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“But, General,” cried the veteran, a flush upon his
brow, “The very men who fought with us, they say, are
traitors now; They've torn the fag of Lundy's Lane-our old red,
while, and blue; And while a drop of blood is left, I'll show that drop
is true. “ I'm not so weak but I can strike, and I've a good
To get the range of traitors' hearts, and pick them,
one by one. Your Minié rifles, and such arms, it a'n't worth
while to try; I couldn't get the hang o' them, but I'll keep my
powder dry!" “God bless you, comrade !" said the Chief; “God
bless your loyal heart ! But younger men are in the field, and claim to have They'll plant our sacred banner in each rebellious
town, And woe, henceforth, to any hand that dares to pull
it down !” “But, General”—still persisting, the weeping veter
an cried, " I'm young enough to follow, so long as you're my
guide; And some, you know, must bite the dust, and that,
at least, can I, So give the young ones place to fight, but me a
place to die ! “ If they should fire on Pickens, let the colonel in
command Put me upon the rampart, with the flag-staff in my
No odds how hot the cannon-smoke, or how the
shells may fly; I'll hold the Stars and Stripes aloft, and hold them
till I die!
"I'm ready, General, so you let a post to me be
given, Where Washington can see me, as he looks from
highest heaven, And say to Putnam at his side, or, may be, General
Wayne : “There stands old Billy Johnson, that fought at
Lundy's Lane ! “And when the fight is hottest, before the traitors
fly, When shell and ball are screeching and bursting in
the sky, If any shot should hit me, and lay me on my face, My soul would go to Washington's and not to Arnold's place!"
I KNOW the sun shines, and the lilacs are blowing,
And summer sends kisses by beautiful May; Oh! to see all the treasures the spring is bestowing,
And think-my boy Willie enlisted to-day. It seems but a day since at twilight, low humming,
I rocked him to sleep with his cheek upon mine, While Robby, the four-year-old, watched for the
coming Of father, adown the street's indistinct line.
It is many a year since my Harry departed,
To come back no more in the twilight or dawn; And Robby grew weary of watching, and started
Alone on the journey his father had gone. It is many a year—and this afternoon, sitting
At Robby's old window, I heard the band play, And suddenly ceased dreaming over my knitting,
To recollect Willie is twenty to-day. And that, standing beside him this soft May-day
morning, The sun making gold of his wreathed cigar
smoke, I saw in his sweet eyes and lips a faint warning, And choked down the tears when he eagerly
spoke : “Dear mother, you know how these Northmen are
crowing, They would trample the rights of the South in
the dust ; The boys are all fire; and they wish I were going—" He stopped, but his eyes said, “Oh, say if I
must!" I smiled on the boy, though my heart it seemed
breaking, My eyes filled with tears, so I turned them
away, And answered him, “Willie, 'tis well you are
wakingGo, act as your father would bid you, to-day!" I sit in the window, and see the flags flying,
And drearily list to the roll of the drum,
And bid all the fears in my bosom be dumb.
Out over the fields, and the honey-bee's hum
Lulls the rose at the porch from her tremulous sigh
ing, And watch for the face of my darling to come. And if he should fall-his young life he has given
For freedom's sweet sake; and for me, I will pray Once more with my Harry and Robby in heaven To meet the dear boy that enlisted to-day.
BETHEL. [It was in the ill-fated attack of the Union forces on Big Bethel, near Newport News, Virginia, June 10, 1861, that the lamented Major Theodore Winthrop lost his life.] WE mustered at midnight, in darkness we
formed, And the whisper went round of a fort to be
stormed ; But no drum-beat had called us, no trumpet we
heard, And no voice of command, but our colonel's low word
“ Column ! Forward !"
And out, through the mist and the murk of the
morn, From the beaches of Hampton our barges were
borne; And we heard not a sound, save the sweep of the
oar, Till the word of our colonel came up from the shore
“ Column! Forward !!"
With hearts bounding bravely, and eyes all alight, As ye dance to soft music, so trod we that night;
Through the aisles of the greenwood, with vines
overarched, Tossing dew-drops, like gems, from our feet, as we marched
“ Column ! Forward !”
As ye dance with the damsels, to viol and flute,
pursuit; But the soft zephyrs chased us, with scents of the
morn, As we passed by the hay-fields and green waving
“ Column! Forward !"
For the leaves were all laden with fragrance of June, And the flowers and the foliage with sweets were in
tune; And the air was so calm, and the forest so dumb, That we heard our own heart-beats, like taps of a drum
“ Column! Forward !"
Till the lull of the lowlands was stirred by a breeze, And the buskins of morn brushed the tops of the
trees, And the glintings of glory that slid from her track By the sheen of our rifles were gayly Aung back
“ Column! Forward !”
And the woodlands grew purple with sunshiny mist, And the blue-crested hill-tops with rose-light were
kissed, And the earth gave her prayers to the sun in per
fumes, Till we marched as through gardens, and trampled on blooms
“ Column! Forward !!"