CAPTURE OF FORT HENRY, TENN.,
FEBRUARY 6TH, '62.
"DID'ST hear the news, just from the West,
In thrilling tones salute the ear?
The traitors that our land infest,
Are driven back with groan and fear-
And Mississippi with the streams,
That pour their life into her flood,
Reflect our flag in victory's beams,
Sustained by men of loyal blood.
The Sun of Liberty now shines
With lustre bright and unsubdued,
And blasted are the dark designs
Of all promoters of the feud.
From prairie-homes the warriors come,
From homes upon the lake's green banks,
To render treason fearful, dumb,
And terrify Rebellion's ranks.
Fort Henry's ramparts 'neath the folds
Of Freedom's emblem nobly stand;
And where the battle's thunder rolls
To tell of Victory to our land,
What glad event was it that woke
All patriot hearts from mount to shore?
It was the fight that Treason broke,
The grandest onset of the war!"
THE CAPTURE OF ROANOKE ISLAND,
FEBRUARY 8TH, '62.
THOUGH many a year of Peace has come,
Since on the wat'ry plain,
We wrenched the trident from
The Empress of the main :
Since Lawrence, with his ebbing breath,
Inspir'd his gallant crew,
Or over Erie, dark with death,
Our Perry's thunder flew :
The blood of valiant men that wet
Our battle-decks of yore,
Leaps in our ocean-warriors yet,
When naval thunders roar.
Off Carolina's coast our fleet,
By brave men's skill controlled,
O'er Roanoke's forts, the standard sheet
Of Union has unrolled.
Yet, 'mid our triumphs, let us weep
For Monteil and the brave,
Who, 'neath the sands of Roanoke sleep, Or fill an ocean grave.
CAPTURE OF ELIZABETH CITY, N. C.,
FEBRUARY 11TH, '62.
ARM for the fight! The cry goes forth,
Thro' the Eastern States, thro' the West and North,
As loud as the surge of the mighty sea
It bursts from the lips of the brave and free,
Strike for God and the Right!
Traitors shall never Our Union sever,
Our Flag shall wave o'er the land forever,
Patriots! Arm for the fight!
Arm for the fight! There has blood been shed,
And vengeance must fall on the traitor's head;
We have sued for peace-but we sue no more—
That vain hope is past, that dream is o'er.
Strike for God and the Right!
Unfurl your flag to the winds of Heaven,
And let three cheers as it floats be given,
Patriots! Arm for the fight!
Arm for the fight! Hear the eagle cry,
As wounded he soars 'mid the clouds on high;
From his trembling pinions drips the gore,
And it falls on the City of Baltimore-
Strike for God and the Right!
By the force of arms keep Our Nation free;
Let our country's flag wave o'er land and sea,
Patriots! Arm for the fight!
WHERE MY COMRADE IS SLEEPING.
CAPTURE OF EDENTON AND PLYMOUTH CITY, N. C.,
FEBRUARY 12тí, '62.
SOFTLY now the shades of evening
Gently fall through twilight air,
Nature drapes the sun in darkness,
As some weary maiden fair
Droops with sleep her jetty lashes
O'er her eye, so piercing bright,
While afar on distant mountains
Sweep the noiseless wings of Night.
Lonely dreams now pass before me,
Dismal hues my thoughts assume,
While the deep'ning stealthy shadows
Stamp my soul with half their gloom;
And I mourn my dearest comrade,
Sleeping in his silent grave,
'Neath the shadow of that fortress
Looming o'er the Southern wave.
Have ye seen a Northern cottage,
Underneath whose hanging eaves
Gleam the sceptres which old Winter
There in sparkling beauty leaves?
Saw ye sunbeams in the morning,
Quench their life blood with their fire?
As they melt they gleam the brighter,
Smiling sweetly, they expire.
Thus the soul of the departed
Saw in death no hideous gloom-
Shudder'd not to see before him
A short pathway to the tomb.
Fixed his eyes on bright-winged seraphs,
Saw their crowns of starry hue,
Smiled to hear their shouts of welcome,
As his glad soul upwards flew.
Like the breast of some huge sea-bird,
Sleeping on the tossing foam,
Crowned with plumes of shining emerald
Climbs to Heav'n-his island home.
There, with tear-wet eyes, a mother,
Long with ceaseless grief will mourn,
And her gray hairs grow yet whiter,
Weeping for her brave first born.
grave, the earthen casket
To its kindred dust again,
But the gem that gave it beauty,
Sparkles now where seraphs reign; Should the gold forever glitter Undisturbed, in native clay? Rather cleanse it, till its brightness Pictures back the heavenly ray.
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