NRLF 
 
 B M SOD 37t 
 
 
 
, 
 
 IV 
 
 
A SELECTION 
 
 OF 
 
 WAR LYRICS 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS ON WOOD 
 
 F. (). C DAKLEY 
 
 N F, W YORK: 
 
 P U B L 1 S H K D B Y H U R I) & HOUGHTON, 
 
 401 BROADWAY, COR. WALKER ST. 
 
 M.DCCC.LXVI. 
 
Entered ^lord ng to Act of, Congress;, in the year 1864, 
 BY JAMES G. GREGORY, 
 
 in tin Clerk ;: Of^ce- of t.!;e" District Court <_>: the United States, vor fhv 
 Southern District of New York. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 A I.I, OyiET ALONG THK PoTOMAC . 
 
 THI-: COLOR-SERGEANT . . 
 
 THK CAVALRY CHARGE .... 
 
 THK LITTLK DRUMMKR 
 
 " PICCIOLA " 
 
 ON THK SHORES OK TENNESSEE 
 ON BOARD THK CUMBERLAND 
 
 Bv Ethel L\nn Beers. 5 
 
 ,/. /X F. Randolph. 8 
 
 Edmund C. 8ted?nan. I 2 
 
 R. H. Stoddard. 14 
 
 Anonymous. ig 
 
 . . . E. L. Beers. 22 
 
 George H. Boker. 26 
 
 95^871 
 
"ALL yiJIET ALONG THE POTOMAC." 
 
 tl A 1. 1, quiet along the Potomac," they say, 
 " Except now and then a stray picket 
 
 Is shot, as he walks on his heat, to and fro, 
 
 B\ a rifleman hid in the thicket. 
 Ti> nothing a private- or two, now and then, 
 
 Will not count in the news of the battle ; 
 Not an officer lost onlv one of" the men, 
 Moaning out, all alone, the death-rattle." 
 
W A R L V R I C S . 
 
 All quiet along the Potomac to-night, 
 
 Where the soldiers lie peacefully dreaming ; 
 Their tents, in the rays of the clear autumn moon, 
 
 Or the light of the watch-rires are gleaming. 
 A tremulous sigh of the gentle night-wind 
 
 Through the forest leaves softly is creeping ; 
 While stars up above, with their glittering eyes, 
 
 Keep guard for the army is sleeping. 
 
 There s only the sound of the lone sentry s tread, 
 
 As he tramps from the rock to the fountain, 
 And thinks of the two in the low trundle-bed, 
 
 Far away in the cot on the mountain. 
 His musket falls slack his face, dark and grim, 
 
 Grows gentle with memories tender, 
 As he mutters a prayer for the children asleep, 
 
 For their mother, may Heaven defend her ! 
 
 The moon seems to shine just as brightly as then, 
 
 That night, when the love yet unspoken 
 Leaped up to his lips, when low murmured vows 
 
 Were pledged to be ever unbroken. 
 Then drawing his sleeve roughly over his eyes, 
 
 He dashes off tears that are welling, 
 And gathers his gun closer up to its place, 
 
 As if to keep down the heart-swelling ! 
 
 He passes the fountain, the blasted pine-tree 
 
 The footstep is lagging and weary ; 
 Yet onward he goes, through the broad belt of light, 
 
 Towards the shades of the forest so dreary. 
 Hark ! was it the night-wind that rustled the leaves : 
 
 Was it moonlight so wondrously flashing ? 
 It looked like a rifle tc Ha ! MARY, good-bv !" 
 
 And the lite-blood is ebbing and plashing. 
 
WA R LYRICS. 
 
 All quiet alono; the Potomac- to-night, - 
 No sound save the rush of the river ; 
 
 While soft falls the clew on the face of the cleacl- 
 The picket s off duty forever. 
 
 THE COLOR-SERGEANT. 
 
 You say that in every battle 
 
 No soldier was braver than he, 
 As, aloft in the roar and the rattle, 
 
 He carried the flag of the Free : 
 I knew, ah ! I knew he d ne er falter, 
 
 I could trust him, the dutiful boy : 
 iVl \ Robert was wilful, -but \Valter, 
 
 Dear Walter, was ever a joy. 
 
 And if he was true to his mother, 
 
 Do you think he his trust would betray, 
 And crive up his place to another, 
 
 Or turn from the clanger away ? 
 He knew while afar he was straying, 
 
 He felt in the thick of the right, 
 That at home his poor mother was praying 
 
 For him and the cause of the Right ! 
 
 Fell me, comrade, who saw him when dying, 
 
 What he said, what he did, if you can ; 
 .On thtv titl.d in his agony Iving, 
 
 .Dicl he surfer and die like a man ; 
 Do. vou ;thinkV l\e once wished he had never 
 Borne arms for the Right and the- Frue ? 
 Ac/v, / / shouted Our c f juntr\ forever! 
 
 IVlien be tin (I />/ \vd> praying for \ ju 
 
1 y. mi .x5 
 
 ^ 
 
 >^*J 
 
 
WAR LYRICS 
 
 C) my darling ! my youngest and fairest, 
 Whom I gathered so close to my breast ; 
 
 I called thee my dearest and rarest, 
 And thou wert my purest and best ! 
 
 I tell you, () friend ! as a mother, 
 Whose full heart is breaking to-day, 
 
 The infinite Father none other- 
 Can know what He s taken away. 
 
 I thank you once more for your kindness : 
 
 For this lock of his bright auburn hair ; 
 Perhaps tis the one I in blindness 
 
 Last touched, as we parted just there ! 
 When he asked, through his tears, should he linger 
 
 From duty, I answered him, Nay : 
 And he smiled, as he placed on my finger 
 
 The ring I am wearing to-day. 
 
 I watched him leap into that meadow ; 
 
 There, a child, he with others, had played ; 
 I saw him pass slowly the shadow 
 
 Of the trees where his father was laid ; 
 And there, where the road meets two others, 
 
 Without turning he went on his way : 
 Once his face towards the foe not his mother s 
 
 Should unman him, or cause him delay. 
 
 It may be that some day your duty 
 
 Will carry you that way again ; 
 When the field shall be riper in beauty, 
 
 Enriched by the blood of the slain ; 
 Would you see if the grasses are growing 
 
 On the grave of my boy ? Will you set- 
 It" a flower, e en the smallest, is blowing, 
 
 And pluck it, and send it to 
 
T H E C O LOR S I- R G A \ r r . 
 
 Don t think, in my grief, I m complaining ; 
 
 I gave him, God took him ; tis right ; 
 And the cry of his mother remaining 
 
 Shall strengthen his comrades in fight. 
 Not for vengeance, to-day, in my weeping, 
 
 Goes my prayer to the Infinite Throne. 
 God pity the foe when he s reaping 
 
 The harvest of what he has sown ! 
 
 Tell his comrades these words of his mother : 
 
 All over the wide land to-day, 
 The Rachels, who weep with each other, 
 
 Together in agony pray. 
 They know, in their great tribulation, 
 
 By the blood of their children outpoured, 
 We shall smite down the foes of the Nation, 
 
 In the terrible da\ of the Lord. 
 
WAR L Y R I (. S . 
 
 THE CAVALRY CHARGE. 
 
 I- KOM " ALICK OK MONMOUTH." 
 
 OUR mjod steeds snuft the evening air, 
 Our pulses with their purpose tingle -, 
 The foeman s fires are twinkling there -, 
 He leaps to hear our sabres jingle! 
 
 HALT ! 
 
 Each carbine send its wh r///,ing ball : 
 Now , cling ! clang ! forward all, 
 Into the nVht ! 
 
 b 
 
 Dash on beneath the smoking dome : 
 
 Thro level lightnings gallop nearer ! 
 One look to Heaven! No thoughts of home 
 
 O 
 
 The guidons that we bear are dearer. 
 
 CHARGE! 
 
 Cling ! clang ! forward all ! 
 Heaven help those whose horses fall : 
 Cut left and right ! 
 
 The\ flee before our fierce attack ! 
 
 They fall ! they spread in broken surges. 
 Now, comrades, bear our wounded back, 
 And leave the foeman to his dirges. 
 
 WHEEL! 
 
 I he bugles sound the swift recall : 
 Cling clang ! backward all ! 
 
 Home and good-night ! 
 
W A R L Y R I C S . 
 
 THE LITTLE DRUMMER. 
 
 Tis of a little drummer, 
 
 The story I shall tell : 
 Of how he marched to battle, 
 
 And all that there befell. 
 Out in the West with Lyon 
 
 (For once the name was true), 
 Eor whom the little drummer beat 
 
 His rat-tat-too. 
 
 Our army rose at midnight, 
 
 Ten thousand men as one, 
 Each slinging on his knapsack, 
 
 And snatching up his gun : 
 u Forward /" and off they started 
 
 As all good soldiers do, 
 When the little drummer beats for them 
 
 The rat-tat-too. 
 
 Across a rolling country, 
 
 Where the mist began to rise ; 
 Past many a blackened farm-house, 
 
 Till the sun was in the skies : 
 Then w r e met the rebel pickets, 
 
 Who skirmished and withdrew, 
 While the little drummer beat and beat 
 
 The rat-tat-too. 
 
 Along the wooded hollows 
 
 The line of battle ran. 
 Our centre poured a volley, 
 
 And the fight at once began ; 
 For the rebels answered shouting, 
 
 And a shower ot bullets flew; 
 But still the little drummer beat 
 
 His r (i t-t fit-too. 
 
 4 
 
T H K L 1 TT LE D R L 1 M M V. R. 
 
 He stood amoiiLr his comrades, 
 
 As they quickly formed the line, 
 And when they raised their muskets 
 
 He watched the barrels shine 
 And when the volley broke, he started, 
 
 For war to him was new : 
 But still the little drummer beat 
 
 His rat-tat-too. 
 
 It was a sight to see them, 
 
 That earlv autumn dav, 
 Our soldiers in their blue coats, 
 
 And the rebel ranks in gray ; 
 The smoke that rolled between them, 
 
 The balls that whistled through, 
 And the little drummer as he beat 
 
 His rat-tat-too. 
 
 His comrades dropped around him, 
 
 By fives and tens they fell, 
 Some pierced by Minie bullets, 
 
 Some torn by shot and shell. 
 They played against our cannon, 
 
 And a caisson s splinters flew : 
 But still the little drummer beat 
 
 His rat-tat-too. 
 
 The right, the left, the centre 
 
 The fight was everywhere : 
 They pushed us here, we wavered, 
 
 We drove and broke them there. 
 The gray-backs fixed their bayonets, 
 
 And charged the coats of blue, 
 But still the little drummer beat 
 
 His rat-tat-too. 
 
WAR LYRICS. 
 
 \Vhere is our little drummer ?" 
 
 His nearest comrades say, 
 When the dreadful tight is over, 
 
 And the smoke has cleared away. 
 As the rebel corps was scattering, 
 
 He urged them to pursue ; 
 So, furiously he beat and beat 
 
 The rat-tat-too ! 
 
 He stood no more among them, 
 
 For a bullet as it sped 
 Had glanced and struck his ankle, 
 
 And stretched him with the dead ! 
 He crawled behind a cannon, 
 
 And pale and paler grew : 
 But still the little drummer beat 
 
 His rat-tat-too ! 
 
 They bore him to the surgeon, 
 
 A busy man was he : 
 A drummer-boy what ails him ?" 
 
 His comrades answered, tc See ! 
 As they took him from the stretcher, 
 
 A heavy breath he drew, 
 And his little fingers strove to beat 
 
 The rat-tat-too ! 
 
 The ball had spent its fury : 
 
 " A scratch," the surgeon said, 
 As he wound the snowy bandage 
 
 Which the lint was staining red ! 
 I must leave you now, old fellow." 
 
 " () take me back with you, 
 For I know the men are missing me, 
 
 And the rat-tat-too!" 
 16 
 
THE LITTLE DRUMMER. 
 
 Upon his comrade s shoulder 
 
 They lifted him so grand, 
 With his dusty drum before him, 
 
 And his drum-sticks in his hand ! 
 To the fiery front of battle, 
 
 That nearer, nearer drew, 
 And evermore he beat, and beat, 
 
 His rat-tat-too ! 
 
 The wounded as he passed them 
 
 Looked up and gave a cheer : 
 And one in dying blessed him, 
 
 Between a smile and tear ! 
 And the gray-backs they are flying 
 
 Before the coats of blue, 
 For whom the little drummer beats 
 
 His rat-tat-too. 
 
 When the west was red with sunset, 
 
 The last pursuit was o er ; 
 Brave Lyon rode the foremost, 
 
 And looked the name he bore ! 
 And before him on his saddle, 
 
 As a weary child would do, 
 Sat the little drummer fast asleep, 
 
 With his rat-tat-too. 
 18 
 
" P I CC I O L A ." 
 
 P I C C I O L A. 
 
 IT was a sergeant old and gray, 
 
 Well singed and bronzed from siege and pillage, 
 Went tramping in an army s wake, 
 
 Along the turnpike of the village. 
 
 For days and nights the winding host 
 
 Had through the little place been marching, 
 
 And ever loud the rustics cheered, 
 
 Till ev ry throat was hoarse and parching. 
 
 The squire and farmer, maid and dame, 
 All took the sight s electric stirring, 
 
 And hats were waved, and staves were sung, 
 And kerchiefs white were countless whirling. 
 
 They only saw a gallant show 
 
 Of heroes stalwart under banners, 
 And in the fierce heroic glow 
 
 Twas theirs to yield but wild hosannas. 
 
 The sergeant heard the shrill hurrahs, 
 
 Where he behind in step was keeping ; 
 
 But glancing down beside the road, 
 
 He saw a little maid sit weeping. 
 
 " And how is this ?" he gruffly said, 
 
 A moment pausing to regard her ; 
 "Why weepest thou, my little chit?" 
 
 And then she only cried the harder. 
 
 9 
 
W A R L V R I C S. 
 
 " And how is this, my little chit ?" 
 
 The sturdy trooper straight repeated, 
 
 " When all the village cheers us on, 
 
 That you, in tears, apart are seated ? 
 
 " W T e march two hundred thousand strong ! 
 
 And that s a sight, my baby beauty, 
 TV) quicken silence into song, 
 And glorify the soldier s duty." 
 
 " It s very, very grand, I know," 
 
 The little maid gave soft replying ; 
 
 " And father, mother, brother, too, 
 
 All say l hurrah while I am crying. 
 
 "But think O Mr. Soldier, think, 
 
 How many little sisters brothers 
 Are going all away to fight, 
 
 Who may be killed^ as well as others !" 
 
 " Why, bless thee, child," the sergeant said, 
 His brawny hand her curls caressing, 
 
 " Tis left for little ones like you 
 
 To find that war s not all a blessing." 
 
 And "bless thee!" once again he cried; 
 
 Then cleared his throat and looked indignant, 
 And marched away with wrinkled brow 
 
 To stop the straggling tear benignant. 
 
 And still the ringing shouts went up 
 
 From doorw r ay, thatch, and fields of tillage ; 
 
 The pall behind the standard seen 
 By one alone, of all the village. 
 
WAR LYRICS. 
 
 The oak and cedar bend and writhe 
 
 When roars the wind through gap and braken ; 
 But tis the tenderest reed of all 
 
 That trembles first when earth is shaken. 
 
 ON THE SHORES OF TENNESSEE, 
 
 u MOVE my arm-chair, faithful Pompey, 
 
 In the sunshine bright and strong, 
 For this world is fading, Pompey, 
 
 Massa won t be with you long ; 
 And I fain would hear the south wind 
 
 Bring once more the sound to me, 
 Of the wavelets softly breaking 
 
 On the shores of Tennessee. 
 
 " Mournful though the ripples murmur, 
 
 As they still the story tell, 
 How no vessels float the banner 
 
 That I ve loved so long and well ; 
 I shall listen to their music, 
 
 Dreaming that again I see 
 Stars and Stripes on sloop and shallop 
 
 Sailing up the Tennessee. 
 
 ct And, Pompey, while old Massa s waiting 
 
 For Death s last dispatch to come, 
 If that exiled, starry banner 
 
 Should come proudly sailing home, 
 You shall greet it, slave no longer ; 
 
 Voice and hand shall both be free 
 That shout and point to Union colors 
 
 On the waves of Tennessee." 
 
N T H K S H O R K S O F T E N \ K S S E E 
 
 t Massa s berry kuul to Pompev ; 
 But ole darkey s happy here, 
 Where he s tended corn and cotton 
 For ese many a long-gone year. 
 
 O O 
 
 O\ er yonder Missis sleeping, 
 
 No one tends her grave like me ; 
 
 O 
 
 Mebbe she would miss the flowers 
 She used to love in Tennessee, 
 
 Pears like she was watching, Massa 
 
 If Pompev should beside him stay ; 
 Mebbe she d remember better 
 
 How for him she used to pray ; 
 Telling him that way up yonder 
 
 \Vhite as snow his soul would be, 
 If he served the Lord of Heaven 
 
 \Vhile he lived in Tennessee." 
 
 Silently the tears were rolling 
 
 Down the poor old dusky face. 
 As he stepped behind his master, 
 
 In his long-accustomed place. 
 Then a silence fell around them, 
 
 As they gazed on rock and tree 
 Pictured in the placid waters 
 
 Of the rolling Tennessee : 
 
 CD 
 
 Master, dreaming of the battle 
 
 O 
 
 Where he fought by Marion s side, 
 When he bid the haughty Tarleton 
 
 Stoop his lordly crest of pride ; 
 Man, remembering how yon sleeper 
 
 Once he held upon his knee, 
 Ere she loved the gallant soldier, 
 
 Ralph Vervair, of Tennessee. 
 
 - 3 
 
ON THE SHORES OF TENNESSEE. 
 
 Still the south wind fondly lingers 
 
 Mid the veteran s silver hair ; 
 Still the bondman close beside him 
 
 Stands behind the old arm-chair. 
 With his dark-hued hand uplifted, 
 
 Shading eyes, he bends to see 
 Where the woodland, boldly jutting 
 
 Turns aside the Tennessee. 
 
 Thus he wntches cloud-born shadows 
 
 Glide from tree to mountain crest, 
 Softly creeping, aye and ever 
 
 To the river s yielding breast. 
 Ha ! above the foliage yonder 
 
 Something flutters wild and free ! 
 "Massa! Massa! Hallelujah! 
 
 The flag s come back to Tennessee ! 
 
 " Pompey, hold me on your shoulder, 
 
 Help me stand on foot once more" 
 That I may salute the colors 
 
 As they pass my cabin door ; 
 Here s the paper signed that frees you, 
 
 Give a freeman s shout with me 
 1 God and Union ! be our watchword 
 
 Evermore in Tennessee." 
 
 Then the trembling voice grew fainter, 
 
 And the limbs refused to stand ; 
 One prayer to Jesus and the soldier 
 
 Glided to that better land. 
 When the flag went down the river 
 
 Man and master both were free, 
 \Vhile the ringdove s note was mingled 
 
 With the rippling Tennessee. 
 -4 
 
O X B O A R 13 T H E C U M B E R L A N U 
 
 ON BOARD THE CUMBERLAND. 
 
 March -//j, 1862. 
 
 "STAND to your guns, men! Morris cried. 
 
 Small need to pass the word ; 
 Our men at quarters ranged themselves 
 Before the drum was heard. 
 
 And then began the sailors jests : 
 "What thing is that, I say?" 
 " A long-shore meeting-house adrift 
 Is standing down the bay ! 
 
 A frown came over Morris face ; 
 
 The strange, dark craft he knew : 
 " That is the iron Merrimac, 
 Manned by a rebel crew. 
 
 " So shot your guns, and point them straight 
 
 Before this day goes by, 
 We ll try of what her metal s made." 
 A cheer was our reply. 
 
 " Remember, boys, this flag of ours 
 
 Has seldom left its place ; 
 And where it falls, the deck it strikes 
 Is covered with disgrace. 
 
 " I ask but this ; or sink or swim, 
 
 Or live or nobly die, 
 My last sight upon earth may be 
 To see that ensign fly ! 
 
 26 
 
X BOARD THE CUMBERLAND. 
 
 Meanwhile the shapeless iron mass 
 
 Came moving o er the wave, 
 As gloomy as a passing hearse, 
 
 As silent as the grave. 
 
 Her ports were closed ; from stem to stern 
 
 No sign of lite appeared. 
 We wondered, questioned, strained our eyes, 
 
 Joked every thing but feared. 
 
 She reached our rani^e. Our broadside rang, 
 
 Our heavy pivots roared , 
 And shot and shell, a Hre of hell, 
 
 Against her sides we poured. 
 
 Ood s, mercy ! from her sloping roof 
 
 The iron tempest glanced, 
 As hail bounds from a cottage thatch, 
 
 And round her leaped and danced ; 
 
 Or when against her dusky hull 
 
 We struck a fair, full blow, 
 The mighty, solid iron globes, 
 
 Were crumbled up like snow. 
 
 On, on, with fast increasing speed, 
 
 The silent monster came ; 
 Though all our starboard battery 
 
 Was one long line of flame. 
 
 She heeded not, no gun she fired, 
 Straight on our bow she bore ; 
 
 Through riving plank and crashing frame 
 Her furious wav she tore. 
 
\V A R 1. V R I C S . 
 
 Alas ! our beautiful keen how 
 
 So gentlv folded hack the seas, 
 Fhev hardK felt we passed 
 
 Alas ! alas ! mv Cumberland, 
 
 That ne er knew grief before, 
 1 o be so scored, to feel so deep 
 
 The tusk of that sea-boar ! 
 
 ( )nce more she backward drew a space, 
 
 Once more our side she rent ; 
 Then, in the wantonness of hate, 
 
 Her broadside through us sent. 
 
 I he dead and dying round us lay, 
 
 But our foemen lay abeam ; 
 Her open portholes maddened us ; 
 We tired with shout and scream. 
 
 \\ e felt our vessel settling last, 
 A\ e knew our time was brief. 
 
 " Ho ! man the pumps!" but they who worked, 
 And fought not, wept with orief. 
 
 "Oh! keep us but an hour afloat! 
 
 Oh ! give us onlv time 
 To mete upon the traitors heads 
 The measure of their crime " 
 
 1 rom captain down to powder-box 
 
 No hand was idle then ; 
 1 wo soldiers, but bv chance aboard, 
 
 Bought on like s;iilor men. 
 
WAR LYRICS. 
 
 And when a Anil s crew lost a hand, 
 Some bold marine stepped out, 
 
 And jerked his braided jacket ort, 
 And hauled the gun about. 
 
 Our forward maga/ine was drowned , 
 
 And up from the sick bay 
 Crawled out the wounded, red with blood, 
 
 And round us gasping lay. 
 
 Yes, cheering, calling us by name 
 
 Struggling with failing breath, 
 To keep their shipmates at the posts 
 
 Where Glory strove with Death. 
 
 With decks afloat, and powder gone, 
 
 The last broadside w r e gave 
 From the guns heated iron lips 
 
 Burst out beneath the wave. 
 
 So sponges, rammers, and handspike 
 
 As men-of-war s-men should 
 We placed within their proper racks, 
 
 And at our quarters stood. 
 
 Up to the spar-deck ! save yourselves ! 
 Cried Selfridge. " Up, my men ! 
 
 God grant that some of us may live 
 To fight von ship again ! 
 
 We turned we did not like to go : 
 
 Yet staving seemed but vain, 
 Knee-deep in water; so we left; 
 
 Some swore, some groaned with pain. 
 
O N B O A K D T H H c: L M B K HI. A \ L>. 
 
 We reached the deck. There Randall stood : 
 
 " Another turn, men so ! 
 Calmly he aimed his pivot tz;un : 
 
 "Now, Tennv, let her go!" 
 
 It did our sore hearts good to hear 
 
 The song our pivot san^;, 
 As rushing on from wave to wave 
 The whirring bombshell sprang. 
 
 Brave Randall leaped upon the gun, 
 
 And waved his cap in sport ; 
 Well done ! well aimed ! I saw that shell 
 
 Go through an open port." 
 
 It was our last, our deadliest shot ; 
 
 The deck was overflown , 
 The poor ship staggered, lurched to port, 
 
 And <j;ave a living groan. 
 
 Down, down, as headlong through the waves 
 
 Our gallant vessel rushed, 
 A thousand gurgling watery sounds 
 
 Around niv senses gushed. 
 
 Then I remember little more. 
 
 One look to heaven I gave, 
 Where, like an angel s wing;, I saw 
 
 Our spotless ensign wave. 
 
 1 tried to cheer. 1 cannot say 
 
 Whether I swam or sank ; 
 A blue mist closed around mv eves, 
 
 And ever thin was blank. 
 
ON HOAR U T H E C I M li E R L A N L) . 
 
 \Vhen I awoke, a soldier lad, 
 
 All dripping from the sea, 
 With two great tears upon his cheeks, 
 
 "Was bending over me. 
 
 I tried to speak. He understood 
 
 The wish 1 could not speak. 
 He turned me. There, thank (iod the Hag 
 
 Still fluttered at the peak ! 
 
 And there, while thread shall hang to thread, 
 
 Oh, let that ensign flv 
 The noblest constellation set 
 
 Against our northern skv. 
 
 
 A sign that we who live may claim 
 The peerage of the brave ; 
 
 A monument, that needs no scroll, 
 For those beneath the wave. 
 
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