Ever the mine and assault, our sallies, their lying alarms, Bugles and drums in the darkness, and shoutings and soundings to arms; Ever the labor of fifty that had to be done by five, Ever the marvel among us that one should be left alive, Ever the day with its traitorous death from the loopholes round, Ever the night with its coffinless corpse to be laid in the ground; Valor of delicate women who tended the hospital bed, Havelock baffled, or beaten, or butcher'd for all that we knew Then day and night, day and night, coming down on the still shatter'd walls, Millions of musket-bullets, and thousands of cannon-balls Hark! cannonade, fusilade! is it true what was told by the scout Outram and Havelock breaking their way through the fell mutineers ? Surely the pibroch of Europe is ringing again in our ears! Havelock's glorious Highlanders answer with conquering cheers, Sick from the hospital echo them, women and children come out, Blessing the wholesome white faces of Havelock's good fusil eers, Kissing the warr-harden'd hand of the Highlander wet with their tears! is it you? Dance to the pibroch! - saved! we are saved! — is it Saved by the valor of Havelock, saved by the blessing of Heaven! "Hold it for fifteen days!" we have held it for eighty-seven! And ever aloft over the palace roof the old banner of England blew. ALFRED, LORD TENASON. SONG OF THE CAMP "GIVE us a song!" the soldiers cried, The dark Redan, in silent scoff, There was a pause. A guardsman said: "We storm the forts to-morrow; Sing while we may, another day Will bring enough of sorrow." They lay along the battery's side, Brave hearts from Severn and from Clyde, They sang of love, and not of fame; Each heart recalled a different name, Voice after voice caught up the song, Rose like an anthem, rich and strong, Dear girl, her name he dared not speak, Something upon the soldier's cheek Beyond the darkening ocean burned And once again a fire of hell Rained on the Russian quarters, And Irish Norah's eyes are dim From the smoky night encampment, bore the banner of the rampant Unicorn, And grummer, grummer, grummer, rolled the roll of the drum mer, Through the morn! Then with eyes to the front all, Stood our sires; And the balls whistled deadly, As the roar On the shore, Swept the strong battle-breakers o'er the green-sodded acres Of the plain; And louder, louder, louder, cracked the black gunpowder, With hot sweeping anger, came the horse guards' clangor On our flanks; Then higher, higher, higher, burned the old-fashioned fire And the trooper-jackets redden at the touch of the leaden Rifle-breath; And rounder rounder, rounder, roared the iron six-pounder, Hurling death! GUY HUMPHREY MCMASTER. BATTLE-HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC MINE eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord : He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored; He hath loosed the fateful lightnings of his terrible swift sword: His truth is marching on. I have seen him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps; They have builded him an altar in the evening dews and damps; I can read his righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps : His day is marching on. I have read a fiery gospel, writ in burnished rows of steel : "As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal; Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel, Since God is marching on." He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call re treat; He is sifting out the hearts of men before his judgment-seat; O, be swift, my soul, to answer him! be jubilant, my feet! Our God is marching on. In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, JULIA WARD HOWE. Avenge the patriotic gore That flecked the streets of Baltimore, And be the battle queen of yore, Maryland, my Maryland! Hark to an exiled son's appeal, Maryland! My Mother State, to thee I kneel, For life or death, for woe or weal, And gird thy beauteous limbs with steel, Thou wilt not cower in the dust, Thy beaming sword shall never rust, Remember Carroll's sacred trust, Come with thy panoplied array, With Ringgold's spirit for the fray, Dear Mother, burst the tyrant's chain, Virginia should not call in vain, Maryland! She meets her sisters on the plain, Arise in majesty again, Maryland, my Maryland! Come! for thy shield is bright and strong, Maryland! Come! for thy dalliance does thee wrong, Maryland! Come to thine own heroic throng Stalking with Liberty along, And chant thy dauntless slogan-song. Maryland, my Maryland! |