'Twas a comrade with whom he had often caroused, That now entered to bid him farewell. "Ah, Tom! is it you come to bid me adieu? 'Tis kind my lad! give me your hand! Nay-nay-don't get wild, man, and make me a child! I'll be soon in a happier land!" With hand clasped in silence, Tom mournfully said, "Have you any request, Joe, to make?— Remember by me 'twill be fully obeyed; Can I anything do for your sake?" "When it's over, to morrow!" he said, filled with sorrow, "Send this token to her whom I've sworn All my fond love to share!"-'twas a lock of his hair, And a prayer-book, all faded and worn. "Here's this watch for my mother; and when you write home," And he dashed a bright tear from his eye"Say I died with my heart in old Devonshire, Tom, Like a man, and a soldier!-Good-bye!" Then the sergeant on guard, at the grating appeared, And poor Tom had to leave the cold cell, By the moon's waning light, with a husky "Goodnight! God be with you, dear comrade!-farewell!" "Shoulder arms!" was the cry as the prisoner passed "To the right about-march!" was the word: [by: And their pale faces proved how their comrade was loved, And by all his brave fellows adored. Right onward they marched to the dread field of doom: Then they formed into line amid sadness and gloom, -"Present!"- -struck a chill on each mind: Ah! what a sound will rise-how wild and drearyWhen the death angel touches those swift keys! What loud lament and dismal Miserere Will mingle with their awful symphonies. Is it, O man, with such discordant noises, With such accursed instruments as these, Were half the power that fills the world with terror, courts, Given to redeem the human mind from error, There were no need of arsenals nor forts; The warrior's name would be a name abhorred; I hear once more the voice of Christ say "Peace!" -H. W. Longfellow. Now all is calm and fresh and still; Alone the chirp of flitting bird, And talk of children on the hill, The timid good may stand aloof, And bell of wandering kine, are heard. No solemn host goes trailing by The black-mouthed gun, and staggering wain; Men start not at the battle cry, O, be it never heard again! Soon rested those who fought; but thou Through weary day and weary year; Yet nerve thy spirit to the proof, The sage may frown-yet faint thou not. Nor heed the shaft too surely cast, The foul and hissing bolt of scorn; For with thy side shall dwell, at last, The victory of endurance born. Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise againThe eternal years of God are hers; But Error, wounded, writhes in pain, And dies among his worshipers. Yes, though thou lie upon the dust, When they who helped thee flee in fear, Die full of hope and manly trust, Like those who fell in battle here! Another hand thy sword shall wield, Another hand the standard wave, Till from the trumpet's mouth is pealed The blast of triumph o'er thy grave. -William Cullen Bryant. "Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, Or to glorious victory! "Now's the day, and now's the hour; "Wha will be a traitor knave? Traitor! coward! turn and flee ! "Wha for Scotland's king and law Caledonia! on wi' me! "By oppression's woes and pains! But they shall be-shall be free! -Robert Burns. 66 Battle of Lookout Mountain. IVE me but two brigades," said Hooker, "And I'll engage to sweep yon mountain clear of that At early morning came an order that set the general's face aglow; "Now," said he to his staff, "draw out my soldiers, Hither and thither dashed eager colonel to join his And the wild laughter of the swarthy veterans, who The solid tramp of infantry, the rumble of the great jolting gun, The sharp, clear order, and the fierce steeds neighing, "Why's not the fight begun?"— All these plain harbingers of sudden conflict broke on the startled ear; And last, arose a sound that made your blood leapthe ringing battle cheer. The lower works were carried at one onset, like a vast roaring sea Of lead and fire, our soldiers from the trenches swept out the enemy; And we could see the gray coats swarming up from the mountain's leafy base, To join their comrades in the higher fastness-for life or death the race! Then our long line went winding round the mountain, in a huge serpent track, And the slant sun upon it flash'd and glimmer'd, as on a dragon's back. Higher and higher the column's head push'd onward, ere the rear moved a man; And soon the skirmish lines their straggling volleys and single shots began. Then the bald head of Lookout flamed and bellow'd, and all its batteries woke, And down the mountain pour'd the bombshells, puffing into our eyes their smoke: And balls and grape shot rained upon our column, that bore the angry shower As if it were no more than that soft dropping which scarcely stirs the flower. Oh, glorious courage that inspires the hero, and runs through all his men! The heart that failed beside the Rappahannock, it was itself again! The star that circumstance and jealous faction shrouded in envious night, Here shone with all the splendor of its nature, and with a freer flight! Hark! hark! there go the well known crashing volleys, the long-continued roar, That swells and falls, but never ceases wholly, until Up toward the crystal gates of heaven ascending, the As if they sought to try their cause together before |