So let his name through Europe ring,- A man of mean estate, Who died, as firm as Sparta's king, Because his soul was great. Francis Hastings Doyle KEARNY AT SEVEN PINES [MAY 31, 1862] So that soldierly legend is still on its journey,- 'Twas the day when with Jameson, fierce Berry, and Birney, Against twenty thousand he rallied the field. Where the red volleys poured, where the clamor rose high est, Where the dead lay in clumps through the dwarf oak and pine, Where the aim from the thicket was surest and nighest,No charge like Phil Kearny's along the whole line. When the battle went ill, and the bravest were solemn, Near the dark Seven Pines, where we still held our ground, He rode down the length of the withering column, And his heart at our war-cry leapt up with a bound; He snuffed, like his charger, the wind of the powder,His sword waved us on and we answered the sign; Loud our cheer as we rushed, but his laugh rang the louder, "There's the devil's own fun, boys, along the whole line!" How he strode his brown steed! How we saw his blade brighten In the one hand still left, and the reins in his teeth! He laughed like a boy when the holidays heighten, But a soldier's glance shot from his visor beneath. Up came the reserves to the mellay infernal, Asking where to go in,—through the clearing or pine? "Oh, anywhere! Forward! 'Tis all the same, Colonel: You'll find lovely fighting along the whole line!" Oh, evil the black shroud of night at Chantilly, That hid him from sight of his brave men and tried! Rides on, as of old, down the length of his legion, FARRAGUT [MOBILE BAY, AUGUST 5, 1864] Farragut, Farragut, Old Heart of Oak, Far, by gray Morgan's walls, While the steam hums; Men! to the battlement, Farragut comes. See, as the hurricane Squadrons of clouds amain Back to the parapet, To the guns' lips, Thunderbolt Farragut Hurls the black ships. Now through the battle's roar "Nor' by East keep her," "Steady," but two alive: How the shells sweep her! Lashed to the mast that sways Over red decks, Over the flame that plays Round the torn wrecks, Over the dying lips Framed for a cheer, Farragut leads his ships, Guides the line clear. On by heights cannon-browed, While the spars quiver; Onward still flames the cloud Where the hulks shiver. See, yon fort's star is set, Storm and fire past. Cheer him, lads-Farragut, Lashed to the mast! Oh! while Atlantic's breast While the Gulf's towering crest Men thy bold deeds shall tell, Daring Dave Farragut, Thunderbolt stroke! William Tuckey Meredith "OF OLD SAT FREEDOM ON THE HEIGHTS" Of old sat Freedom on the heights, There in her place she did rejoice, Then stepped she down through town and field To mingle with the human race, Grave mother of majestic works, Who, God-like, grasps the triple forks, Her open eyes desire the truth. The wisdom of a thousand years That her fair form may stand and shine, Make bright our days and light our dreams, The falsehood of extremes! Alfred Tennyson AN ODE IN IMITATION OF ALCAUS What constitutes a State? Not high-raised battlement or labored mound, Not cities proud with spires and turrets crowned; Where low-browed baseness wafts perfume to pride. With powers as far above dull brutes endued As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude,— But know their rights, and, knowing, dare maintain; And crush the tyrant while they rend the chain:- And sovereign Law, that State's collected will, Sits empress, crowning good, repressing ill. Smit by her sacred frown, The fiend, Dissension, like a vapor sinks; And e'en the all-dazzling Crown Hides his faint rays, and at her bidding shrinks. William Jones |