 | Jessamine Poems |  |
18
Battle of Port Hudson.
Above the plain and cannon capped,
Towers Port Hudson's head,
Its mighty guns lie low and wait
To belch a storm of lead.
Upon the plain an army brave,
A regiment black as night
Behold the cannon on their left
And cannons on their right,
And tremble never, brave are they,
Louisiana's blackest sons,
But nervous fingers hard are pressed
Upon their glist'ning guns
Towers Port Hudson's head,
Its mighty guns lie low and wait
To belch a storm of lead.
Upon the plain an army brave,
A regiment black as night
Behold the cannon on their left
And cannons on their right,
And tremble never, brave are they,
Louisiana's blackest sons,
But nervous fingers hard are pressed
Upon their glist'ning guns
Tho' hungry, worn and long have marched
This army of the brave.
And long the burning sun has parched
A spot to be their grave.
Yet bravely do they stand and wait
The bugle's battle call.
And to defend their country's cause,
Martyred, they will fall.
Oh bugle, stay thy startling blast!
Beyond are desp'rate foes.
And neath thar angry frowning fort
A mighty bayon flows,
This army of the brave.
And long the burning sun has parched
A spot to be their grave.
Yet bravely do they stand and wait
The bugle's battle call.
And to defend their country's cause,
Martyred, they will fall.
Oh bugle, stay thy startling blast!
Beyond are desp'rate foes.
And neath thar angry frowning fort
A mighty bayon flows,
Forbear, O, Captain! utter not
Words useless and unwise,
To waste your men in useless strife
Is needless sacrifice.
But ah! they wait the order; march!
And with bated breath:
The order comes, and swift they run
Over the field of death.
Then from the summits cannon capped
Bursts !udgment o'er the plain,
And along the bayon's sullen stream
Is strewn the mangled slain.
Words useless and unwise,
To waste your men in useless strife
Is needless sacrifice.
But ah! they wait the order; march!
And with bated breath:
The order comes, and swift they run
19
Then from the summits cannon capped
Bursts !udgment o'er the plain,
And along the bayon's sullen stream
Is strewn the mangled slain.
They stop, retreat, and then advance
Mid destructive, grape and shell
'Tis but the gaping jaws of death
The open gates of hell.
But on they rushed and cannons belched
Furious storms of lead
Trees were lifted from their trunks,
The plain o'er strewn with dead.
'Twas here that brave Callioux fell,
“Comrades follow me!”
And thro' the storm of shot and shell
Rushed into eternity.
Mid destructive, grape and shell
'Tis but the gaping jaws of death
The open gates of hell.
But on they rushed and cannons belched
Furious storms of lead
Trees were lifted from their trunks,
The plain o'er strewn with dead.
'Twas here that brave Callioux fell,
“Comrades follow me!”
And thro' the storm of shot and shell
Rushed into eternity.
And here did Planciancois cry
“I'll bring these colors back,
Or report to God the reason why,”
And shrank within his track.
Another comrade standing by
Seized the flag and stood
Proudly waving the colors high,
They, painted o'er with blood.
When crash! a ball dashed out his brain
And by his comrade's side,
Laid him low upon the plain,
His valor and his pride.
“I'll bring these colors back,
Or report to God the reason why,”
And shrank within his track.
Another comrade standing by
Seized the flag and stood
Proudly waving the colors high,
They, painted o'er with blood.
When crash! a ball dashed out his brain
And by his comrade's side,
Laid him low upon the plain,
His valor and his pride.
At last the army shattered, torn,
Forbore to battle more
And retreated o'er a battle field
O'er spread with human gore.
And tho' no more of battle scene
Or trampling soldiers' feet,
Fair memory cherishes what has been,
And soldiers' rest is sweet.
Forbore to battle more
And retreated o'er a battle field
O'er spread with human gore.
And tho' no more of battle scene
Or trampling soldiers' feet,
Fair memory cherishes what has been,
And soldiers' rest is sweet.
| Jessamine Poems | |