"_Halt!_"--on our battery's flank we stood like a hedge-row of steel--
Bearing the banner of Freedom on the Gettysburg hills that day.
Down at the marge of the valley our broken ranks stagger and reel,
Grimy with dust and with powder, wearied and panting for breath,
Flinging their arms in panic, flying the hail-storm of death.
Rumble of volley on volley of the enemy hard on the rear,
Yelling their wild, mad triumph, thundering cheer upon cheer,
Dotting the slope with slaughter and sweeping the field with fear.
Drowned is the blare of the bugle, lost is the bray of the drum,
Yelling, defiant, victorious, column on column they come.
Only a handful are we, thrown into the gap of our lines,
Holding the perilous breach where the fate of the battle inclines,
Only a handful are we--column on column they come.
Roared like the voice of a lion brave Hancock fierce for the fray:
"Hurry the reserve battalions; bring every banner and gun:
Charge on the enemy, Colvill, stay the advance of his lines:
Here--by the God of our Fathers!--here shall the battle be won,
Or we'll die for the banner of Freedom on the Gettysburg hills today."
Shrill rang the voice of our Colonel, the bravest and best of the brave:
"_Forward, the First Minnesota! Forward, and follow me, men!_"
Gallantly forward he strode, the bravest and best of the brave.
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