Cofachiqui, and Other Poems/Shiloh

by Castello Newton Holford

SHILOH.

QUIET were the camps at even,
 In the woods of Tennessee,
Outward from the dark, deep river
 Spread through vale, o'er hill and lea.
Curled the smoke-wreaths from their camp-fires
 'Mid the tents so low and white,
On the eve before the sabbath,
 On the eve of Shiloh's fight.
Darkness came. No sound was wafted
 To the pickets clad in blue—
None but when the dark woods echoed
 To the rattle of tattoo.
Morning came. The darkness vanished
 From the bosom of the earth.
Rose the sun, and time had given
 To a day of slaughter birth.

Through the quiet air come crashing
 Rattling volleys, sharp and clear,
And the pickets, backward driven
 By the rebel hosts, appear.
Onward come the rebel columns,
 With their lines of slanting guns,
Till all 'round one lone division
 Sulphurous fire bright-flashing runs.
As the breath of black tornadoes
 Rends the forests of the oak,
So that rush of desperadoes
 Through the lines of Prentiss broke.
Backward on the ranks of Sherman
 Were our shattered fragments pressed,
Backward all the long day struggling,
 Till the sun sank to the west.
Broken, our men, and exhausted
 Were; in front a swarming foe,
And behind the deep, wide river—
 Then the bravest hearts sank low.

Oh! how sweet then seemed the booming
 To the wearied Union men,
Of the thunder-bearing gunboats,
 Shaking river, hill and glen.
Full soon had the swarming rebels
 Cause to fear each murderous gun
Of the staunch and grim old Tyler
 And the black-hulled Lexington.
But at last the darkness lowered
 And the blood-red day was o'er,
And Grant's broken army cowered
 Closely by the river shore.
But amid the mantling darkness
 Came the ranks of Buell's men
And amid the beating rain-floods
 Formed the broken lines again.

Slowly dawned the gloomy morning
 And again began the fray,
And again upon us urging
 Came those triple lines of gray.
Yelling, down there came upon us,
 Charging out from sulphurous screens,
Came the "Louisiana Tigers,"
 Fiery footmen of Orleans.
Up our brigadier came dashing,
 "Light of battle" in his eye,
And above the cannon crashing
 Rose his voice so shrill and high:
"Never quail before these devils,
 Be ye heroes every one!
Let your country read in story
 What Wisconsin men have done!"
Thus cried the Kentucky colonel,
 "Charge!" the steady ranks advanced,
Never quailing, though around them
 Grape shot shrieked and lightnings glanced;
Blue waves capped with sparkling bubbles,
 Point of steel was every one,
For a bayonet was bristling
 On the point of every gun.

Won at the day at last, but thickly
 Strewn o'er all that fatal space,
Rebel bars and Union blouses,
 Jackets rough and gilded lace.
There the stalwart, fair-skinned Norseman,
 With his yellow hair blood-dyed,
Lay beside the swarthy Indian
 From Superior rolling wide.
Close the men of Indiana
 By the Texan Rangers lay,
And the Zou'ves of Crescent City
 By the men of Iowa.
Bravely fought both North and Southron,
 But in all those ranks that day,
Sternest stood those three Wisconsin
 Regiments amid the fray;
Where was raised the bannered Badger
 On the silken field of blue,
While the "Flowery Flag" beside it
 With its gorgeous colors flew
Gleamed amid the dun cloud rolling
 As upon the frowning crest
Of the eastern storm-cloud darkening,
 When the gateway of the west
Opes to Phœbus' golden chariot,
 Then, to stay the threatened doom,
Gleams the seven-hued bow of promise
 On that savage front of gloom.
But no sign of peace or promise
 Brought the flag of triple hue,
But the flame-winged bolts of vengeance
 Fast around, beneath it slew.