"Paul marched and fought and marched and fought again,
Patient and earnest through the bootless toils
And fiery trials of that dread campaign
Upon the Peninsula. 'Twas fitly called
'Campaign of Battles.' Aye, it sorely pierced
The scarred and bleeding nation, and drew blood
Deep from her vitals till she shook and reeled,
Like some huge giant staggering to his fall--
Blinded with blood, yet struggling with his soul,
And stretching forth his ponderous, brawny arms,
Like Samson in the Temple, to o'erwhelm
And crush his mocking enemies in his fall.
"Ah, Malvern! you remember Malvern Hill--
That night of dreadful butchery! Round the top
Of the entrenched summit, parked and aimed,
Blazed like Vesuvius when he bellows fire
And molten lava into the midnight heavens,
An hundred crashing cannon, and the hill
Shook to the thunder of the mighty guns,
As ocean trembles to the bursting throes
Of submarine volcanoes; and the shells
From the embattled gun-boats--fiery fiends--
Shrieked on the night and through the ether hissed
Like hell's infernals. Line supporting line,
From base to summit round the blazing hill,
Our infantry was posted.
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