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Page 58
II.
But the Vandals with presumption--for they came in all their might--
Gave free vent unto their _feelings_, for they thought to win the
fight;
And they forced our little cohorts to the very river's brink,
With a breath between destruction and of life's remaining link:
When the cannon of McCown, belching fire from out its mouth,
Brought destruction to the Vandals and protection to the South.
III.
There was Pillow, Polk and Cheatham, who had sworn that day on high
That field should see them conquer, or that field should see them die;
And amid the groan of dying and amid the battle's din,
Came the echo back from heaven, that they should that battle win:
And amid the boom of cannons, and amid the clash of swords,
Came destruction to the foeman--and the vengeance was the Lord's!
IV.
When the fight was raging hottest, came the wild and cheering cry,
That brought terror to the foeman, and that raised our spirits high!
It was "Cheatham!" "Cheatham!" "Cheatham!" that the Vandals' ears did
sting,
And our boys caught up the echo till it made the welkin ring;
And the moment that the Hessians thought the fight was surely won,
From the crackling of our rifles--_bravely_ then they had to run!
V.
Then they ran unto their transports in deep terror and dismay,
And their great grandchildren's children will be shamed to name that day;
For the woe they came to bring to the people of the South
Was returned tenfold to them at the cannon's booming mouth:
And the proud old Mississippi ran that day a horrid flood,
For its banks were deeply crimsoned with the hireling Northman's blood.
VI.
Let us think of those who fell there, fighting foremost with the foe,
And who nobly struck for Freedom, dealing Tyranny a blow:
Like the ocean beating wildly 'gainst a prow of adamant,
Or the storm that keeps on bursting, but cannot destroy the plant;
Brave Lieutenant Walker, wounded, still fought on the bloody field,
Cheering on his noble comrades, ne'er unto the foe to yield!
VII.
None e'er knew him but to love him, the brave martyr to his clime--
Now his name belongs to Freedom, to the very end of Time:
And the last words that he uttered will forgotten be by few:
"I have bravely fought them, mother--I have bravely fought for you!"
Let his memory be green in the hearts who love the South,
And his noble deeds the theme that shall dwell in every mouth.
VIII.
In the hottest of the battle stood a Vandal bunting rag,
Proudly to the breeze 'twas floating in defiance to our flag;
And our Southern boys knew well that, to bring that bunting down,
They would meet the angel death in his sternest, maddest frown;
But it could not gallant Armstrong, dauntless Vollmer, or brave Lynch,
Though ten thousand deaths confronted, from the task of honor flinch!
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