Hand to hand fight and die
Infantry, cavalry;
Grappled and mixed they lie--
Infantry, cavalry:
Hurra!--the Rebels fly!
Bravo!--Three Hundred!
"Forward and follow me!"
Shouted the Captain;
"Union and Liberty!"
All the Guards thundered.
With mad hearts and sabers stout
Into the Rebel-rout
Gallop the Guardsmen,
Thundering their cry again,
Cleaving their foes in twain,
Piling the heaps of slain
Sabered and sundered.
Three hundred foes they slayed,
Glorious the charge they made,
Victorious the charge they made--
The gallant Three Hundred!
Let the Crown-Poet paid
Sing of the "Light Brigade"
And "The wild charge they made"
When "Some one had blundered;"
Following the British Bard,
I sing of the Body-Guard--
The Heroes that fought so hard--
Where nobody blundered.
Hail, brave Zagonyi--hail!
All hail, the Body-Guard!--
The glorious--
The victorious--
The invincible Three Hundred.
A MILLION MORE
[AUGUST, 1862.]
The nation calls aloud again,
For Freedom wounded writhes in pain.
Gird on your armor, Northern men;
Drop scythe and sickle, square and pen;
A million bayonets gleam and flash;
A thousand cannon peal and crash;
Brothers and sons have gone before;
A million more!--a million more!
Fire and sword!--aye, sword and fire!
Let war be fierce and grim and dire;
Your path be marked by flame and smoke,
And tyrant's bones and fetters broke:
Stay not for foe's uplifted hand;
Sheathe not the sword; quench not the brand
Till Freedom reign from shore to shore,
Or might 'mid ashes smoke and gore.
Pages:
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336