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THE BATTLE OF GAINES' HILL.
75
The solemn battle-harp and proud,
Where rose the sulphurous cloud.
Where rose the sulphurous cloud.
Behind our potent guns we stood—
Therefrom the awful war-bolts flew;
Bomb following bomb, full many a rood
They plowed the smoking woodlands through,
And what beside—God knew.
Therefrom the awful war-bolts flew;
Bomb following bomb, full many a rood
They plowed the smoking woodlands through,
And what beside—God knew.
We waited till the hour approved,
To hurl our forces undismayed,
Where Death in all his grandeur moved;
God's cause and Liberty's to aid
By bayonet, ball, or blade.
To hurl our forces undismayed,
Where Death in all his grandeur moved;
God's cause and Liberty's to aid
By bayonet, ball, or blade.
There, fires that leap when patriots fall,
All startling sights that cowards shun;
All sounds that hurtle and appall—
The bursting shell, the roaring gun—
O'er all, the seething sun!
All startling sights that cowards shun;
All sounds that hurtle and appall—
The bursting shell, the roaring gun—
O'er all, the seething sun!
Full closely swarmed the traitor horde;
Across the hill their bullets sang;
Along our yielding van they poured—
Their shouts like peals of victory rang—
Then, at the word, we sprang.
Across the hill their bullets sang;
Along our yielding van they poured—
Their shouts like peals of victory rang—
Then, at the word, we sprang.
