Battle-Pieces and Aspects of the War Part 19

What gloomed them? what so cast them down, And changed the cheer that late they took, As double-guarded now they rode Between the files of moody men?

Some sudden consciousness they brook, Or dread the sequel. That night's blood Disturbed even Mosby's brotherhood.

The flagging horses stumbled at roots, Floundered in mires, or clinked the stones; No rider spake except aside; But the wounded cramped in the ambulance, It was horror to hear their groans-- Jerked along in the woodland ride, While Mosby's clan their revery hide.

The Hospital Steward--even he-- Who on the sleeper kept his glance, Was changed; late bright-black beard and eye Looked now hea.r.s.e-black; his heavy heart, Like his f.a.gged mare, no more could dance; His grape was now a raisin dry: 'Tis Mosby's homily--_Man must die_.

The amber sunset flushed the camp As on the hill their eyes they fed; The pickets dumb looks at the wagon dart; A handkerchief waves from the bannered tent-- As white, alas! the face of the dead: Who shall the withering news impart?

The bullet of Mosby goes through heart to heart!

They buried him where the lone ones lie (Lone sentries shot on midnight post)-- A green-wood grave-yard hid from ken, Where sweet-fern flings an odor nigh-- Yet held in fear for the gleaming ghost!

Though the bride should see threescore and ten, She will dream of Mosby and his men.

Now halt the verse, and turn aside-- The cypress falls athwart the way; No joy remains for bard to sing; And heaviest dole of all is this, That other hearts shall be as gay As hers that now no more shall spring: To Mosby-land the dirges cling.

Lee in the Capitol.

Lee in the Capitol.[24]

(April, 1866.)

Hard pressed by numbers in his strait, Rebellion's soldier-chief no more contends-- Feels that the hour is come of Fate, Lays down one sword, and widened warfare ends.

The captain who fierce armies led Becomes a quiet seminary's head-- Poor as his privates, earns his bread.

In studious cares and aims engrossed, Strives to forget Stuart and Stonewall dead-- Comrades and cause, station and riches lost, And all the ills that flock when fortune's fled.

No word he breathes of vain lament, Mute to reproach, nor hears applause-- His doom accepts, perforce content, And acquiesces in a.s.serted laws; Secluded now would pa.s.s his life, And leave to time the sequel of the strife.

But missives from the Senators ran; Not that they now would gaze upon a swordless foe, And power made powerless and brought low: Reasons of state, 'tis claimed, require the man.

Demurring not, promptly he comes By ways which show the blackened homes, And--last--the seat no more his own, But Honor's; patriot grave-yards fill The forfeit slopes of that patrician hill, And fling a shroud on Arlington.

The oaks ancestral all are low; No more from the porch his glance shall go Ranging the varied landscape o'er, Far as the looming Dome--no more.

One look he gives, then turns aside, Solace he summons from his pride: "So be it! They await me now Who wrought this stinging overthrow; They wait me; not as on the day Of Pope's impelled retreat in disarray-- By me impelled--when toward yon Dome The clouds of war came rolling home"

The burst, the bitterness was spent, The heart-burst bitterly turbulent, And on he fared.

In nearness now He marks the Capitol--a show Lifted in amplitude, and set With standards flushed with a glow of Richmond yet; Trees and green terraces sleep below.

Through the clear air, in sunny light, The marble dazes--a temple white.

Intrepid soldier! had his blade been drawn For yon stirred flag, never as now Bid to the Senate-house had he gone, But freely, and in pageant borne, As when brave numbers without number, ma.s.sed, Plumed the broad way, and pouring pa.s.sed-- Bannered, beflowered--between the sh.o.r.es Of faces, and the dinn'd huzzas, And balconies kindling at the sabre-flash, 'Mid roar of drums and guns, and cymbal-crash, While Grant and Sherman shone in blue-- Close of the war and victory's long review.

Yet pride at hand still aidful swelled, And up the hard ascent he held.

The meeting follows. In his mien The victor and the vanquished both are seen-- All that he is, and what he late had been.

Awhile, with curious eyes they scan The Chief who led invasion's van-- Allied by family to one, Founder of the Arch the Invader warred upon: Who looks at Lee must think of Washington; In pain must think, and hide the thought, So deep with grievous meaning it is fraught.

Secession in her soldier shows Silent and patient; and they feel (Developed even in just success) Dim inklings of a hazy future steal; Their thoughts their questions well express: "Does the sad South still cherish hate?

Freely will Southen men with Northern mate?

The blacks--should we our arm withdraw, Would that betray them? some distrust your law.

And how if foreign fleets should come-- Would the South then drive her wedges home"

And more hereof. The Virginian sees-- Replies to such anxieties.

Discreet his answers run--appear Briefly straightforward, coldly clear.

"If now," the Senators, closing, say, "Aught else remain, speak out, we pray"

Hereat he paused; his better heart Strove strongly then; prompted a worthier part Than coldly to endure his doom.

Speak out? Ay, speak, and for the brave, Who else no voice or proxy have; Frankly their spokesman here become, And the flushed North from her own victory save.

That inspiration overrode-- Hardly it quelled the galling load Of personal ill. The inner feud He, self-contained, a while withstood; They waiting. In his troubled eye Shadows from clouds unseen they spy; They could not mark within his breast The pang which pleading thought oppressed: He spoke, nor felt the bitterness die.

"My word is given--it ties my sword; Even were banners still abroad, Never could I strive in arms again While you, as fit, that pledge retain.

Our cause I followed, stood in field and gate-- All's over now, and now I follow Fate.

But this is naught. A People call-- A desolted land, and all The brood of ills that press so sore, The natural offspring of this civil war, Which ending not in fame, such as might rear Fitly its sculptured trophy here, Yields harvest large of doubt and dread To all who have the heart and head To feel and know. How shall I speak?

Thoughts knot with thoughts, and utterance check.

Before my eyes there swims a haze, Through mists departed comrades gaze-- First to encourage, last that shall upbraid!

How shall I speak? The South would fain Feel peace, have quiet law again-- Replant the trees for homestead-shade.

You ask if she recants: she yields.

Nay, and would more; would blend anew, As the bones of the slain in her forests do, Bewailed alike by us and you.

A voice comes out from these charnel-fields, A plaintive yet unheeded one: _'Died all in vain? both sides undone'_ Push not your triumph; do not urge Submissiveness beyond the verge.

Intestine rancor would you bide, Nursing eleven sliding daggers in your side?

"Far from my thought to school or threat; I speak the things which hard beset.

Where various hazards meet the eyes, To elect in magnanimity is wise.

Reap victory's fruit while sound the core; What sounder fruit than re-established law?

I know your partial thoughts do press Solely on us for war's unhappy stress; But weigh--consider--look at all, And broad anathema you'll recall.

The censor's charge I'll not repeat, The meddlers kindled the war's white heat-- Vain intermeddlers and malign, Both of the palm and of the pine; I waive the thought--which never can be rife-- Common's the crime in every civil strife: But this I feel, that North and South were driven By Fate to arms. For our unshriven, What thousands, truest souls, were tried-- As never may any be again-- All those who stemmed Secession's pride, But at last were swept by the urgent tide Into the chasm. I know their pain.

A story here may be applied: 'In Moorish lands there lived a maid Brought to confess by vow the creed Of Christians. Fain would priests persuade That now she must approve by deed The faith she kept. "What dead?" she asked.

"Your old sire leave, nor deem it sin, And come with us." Still more they tasked The sad one: "If heaven you'd win-- Far from the burning pit withdraw, Then must you learn to hate your kin, Yea, side against them--such the law, For Moor and Christian are at war"

"Then will I never quit my sire, But here with him through every trial go, Nor leave him though in flames below-- G.o.d help me in his fire!"

So in the South; vain every plea 'Gainst Nature's strong fidelity; True to the home and to the heart, Throngs cast their lot with kith and kin, Foreboding, cleaved to the natural part-- Was this the unforgivable sin?

These n.o.ble spirits are yet yours to win.

Shall the great North go Sylla's way?

Proscribe? prolong the evil day?

Confirm the curse? infix the hate?

In Unions name forever alienate?

"From reason who can urge the plea-- Freemen conquerors of the free?

When blood returns to the shrunken vein, Shall the wound of the Nation bleed again?

Well may the wars wan thought supply, And kill the kindling of the hopeful eye, Unless you do what even kings have done In leniency--unless you shun To copy Europe in her worst estate-- Avoid the tyranny you reprobate."

He ceased. His earnestness unforeseen Moved, but not swayed their former mien; And they dismissed him. Forth he went Through vaulted walks in lengthened line Like porches erst upon the Palatine: Historic reveries their lesson lent, The Past her shadow through the Future sent.

But no. Brave though the Soldier, grave his plea-- Catching the light in the future's skies, Instinct disowns each darkening prophecy: Faith in America never dies; Heaven shall the end ordained fulfill, We march with Providence cheery still.

A Meditation:

Attributed to a northerner after attending the last of two funerals from the same homestead--those of a national and a confederate officer (brothers), his kinsmen, who had died from the effects of wounds received in the closing battles.