In the antique vestments and long white hair,
The Past of the Nation in battle there;
And some of the soldiers since declare

That the gleam of his old white hat afar,
Like the crested plume of the brave Navarre,
That day was their oriflamme of war.

So raged the battle. You know the rest:
How the rebels, beaten and backward pressed,
Broke at the final charge and ran.

At which John Burns--a practical man—
Shouldered his rifle, unbent his brows,
And then went back to his bees and cows.

That is the story of old John Burns;
This is the moral the reader learns:

In fighting the battle, the question's whether
You'll show a hat that's white, or a feather!
Bret Harte [1839-1902]

FARRAGUT

[MOBILE BAY, AUGUST 5, 1864]

FARRAGUT, Farragut,

Old Heart of Oak,

Daring Dave Farragut,

Thunderbolt stroke,

Watches the hoary mist
Lift from the bay,
Till his flag, glory-kissed,
Greets the young day.

Far, by gray Morgan's walls,

Looms the black fleet.

Hark, deck to rampart calls

With the drums' beat!

Buoy your chains overboard,

While the steam hums;

Men! to the battlement,

Farragut comes.

See, as the hurricane

Hurtles in wrath

Squadrons of clouds amain

Back from its path!

Back to the parapet,

To the guns' lips, Thunderbolt Farragut

Hurls the black ships.

Now through the battle's roar
Clear the boy sings,
"By the mark fathoms four,"
While his lead swings.
Steady the wheelmen five

"Nor' by East keep her,"

"Steady," but two alive:

How the shells sweep her!

Lashed to the mast that sways Over red decks,

Over the flame that plays

Round the torn wrecks,

Over the dying lips

Framed for a cheer,

Farragut leads his ships,

Guides the line clear.

On by heights cannon-browed, While the spars quiver;

Onward still flames the cloud

Where the hulks shiver.

See, yon fort's star is set,

Storm and fire past.

Cheer him, lads-Farragut,

Lashed to the mast!

Oh! while Atlantic's breast

Bears a white sail,

While the Gulf's towering crest

Tops a green vale,

Men thy bold deeds shall tell,

Old Heart of Oak,

Daring Dave Farragut,

Thunderbolt stroke!

William Tuckey Meredith [1839

CRAVEN

[MOBILE BAY, AUGUST 5, 1864]

OVER the turret, shut in his ironclad tower,

Craven was conning his ship through smoke and flame; Gun to gun he had battered the fort for an hour, Now was the time for a charge to end the game.

There lay the narrowing channel, smooth and grim,
A hundred deaths beneath it, and never a sign:
There lay the enemy's ships, and sink or swim

The flag was flying, and he was head of the line.

The fleet behind was jamming: the monitor hung
Beating the stream; the roar for a moment hushed;
Craven spoke to the pilot; slow she swung;

Again he spoke, and right for the foe she rushed

Into the narrowing channel, between the shore
And the sunk torpedoes lying in treacherous rank;
She turned but a yard too short; a muffled roar,

A mountainous wave, and she rolled, righted, and sank.

Over the manhole, up in the ironclad tower,
Pilot and captain met as they turned to fly:
The hundredth part of a moment seemed an hour,
For one could pass to be saved, and one must die.

They stood like men in a dream; Craven spoke,— Spoke as he lived and fought, with a captain's pride: "After you, Pilot." The pilot woke,

Down the ladder he went, and Craven died.

All men praise the deed and the manner; but we—

We set it apart from the pride that stoops to the proud, The strength that is supple to serve the strong and free, The grave of the empty hands and promises loud;

Sidney thirsting a humbler need to slake,

Nelson waiting his turn for the surgeon's hand, Lucas crushed with chains for a comrade's sake, Outram coveting right before command,

These were paladins, these were Craven's peers,
These with him shall be crowned in story and song,
Crowned with the glitter of steel and the glimmer of tears,
Princes of courtesy, merciful, proud, and strong.

Henry Newbolt [1862

SHERIDAN'S RIDE

[OCTOBER 19, 1864]

Up from the South, at break of day,
Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay,
The affrighted air with a shudder bore,
Like a herald in haste, to the chieftain's door,
The terrible grumble, and rumble, and roar,
Telling the battle was on once more,

And Sheridan twenty miles away.

And wider still those billows of war
Thundered along the horizon's bar;
And louder yet into Winchester rolled
The roar of that red sea uncontrolled,
Making the blood of the listener cold,
As he thought of the stake in that fiery fray,
And Sheridan twenty miles away.

But there is a road from Winchester town,

A good, broad highway leading down:

And there, through the flush of the morning light,

A steed as black as the steeds of night

Was seen to pass, as with eagle flight;

As if he knew the terrible need,

He stretched away with his utmost speed;
Hills rose and fell, but his heart was gay,
With Sheridan fifteen miles away.

Still sprang from those swift hoofs, thundering south,
The dust, like smoke from the cannon's mouth,
Or the trail of a comet, sweeping faster and faster,
Foreboding to traitors the doom of disaster.

The heart of the steed and the heart of the master
Were beating like prisoners assaulting their walls,
Impatient to be where the battle-field calls;
Every nerve of the charger was strained to full play,
With Sheridan only ten miles away.

Under his spurning feet, the road
Like an arrowy Alpine river flowed,
And the landscape sped away behind
Like an ocean flying before the wind;

And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace ire,
Swept on, with his wild eye full of fire;

But, lo! he is nearing his heart's desire;

He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray,
With Sheridan only five miles away.

The first that the general saw were the groups
Of stragglers, and then the retreating troops;
What was done? what to do? a glance told him both,
Then, striking his spurs, with a terrible oath,

He dashed down the line, 'mid a storm of huzzas,

And the wave of retreat checked its course there, because The sight of the master compelled it to pause.

With foam and with dust the black charger was gray;

By the flash of his eye, and the red nostril's play,

He seemed to the whole great army to say: "I have brought you Sheridan all the way

From Winchester town to save the day!"

Hurrah! hurrah for Sheridan!

Hurrah! hurrah for horse and man!