 | Poems by James G. Percival |  |
39
THE BATTLE OF N. ORLEANS,
Jan. 7—Evening.
'TWAS gone, the latest gleam of day;
Beneath the star of evening's ray,
In deep repose the Britons lay
By Mississippi silently.
Beneath the star of evening's ray,
In deep repose the Britons lay
By Mississippi silently.
Hush'd was the soldier's busy hum,
Still were the trumpet and the drum,
Each pacing sentinel was dumb,
Or gave his watchword cheerily.
Still were the trumpet and the drum,
Each pacing sentinel was dumb,
Or gave his watchword cheerily.
Slow from the stream the fog arose,
And gently, as the river flows,
Stretch'd o'er Columbia's slumbering foes,
Its murky mantle gloomily.
And gently, as the river flows,
Stretch'd o'er Columbia's slumbering foes,
Its murky mantle gloomily.
The breeze, that scarcely seem'd to breathe,
Or wave the vapours curling wreath,
Swept o'er the forms that slept beneath,
And sigh'd around them mournfully.
Or wave the vapours curling wreath,
40
And sigh'd around them mournfully.
The clock that toll'd the silent hour,
In yonder city's spiry tower,
Echoed in Pack'nam's tented bow'r,
And rung his death knell solemnly.
In yonder city's spiry tower,
Echoed in Pack'nam's tented bow'r,
And rung his death knell solemnly.
The distant tramping, faint and low,
Warn'd Pack'nam of the coming foe;
He bade each Briton meet the blow,
And front the danger manfully.
Warn'd Pack'nam of the coming foe;
He bade each Briton meet the blow,
And front the danger manfully.
Why starts the soldier from his bed?
His dream of fancied bliss is fled,
The red cross waves above his head,
To meet the star of liberty.
His dream of fancied bliss is fled,
The red cross waves above his head,
To meet the star of liberty.
To horse—to horse—the Britons leap;
Wild as the roaring of the deep,
Along the plain our squadrons sweep,
Columbia's gallant chivalry.
Wild as the roaring of the deep,
Along the plain our squadrons sweep,
Columbia's gallant chivalry.
Jackson, the lion chief, is there,
And Coffee cheers his troops to war,
Beneath Columbia's silver star
Shouting for death or victory.
And Coffee cheers his troops to war,
Beneath Columbia's silver star
Shouting for death or victory.
Wild as the rushing of the flood,
Hoarse as the roaring of the wood,
They meet, and dye their swords in blood;
They meet and charge for liberty.
Hoarse as the roaring of the wood,
They meet, and dye their swords in blood;
They meet and charge for liberty.
“Stand, Britons! stand unmov'd the shock,
Firm as Gibraltar's spiry rock,
Firm as the oak the whirlwinds rock;
O! think of Spain and victory.”
Firm as Gibraltar's spiry rock,
Firm as the oak the whirlwinds rock;
O! think of Spain and victory.”
“Columbia's heroes! charge the foe—
Lay all their towering honours low—
Tell them how hard the freeman's blow;
O! think of home and liberty.”
Lay all their towering honours low—
41
O! think of home and liberty.”
Each Briton rears his haughty crest;
Burns every freeman's throbbing breast,
His madd'ning pulses know no rest,
Till heav'n shall crown his gallantry.
Burns every freeman's throbbing breast,
His madd'ning pulses know no rest,
Till heav'n shall crown his gallantry.
The bullet sings, wide streams the gore,
Re-echoes Mississippi's shore,
The sabres clang, the cannon's roar,
The shout for death or victory.
Re-echoes Mississippi's shore,
The sabres clang, the cannon's roar,
The shout for death or victory.
Long roars the gun, long rings the blade,
And 'neath the death-cloud's gloomy shade,
Columbia's heroes, undismay'd,
Still shout, still charge, for liberty.
And 'neath the death-cloud's gloomy shade,
Columbia's heroes, undismay'd,
Still shout, still charge, for liberty.
Hush'd is the din, the fight is o'er,
Still is the cannon's awful roar,
And Mississippi's silent shore
Echoes no more to victory.
Still is the cannon's awful roar,
And Mississippi's silent shore
Echoes no more to victory.
Long shall the Briton rue this night,
Sad herald of the morrow's fight,
When England's Lion turn'd in flight,
Scar'd by the Eagle's glaring eye.
Sad herald of the morrow's fight,
When England's Lion turn'd in flight,
Scar'd by the Eagle's glaring eye.
Ne'er shall the tyrant and the slave
Molest again the free and brave,
Nor meet on Mississippi's wave
With those, who fight for liberty
Molest again the free and brave,
Nor meet on Mississippi's wave
With those, who fight for liberty
| Poems by James G. Percival | |