SHERIDAN
I
Quietly, like a child
That sinks in slumber mild,
No pain or troubled thought his well-earned peace to mar,
Sank into endless rest our thunderbolt of war.
II
Tho' his the power to smite
Quick as the lightning's light,—
His single arm an army, his very name a host,—
Not his the love of blood, the warrior's cruel boast.
III
But in the battle's flame
How glorious he came!—
Even like a white-combed wave that breaks and tears the shore,
While wreck lies strewn behind, and terror flies before.
IV
'T was he,—his voice, his might,—
Could stay the panic-flight,
Alone shame back the headlong, many leagued retreat,
And turn to evening triumph morning's foul defeat.
V
He was our modern Mars;
Yet firm his faith that wars
Ere long would cease to vex the sad, ensanguined earth,
And peace forever reign, as at Christ's holy birth.
VI
Blest land, in whose dark hour
Arise to loftiest power
No dazzlers of the sword to play the tyrant's part,
But patriot-soldiers, true and pure and high of heart!
VII
Of such our chief of all;
And he who broke the wall
Of civil strife in twain, no more to build or mend;
And he who hath this day made Death his faithful friend.
VIII
And now above his tomb
From out the eternal gloom
“Welcome!” his chieftain's voice sounds o'er the cannon's knell;
And of the three one only stays to say “Farewell!”
