O pride of the days in prime of the months Now trebled in great renown, When before the ark of our holy cause Fell Dagon down-- Dagon foredoomed, who, armed and targed, Never his impious heart enlarged Beyond that hour; G.o.d walled his power, And there the last invader charged.
He charged, and in that charge condensed His all of hate and all of fire; He sought to blast us in his scorn, And wither us in his ire.
Before him went the shriek of sh.e.l.ls-- Aerial screamings, taunts and yells; Then the three waves in flashed advance Surged, but were met, and back they set: Pride was repelled by sterner pride, And Right is a strong-hold yet.
Before our lines it seemed a beach Which wild September gales have strown With havoc on wreck, and dashed therewith Pale crews unknown-- Men, arms, and steeds. The evening sun Died on the face of each lifeless one, And died along the winding marge of fight And searching-parties lone.
Sloped on the hill the mounds were green, Our center held that place of graves, And some still hold it in their swoon, And over these a glory waves.
The warrior-monument, crashed in fight,[8]
Shall soar transfigured in loftier light, A meaning ampler bear; Soldier and priest with hymn and prayer Have laid the stone, and every bone Shall rest in honor there.
The House-top.
A Night Piece.
(July, 1863.)
No sleep. The sultriness pervades the air And binds the brain--a dense oppression, such As tawny tigers feel in matted shades, Vexing their blood and making apt for ravage.
Beneath the stars the roofy desert spreads Vacant as Libya. All is hushed near by.
Yet fitfully from far breaks a mixed surf Of m.u.f.fled sound, the Atheist roar of riot.
Yonder, where parching Sirius set in drought, Balefully glares red Arson--there-and there.
The Town is taken by its rats--ship-rats.
And rats of the wharves. All civil charms And priestly spells which late held hearts in awe-- Fear-bound, subjected to a better sway Than sway of self; these like a dream dissolve, And man rebounds whole aeons back in nature.[9]
Hail to the low dull rumble, dull and dead, And ponderous drag that shakes the wall.
Wise Draco comes, deep in the midnight roll Of black artillery; he comes, though late; In code corroborating Calvin"s creed And cynic tyrannies of honest kings; He comes, nor parlies; and the Town redeemed, Give thanks devout; nor, being thankful, heeds The grimy slur on the Republic"s faith implied, Which holds that Man is naturally good, And--more--is Nature"s Roman, never to be scourged.
Look-out Mountain.
The Night Fight.
(November, 1863.)
Who inhabiteth the Mountain That it shines in lurid light, And is rolled about with thunders, And terrors, and a blight, Like Kaf the peak of Eblis-- Kaf, the evil height?
Who has gone up with a shouting And a trumpet in the night?
There is battle in the Mountain-- Might a.s.saulteth Might; "Tis the fastness of the Anarch, Torrent-torn, an ancient height; The crags resound the clangor Of the war of Wrong and Right; And the armies in the valley Watch and pray for dawning light.
Joy, Joy, the day is breaking, And the cloud is rolled from sight; There is triumph in the Morning For the Anarch"s plunging flight; G.o.d has glorified the Mountain Where a Banner burneth bright, And the armies in the valley They are fortified in right.
Chattanooga.
(November, 1863.)
A kindling impulse seized the host Inspired by heaven"s elastic air;[9]
Their hearts outran their General"s plan, Though Grant commanded there-- Grant, who without reserve can dare; And, "Well, go on and do your will"
He said, and measured the mountain then: So master-riders fling the rein-- But you must know your men.
On yester-morn in grayish mist, Armies like ghosts on hills had fought, And rolled from the cloud their thunders loud The c.u.mberlands far had caught: To-day the sunlit steeps are sought.
Grant stood on cliffs whence all was plain, And smoked as one who feels no cares; But mastered nervousness intense Alone such calmness wears.
The summit-cannon plunge their flame Sheer down the primal wall, But up and up each linking troop In stretching festoons crawl-- Nor fire a shot. Such men appall The foe, though brave. He, from the brink, Looks far along the breadth of slope, And sees two miles of dark dots creep, And knows they mean the cope.
He sees them creep. Yet here and there Half hid "mid leafless groves they go; As men who ply through traceries high Of turreted marbles show-- So dwindle these to eyes below.
But fronting shot and flanking sh.e.l.l Sliver and rive the inwoven ways; High tops of oaks and high hearts fall, But never the climbing stays.
From right to left, from left to right They roll the rallying cheer-- Vie with each other, brother with brother, Who shall the first appear-- What color-bearer with colors clear In sharp relief, like sky-drawn Grant, Whose cigar must now be near the stump-- While in solicitude his back Heap slowly to a hump.
Near and more near; till now the flags Run like a catching flame; And one flares highest, to peril nighest-- _He_ means to make a name: Salvos! they give him his fame.
The staff is caught, and next the rush, And then the leap where death has led; Flag answered flag along the crest, And swarms of rebels fled.
But some who gained the envied Alp, And--eager, ardent, earnest there-- Dropped into Death"s wide-open arms, Quelled on the wing like eagles struck in air-- Forever they slumber young and fair, The smile upon them as they died; Their end attained, that end a height: Life was to these a dream fulfilled, And death a starry night.
The Armies of the Wilderness.
(1683-64.)
I
Like snows the camps on southern hills Lay all the winter long, Our levies there in patience stood-- They stood in patience strong.
On fronting slopes gleamed other camps Where faith as firmly clung: Ah, froward king! so brave miss-- The zealots of the Wrong.
_In this strife of brothers (G.o.d, hear their country call), However it be, whatever betide, Let not the just one fall._
Through the pointed gla.s.s our soldiers saw The base-ball bounding sent; They could have joined them in their sport But for the vale"s deep rent.
And others turned the reddish soil, Like diggers of graves they bent: The reddish soil and tranching toil Begat presentiment.
_Did the Fathers feel mistrust?
Can no final good be wrought?
Over and over, again and again Must the fight for the Right be fought?_
They lead a Gray-back to the crag: "Your earth-works yonder--tell us, man"
"A prisoner--no deserter, I, Nor one of the tell-tale clan"
His rags they mark: "True-blue like you Should wear the color--your Country"s, man"
He grinds his teeth: "However that be, Yon earth-works have their plan."
_Such brave ones, foully snared By Belial"s wily plea, Were faithful unto the evil end-- Feudal fidelity._
"Well, then, your camps--come, tell the names"
Freely he leveled his finger then: "Yonder--see--are our Georgians; on the crest, The Carolinians; lower, past the glen, Virginians--Alabamians--Mississippians--Kentuckians (Follow my finger)--Tennesseeans; and the ten Camps _there_--ask your grave-pits; they"ll tell.
Halloa! I see the picket-hut, the den Where I last night lay." "Where"s Lee"
"In the hearts and bayonets of all yon men!"