"I interceded in my Paul's behalf,
Else he had suffered graver punishment,
But as himself for mercy would not beg--
'A stubborn boy,' our bluff old colonel said--
To extra duty for a month he went
Unmurmuring, storm or shine. When the cold rain
Poured down most pitiless Paul, drenched and wan,
Guarded the baggage and the braying mules.
When the hot sun at mid-day blazed and burned,
Like the red flame on Mauna Loa's top,
Withering the grass and parching earth and air,
I often saw him knapsacked and full-dressed,
Drilling the raw recruits at double-quick;
And yet he wore a patient countenance,
And went about his duty earnestly
As if it were a pleasure to obey.
"The month wore off and mad disaster came--
Gorging the blood of heroes at Ball's Bluff.
'Twas there the brave, unfaltering Baker fell
Fighting despair between the jaws of death.
Quenched was the flame that fired a thousand hearts;
Hushed was the voice that shook the senate-walls,
And rang defiance like a bugle-blast.
Broad o'er the rugged mountains to the north
Fell the incessant rain till, like a sea,
Him and the deadly ambush of the foe
The swollen river rolled and roared between.
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