and your shield. 90 '^TRUST Iiq- GOD." And ye stricken ones who held him as your dearest earthly joy, Who have yearned, how oft, to look upon your noble soldier-boy When his body pale and still, before your startled gaze appears, And ye struggle with an anguish that is too deep for tears ! When ye feel that now it matters not what cruel storm betide If but only death would come again and set you by his side! Think, oh think the while how meekly he bowed to the Father's rod, And in hours of darkest agony he still and trust in God. Catch the echo, oh my Country ! — on your stainless ban- ner bright, Be the dying soldier's words inscribed in characters of light! Let them tremble to behold them who would Heaven's own truth assail, In his blood marked path to vengeance let the tyrant read and quail; In the councils of the nation, — in her legislative halls, In the camp and on the gory field where honor sternly calls ; In peace, or war, or calm or storm, or passing beneath the rod. Be the Southron's spotless emblem Truth — his motto ^'trust inGod." II^- MEMORIAM. , 91 IN MEMORIAM. A L h. FORTH from his home with bounding step and bearing A manly heart He wandered — eager in the South 's great struggle To take his part. Eyes that had watched him when night shadows curtained His cradle bed Saw him depart with prayers and tearful blessings Upon his head. Fond eyes ! 'tis well ye might not scan the future ISTor mark the hour When War's foul breath should like a Simoom wither Your cherished flower, Like a proud deer which boldly stands defying The Huntsman's eyes, He stood, alas ! for merciless invaders A glorious prize. Deep in his heart with youthful ardor burning Glad dreams awoke Of love and fame as o'er him now ascended The battle-smoke. Brightly above his head in beauty floated The flag he loved. And proudly mid the hail of deadly missiles His young step moved ; 92 IN" MEMOUIAM. Dark was the hour when 'iioalli that banner battling With shot and shell Like a tried hero in his noontide glory llo nobly fell. Hark! through the din and strife a voice prououncing His duty done, Lo! through the leaden storm they gently bear him At set of Sun. Urave lioarts are sad for him— comrades now gather His couch beside Wliilo from his fair young bosom darkly streameth 4'he crimson tide. Tried friends in haste away ! — foemen are pressing His pillow near, Longer yo may not watch — angels will follow His couch to clieer, What though a prison wall rudely con line him Olicerless and dim, Locks may not bar the soul Jesus hath summoned To dwell with Him. Only a few short days of pain and anguisii Strengthened by prayer, A\\(\ the brave martyr-spirit strove and wrestled No longer (here. Kind, gentle at ranger hands wrcathcil with bright garlands, The pale sweet brow, When with a tearful blessing mutely spoken Tliey laid him low; Peace to that grave o'er whicli in pity resteth A stranger sod-- Peace to the bright young soul thus early sheltered With Christ in God. EK-AVANT. EN-AVANT. March 15th, 1862. 0NWARD ye braves! — to glory on Nor sheathe your swords again Till baffled all the Tyrants' aim To bind us to his chain. UuNViird — o'er needful ills forget To murmur or repine While sits a vamlal foe beneath Our olive and our vine. Onward! — nor pause wliile woman weeps Beside her lonely hearth, And childhood's timid voice forgets Its own glad song of mirth, Onward ! — nor pause while cruel wrongs, Our dearest rights assail And cries of homeless wanderers Are borne on every gale. Strike, strike! — though life the fearful cost Of daring deeds must be, Better the martyr's hero-doom Than chains and slavery. Better the grave where Honor sleeps Low in its narrow bed, Tlian fetters grim and tyrants heel To rest on Freedom's head. 94 THE MISSING FORM. Onward ! — though gory footprints mark Our own bright native soil, An age of blood demands an age Of high and holy toil. Think of the gentle hearts at home, Think of your grey-haired sires. Think of the babes that lisp your names Strike for your altar fires. Let not a faltering step be known Your serried ranks among — Let not a murmuring word be heard To fall from a single tongue. Onward to Victory or Death, — Raised be each fearless hand, — Lifted to Heaven each dauntless heart Strike I — for your native land. THE MISSING FORM * ~^HERE was silence in the circle 4^ Round the social Christmas board. And fond eyes with tear-drops glistened When the festal wine was poured Oh, what changes in a twelve -month And what sorrows in their train, — Hopes are dead and joys departed To return no more again. *In memory of Major C. C. Otey of Bedford, whose last visit to many of his friends was made during the Christmas holidays previous to his fall in the battle of Seven Pines. THE MISSING FORM. 95 When around the cheerful hearthstone We have met in days of yore, There was with us one whose presence We shall greet — ah, never more, Never more save in that Aidenn Where beyond all storm and strife Dwells the soul in peace eternal 'Neath the sheltering Tree of Life. Ah! 'twas hard that he should perish In his manhood's morning prime. With his dear name brightly written On the proudest page of Time, But we gave him to his country In her darkest hour of need And that country's praise and blessing "Was his glory and his meed. Fare thee well, oh, dear departed Through the future's coming years Fame will link thy name with story Love bedew thy grave with tears, Gentle eyes serene and tender Will look upward through the storm Calmly waiting for Death's angel To restore thy missing form. And when meets the social circle Round the cheerful Christmas board, We will breathe thy name in silence When the festal wine is poured. 90 THE 2nd VIlUilNIA CAVALRY. Wo will say — 'twas for his Country That ho hiid liiin nobly down, Yielding earth and earthly laurels For the Victor's fadeless Crown. THE 2nd VIRGINIA CAVALRY. Hn rotitf to tlic defense of l.ynelibuiK, Col. T. T. Munfonl Commanding, Mureh 1st. 1805. 011 ! A brave and gallant band are they With their dashing leader bold And their hearts are as ready to dare or die As the Uonian hearts of old. No need to whisper a word to them, Of courage when foes assail, — ril warrant you any who doubt — these men Know no such word as fail. They have breasted the storm on many a iield Their banner is torn you see, — And their ranks are broken, alas! but still They sing tlie song of the free 'Tis comfort to know such hands uphold Our standard for weal or Woe, 'Tis fearful to think with what cool affront To the jaws of Death they go. ON C5UA11D. 97 God shicM them over we whisper low, As tears spring to our eyes, And we watch in terror tlie darkening storm That darkens our native skies. Bring each one back to the home he loves. To the hearts that cling to him, But our words are lost in the battle tramp And the sound of its echoes dim. Oh, a brave and gallant band are they — With their dashing leader bold — And their hearts are as ready to dare and die As the Roman hearts of old. No need to whisper a word to them Of courage when foes assail I'll warrant you any who doubt— these men Know no such word as fail. ON GUARD. OLDIER, pacing thy lone round, 'Mid the Winter's cold and sleet, 'Spite the snow that all the ground Covereth like a winding-sheet. What the thoughts that come and go As the night winds o'er thee sweep, Why these tears that over-flow Eyes that are not used to weep. 98 DAVIS AND LEE AT IIICHMOND. Doth thy Spirit loth to wait Backwiird throiigli tho shadows roam; Eiitoring in through memory's gate At tlie open door of liome? KSoost thou there the tabk^ spread, — Cheerful faces round the board; Tottering age with hoary head, Loving eyes by thine adored? Seost thou her whose gentle hands Oft have smoothed tliy cradle bed, Shielding thee from rudo alarms. As they clasped thy infant head? Silver locks now shade that brow Still how beautiful and meek, And those faded lips e'en now Blessings for the absent speak. Oh, when sinful thoughts essay To allure thy steps, beware, Trembling accents far away Breathe for thee a mother's prayer. DAVIS AND LEE AT RICHMOND. MMORTAL pair! around whose brows Unfading laurels twine, And o'er whose love illumined path The stars of glory shine. DAVIS AND LEE AT RlCUMOi^"U. Fame's clarion breathes no prouder note ^riian that wliich now proclaims, To all the world the light sublime That gilds your deathless names. Foes may despise and kings deny Your just deserving meeds — But unborn nations yet will praise The slpendor of your deeds. And unborn nations, yet will smile To learn the story grand. How 'gainst oppression's march ye led The Sou til's devoted baud. Brave leaders! — lo! a nation's eye Looks trustingly to you — A nation's heart for your success Beats yearningly and true. Long may you live to bless the land, That proudly calls you hers. And far, far distant be the day, When you shall claim her tears. Heaven's choicest blessings, pure and high Your onward steps attend, And may the (lod of Truth and Right Direct you to the end ; While e'er around, our Edens lurk. The foeman's gathering horde Yours be the hands to guard her gates And flash her flaming sword. 100 FLOWEKS FOE A WOUNDED SOLDIER. FLOWERS FOR A WOUNDED SOLDIER. s 0, GENTLE flowers! Go light the soldier's room, Go banish care and gloom, Go, with a voice of home Gladden his hours. Tell him of woods and fields, Tf 11 him of hearts and shields. Tell him that sadness yields. Kindly to you. Bear in your sunny smile Hopes that all cares beguile, Faith in All-Good, the while Fervent and true. Go in your beauty'drest, Types of the pure and blest ; Bear to the weary rest, Holy and calm. Soothe, soothe his bosom's smart. Gladness and joy impart; Breathe o'er the fevered heart Comfort and balm. COL. S. GIBBOKS, IOTH VIKGIKIA IKFAKTEY. 101 Go in your summer bloom, Light up the soldier's room, Drive thence all care and gloom Brighten his hours. Cheer him with memory-gleams, — Pictures of woods and streams, Boy haunts and childhood dreams — Go, gentle flowers ! J' COL. S. GIBBONS, 10th VA. INFANTRY. •'Servant of God Well Done." FEW spirits wore a nobler veil of flesh And fewer forms concealed a purer soul Than his we mourn today. He lived and died Beloved of many hearts and while he led His brave heroic band against the foe, (Himself forgetting, in his care for them), Kind voices urged him oft to caution, as The danger thickened round him heedless all Their fond endeavors for his safety, when The refuge of his soul had early been The shadow of a Rock higher than they. Was it for him to choose his way of Death When in the mantling refuge of that Rock His spirit found repose and inward peace E'en in the battle tempest? 10!i ' IBURIAL OF LIEUT. WM. L. GOGGIN, JR. Wonder not That when at last his duty here was done, He met the final conqueror with a smile Of peaceful triumph, as amid the hail Of speeding bullets and the fiery rain Of deadly missiles his brave soul went up To lay his death wounds at the feet of Christ Whose servant he had been. BURIAL OF LIEUT. WM. L. GOGGIN, JR. On the Burial at Home of I^ieut. Wm. L. Gogj^in, Jr., who died from disease after conspicuous gallantry in first Battle of Manassas. Lynchburg, September, 1861. EST, soldier rest! They who resigned thee at thy Country's call To meet her foe to guard her truth, or fall, Eeceived thee once again — 'twas but to lay^ Thy brave, young form, in manhood's strength away, In Earth's dark breast. Calm, fearless, bold Thy young brow shone amid the fierce array Of angry Battle on that glorious day. When Southern blood flowed in the Cause of Right And struggling Freedom loosed with conquering might The despot's hold. BURIAL OF LIEUT. WM. L. GOGGIN, JR. 103 Lo ! thou didst stand Unscathed 'mid roar of cannon — clash of steel As fiery troopers through the columns wheel, And 'mid the flash of sabre — roll of gun, Firm and undaunted still, thou cheered'st on Thy brave young band. And though the slain Lay thick around thee at the close of day ; Though wounded, dead and dying strewed thy way. Thou stood'st unharmed, as o'er the mangled pile For our brave fallen, from thine eyes the while Tears poured like rain. Dear, noble boy ! Disease alas! too soon breathed o'er the form. Thus Angel guarded in the battle's storm. And we who loved thee watched thy pulses fail As came with stealthy step the Spectre pale To crush our joy. And from that home Whence thy young feet went forth long months ago, With eager step to meet the obtruding foe, Thou'rt borne today to lay thy brave young head Where strife and tumult to the unconscious dead No more may come. Here, calmly sleep! No martial sound shall pierce thy death-cold ear, No comrade's step or voice awake thee here. But Love will o'er thee shed her mournful tears. And musing Memory, through the coming years, Iler vigil keep. 104 THE DEPARTURE OF OUR YOLUKTEEBf^^. Thou wilt lie down With her whose fair young cheek thine own hath press'd, As fond arms clasped you to the same fond breast, The gentle sister by whose loving side, Thou wandered'st oft in life's bright morning tide, Care then unknown. Rest, Soldier rest ! The din of War — the Battle cry is o'er. No startling reveille shall wake thee more, Nor blast of bugle thy dull ear unclose. Nor call to arms arouse thy deep repose. On Earth's calm breast. Thou hast put down Thy warrior-emblems — musket, sword and shield Thou'lt need again no more in camp or field, Immortal laurels deck thy youthful brow, And on thy brave young head. Heaven placeth now The Victor's crown. THE DEPARTURE OF OUR VOLUNTEERS. Lynchburg, May, 1861. E GO from the arms that have clasped you long, From hearts that beat warmest for you ; Ye are parting the tenderest ties that bind, — Oh, gallant ones and true. Y Aye, forth from the homes where your love hath made, Glad sunshine by day and night. Where fond smiles welcomed your coming steps. With affection's radiant light. THE DEPARTURE OP OUR VOLUN"TEERS. 105 Perchance from the scenes of your infant years, Where Life's dim paths untried, Ye were wont to wander in fearless glee, }3y an angel mother's side. Perchance from the graves of your household Dead, Where in peaceful slumber lie, The little sisters who played with you In the joyous days gone by. From all that is tender, and true, and tried. In the hallowed ties of earth. From the joys unnumbered that daily spring In the soil of home and hearth. Ye go to meet the obtruding foe. Who dares to invade our Land, Ye go at Virginia's earnest call. Oh, brave and gallant band. And Virginia's daughters are sad for you. As, mute, by their firesides lone. Wives, mothers, and fair young children weep. For the missing footsteps gone. And dark are Virginia's mansions now. All silent the tones of mirth. As the sound of a parting step is heard. By each old familiar hearth. Aye, some to the battle field go forth. From a loving wife's embrace. And some will carry the picture fair Of an infant's smiling face. 106 THE DEPARTURE OF OUR VOLUNTEERS. And some from the gentle, loving arms, Where their infant heads have lain, Will go to the scenes of strife — alas! To come not back again. But the God of Battles your refuge be; His arm is the surest shield, Aye, whether at home, or in Camp ye be, Or out on the bloody field. Go, then, in His name, go boldly forth. Though dark be the homes ye have left — Though desolate ever each household haunt. Of your cherished smiles beref c. And know ye as often as, side by side, In the battle ranks ye stand. That thousands of warm hearts beat for you. In our own fair Southern Land. And thousands of blessings attend your steps. As, prompt to Virginia's call, Ye go to vanquish her daring foe. Or else by her Flag to fall. Oft, oft, as the rays of the Southern Cross Illumine our skies at even. Will fond hearts offer for your defense. Sweet incense of prayer to Heaven. Go, then, in the name of God, go forth. Defend ye our Southern Land, And the smile of Heaven your guerdon be. Oh, brave and gallant band. SIDE BY SIDE. 107 SIDE BY SIDE.* IDE by side in infant beauty, Lay they on their mother's breast, While her voice in prayerful murmurs Hushed them to their rosy rest. Side by side in happy childhood. Walked they in their boyhood's glee; Brows as fair and bright as morning, Spirits blithe and gay, and free. Side by side in youth they wandered. Where above the shining height. Through the tangled paths of Learning Fame's fair Temple rose in sight. In the classic Halls of Learning By the Streams of Knowledge wide. Where grave Wisdom held her councils, Strove they nobly, side by side. Later in life's happy morning. When the storm-clouds gathered dark ; Threatening winds and mad waves driving Round our Country's struggling Barque. *Capt. Robert D. and Lieut. William Early. 108 SIDE BY SIDE. Foremost with the brave who ventured Out iipcn the angry tide, They too hurried proud and eager, All things daring, side by side. Oh! that some fair pitying Angel's Gentle face serene and mild, Might have shown amid the darkness, Calming all the tempest wild ; But alas! the winds blew louder; Muttering thunders darkly rolled. And the waves heaved high and higher, By no human will controlled. Still undaunted, bold and fearless, On they strove— a gallant pair; Till around their youthful temples Fame enwreathed her laurels fair. Lips unused to gentle accents. Spoke the praise so nobly won; Sterner Death too soon pronouncing All their patriot duty done. On the crimsoned field of Glory- On the soil they dared to save, Where the battle din was loudest Each hath found a Hero's grave. Each hath found, oh! stricken mother. Peaceful shores and waters still Where with Christ the sinless Martyr Blessed spirits roam at will. BURIAL OF THE SEVEi^ *' LY:NCHBU11GERS." 109 Stay thy tears— though ne'er returning To their boyhood's home again, In yon House of many mansions Thou mayst clasp thy battle-shiin. In that Home — serene and happy Fate no more their paths divide Robed in white — their palms upholding They are walking side by side. BURIAL OF THE SEVEN "LYNCHBURGERS." '^yjH! GENTLY through your crowded streets rM In slow procession bear / 7^1 The brave young forms that lately stood y 1 In pride and beauty there. A fearless band they nobly strove For freedom in the fight And glory-crowned laid down their lives For Justice, Truth and Right. Each brow a mark for vandal aim, Each bounding heart a prize; Well may a mourning Country weej) For such brave sacrifice. *The burial at home of the young "Lynchburgers," seven in number who fell in the Battle of Seven Pines. 110 And well may we deplore the storm Thus darkly o'er us cast When lo ! our fairest household flowers Are stricken by the blast. Tread softly, softly, ye who bear Those precious burdens all, For pure and holy are the tears That stain each funeral pall, Fond mothers, gentle sisters, weeji In sorrowing anguish here While love a fragrant chaplet brings To crown each youthful bier. And from their darkened homes behold As slow ye pass along, Sad tearful eyes look dimly out To meet this funeral throng, Fond eyes that waited absent steps Alas ! how long in vain. And now can only welcome back Their martyred battle slain. Receive, oh Grave, these precious forms A proud and sacred trust, Our Country's heart in sorrow bows Above their hallowed dust, And brightly wave, oh! summer flowers, In your sweet beauty drest Where dews of heaven will softly fall Above each patriot breast. DO THEY THINK OF ME AT HOME?" Ill DO THEY THINK OF ME AT HOME?' THEY think of me at home, Do they long to see me there ;- Is my name remembered still With a blessing and a prayer, Do they hide the struggling tear As they mark my vacant place, Yearning sadly, all the while, To behold my missing face? Do they think of me at morn ^Yhen the red light crowns the hills, And the hunter's cheerful horn Through the lonely valley trills? Oh, 'twould be assurance sweet, While afar I'm doomed to roam. Just to know through good or ill That they think of me at home. Do they think of me at noon When the frugal board is spread. And all — all are gathered there Save the absent and the dead? A Camp Song— written for the 11th Regiment Virginia Volunteers. 112 *'do tiiey thikk of me at home?" When the foaming cup is filled AVith the old wine — pure and free, As they drink to loved and lost Do they even think of me? Do they think of me at eve — When the twilight's sombre grey Throws a shadow dark and still O'er my vacant place alway? — When the Bible opened is By a weak and trembling hand, And the lighted candle burns Like a taper on the stand? Do they think of me and wish That I too could bow me there. When the gathered circle meets For the solemn evening prayer? When they ask of God to bless All that to that hearth belong — Do they say — '*and shield Thou one When the battle rageth strong?" When the low Amen is said And the night winds murmur by, Like the gentle soothing voice Of a spirit in reply, As they muse their musing thoughts By the hearth-fire's mellow light. Do they think of me afar From their sheltered fold tonight? GENERAL GARLAND. 113 Oh ! when on the weary march In the Bivouac — or plain, Or when rushing to the front, 'Mid the wounded and the slain; It would be assurance sweet Wheresoe'r I'm doomed to roam, Just to know all danger 'mid That they think of me at home. Jt' GENERAL GARLAND.* •"y~f]SrD thus thou comest back to us in thy young /t" glory crowned; / /" The seal of Death upon thy brow in majesty -« *• profound. That brow on whose green laurels yet the blood-stain dark appears, And on whose calm sad beauty now rain down our funeral tears. Oh ever when the glad news came of victory proudly won, We knew whose daring, fearless hand the bravest deed had done. We knew whose gallant step had moved bravest among the brave, Where firm and bold bright forms stood up their native South to save. *The reception of his remains at Lynchbiirg, Virginia, 114 GE^NTERAL GARLAI^D. We knew whose dauntless hero-heart one impulse only stirred; When Danger's threatening glance was seen and Duty's call was heard. And thus, our proud high hopes for thee, must perish and how soon — Thus we behold, thy bright sunset ere yet alas! 'tis noon. We saw thee girded for the light, — we looked with pride the while Upon thy bold eyes' kindling glance — thy young lips' glowing smile. We bade thee go where strongest arms And stoutest hearts are proved, We thought to see thee come again But oh! not thus beloved. Not with these mourning banners dark, this sad and weep- ing throng ; These funeral rites that to the dead the bay-crowned dead belong. We sent thee forth with glance of fire and music in thy tone, We thought to welcome thy return But oh! — not thus our own. Not with those proud lips mute and cold, that e'er were wont to thrill With fervid eloquence the hearts that owned their match- less skill. GENERAL GARLAND. 115 Not with thy glad eye closed and dull, its light forever fled, While blood-stained chaplets darkly wreathe Thy brave, thy fallen head. Open thy bosom Mother Earth — thy peaceful arms, oh Grave ; Lo! to thy solemn charge we yield a proud and sacred trust. Our Country's praise, a mother's tears, Follow this sleeping dust. Rest gallant heart with her whose love made up life's dearest joy; Take to thy parent arms once more Thy fair-haired slumbering boy. Sleep, side by side, with those whom Heaven In pitying love removed. Ere yet the sad scenes of today Their gentle hearts had proved. Rest youthful warrior, sweetly rest. Where willows o'er thee wave; And where thy own home flowers shall breathe Sweet incense o'er thy grave. Light be the soil above thy breast. And green the mantling sod ; Peace to the slain, whose footsteps here Had learned to walk with God. 116 CAPTAIIT D. A. RIKGO. W CAPTAIN D. A. RINGO.* ITH hand still holding high the sword Ho loved to wield so well, Upon the crimsoned field of Death He foremost, fighting, fell. Aye — forward in the path of blood When dangers threatened fast. His only shield the Christian's hope That cheered him to the last. His safe, sure buckler God's own word Of gracious promise gi^en Who fights the fight of Faith shall wear, The victor's crown in Heaven. Fighting for all that men hold dear. For justice, truth and right; He shrank not when the last dread foe Shadowed his fading sight. He shrank not when the storm grew dark And battle thunders roared. As swiftly o'er his youthful head The fiery tempest poured. Foremost fighting, fell. TO A WIDOWED FRIEN^D Iiq- THE NORTH. 117 But calm in patient trust he stood With those who loved him well, And in his Country's brave defense He nobly fought and fell. An honored grave was made for him Beneath Virginia's skies, And there the child of Arkansas In peaceful slumber lies. Kind lips above that quiet spot Will oft the story tell. How in his Country's bleeding ranks He foremost, fighting, fell. TO A WIDOWED FRIEND IN THE NORTH. September 15th, 1861. OR]^ of one mother — her whose brow noble and fair to see Drooped and grew pallid beneath the shade Of the beautiful Eden Tree, Destined alike to the hopes that spring From the ties of mother and wife, — To the cares and toils that crowd aloncr The path of a common life. Oh, friend of my early years thy voice Through the gloom of this awful night Floats out to my ear like the piteous wail Of a spirit shut out from light *To a widowed friend in the North whose husband fell in battle in Virginia. 118 TO A WIDOWED FRIEI^D IN" THE NORTH. And the prayer of my lieart goes up for tliee In this sorrowing liour. When words are vain to soothe the pang That o'er thy heart hath power. The dead — whatever the living feel Are sacred and the grave From hearts that throb and lips that burn No bitterness should have. Kesentment now is hushed and still, — I pray for thy soul's relief As I sit tonight on a far-oif shore With a thought of thy mighty grief. The paths we are treading are severed wide, !^_ Fate issued the stern decree And a Sea — cold, dark with boundless tide Is rolling twixt you and me. A sea whose billows as high as hills And rod as the setting sun, Top — foam — like a sullen charger bold AVhose race is not yet won. Sad, sad was the hour when war's black cloud Enveloped our Country's sky, — And fearful the moment when loudly rolled The peal of its thunders nigh, We heard the rush of the storm-bird's wing, The roar of the angry tide. And brave high hearts in the awful din Were beating our own beside ; We saw the black clouds gathering fast, The sea birds wildly Hying — TO A WIDOWED FIllEND IN TH H NOIlTll. 119 The good sliip Htuggoriiii^ to aiul fro Tho torn pjiils idly lying. Wo saw it uU Jtnd oui- (dicu^ks grow p;ilo Witli tliG fcai'S our hoiirts (!iig;igiiig, And yet no powor had wci to (jiioll 'Vhit mud Htorni liorcoly I'iiging. All, many a bartjiK; is out tonight On th(! mad B(!aa Hwolling foam, And many an oyo peers over tho main b'or ti»o glimmoring light of homo. But tho winds are high and tho ski(;H aro dark, And th(^ white! sails drift asunder While none may know of tho S(;attored wrecks Whioh tho mad waves bury under. There aro brows of beauty ami forms of strength, Young faces — how i)ure and fair. White arms enwrt^atluid with the sea weeds coil Uptossing in wild despair. There aro cri(!s of women and groans of men, Faint oelioos of fitful glee, — Sighs, sol)s and shrieks and over them all ^rhe moan of tho angry Hon. How was it that you and I and those On whom life's hopes wore cast Wore launched thus out on an angry tide With tho mad waves lieavi ng fast? — How was it each sailed with a nation's liope All ard(Mit and firm and bold, While tho lightnings Hashed in tho sky above And the muttering thunders rolled. 120 TO A WIDOWED FRIEND IX THE NOKTH. Ah — vain -we ask who the Helmsman was Who led us out in this dark, Or where the merciless breakers lie That threaten our noble Barque. God knows the secret — that is enough By whatever way is best, He will surely guide the believing soul To a Haven of peaceful rest. Enough that the sigh of a stricken heart Is borne on the surging tide, — That I hear from this dreary storm-lashed shore, Thy voice from the other side, I hear it in moans for the loved and lost, — I cast from my own sad soul All — all that would stifle its pity kind Or its sympathy's fond control. Since Death has divided the cold black sea, So now through the trackless brine, With a yearning tenderness deep and strong. My heart goes over to thine. It bears the friendship of "Aald Lang Syne" And a prayer to our Father above — That bruised and bleeding your own may find Repose in His boundless love. Dear friend of my early years — good bye Should the storm drive our life boats under. May we drift to that shore where no human tide The loves of the soul may sunder. Hark — listen! the storm is abroad and high, — Far out as the eye can see. Cold black and boundless the swelling tide That is rolling twixt you and me. FLOWERS FROM THE BATTLEFIELD — SHILOH. 121 FLOWERS FROM THE BATTLEFIELD— SHILOH. Corinth, Miss., April 18th, 1862. YE GREW not in the pleasant woodland shades, Where laughing streamlets play and zephyrs mild Breathe their sweet odors, — where the soft still air Echoes the wild bird's note and the low chant Of babbling brook, whose sparkling mimic tide Leaps to the sunbeams as they brightly float Over its rippling bosom. Ye bloomed not In the sweet Cottage Garden, where anon The light of gentle eyes might smile on yours, — The soft and soothing touch of fair white hands Strengthen your fragile stems. Not yours the home Of the Exotic whose first faintest hue Is watched and welcomed with admiring gaze, Whose slightest breath is balm, and whose pure brows Are freshened nightly with renewing airs, A sterner fate was yours — to meet the light Where the dark soil is bruised by battle tramp, Where wrestling foemen met, and where the roar Of fierce artillery drowned the joyous notes Of nature's choristers — where human blood Mingled its crimson with the dews of Heaven. Ye were not cradled in secluded dells Or neath the sheltering crags of Alpine heights Nor yet in quiet glades. A prouder lot Was yours, oh ! voiceless flowers ! — to ope your eyes 122 IM.OWKKS I'KOM TH H M ATTLKFI KM)- Sll I LOll . II poll tlio ^n-oinul wlioro rlsisliiny; iirinios moi And bauiiors wuvinl ami biirnishod siibros glouinod, Aiul proud forms ft)ii«;lit and f(41. Tlio vory (^irt.li Tluil gjivo you slri>UL;l,li {i\u\ bojiuty drjuiU tlio blood Of iniiny Ji boro lu»Hi-t niul youi- lirst «;'orins, WiM'o luirsiul siud uurtuivd by a u;iUou'a ujoro. Vov Ibis 1 Hjuldon us I moot, your siuib\ Miito witnossos of doatbl uu^thiuks I Inioo In its swoot fjiiliug lii:;lil. somo mjirtyr's fjioo Liftins^ its glance^ to mino— somo bbunlius; form Standing aguin botwiHMi tbo fot> and mo, A bulwark truo and warm. 1 boar again Tbo tramp of maroliing foot, tbo doafoning roar Of angry oannon and tbo battlo slu)ut Of b>gions arnuMl for cond)at. (^bi(b> mo not Tbat foarful tbougbts will como as muto 1 gazo Upon your glorius boauty. Dark iniloi>d Tbo story tbat. yo toll of gallant arms And dauutb^ss bosoms on tbo lic^ld o[ Doatb, Facing tbo fiory storm wbilo in lom^ bomos, Tjovod onos balf frantio witb alarms of War Wbisi>or witb batml broaib tboir nanios bolovoil, And oouplo tbom witb prayors as blttor tears WoU up from smotborod fountains in full boarts. 1 do not lovo you loss tbat yo woro nursod In tbo rudo lap of War, but J would broatbo Over your fading boauty ono fond prayor — Tbat Ho wbo mid Dostruotion's awful storm Sboltorod your fragile germs, will likewise bold Our oborisbed bousobold blossoms in His oaro And from tbo battle-tompost lloroe and loud Protect and save tbom. lkk's nniuiDAY. 12;i LEE'S BIRTHDAY. N 1^] diiy in nil ihn diBttint pjist ]nH[)iroH my ^rjitoful rliyrns, OiHi (Ijiy Hull li<;lil.s vviUi touch of g<>I«l 'Vho cjiloiidiir of time. Thiit (liiy wlioBo c-oniiii;^^ lit tin*. WJiy Of darker days lo be, And <;}ivo to iiH ,*md to ilio world Our Uobort Mdw;M-d Luo. No pomp or licrjildic display Its glory tlicji procdjiioKid ; Not by tlio mouth of TroplHuty Was that day va'cv luujKid. it cauio arul wont a.s (;omo and go Full many brief, bright dayH, Yet milliouH hailing it now lift Their hearts to prayer ami pniiHe. The Christmas Festival had passed; And o'er the (iarth again WaH e(diocd forth th(5 meKsage M\V(U3t Of "peace, good will to men," VH LKK'B JUIiTIlDAY. When on Vir^nn'm, Quooii of Stiitos, Tho Tslew Year kindly sinilod, And to hor fond, nuiternul urnis AVas born jinoMuM- child. A boy who ^row in (somolinosa, And gnicoful siaturo grand, Until bis praiKo in ovcn-y montli AVas soundod Uirougli llm land. A oliild in wlioso blue veins tborc (lowed Tho blood of (-avaliors, And whom IloaNon destined to become roorloss anion*;- bis peers. To love oL* trnth and honor roared, To valor ])roudly trained; What wonder nil false WJiys he spurned, All doubtful ends disdained. Virginian to his <;reat heart's t!ore, Vii\i!;inian brave and truc^ What other course could mark his aim Than that he would [)ursue? When hurled the thuiulerbolts of War Above her stately head, And she, our ancient mother, stood ]\lid lurid ligbtnings red; 126 Whou wounded jiiHtico ploiid in vain And right was all doniod, And dangers thiokoncd round lior, ho Sprang nobly to hor side. And wIkmi to ])attlo and to doath 'Vhr. SouMTh hravi! h^giouH Hpnd, IJi.s liaiid uplK^ld hov banner, ho Jlor gaibint arrnios led. yea, more, when .siekneHa paralysed Ills vetcn-ans H(;arre(l and hoi-(^, And 1^'atnino, pale aiul hollow, .showed Her gaunt I'acje at his door; When troubled grew his Lion heart Kor those he loved ho well, And failure and disaster dark A nation's hopes belell; How did his soul from out the fires (*orn(5 I'orth iruruaeulate, While the Soimfort, The patient enduraiuu) of pain, Tlu» (Hiurago no dangiM* could balUe, No human eyes witness again. Ah! mournful, indeed, is the story Of thosi^ whose dear lives paid the cost. Of this daunlless devotion to duty — This zeal in a cause that was lost. Some fell in tlu^ storm of the batth*; The son, side by side with the sire; Some died in tlu^ hospital dreary. And some by the bivouac fire. OUIt OAlJiANT DKAI). ]2<) Soino hui^uiHliod in priHon, far distant Krom Hynipiitliy, kiiulrod and frionds, Soino periKliod on picluit, and many, Ail! many, no Ivnowlod^o attonds. Those passcMl to tin; front with tlio others, And all tliat rofuains sin(;o to know Is tliat (Jod iiolds tiio soonit in lioaviMi Of how tlioy wore missing bcdow. I^'o/kI vy^-M wailed lon;jj for thtuj- comiiif^, And wait(Ml, alas, all in vain; No HinihsM will o'er grciot their returning. No fate will restore them again. Dead! how! ah, the secret unfathomed Wo only (;an patiently wait 'i^ill th(!ir hoiiIh inoet oiir own, and united We walk throui^^li tlio HeaiitifiU (Jato. ll(!re all un(!.\i)lained is the mystery. We grope through a terrihle (hirk, r'aith l)lind(!d and dull struggh's wildly To kiridh^ Hope's languishing spark. 'IMi(!r(! all will he clejir as the noondiiy. We'll know oven as we are known, 1^'or a light, which no stortn can extinguish, Will o'er our dull visions he thrown. 'IMic wrath of the War-king forgotten; l<'i-om hattle and strifri a surcusaso; The Holdi(!r, who died for his country, Will rcist on th(5 ho:-:om of I'eace. ]30 OlIIl (lALLANT I) HAD. Tlw prlsonor, wlio pined in his dungeon, Wlioso liearl with dumb agony stirred, Will walk in the sunlight of Kreudoni, And no sound of oi)pression be heard. (Jod's love, like a pure, lighted candle, Will shine on the dark places hero. And what seemed the dreariest midnight Will dawn light the orient clear. Our great noblo army of martyrs, Secure of the crown and the palm, Will smile at their death-woumls and liiul them All healed by a Cross-purchased Balm. The army of martyrs— behold them — Our noblo, our valiant, our brave — The light from their glory-crowns falling Serene on each blood-sprinkled grave — Serene on the sods we have watered With many a heart-burning tear, And on which the daisies of summer Dare blossom but timidly here. They! they are the conquerors only; ]<]arth\s victors no surety feel, 4Mieir fume is a breath-broken bubble — These wear the true signet and goal. The living may boast of a ])ower Before which the heli)less must bow, But the only true crown of pure honor Must rest on a glorified brow. OUR GAUvANT DEAD 131 Tho oarfcli oolioos hjkI notv.H of wailing — All liojivcM riiigH iiloiid with Ihi) Hong OC tluj ])rjivo, who through War's ])h)()m> us smilos (Joil's niiuhovv iiroli of lov(% And poiico, svvoot poaco, roigns o'or the Ijiiul, Liki» broodiiiL!: \vin«;- of dovo. Wo couK^ Miiit.(Ml nil, jind Iriio, Willi rovoront lunirlH (o pjiy Tho tributo of our loyiil lovo To ono who wore tlio gray. Wo conio to look with glowing prido Upon i>is stjituo grand, AVIio onoo again *Miolds Rioliniond," though ]^y not onti wav(^ of hand. \\c conio old frionda to moot again, Old ooinrado faces aoo; Wo coiuo to clasp with loving grasp Tho niou wlio followed Loo. Hravo votoraiis! 'tis with uiinghMi thrill Of sympathy and i)rido Wo 800 you standing as of ohl Ijiutod — sido by sido. Pause, Hooting 'I'imo; ono moment pause, Nor shift tho scono too fast; Life's fondest nuM^tings soonest end, And this may be our hist. TIIM lINVKIIiIN(l OK 'IIIK MONIIMKNT. MO 'JMio liiHfc until WO all kIiuII Htiiiid VVhoro Truth mul iii^^lit rrniHt bo Tlio only wiitchword thiit nuiy \vm\ M\) .lacknofi, Davin, lj(!(^. Vvvh\\ from tlio arlJHt'M (iliincl, lo! 'i'liin HtatiK! KtaiidH jipprovod, And who would touch with carclcHH hand Or on it look uninovodV Krnl)odying in ondurin;^ l)i'on'/o Our nohlo Lcuidor dciJir- - '^riio rrum who diod without u foo, Wiio liv(Ml witliont a jxicr. JliH Hilcnt lipH, for oacdi and ii,ll, A mossago hoars, arul tru(! That ordy virtue;, honor, truth, And ooura^o may oiuluro. Th(!n ojxin wid(5 your lon^in^ <'y<^H, Nor \('X tlnur viHion fiul VVhiio .loiiuHtoii'H triiHly, honorod hand Shall ju-oudly lift tho voil. IHr.k'iiwwl, May ;^.V///, I '"<'■>( f. 150 DUST TO DUST DUST TO DUST. Mercer of WllHiinishurj^, Va., nftor (UsliiiKrtnshcd service in the Con- iVdtTdtc Army— fell a victim to pneumonin on the 7th day of September, isur.. 1^ TOT wlioro tli(^ battlo thundors darkly roared, I \^ And licM-y shafts of death their fury poured, I / I Upou the true aud hravo — but when at last 1^1 The doadly strife was o'er — the struggle past And ye luid gathered to your altered homo Subdued aud (^hastened for the days to come, \'et grasping still the prouiise that alway Jr'trougth shall be given sullicient for one day; When all the ties of life that yet remain Schemed only stronger for the broken ehain Stern War had made, — lie laid him down and yo Unmindful of the awful mystery So close at hand dared still to pray That on his youthful head disease would lay Uiit soft and gentle touch — that years of joy With brightest hours crowned would bh^ss your boy Anil eheer his manhood who so long had worn The soldier's honored garb and bravely borne Privations in the camp, — and on the Held, Dangers from which God's arm alone can shield. Alas, fond parents, ye were blinded then And oidy knew your own frail weakness when After long niglits of anguish — days of pain (Which Ui'WY more to him can come again) A FA ST- J) AY HYMN. 151 Yc watoliod tlio poacofiil stoppiiif^ of liia brc^alli And sjiw him f^ciilly fall iisloop in dosiUi ; ''J^is past — tho silent room and vacant chair '\\)\l of a buried face serene and fair — A face that liaunts us whih) vv(! yet \va'/,i\\ The sweet sad memories that liaUow all Our thoughts of him. Oh it was luird to lay In its bright prime that manly form away Where pUsasant airs and suidight miiy not (;ome, Nor clieerful smiles — nor voietis of houKi; Yet needs ho not our poor caresses now Ue with the victor's wreath upon his brow And while we weep among tho pure and blest, His bravo young spirit finds eternal rcist, 'i^hen stay your tears Cod has but claimed His own, J5e our's the faith to say, 'Thy will be done." A FAST-DAY MYMN, (Air— Kock of Aki'S.) SOD of Armies — strength of kings, Source whence every blessing springH, Whither, whither save to thee Shall a bleeding nation flee, Deign to make us, Lord, thy care. Hear a mourning country's prayer. 152 A FAST-DAY HYMN. Cruel foes in armour rise To destroy our liberties, Foul invaders seeking spoil, Boldly desecrate our soil — Murderous bands our homes surround, Woe and wretchedness abound. Lo ! throughout our glorious land Peril broods on every hand. Battle storms in fury pour Blood where roses bloomed before, Craven minions stalk abroad Brandishing Destruction's sword. Father, hear the childrens' cry As the tempest howletli nigh, Cover the defenceless head. Light upon our darkness shed, Comfort give in Sorrow's hour. Smite the boasting tyrant's power. God of Armies, he our shield On the fearful carnage field. Let us strength from Thee receive. Victory to the valiant give — Dread Jehovah, shew thy might — Shame the wrong — defend the right. Elk inn, Bedford County, Virginia. LESFJIO. 153 LESLIE. [n Memory of lycslie Moshy, of LyiichhurK, who diid suddenly at Wytheville, AtiKUst 30th, 18(5.'J. w IIY should ix teardrop stain tlio pago On which thy name I write — Why crowd pale shadows dim hetween Mitic eyes and memory's light? The past, the past — its buried years A holy influence shed, As from their sepulchres arise The pale forms of the dead. I think me of a boyish face So gentle and so fair, That Earth in vain might seek to mar ] leaven's radiant impress there — I think me of the love that shone Around thy pathway bright. Thou child of many hopes and prayers Dear well-spring of delight—. And then I see the boy a man, To manhood's vigor grown — Yet wearing still the same glad smile To childhood — beauty known, And holding still thy boyish trust In goodness and in truth. The faith unfeigned which knows no mask, The guileless faith of youth — 154 LESLIE. A soldier in a soldier's garb AVitli martial step of pride, The Hashing gnn and gleaming sword Thy yonthful form beside. Ah! fiercely Hashed thy beaming eye And proudly stirred thy heart, As Duty sternly called thee now From home and fri'^mds to part. The war-cry came — its sullen sound Smote many an anxious ear. But loving eyes ! ye must bo brave And quench the uprising tear — And clinging arms, ye must be firm And proudly yield the form, Oft fondly screened in other years From ruthless wind and storm. Thy mother's gaze — it followed close Where'er thy footstep turned, How could she quench the fearful thoughts Which deep within her burned? To stranger eyes thou stoodest forth A hero in the dawn Of fame's glad promise — she beheld Her tender, youngest born. Well may her tears and fond caress Thy parting step delay — For oh! thy freezing kiss stern Death! What power hath love to stay? LESLIE. TJic anguish of that solemn lionr No liunijin tongue may tell — Cay voices murmured fond adieus, She only looked farewell. And thou didst go where youthful blood Stained many a glittering shield, But not for tliee the dreamless sleep On gory battle-field. Thy duty done, the Angel pale Came at the midniglit hour, And snatched thoo hence, and bore thee whore Nor clouds nor storm may lower — Aye, snatched thee in thy glorious prime From discord and from strife. Ere cruel thorns had sprung beside The frail, sweet flowers of life; And bore thee to that radiant Land VVliere war and tumult cease — Where angels pure and souls redeemed, Wait round the Prince of Peace. Would'st know in that far realm of bliss, Tlie yearning love tliiit gave Fond hopes, alas! in giving thee To Silence and the Grave? There's darkness at tlie threabliold, v^honce Tliy bounding step hath gone, Ajid beside that hearth, now desolate. Sit mourners sad and lone. 166 LESLIE. Ayo, inournors who, in (u^iuing years, Will think of thoo Jiiul loll How woiulrously in trials dark (^0(1 (looth !ill things W(»ll; How, throuL:,h tho mist of ''thin«;s unseen,' In (hy brifi^ht nianhooiVs grace II(» took tluH* from thoni, jind gave l)a(dv A fair, swoct, shroiuhMl face. Tlu^yMl talk of thoo at twilight hour, Wlion brooding sliadows glido, And musing thought brings back the dead And absent to our side-- Thoy'll toll of all thou wort to them, In other, happier years, TbiwMl gaze u[)on thy em})ty chair, And s])eak thy name with tears. 1'lieyMl love the haunts by thee beloved, They'll pause where thou art not, They'll pass with softer step, beside Tliy vacant room and cot; Vet high above their plaintive wail, Heaveifs soothing tones shall swell — ''Faithful is lie who calleth thee,'' Hright S})irit fare-thee-well ! /•;//• /////, iH'ilfonl (\)., Scplcmbvr tr^lh, ISGS, 1)1' AND ONVVAIU). 157 IJl' AND (jNWAIn'U. T I i', Oil HliiK^^anl ! ii|) uiid onward, / /^ I Soo Uui Hliinin;^^ f^'oal in viciW — i'-yi 'i1j()ii;^Hi \,\\() way bo rd 11 in own When thoir eyes are with we(;|)in^^ dim — For I know in this ^n)od man's tryin/.^ Iionr An angel had strengtJiened liim. WOUNDED AT NEW MARKET. Cadet Thf>ni;is White of Abin^rlon, Vn. 'OliXDKD at New Market"— sh>wly he raised Up to meet mine his bright beautiful eyes, VVhil(; from the broad open window he gazed Out on the rad sunset's slow fading dyes; Earth in the twilight looked wondrously fair To the wan eyes of the invalid there. w Seventeeen summers — their freshness and bloom Only had passed o'er that fair youthful brow, Tears had not crowded their dark lines of care Into thos(; featnrcjs so j)ale stricken now. Life had thrown out but its sunnliine and joy O'er the bright path of the young soldier-fjoy. 186 WOUNDED AT KEW MARKET. Months had passed by since he fearlessly stood "Where over battling hosts bright banners waved, Struggling — nor pausing, till poured his young blood Like precious wine on the field he had saved. Now on his weary couch helpless he lay K'ursing proud thoughts of that glorious day. Soft o'er his pillow the sweet moonbeams roll Gently caressing the form worn and weak, Cool to his temples the night breezes stole Tenderly kissing the pale-fevered cheek ; While from the quiet room on the still air Rises the low, whispered murmur of prayer. God of the true and tried, — God of the brave ; Hear her who pleads for him — hear and relieve ; Comfort and healing give — pity and save All whc for Truth and Right suffer or grieve ; Heed a fond mother's prayer — long years of joy Grant, in thy love, to her brave soldier boy. Such was my heart's response when by his side Tearfully scanning the bright boyish face, Questioned I how in life's early spring-tide Came o'er his features their pale fever trace. Smiled he and turning his beautiful head, *'Woanded at New Market" — softly he said. THE SKOW. 187 THE SNOW, OFTLY— softly beautiful snow Down on the hills and vales below Let thy feathery flakes now fall Carefully, carefully over all, — Wrap in thy furrows the struggling blade Peering through furrows the plough share made. Fold in thy mantle the grain below Tenderly, tenderly beautiful snow. Over the sheltering roof I love Spread thy wings like a brooding dove, One looks out from the casement there Pure as thyself — as thyself as fair, Give her a message of love from me Tell her that had I thy liberty. Straight would I follow thy white sails o'er Tempest and tide to her open door. Soft on the grave-sod's mantling breast Let thy hovering pinions rest Lightly, lightly beautiful snow, Light as the halo that crowns thy brow. Let thy gossamer robe descend Where the willow and cypress bend Over the spot where heroes lie Under the blue sky's canopy. 188 THE PRISONER OF FORTRESS MOKROE. They are safe from the storm without, Safe from the foeman's threatening shout, Safe from the clouds and mists that rise Shading the light of Earth's changeful skies. Oh — be each martyr's laurelled head, Safe from the shame of a vandal tread, Over their sleeping dust below Eest thee now tenderly, beautiful snow. ^ THE PRISONER OF FORTRESS MONROE. THE calm blue sky looks down upon his dungeon cold and drear. The winds sigh through his prison-bars in fitful murmurs clear. The sunbeams kiss the gloomy walls, yet dare not look within. For nature's heart should grieve to see man's cruelty and sin. The breeze that wanders to his cheek and fans his silvery hair Tells the dark story of his wrong and suffering every- where ; The waves that lash the outer shore and moan their cease- less hymn Send forth a low and pitying tone of sympathy for him. THE PRIS02srER OF FORTRESS MOKROE. 189 The Petrel pauses near the spot, the Curlew droops his wing The land birds have a softer tone, a sadder note to sing : All nature frowns upon his lot, and yet they dare to hold With iron grip the kingly heart they could not buy for gold. The kingly heart— ah no, thank God no judgment yet hath sat' Nor iron bands been anvilled out that e'er could fetter that. Free, unenchained his great soul looks from out his fading eye A tameless lion daring yet his keepers to descry. And thus while Fate's resistless web is close and closer wound That pale and drooping form, that brave and peerless soul around. The world astonished asks aloud why this unblushing wrong, And from the South's indignant heart goes up the cry, how long? IIow long shall justice plead in vain and pity's voice be stilled While Truth before resistless Power is made to bend at will, — How long shall human marmots dare their insults rude to throw on the kingly head discrowned, the Lion thus laid low. 190 THE PRISOi^'ER OF FORTRESS MOKROE. Oh, ye who hold the scales of Power — remember while ye may Though vengeance sometimes tarries long she will not al- ways stay; The crawling worm that knows no law of harmony or strife Will even sting the heel that seeks to crush its struggling life. Ye call yourselves God's messengers and yet deny the while The great high law of Love that spoke from Christ's for- giving smile. Ye prate of ''''blotting out tlieimsf'' yet keeping it in view Forget this only that success gave nobler work to do. Ye call your grand assemblies all together and convene Your grave and solemn councils with severe and threaten- ing mien; Ye talk, devise, discuss a thousand measures, yet forego The plainest human duty toward the Prisoner of Monroe. Oh, men! put on your manhood, — rescue quick your Country's name From the world wide charge of infamy — the deepening brand of shame ; ^^ Do justice and love mercy^^ let the burnished sword of Might Flash no more in helpless faces — rest it in the sheath of Eisfht. THE PEISOKEE OF PORTRESS MOi^ROE. 191 Then the Sun will shine less sadly on those gloomy prison walls Where a noble life is fading as the lengthening shadow falls, Then bird and breeze in chorus glad will raise a thankful voice, And for his merciful release the winds and waves rejoice. But oh, beware, lest one approach with faster step and sure. To break the chains your hands have forged, his proud form to endure ; Beware lest pitying Death should come and lay upon his breast The holy calm of perfect peace, the signet seal of rest. Think not a heart in all the South that would not deeply burn Such end to all your long delay — your cruel threats to learn ; There's not a heart in all the world that would not warm to know The measure of your malice toward the Prisoner of Monroe. Oh grand, high heart, — oh kingly soul, be resolute and strong, The prayers and hopes of all true hearts still, still to thee belong; The love of many follows close and shall fore'er abide Though dark the fate that bears thee out upon a stormy tide. 192 THE PKISOlSrEE OF FORTRESS MONROE. Be strong, be strong, — we know thou art, for none will e'er deny The fearless light that flashes forth from thy proud eagle- eye; They well may own its magic spell who once were made to cower Before the bold determined glance of its resistless power. Oh, days that bring to us sad thoughts and dark forebod- ings too. Let only Hope's glad visions rise before his lonely view; Let Faith, a white robed angel, wait beside him all the while To cheer his fainting bosom with her Heaven-approving smile. Oh, gentle night lay soothing hand upon his aching head, Smooth tenderly with pitying touch his coarse rude prison bed ; Pour on his troubled, dreaming heart thy pure refreshing balm And crown his weary sj^irit with thy sweet and starry calm. The coming days may bring new ills, fresh instruments of wrong, The cruel hand of power may still his sufferings prolong; The storm may rage and beat and break in fury o'er his head And human kindness on his path refuse one ray to shed. TO A WOUNDED EX-COKPEDERATE SOLDIER. 193 The future may be darker still than e'er hath been the past, — Young hearts that now beat high may break to meet the worst at last ; We who have suffered may be called to suffer even more And greater, sorer evils than we e'er have known before. But God is good and righteous Heaven will not always forbear To meet the measure out again to those who will not spare, And whatsoe'er may be Ms lot or our's for weal or woe, There live true hearts that cling around the Prisoner of Monroe. December 6th, 1866. TO A WOUNDED EX-CONFEDERATE SOLDIER.^* ' ^^ T ^ — KEEP the way poor soldier — keep the pave- ^^ ment firm and strong y* For surely now to such as thou, the best place . ^ 1 should belong — I walked the pleasant woods and fields with active limbs and free The while upon a gory field your's mangled were for me. I've wandered through the meadows green and where the forests dim Echoed no ruder, sterner sound than nature's choral hymn; *Who hobbled aside on his crutches to give me the best place on the sidewalk, 194 TO A WOUKDEI) EX-CONFEDERATE SOLDIER. The while you stood where sabres clash and deafening cannon roar, Ready for me your breast to bare, for me your blood to pour. The daylight past, my duties done, I've laid me down and slept While stars in quiet midnight skies their peaceful vigil kept ; You paced the sentry's round meanwhile through cold and rain and sleet ; Nor paused though bitter thoughts would swell your sad heart's lonely beat. And shall I now your needs ignore, or pass you idly by Unmindful that a tried soul looks from out your fading eye? No rather let me yield to you the pavement firm and strong Since over now to such as thou all the best place should belong. THE DEATH OF THE YOUI^'G PARTISAN-. 195 THE DEATH OF THE YOUNG PARTISAN. WE FELL — not where numbers were falling, Whose groans with the cannon-peal blend ; His blood with no common stream mingled, Where legions, with legions contend — Alone on the hill-side they found him With only his charger he stood, As they leaped from their lairs in the wild-wood, ^! Athirst for his innocent blood. The caitiffs were numbered by dozens — He facing the murderous band — To the roll of their guns he responded With a wave of his beautiful hand ; But closer their carbines are flashing — Their threats by their frowns are endorsed; Poor bird! from the fowlers escape thee! Escape ! quick ! no time must be lost. His hand on the trusty rein tightens, His spur goads the charger — away! Ho! whirl! But alas! all around him The hounds hold their victim at bay. Did he quail? — not a moment, believe me — All true to his Truth, to the last, He fought like a Cseser, nor paused he, 'Till the blow and the anguish had past. 196 THE DEATH OF THE YOUNG PAETISAK. A charge up the hill-side ! — a volley I The horse leaps his rider above — They rush for the spoils — their booty, A scarfs a 7Hng, and a glove. What matters the story they utter, His dumb lips can make no appeals. His blood stains the scarf as it flutters, His hand unresistingly yields. Thank God ! the worst now is over, All past is the groan and the pain — They may scar, they may rob, they may mangle, But they never can kill him again. See, see ! — they are bearing him gently—^ What matters their gentleness now? Ah, cowards ! you dared not dishonor The halo that circles his brow. They have laid him down under the hawthorn, A ringdove is scared from her nest. While the little brook sings in the meadow A dirge for the hero at rest. God's sun over all, too, is shining — He looks from His kingdom of bliss, On a world that for mercy and kindness. Returns a thanksgiving like this. Oh, Father in Heaven! befriend us — The war- wolves are still on our track; Our innocents take to thy bosom. But ne'er to the spoiler give back. THE DEATH OE THE YOUKG PARTISAN. 197 They have laughed at the tears we are shedding ; They have mocked at the prayers that we gave ; Our Mother, Virginia, is wailing — Oh, Father, deliver and save ! The prayer on the Spring breezes floated. The tramp of the f oeman was still ; When the moon, in her calm, quiet beauty. Rose smilingly over the hill. Who thought in the years that have vanished — The years of the glad Long Ago — That her soft, gentle rays would be falling To-night on such pictures of woe ! Who, yesterday even, would augur. From aught that a prophet could say, That the fair, boyish brow, then so peerless. Would drip with its own gore to-day? He sleeps while his comrades are calling — "To saddle! to saddle! proclaim!" He smiles in his sleep, but he heeds not The echo that answers his name. Oh, comrades ! — too late for the rescue ! Strike! strike though! with ball and with blade! For the murderers still howl in the distance — He lies there asleep in the shade. They weep — e'en the stoutest and bravest — Tears fall on the hillock like rain — Ha, boys ! quick ! a breath stirs the hawthorn ! To saddle ! to saddle ! ao^ain. 198 THE DEATH OF THE YOUKG PABTISAK. Oh, the hawthorn, the hawthorn, who reckoned That ever the bank where it stood, Would, along with the dews that impearled it, Be crimsoned with innocent blood ! Who dreamed, as they saw it there, hiding The nest which a ringdove had made, That a fair, fallen son of Virginia Would sleep in its beautiful shade. The soft, swaying winds interlacing The boughs to a self -woven crown. Sighed low, as upon the green hillock. They laid the young warrior down. They laid him there tenderly, they who A moment before saw him fall, His locks dripping blood that had followed The blow of their pitiless ball. Ah, well may their conscience awaken Remorse for the merciless deed; Each soul has a Judge to account to — Each life has its hour of need. Remember it. Vandals, remember. You slew him alone on the hill. And that God, whose commandments you trample, Can be his Avenger, and luill. I wonder not that you should cover His pale, stricken brow with a pall; You could not, you dared not encounter The dumb face that smiled on you all. THE DEATH OF THE YOUKG PARTISA:^". 199 'Tis over. You hurry and leave him — The blast of your bugle is nigh ; The wind through the hawthorn is sighing, The streamlet goes murmuring by. But a heart in the meanwhile is waiting, Close by where the mansion-lights burn ; An eye o'er the hill-side is peering To see her brave soldier return. What news shall we give her? The tidings, That true to your leader's command, You found him alone on the hill-side. And slew — with a merciless hand? I'd rather not tell her the sequel. How, gloatingly over your prize. You stood all amazed at the beauty That shone from his dark, dying eyes. I'd rather not tell how you hurried To tear off the badge from his breast. Scarcely waiting till God's silent angel Might bear the brave soul to its rest. She tied on that scarf in the morning ; She gave him the ring and the glove ; And about him, a talisman holy. She threw the bright shield of her love. 'Tis done. You may go to your leader. And tell him the glorious ( !) tale — That a heart for your bold deed is breaking, Its sighs floating out on the gale. 200 THE DEATH OF THE YOUNG PARTISAN. It were well for you, too, to remember, Though fallen his bright, laurelled head, That for one dauntless arm you have smitten, A thousand will spring in its stead. Yea, a thousand will rise to avenge him. His name will their war-spirit thrill ; Ah, 'twas no common prey that you hunted. And slew all alone on the hill. Those dark eyes you saw were his mother's. The smile that he wore was her own. And I know that her spirit from Heaven Looked down on her pale, murdered son; And she stretched forth her arms to receive him. When helpless, and pallid, and still. He lay where your cruel hands left him Alone, all alone on the hill. There's another, immortal and glorious. The Grandsire * who clasped to his knee. That boy with his baby-locks floating Around a pure brow, glad and free. Do you think while lie stood your defender. And labored for Eight to the last. That he thought of an hour when you'd scoff at The memory of services past? It is said that the dead do behold us When Heaven the veil tears away, And that spirits released still yearn fondly For those who are struggling with clay. * Ex-President Tyler. VIkgikia's dead. 201 Then remember who saw you, when pity • Failed wholly your stone hearts to move ; When like vultures, with hands red and gory, You murdered the child of his love. Ah, the day will come yet in the future, When the country lie strove to redeem, Will arise in her strength self-existent. And the light of her glory shall beam. Then the Army of Martyrs in Heaven Will echo her glorious call, And among them you'll see in its beauty The dumb face that smiled on you all. March 31st, 1865. VIRGINIA'S DEAD. " V^ROUD mother of a race that reared :^ 1 The brave and good of ours, Q^ Lo! on thy bleeding bosom lie Thy 23ale and perished flowers. Where'er upon her own bright soil Hosts meet their blood to shed — Where brightly gleams the victor's sword, There sleep Virginia's dead. And when upon the crimsoned field The cannon loudest roars. And hero-blood for liberty A streaming torrent pours ; 202 VIRGINIA'S DEAD. Where fiercest grows the battle's rage And Southern banners spread; Where minions crouch and vassals kneel, There sleep Virginia's dead. Where bright Potomac's classic wave Rolls softly to the sea, And Shenandoah's sweet valley smiles In her captivity ; Where Mississippi sullen rolls His foaming torrent bed. And Tennessee's smooth ripples break, There sleep Virginia's dead. And where mid dreary mountain heights The Frost-king sternly sate, As Garnett cheered his legion on And nobly met his fate ; Where Johnstok, Lee and Beauregard, Their gallant armies led, Through winter snows and tropic suns, There sleep Vrginia's dead. And where through Georgia's flowery meads The proud Savannah flows, As soft o'er Carolina's brow Atlantic's pure breeze blows ; Where Florida's sweet tropic flowers Their dewy fragrance shed, And night-winds sigh through orange groves There sleep Virginia's dead. Virginia's dead. 203 Where Louisiana's eagle eye Frown's darkly on her chains, And proud New Orleans' noble streets The Despot's heel profanes — Where Virtue shrinks in dread dismay And Beauty bows her head, While Valor spurns th' oppressor's yoke. There sleep Virginia's dead. 'Neath Alabama's sunny skies, On Texas' burning shore, Where blooming prairies brightly sweep Missouri's bosom o'er, Where bold Kentucky's lion heart Leaps to her Morgai^t's tread. And tyrants quail at Freedom's cry. There sleep Virginia's dead. And where the Ocean's trackless waves O'er pallid corpses sweep, As mid the cannon's deafening peal. Deep calleth unto deep; Where ever Honor's sword is drawn And Justice rears her head — Where heroes fall and martyrs bleed. There sleep Virginia's dead. August IStli^ 1862. 204 AK APPEAL FOR JEFFERSON" DAVIS. AN APPEAL FOR JEFFERSON DAVIS. To His Excellency, Andrew Johnson, President of the United States. T TNHERALDED, imknown, I come to thee, I fL\ ^^^^ boldest in thy hands the scales of power; 14^1 Assured thou will not spurn the suppliant, hi — I Who with frail, helpless hands and burning heart. Lays at thine honored feet Jier simple plea Of ''Mercy for the Captive:' Thou hast known The tempefet-tossings of a chequered life, The chill of adverse winds, the wintry blight Of hopes too fondly cherished. Thou hast seen How frail a bubble is the world's applause. How empty its poor praise. Oh ! pity us On whose life -paths shadows have darkly fallen, Whose bruised hearts thy clemency may heal. We plead for one, honored, revered, beloved. Spare him^ on whose brave head cowards would lay A nation's penalty. If he has sinned. The humblest champ'on of our fallen cause Did just as truly sin, — if guilty he. Our Jackso:n" too was guilty, yet who seeks To brand Ms glorious name? Ah, who so bold AN APPEAL POR JEPFEESOK DAVIS. 205 As, with the lash of stern rebuke, to dare Asail whom God approveth?— Jackson's soul Kests with the Crucified,— shall Davis bear The penance of his guilt? Oh, honored Chief, Be kind, he just to him whom Jackson loved. And proudly honored with his high esteem: Upon his head blessings unspoken rest— ties Stronger than hooks of steel circle him round; Prayers froai unnumbered hearts go up for him. Art thou a huslaiid? — for Ms safety now, A wife sits weeping through the lonely hours Of his long absence. Silent, bitter tears Y/ell from her burdened heart, while boding fears Sadden with anxious thoughts her sleepless pillow. Arc thou a father?— In their stranger home Young children watch for Jiim, and pause to hear The step that comes not -aye, they often ask, *' Where is our father?— lohy does he not come?" And grave lips blanch and quiver in reply, An talk of ''iwayer'' and m\''aMdin(j trust'' In thf^ All-Father, God. Oh, round his neck Fond arms would gladly circle; prattling lips Would pour into his ear their music-tones Of simple, guileless love. Say, would'st thou give Joy to these blameless ones? then open wide His dreary prison door. For this one act. Heaven would smile on thee in that solemn hour When life is pausing at the gates of Death, 20G AK APPEAL FOR JEFFERSON DAVIS. And thy sole hoije is Christ's heneficence. Aye, for this single act, so mucli clesh^edy A thousand hearts would pour their prayers for thee At God's own mercy-seat; a thousand tougues Would speak thy praise, as that of one who knew How, with the tempted hand of conscious power, To shield the helpless. Oh, most honored Chief, Head of a mighty nation! — lend thine ear To this poor, earnest plea for one beloved. Set the brave captive free ! and when at last Thy soul stands trembling at that judgment-seat Where prayers avail not, when the v/ritten scroll Of human deeds is opened, and there lies The record of thy life^ — should aught appear Which justice would consign to punishment. May the recording angel Uot it oiit, And o'er thy name, in testimony, write, ^^ Blessed are the merciful.''^ Octoher 22, 1865. FAEEWELL TO THE FLAG. 207 FAREWELL TO THE FLAG. ARE WELL, farewell, to thee, glorious banner! The hopes of a nation have followed thee long — The blood of her slain, like the Heaven-sent manna, O'ershadows the ground of her suffering and wrong. Around thee have gathered the noblest and bravest That ever for Freedom and Liberty bled. And above thee once glistened the star of a Promise As bright as the beams which the morning hath shed. Farewell, farewell, faded emblem of glory. Lost hope of a people God made to be free, Thou'lt live yet, ennobled in song and in story. When those that disowned thee, dishonored shall be. Thou'lt live — aye, embalmed in the hearts, torn and bleeding. That throbbed for thy triumph, and wept at thy fall, And at last when proud Liberty leaps from her thraldom The blood of thy martyrs will answer her call. July 16tn, 1865, SEP 22 1899