CAVALRY SONG. OUR bugles sound gayly. To horse and away! And over the mountains breaks the day; Then ho! brothers, ho! for the ride or the fight, There are deeds to be done ere we slumber tonight! And whether we fight or whether we fall By sabre-stroke or rifle-ball, The hearts of the free will remember us yet, And our country, our country will never forget! Then mount and away! let the coward delight To be lazy all day and safe all night; Our joy is a charger, flecked with foam, And the earth is our bed and the saddle our home! And whether we fight, etc. See yonder the ranks of the traitorous foe, Breathe a prayer, but no sigh; think for what you would fight; Then charge! with a will, boys, and God for the right! And whether we fight, etc. We have gathered again the red laurels of war; But whether we fight or whether we fall By sabre-stroke or rifle-ball, The hearts of the free will remember us yet, And our country, our country will never forget! ROSSITER W. RAYMOND. KEARNY AT SEVEN PINES.* So that soldierly legend is still on its journey,That story of Kearny who knew not to yield! 'T was the day when with Jameson, fierce Berry, and Birney, Against twenty thousand he rallied the field. Where the red volleys poured, where the clamor rose highest, Where the dead lay in clumps through the dwarf oak and pine, Where the aim from the thicket was surest and nighest, No charge like Phil Kearny's along the whole line. When the battle went ill, and the bravest were solemn, Near the dark Seven Pines, where we still held our ground, He rode down the length of the withering column, And his heart at our war-cry leapt up with a bound; He snuffed, like his charger, the wind of the pow der, * Major-General Philip Kearny, killed at the battle of Chantilly, September 1, 1862. His sword waved us on and we answered the sign: Loud our cheer as we rushed, but his laugh rang the louder, "There's the devil's own fun, boys, along the whole line!" How he strode his brown steed! How we saw his blade brighten In the one hand still left, and the reins in his teeth! He laughed like a boy when a boy when the holidays heighten, But a soldier's glance shot from his visor be neath. Up came the reserves to the mellay infernal, Asking where to go in,-through the clearing or pine? "O, anywhere! Forward! "Tis all the same, Colonel : You'll find lovely fighting along the whole line!" O, evil the black shroud of night at Chantilly, That hid him from sight of his brave men and tried! Foul, foul sped the bullet that clipped the white. lily, The flower of our knighthood, the whole army's pride! Yet we dream that he still,-in that shadowy region Where the dead form their ranks at the wan drummer's sign,— Rides on, as of old, down the length of his legion, And the word still is Forward! along the whole line. EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN. THE GENERAL'S DEATH. THE general dashed along the road How joyously his bold face glowed His blue blouse flapped in wind and wet, A laughing word, a gesture kind,— The gun grew light to every man, The crossed belts ceased their stress, As onward to the column's van Within an hour we saw him lie, His manly face turned to the sky, JOSEPH O'CONNOR. DIRGE FOR A SOLDIER.* CLOSE his eyes; his work is done! Rise of moon or set of sun, Hand of man or kiss of woman? Lay him low, lay him low, In the clover or the snow! As man may, he fought his fight, Lay him low, lay him low, In the clover or the snow! Fold him in his country's stars, Leave him to God's watching eye; Trust him to the hand that made him. * Major-General Philip Kearny. |