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THE BATTLE OF LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN.
93
Nor brutal Hatred's tig'rish yell, nor clouds that choke and blind them;
Nor breastworks lined with fires of hell, nor fiends that crouch behind them.
Nor breastworks lined with fires of hell, nor fiends that crouch behind them.
And lo you! where our little band the parapet encumbers,
Assaulting madly hand to hand the foe's quadrupled numbers!
With whirring balls and cleaving blows, our glorious soldiers wound them;
In headlong, driving strife they close; they harass, they astound them.
Assaulting madly hand to hand the foe's quadrupled numbers!
With whirring balls and cleaving blows, our glorious soldiers wound them;
In headlong, driving strife they close; they harass, they astound them.
Never such wild hurras before from distance pealed to distance!
From rifle-pits the lurkers pour in terrified desistance.
Down the rough steep they leap, they creep, as murderers dumb they hide them,
And like avenging spirits sweep our men behind—beside them.
From rifle-pits the lurkers pour in terrified desistance.
Down the rough steep they leap, they creep, as murderers dumb they hide them,
And like avenging spirits sweep our men behind—beside them.
The ridge is ours! but battle-gales are loudly hurtling yonder:
Dash on, brave victors, down the dales! stay not to rest or ponder!
Dash on, brave victors, down the dales! stay not to rest or ponder!
