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Page 129
But, ready, with avenging hand,
By wood and fen, in ambush lie
Your sons, a stern, determined band,
Intent to do or die.
Whene'er the foe advance to dare
The onset, urged by hate and wrath,
Still have they found, aghast with fear,
A Lion in the path.
Scourged, to their ships they wildly rush,
Their shattered ranks to shield and save,
And learn how hard a task to crush
The spirit of the brave.
Oh, God! Protector of the right,
The widows' stay, the orphans' friend,
Restrain the rage of lawless might,
The wronged and crushed defend!
Be guide and helper, sword and shield!
From hill and vale, where'er they roam,
Bring back the yeoman to his field,
The exile to his home!
Pastors and scattered flocks restore;
Their fanes rebuild, their altars raise;
And let their quivering lips once more
Rejoice in songs of praise!
The Empty Sleeve.
By Dr. J. R. Bagby, Of Virginia.
Tom, old fellow, I grieve to see
The sleeve hanging loose at your side
The arm you lost was worth to me
Every Yankee that ever died.
But you don't mind it at all;
You swear you've a beautiful stump,
And laugh at that damnable ball--
Tom, I knew you were always a trump.
A good right arm, a nervy hand,
A wrist as strong as a sapling oak,
Buried deep in the Malverri sand--
To laugh at that, is a sorry joke.
Never again your iron grip
Shall I feel in my shrinking palm--
Tom, Tom, I see your trembling lip;
All within is not so calm.
Well! the arm is gone, it is true;
But the one that is nearest the heart
Is left--and that's as good as two;
Tom, old fellow, what makes you start?
Why, man, _she_ thinks that empty sleeve
A badge of honor; so do I,
And all of us:--I do believe
The fellow is going to cry!
"She deserves a perfect man," you say;
"You were not worth her in your prime:"
Tom! the arm that has turned to clay,
Your whole body has made sublime;
For you have placed in the Malvern earth
The proof and pledge of a noble life--
And the rest, henceforward of higher worth,
Will be dearer than all to your wife.
I see the people in the street
Look at your sleeve with kindling eyes;
And you know, Torn, there's naught so sweet
As homage shown in mute surmise.
Bravely your arm in battle strove,
Freely for Freedom's sake, you gave it;
It has perished--but a nation's love
In proud remembrance will save it.
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