War-lyrics and other poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

THE EAGLE OF CORINTH.

“The finest thing I ever saw was a live American eagle, carried by the 8th Wisconsin, in the place of a flag. It would fly off over the enemy during the hottest of the fight, then would return and seat himself upon his pole, clap his pinions, shake his head and start again. Many and hearty were the cheers that arose from our lines as the old fellow would sail around, first to the right, then to the left, and always return to his post, regardless of the storm of leaden hail that was around him. Something seemed to tell us that that battle was to result in our favor, and when the order was given to charge, every man went at them with fixed bayonets, and the enemy scattered in all directions, leaving us in possession of the battle-field.”
—Letter from an Illinois Volunteer.
“We give below a short account of this noble bird, written by a staff officer of that regiment:—

‘Allow me to introduce to you an object of interest, the “Old Eagle.” He may be seen a little above the heads of the soldiers, close by the flag. This position of honor is never disallowed him. The perch upon which he sits is borne by a young man in Company C, to whom his safe keeping is exclusively intrusted. .... He was taken from the nest, in Chippeway county, Wisconsin, July, 1861, by a Chippeway Indian, and by him presented to farmer near by. He was subsequently bought by a citizen of Eau Claire, who presented him to Company C, 8th Regiment. The present excellent commander of that company, Capt. Wolf, gave him the name of “Abe,” the name by which he is uniformly known among us, and to which only he deigns to answer. When the regiment marched into Camp Randall, the instant the men began to cheer, he spread his wings, and taking one of the small flags attached to his perch in his beak, he remained in that position until borne to the quarters of the late Col. Murphy. Ever since he was mustered into the service, his wings have been instantly outstretched on the occasion of any cheering by the regiment. To similar demonstrations in adjacent regiments he pays no regard. .... He has been in all the battles of the regiment, equally exposed with the troops. At the battle of Farmington, May 9th, 1862, the men were ordered to lay down. The instant they did so, it was impossible to keep him on his perch. He insisted on being protected as well as they, and when liberated, flattened himself on the ground, and there remained till the men arose, when with outspread wings he resumed his place of peril and held it to the close of the contest.

‘At the battle of Corinth, the Rebel Gen. Price having discovered him, ordered his men to be sure and take him if they could not kill him, adding that he had rather get that bird than the whole brigade. Upon the whole he is a magnificent bird, and, I opine, will erelong spread his wings in triumph over other sections of now disloyal territory.’

“Since this paragraph was written, our Eagle has, with his regiment, served out his term of enlistment, and at its close was presented to Governor Lewis of Wisconsin. He now rests on his laurels, living in apartments fitted up expressly for him in the State House Park at Madison.

“Governor Lewis has consented to his coming to our Great Northwestern Sanitary Fair in May, to exhibit himself for the benefit of the sick and wounded soldiers,—his companions in arms.”
—History of the Eagle of the 8th Wisconsin.

Did you hear of the Fight at Corinth,
How we whipped out Price and Van Dorn?
Ah, that day we earned our rations—
(Our cause was God's and the Nation's,
Or we'd have come out forlorn!)
A long and a terrible day!
And, at last, when night grew gray,
By the hundred, there they lay,
(Heavy sleepers, you'd say,)
That wouldn't wake on the morn.

Our staff was bare of a flag,
We didn't carry a rag
In those brave marching days—
Ah, no—but a finer thing!
With never a cord or string,
An Eagle, of ruffled wing,
And an eye of awful gaze!

The grape it rattled like hail,
The minies were dropping like rain,

The first of a thunder-shower—
The wads were blowing like chaff,
(There was pounding, like floor and flail,
All the front of our line!)
So we stood it, hour after hour—
But our eagle, he felt fine!
'Twould have made you cheer and laugh,
To see, through that iron gale,
How the Old Fellow'd swoop and sail
Above the racket and roar—
To right and to left he'd soar,
But ever came back, without fail,
And perched on his standard-staff.

All that day, I tell you true,
They had pressed us, steady and fair,
Till we fought in street and square—
(The affair, you might think, looked blue,)
But we knew we had them there!
Our works and batteries were few,
Every gun, they'd have sworn, they knew—
But, you see, there was one or two
We had fixed for them, unaware.

They reckon they've got us now!
For the next half hour 'twill be warm—
Aye, aye, look yonder!—I vow,
If they weren't Secesh, how I'd love them!
Only see how grandly they form,
(Our eagle whirling above them,)
To take Robinett by storm!

They're timing!—it can't be long—
Now for the nub of the fight!
(You may guess that we held our breath,)
By the Lord, 'tis a splendid sight!
A column two thousand strong
Marching square to the death!

On they came, in solid column,
For once, no whooping nor yell—
(Ah, I dare say they felt solemn.)
Front and flank—grape and shell—
Our batteries pounded away!
And the minies hummed to remind 'em
They had started on no child's play!
Steady they kept a-going,
But a grim wake settled behind 'em—
From the edge of the abattis,
(Where our dead and dying lay
Under fence and fallen tree,)
Up to Robinett, all the way
The dreadful swath kept growing!
'Twas butternut, flecked with gray.

Now for it, at Robinett!
Muzzle to muzzle, we met—
(Not a breath of bluster or brag,
Not a lisp for quarter or favor)—
Three times, there, by Robinett,
With a rush, their feet they set
On the logs of our parapet,

And waved their bit of a flag—
What could be finer or braver!
But our cross-fire stunned them in flank,
They melted, rank after rank—
(O'er them, with terrible poise,
Our Bird did circle and wheel!)
Their whole line began to waver—
Now for the bayonet, boys!
On them with the cold steel!

Ah, well—you know how it ended—
We did for them, there and then,
But their pluck, throughout, was splendid.
(As I said before, I could love them!)
They stood, to the last, like men—
Only a handful of them
Found the way back again.
Red as blood, o'er the town,
The angry sun went down,
Firing flagstaff and vane—
And our eagle,—as for him,
There, all ruffled and grim,
He sat, o'erlooking the slain!

Next morning, you'd have wondered
How we had to drive the spade!
There, in great trenches and holes,
(Ah, God rest their poor souls!)
We piled some fifteen hundred,
Where that last charge was made!

Sad enough, I must say.
No mother to mourn and search,
No priest to bless or to pray—
We buried them where they lay,
Without a rite of the church—
But our eagle, all that day,
Stood solemn and still on his perch.

'Tis many a stormy day
Since, out of the cold, bleak North,
Our great War-Eagle sailed forth
To swoop o'er battle and fray.
Many and many a day
O'er charge and storm hath he wheeled,
Foray and foughten field,
Tramp, and volley, and rattle!—
Over crimson trench and turf,
Over climbing clouds of surf,
Through tempest and cannon-rack,
Have his terrible pinions whirled—
(A thousand fields of battle!
A million leagues of foam!)
But our Bird shall yet come back,
He shall soar to his Eyrie-Home—
And his thundrous wings be furled,
In the gaze of a gladdened world,
On the Nation's loftiest Dome.

December, 1862.