It was that fierce contested field when Chickamauga
lay
Beneath the wild tornado that swept her pride away;
Her dimpling dales and circling hills dyed crimson
with the flood
That had its source in the springs that throb with
human blood.
"Go say to General Hooker to reinforce his right!"
Said Thomas to his aide-de-camp, when wildly went
the fight;
In front the battle thundered, it roared both right
and left,
But like a rock "Pap" Thomas stood upon the crested
cleft.
"Where will I find you, General, when I return?"
The aide
Leaned on his bridle-rein to wait the answer Thomas
made;
The old chief like a lion turned, his pale lips
set and sere,
And shook his mane, and stamped his foot, and fiercely
answered, "Here!"
The floodtide of fraternal strife rolled upward
to his feet,
And like the breakers on the shore the thunderous
clamors beat;
The sad earth rocked and reeled with woe, the woodland
shrieked in pain,
And hill and vale were groaning with the burden
of the slain.
Who does not mind that sturdy form, that steady
heart and hand,
That calm repose and gallant mien, that courage
high and grand? -
O God, who givest nations men to meet their lofty
needs,
Vouchsafe another Thomas when our country prostrate
bleeds!
They fought with all the fortitude of earnest
men and true -
The men who wore the rebel gray, the men who wore
the blue;
And those, they fought most valiantly for petty
state and clan,
And these, for truer Union and the brotherhood of
man.
They come, those hurling legions, with banners
crimson-splashed,
Against our stubborn columns their rushing ranks
are dashed,
Till 'neath the blistering iron hail the shy and
frightened deer
Go scurrying from their forest haunts to plunge
in wilder fear.
Beyond, our lines are broken, and now in frenzied
rout
The flower of the Cumberland has swiftly faced about;
And horse and foot and color-guard are reeling,
rear and van,
And in the awful panic man forgets that he is man.
Now Bragg, with pride exultant above our broken
wings,
the might of all his army against "Pap" Thomas brings;
They're massing to the right of him, they're massing
to the left,
Ah, God be with our hero, who holds the crested
cleft!
Blow, blow, ye echoing bugles! give answer, screaming
shell!
Go, belch your murderous fury, ye batteries of hell!
Ring out, O impious musket! spin on, O shattering
shot, -
Our smoke-encircled hero, he hears but heeds ye
not!
Now steady, men! now steady! make one more valiant
stand,
For gallant Steedman's coming, his forces well in
hand!
Close up your shattered columns, take steady aim
and true,
The chief who loves you as his life will live or
die with you!
By solid columns, on they come; by columns they
are hurled,
As down the eddying rapids the storm-swept booms
are whirled;
And when the ammunition fails - O moment drear and
dread -
The heroes load their blackened guns from rounds
of soldiers dead.
God never set His signet on the hearts of braver
men,
Or fixed the goal of victory on higher heights than
then;
With bayonets and muskets clubbed, they close the
rush and roar;
Their stepping-stones to glory are their comrades
gone before.
O vanished majesty of days not all forgotten yet,
We consecrate unto thy praise one hour of deep regret;
One hour to them whose days were years of glory
that shall flood
The Nation's somber night of tears, of carnage,
and of blood!
O vanished majesty of days, when men were gauged
by worth,
Set crowned and dowered in the way to judge the
sons of earth;
When all the little great fell down before the great
unknown,
And priest put off the hampering gown and coward
donned his own!
O vanished majesty of days that saw the sun shine
on
The deeds that wake sublimer praise than Ghent or
Marathon;
When patriots in homespun rose - where one was called
for, ten -
And heroes sprang full-armored from the humblest
walks of men!
O vanished majesty of days! Rise, type and mould
today,
And teach our sons to follow on where duty leads
the way;
that whatsoever trial comes, defying doubt and fear,
They in the thickest fight shall stand and proudly
answer, "Here!"