SKIRMISH AT LADY'S FORD, Va.,
AUGUST 18TH, '61.
"A VICTORY!-a victory!"
Is flashed across the wires;
Speed, speed the news from State to State,
Light up the signal fires!
Let all the bells from all the towers
A joyous peal ring out!
We've gained a glorious victory,
And put the foe to rout!
A mother heard the chiming bells;
Her joy was mixed with pain.
"Pray God," she said, "my gallant boy
Be not among the slain."
Alas! for her! that very hour
Outstretched in death he lay; The color from his fair young face Had hardly passed away.
His nerveless hand still grasped the sword
He never more might wield,
His eyes were sealed in dreamless sleep
Upon the bloody field.
The chestnut curls his mother oft
Had stroked in fondest pride, Neglected hung in clotted locks, With deepest crimson dyed.
Ah! many a mother's heart shall ache,
And bleed with anguish sore,
When tidings come of him who marched
So blithely forth to war.
Oh! sad for them-the stricken down
In manhood's early dawn-
And sadder yet for loving hearts-
God comfort them that mourn,
Yes, victory has a fearful price
Our hearts may shrink to pay,
And tears WILL mingle with the joy
That greets a glorious day.
But he who dies in Freedom's cause,
We cannot count him lost;
A battle won for truth and right
Is worth the blood it cost!
Oh! mothers! count it something gained,
That they for whom you mourn,
Bequeath fair Freedom's heritage
To millions yet unborn;
And better than a thousand years
Of base, ignoble breath,
A patriot's fragrant memory,
A hero's early death.
THE SOLDIER TO HIS BETROTHED.
BEFORE THE FIGHT AT HAWK'S NEST, Va.
AUGUST 20TH, '61.
THE joys of home are dear to me,
And dearer still thou art;
But 1, my country's son must be,
She calls and we must part.
The stars upon her banner fair,
That brightly beam above,
My Mary, pure and constant there,
Are emblems of my love.
No captive in his dungeon's gloom,
E'er long'd for Freedom's light,
As I shall wish-whate'er my doom-
For my lov'd Mary's sight.
But better far that she should weep,
My absence or my fall,
Than here to sleep the coward's sleep,
Nor heed my country's call,
When in the deadly battle-field,
The Union's foes we meet;
If dying there my faith is seal'd,
My death hour will be sweet.
The soldier for his country dies,
For her his blood he gives;
But if that fate his star denies,
For thee, and love he lives.
Thine eye's bright beam, thy love's soft smile,
My best reward shall be,
When turning from the battle's toil,
And homeward bound to thee.
My Mary! hear the bugle blow,
And see the banner fly;
Farewell, my Mary-thine I go,
Thine, it I live or die!
SECOND BATTLE AT CHARLESTOWN, MO.
AUGUST 20TH, '61.
WE gathered 'round the cheerful fires,
Dismissing every care;
And happy is the household band,
And every one is there;
Ah, no, there is a vacant seat,
There is an absent one,
There is a mother's loved boy
Who to war has gone.
Alone for him she daily mourns,
Alone for him she daily weeps,
Alone for him in midnight shades
She constant vigil keeps;
Alone for him when all is joy
Around the household hearth,
The silent tear is seen to drop
Adown her withered cheek.
Alone for him at hour of prayer,
She fondly breathes above.
Her soul to God, but to protect
And keep him in His love!
And when her streaming eyes were closed.
In slumbers of the night,
She fancies that the absent one
Is present in her sight.
BEFORE THE SKIRMISH AT CROSS LANES, VA.
AUGUST 21st, '61.
ONCE more within the House of God below
We stand, in rev'rent hope and fear, to pray ;
Our hearts, with holy courage burning, glow-
For duty calls to battle hence away,
"O, God, preserve our country's life,
And lead us in the fearful strife-
To Thee alone the glory."
The Lord is our defense; in Him our might,
Let battles e'er so fiercely, madly rage;
We fight for Freedom and th'eternal Right,
And for this land, our holy heritage.
And if we save our fatherland,
Hath God not done it through our hand?
To Him alone the glory.
|