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Page 172
I.
At Bull Run when the sun was low,
Each Southern face grew pale as snow,
While loud as jackdaws rose the crow
Of Yankees boasting terribly!
II.
But Bull Run saw another sight,
When at the deepening shades of night,
Towards Fairfax Court-House rose the flight
Of Yankees running rapidly.
III.
Then broke each corps with terror riven,
Then rushed the steeds from battle driven,
The men of battery Number Seven
Forsook their Red artillery!
IV.
Still on McDowell's farthest left,
The roar of cannon strikes one deaf,
Where furious Abe and fiery Jeff
Contend for death or victory.
V.
The panic thickens--off, ye brave!
Throw down your arms! your bacon save!
Waive, Washington, all scruples waive,
And fly, with all your chivalry!
"Stack Arms."
Written in the Prison of Fort Delaware, Del., on Hearing of the
Surrender of General Lee.
By Jos. Blyth Alston.
"Stack Arms!" I've gladly heard the cry
When, weary with the dusty tread
Of marching troops, as night drew nigh,
I sank upon my soldier bed,
And camly slept; the starry dome
Of heaven's blue arch my canopy,
And mingled with my dreams of home,
The thoughts of Peace and Liberty.
"Stack Arms!" I've heard it, when the shout
Exulting, rang along our line,
Of foes hurled back in bloody rout,
Captured, dispersed; its tones divine
Then came to mine enraptured ear.
Guerdon of duty nobly done,
And glistened on my cheek the tear
Of grateful joy for victory won.
"Stack Arms!" In faltering accents, slow
And sad, it creeps from tongue to tongue,
A broken, murmuring wail of woe,
From manly hearts by anguish wrung.
Like victims of a midnight dream,
We move, we know not how nor why,
For life and hope but phantoms seem,
And it would be relief--to die!
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