Poems of American Patriotism Part 17

Ah! how the masts did buckle and bend, And the stout hull ring and reel, As she took us right on end!

(Vain were engine and wheel, She was under full steam)-- With the roar of a thunder-stroke Her two thousand tons of oak Brought up on us, right abeam!

A wreck, as it looked, we lay-- (Rib and plankshear gave way To the stroke of that giant wedge!) Here, after all, we go-- The old ship is gone!--ah, no, But cut to the water's edge.

Never mind then--at him again!

His flurry now can't last long; He'll never again see land-- Try that on _him_, Marchand!

On him again, brave Strong!

Heading square at the hulk, Full on his beam we bore; But the spine of the huge Sea-Hog Lay on the tide like a log, He vomited flame no more.

By this he had found it hot-- Half the fleet, in an angry ring, Closed round the hideous Thing, Hammering with solid shot,

And bearing down, bow on bow-- He had but a minute to choose; Life or renown?--which now Will the Rebel Admiral lose?

Cruel, haughty, and cold, He ever was strong and bold-- Shall he shrink from a wooden stem?

He will think of that brave band He sank in the c.u.mberland-- Ay, he will sink like them.

Nothing left but to fight Boldly his last sea-fight!

Can he strike? By heaven, 'tis true!

Down comes the traitor Blue, And up goes the captive White!

Up went the White! Ah then The hurrahs that, once and agen, Rang from three thousand men All flushed and savage with fight!

Our dead lay cold and stark, But our dying, down in the dark, Answered as best they might-- Lifting their poor lost arms, And cheering for G.o.d and Right!

SHERIDAN'S RIDE

THOMAS BUCHANAN READ

[Sidenote: Oct. 19, 1864]

_General Early surprised and routed the Union troops during General Sheridan's absence in Washington. Sheridan hastened to the front, rallied his men, and won a complete victory._

Up from the South at break of day, Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay, The affrighted air with a shudder bore, Like a herald in haste, to the chieftain's door, The terrible grumble, and rumble, and roar, Telling the battle was on once more, And Sheridan twenty miles away.

And wider still those billows of war Thundered along the horizon's bar; And louder yet into Winchester rolled The roar of that red sea uncontrolled, Making the blood of the listener cold, As he thought of the stake in that fiery fray, And Sheridan twenty miles away.

But there is a road from Winchester town, A good, broad highway leading down; And there, through the flush of the morning light, A steed as black as the steeds of night, Was seen to pa.s.s, as with eagle flight, As if he knew the terrible need; He stretched away with his utmost speed; Hills rose and fell; but his heart was gay, With Sheridan fifteen miles away.

Still sprung from those swift hoofs, thundering South, The dust, like smoke from the cannon's mouth; Or the trail of a comet, sweeping faster and faster, Foreboding to traitors the doom of disaster.

The heart of the steed and the heart of the master Were beating like prisoners a.s.saulting their walls, Impatient to be where the battle-field calls; Every nerve of the charger was strained to full play, With Sheridan only ten miles away.

Under his spurning feet the road Like an arrowy Alpine river flowed, And the landscape sped away behind Like an ocean flying before the wind, And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace fire, Swept on, with his wild eye full of ire.

But lo! he is nearing his heart's desire; He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray, With Sheridan only five miles away.

The first that the general saw were the groups Of stragglers, and then the retreating troops, What was done? what to do? a glance told him both, Then striking his spurs, with a terrible oath, He dashed down the line, mid a storm of huzzas, And the wave of retreat checked its course there, because The sight of the master compelled it to pause.

With foam and with dust, the black charger was gray By the flash of his eye, and the red nostril's play, He seemed to the whole great army to say, "I have brought you Sheridan all the way From Winchester, down to save the day!"

Hurrah! hurrah for Sheridan!

Hurrah! hurrah for horse and man!

And when their statues are placed on high, Under the dome of the Union sky, The American soldiers' Temple of Fame, There with the glorious general's name Be it said, in letters both bold and bright, "Here is the steed that saved the day, By carrying Sheridan into the fight, From Winchester, twenty miles away!"

CRAVEN

HENRY NEWBOLT

[Sidenote: August 5, 1864]

_In the attack on Mobile Bay the monitor Tec.u.mseh was sunk by a torpedo._

Over the turret, shut in his iron-clad tower, Craven was conning his ship through smoke and flame; Gun to gun he had battered the fort for an hour, Now was the time for a charge to end the game.

There lay the narrowing channel, smooth and grim, A hundred deaths beneath it, and never a sign; There lay the enemy's ships, and sink or swim The flag was flying, and he was head of the line.

The fleet behind was jamming; the monitor hung Beating the stream; the roar for a moment hushed, Craven spoke to the pilot; slow she swung; Again he spoke, and right for the foe she rushed.

Into the narrowing channel, between the sh.o.r.e And the sunk torpedoes lying in treacherous rank; She turned but a yard too short; a m.u.f.fled roar, A mountainous wave, and she rolled, righted, and sank.

Over the manhole, up in the iron-clad tower, Pilot and Captain met as they turned to fly: The hundredth part of a moment seemed an hour, For one could pa.s.s to be saved, and one must die.

They stood like men in a dream: Craven spoke, Spoke as he lived and fought, with a Captain's pride, "After you, Pilot." The pilot woke, Down the ladder he went, and Craven died.

All men praise the deed and the manner, but we-- We set it apart from the pride that stoops to the proud, The strength that is supple to serve the strong and free, The grace of the empty hands and promises loud:

Sidney thirsting, a humbler need to slake, Nelson waiting his turn for the surgeon's hand, Lucas crushed with chains for a comrade's sake, Outram coveting right before command:

These were paladins, these were Craven's peers, These with him shall be crowned in story and song, Crowned with the glitter of steel and the glimmer of tears, Princes of courtesy, merciful, proud, and strong.

SHERMAN'S MARCH TO THE SEA

SAMUEL H. M. BYERS

[Sidenote: May 4, 1864, Dec. 21, 1864]

_After Sherman left Tennessee in May, to the taking of Atlanta September 2, there was hardly a day without its battle; after he left Atlanta he marched to the sea and took Savannah; then he went to Columbia and the backbone of the Rebellion was broken. The poet wrote this while a prisoner at Columbia; and when Sherman arrived there and read it, he attached Adjt. Byers to his staff._

Our camp-fires shone bright on the mountain That frowned on the river below, As we stood by our guns in the morning, And eagerly watched for the foe; When a rider came out of the darkness That hung over mountain and tree, And shouted, "Boys, up and be ready!

For Sherman will march to the sea!"