E Farewell-Order, Gloomy Murmurs Ran; But Our New Chieftain Cheered Our Drooping Hearts. "That Meade Would Choose His Battle-Ground We Knew, And If Not His The Gallant Dash And Dare That On Antietam'S Bloody Battle-Field Snatched Victory From Defeat, Our Faith Was Firm That He Would Fight To Win, And Hold The Reins Firmly In Hand, Nor Sacrifice Our Lives In Wild Assaults And Fruitless Daring Deeds. "From Taneytown, At Mid-Day, On The Hills Of Gettysburg We Heard The Cannon Boom. Our Gallant Hancock Rode Full Speed Away; We Under Gibbon Swiftly Following Him At Midnight Camped On Cemetery Hill. Sharp The Initial Combat Of The Grand On-Coming Battle, And The Sulphurous Smoke Hung In Blue Wreaths Above The Silent Vale Between Two Hostile Armies, Mightier Far Than Met Upon The Field Of Marathon. Or Where The Proud Carthago Bowed To Rome. Hope Of The North And Liberty The One; Pride Of The South The Other. On The Hills A Rolling Range Of Rugged, Broken Hills, Stretching From Round-Top Northward, Bending Off And Butting Down Upon A Silver Stream In Open Field Our Veteran Regiments Lay. Facing Our Battle-Line And Parallel Beyond The Golden Valley To The West Lay Seminary Ridge A Crest Of Hills Covered With Emerald Groves And Fields Of Gold Ripe For The Harvest: On This Rolling Range, As Numerous As The Swarming Ocean-Fowl That Perch In Squadrons On Some Barren Isle Far In The Arctic Sea When Summer'S Sun With Slanting Spears Invades The Icy Realm, The Southern Legions Lay Upon Their Arms. As Countless As The Winter-Evening Stars That Glint And Glow Above The Frosted Fields Twinkled And Blazed Upon That Crest Of Hills The Camp-Fires Of The Foe. Two Mighty Hosts, Ready And Panoplied For Deadliest War, And Eager For The Combat Where The Prize Of Victory Was Empire For The Foe An Empire Borne Upon The Bended Backs Of Toiling Slaves In Millions But For Us, An Empire Grounded On The Rights Of Man Lay On Their Arms Awaiting Innocent Morn To Light The Field For Slaughter To Begin. "Silent Above Us Spread The Dusky Heavens, Silent Below Us Lay The Smoky Vale, Silent Beyond, The Dreadful Crest Of Hills. Anon The Neigh Of Horse, A Sentry'S Call, Or Rapid Hoof-Beats Of A Flying Steed Bearing An Aid And Orders, Broke The Dread, Portentous Silence. I Was Worn And Slept. "The Call Of Bugles Wakened Me. The Dawn Was Stealing Softly O'Er The Shadowy Land, And Morning Grew Apace. Broad In The East Uprose Above The Crest Of Hazy Hills Like Some Broad Shield By Fabled Giant Borne, The Golden Sun, And Flashed Upon The Field. Ripe For The Harvest Stood The Golden Grain, Nodding On Gentle Slopes And Dewy Hills. Ready For The Harvest Death'S Grim Reapers Stood Waiting The Signal With Impatient Steel; And Morning Passed, And Mid-Day. Here And There The Crack Of Rifles On The Picket-Line, Or Boom Of Solitary Cannon Broke The Myriad-Voiced And Dreadful Monotone. So Fled The Anxious Hours Until The Hills Sent Forth Their Silent Shadows To The East And Then Their Batteries Opened On Our Left Advanced Into The Valley. All Along The Rolling Crest Of Seminary Ridge Rolled Up The Smoke Of Cannon. Answered Then The Grim Artillery On Our Chain Of Hills' And Heaven Was Hideous With The Bellowing Boom, The Whiz Of Shot, The Infernal Shrieks Of Shells. Down From The Hills Their Charging Columns Came A Glittering Mass Of Steel. As When The Snow Piled By An Hundred Winters On The Peak Of Cloud-Robed Bernard Thunders Down The Cliffs, Nor Rocks Nor Forests Stay The Mighty Mass, And Men And Flocks In Terror Fly The Death, So Thundering Fell The Columns Of The Foe, Crushing Through Sickles' Corps In Front And Flank; And, Roaring Onward Like A Mighty Wind, They Rushed For Little Round-Top Rugged Hill, Key To Our Left And Center All Exposed Manned By A Broken Battery Half Unmanned. But Hancock Saw The Peril. On Stalwart Steed Foam-Flecked, Wide-Nostriled, Panting Like A Hound, That Stalwart Soldier Spartan To The Soles Came Dashing Down Where, Prone Along The Ridge Upon The Right, Our Sheltered Regiment Lay. 'By The Left Flank, Forward Double-Quick!' We Sprang And Dashed For Little Round-Top; Formed Our Line Flanking The Broken Battery. Up The Slope, Like Frightened Sheep When Howling Wolves Pursue, Fled Sickles' Men In Panic: Hard Behind On Came The Rebel Columns. Hat In Hand Waving And Shouting To His Eager Corps Rode Gallant Longstreet Leading On The Foe. "Where Yonder Field-Wall Bounds The Trampled Wheat By Grove And Meadow, See Among The Trees Their Bayonets Gleam Advancing. Line On Line, Column On Column, In The Field Beyond, Their Hurrying Ranks Crowd Glittering On And On. High At The Head Their Flaunting Colors Fly; High O'Er The Roar Their Wild, Triumphant Yell Shrills Like The Scream Of Panthers. "Hancock'S Voice Rang Down Our Lines Above The Cannons' Roar: 'Advance, And Take Those Colors'[C] Adown The Slope Like Bengal Tigers Springing At The Hounds, We Sprang And Met Them At The Border Wall: Muzzle To Muzzle Steel To Steel We Met, And Fought Like Romans And Like Romans Fell. Even As A Cyclone, Growling Thunder, Roars Down Through A Dusky Forest, And Its Path Is Strown With Broken And Uprooted Pines Promiscuous Piled In Broad And Broken Swaths, So Crashed Our Volleys Through Their Serried Ranks, Mowing Great Swaths Of Death; Yet On And On, Closing The Gaps And Yelling Like The Fiends That Dante Heard Along The Gulf Of Hell, Still Came Our Furious Foes. A Cloud Of Smoke Dense, Sulphurous, Stifling Covered All Our Ranks. Our Steady, Deadly Rifles Crackled Still, And Still Their Crashing Volleys Rolled And Roared. Our Rifles Blazed Upon The Blaze Below; The Blaze Below Upon The Blaze Above, And In The Blaze The Buzz Of Myriad Bees Whose Stings Were Deadlier Than The Libyan Asp. Five Times Our Colors Fell Five Times Arose Defiant, Flapping On The Broken Wall. "We Hold The Perilous Breach; On Either Hand Our Foes Out-Flank Us, Leap The Sheltering Wall And Pour Their Deadly, Enfilading Fire. God Shield Our Shattered Ranks! God Help Us! "Ho! 'Stars And Stripes' On The Right! Hurra! Hurra! The Green Mountain Boys To Our Aid! Hurra! Hurra. Cannon-Roar Down On The Left! Our Batteries Are There Hurling Hot Hell-Fire' See! Like Sickled Corn The Close-Ranked Foemen Fall In Toppling Swaths: But Still With Hurried Steps And Steady Steel They Close The Gaps Like Madmen They Press On! With One Wild Yell They Rush Upon The Wall! Lo From Our Lines A Sheet Of Crackling Fire Scorches Their Grimy Faces Back They Reel And Tumble Down And Down A Writhing Mass Of Slaughter And Defeat! "Leaped On The Wall A Thousand Blues And Swung Their Caps In Air, Thundering Their Wild Hurra! Above The Roar And Crash Of Cannon; Victory Was Ours. Back To His Crest Of Hills The Baffled Foe Reluctant Turned And Fled The Storm Of Death. "The Smoke Of Battle Floated From The Field, And Lo The Woodside Piled With Slaughter-Heaps! And Lo The Meadow Dotted With The Slain! And Lo The Ranks Of Dead And Dying Men That Fighting Fell Behind The Broken Wall! "Only A Handful Of My Men Remained; The Rest Lay Dead Or Wounded On The Field; Nor Skulked Their Captain, But By Grace Was Spared. Behold The Miracle! This Bible Holds, Embedded In Its Leaves, The Rebel Lead Aimed At My Heart. But Here A Scratch And There Not Worth The Mention Where So Many Fell. Paul, Foremost Ever In The Deadly Hail, As If Protected By A Shield Unseen, Escaped Unscathed. "We Camped Upon The Hill. Night Hovered O'Er Us On Her Dusky Wings; Then All Along Our Lines Upon The Hills Blazed Up The Evening Camp-Fires. Facing Us Beyond The Smoke-Robed Valley Sparkled Up A Chain Of Fires On Seminary Ridge. A Hum Of Mingled Voices Filled The Air. As When Upon The Vast, Hoarse-Moaning Sea And All Along The Rock-Built Somber Shore Murmurs The Menace Of The Coming Storm The Muttering Of The Tempest From Afar, The Plash And Seethe Of Surf Upon The Sand, The Roll Of Distant Thunder In The Heavens, Unite And Blend In One Prevailing Voice So Rose The Mingled Murmurs Of Our Camps, So Rose The Groans And Moans Of Wounded Men Along The Slope And Valley, And So Rolled From Yonder Frowning Parallel Of Hills The Muttered Menace Of Our Baffled Foes; And So From Camp To Camp And Hill To Hill Rolled The Deep Mutter And The Dreadful Moan Of An Hundred Thousand Voices Blent In One. "That Night A Multitude Of Friends And Foes Slept Soundly But They Slept To Wake No More. But Few Indeed Among The Living Slept; We Lay Upon Our Arms And Courted Sleep With Open Eyes And Ears: The Fears And Hopes That Centered In The Half-Fought Battle Held The Balm Of Slumber From Our Weary Limbs. Anon The Rattle Of The Random Fire Broke On Our Drowsy Ears And Startled Us, As One Is Startled By Some Horrid Dream; Whereat Old Veterans Muttered In Their Sleep. "Midnight Had Passed, And I Lay Wakeful Still, When Paul Arose And Sat Upon The Sward. He Said: 'I Cannot Sleep; Unbidden Thoughts That Will Not Down Crowd On My Restless Brain. Captain, I Know Not How, But Still I Know That I Shall See But One More Sunrise. Morn Will Bring The Clash Of Arms To-Morrow'S Sun Will Look Upon Unnumbered Ghastly Heaps And Gory Ranks Of Dead And Dying Men, And Ere It Sink Beyond The Western Hills Up From This Field Will Roll A Mighty Shout Victorious, Echoed Over All The Land, Proclaiming Joy To Freemen Everywhere. And I Shall Fall. I Cannot Tell You How I Know It But I Feel It In My Soul. I Pray That Death May Spare Me Till I Hear Our Shout Of "Victory!" Rolling O'Er These Hills: Then Will I Lay Me Down And Die In Peace.' "I Lightly Said 'Sheer Superstition, Paul; I'Ll Wager A Month'S Pay You'Ll Live To Fight A Dozen Battles Yet. They Ill Become A Gallant Soldier On The Battle Field Such Grandam Superstitions. You Have Fought Ever Like A Hero Do You Falter Now?' "'Captain,' He Said, 'I Shall Not Falter Now, But Gladlier Will I Hail The Rising Sun. Death Has No Terror For A Heart Like Mine: Say What You May And Call It What You Will I Know That I Shall Fall To Rise No More Before The Sunset Of The Coming Day. If This Be Superstition Still I Know; If This Be Fear It Will Not Hold Me Back.' I Answered: "'Friend, I Hope This Prophecy Will Prove You A False Prophet; But, My Paul, Have You No Farewells For Your Friends At Home? No Message For A Nearer, Dearer One?' "'None; There Is None I Knew In Other Days Knows Where Or What I Am. So Let It Be. If There Be Those Not Many Who May Care For One Who Cares So Little For Himself, Surely My Soldier-Name In The Gazette Among The Killed Will Bring No Pang To Them. And Then He Laid Himself Upon The Sward; Perhaps He Slept I Know Not, For Fatigue O'Ercame Me And I Slept. "The Picket Guns At Random Firing Wakened Me. The Morn Came Stealing Softly O'Er The Somber Hills; Dark Clouds Of Smoke Hung Hovering O'Er The Field. Blood-Red As Risen From A Sea Of Blood, The Tardy Sun As If In Dread Arose, And Hid His Face In The Uprising Smoke. As When The Pale Moon, Envious Of The Glow And Gleam And Glory Of The God Of Day, Creeps In By Stealth Between The Earth And Him, Eclipsing All His Glory, And The Green Of Hills And Dales Is Changed To Yellowish Dun, So Fell The Strange And Lurid Light Of Morn. And As I Gazed I Heard The Hunger-Cries Of Vultures Circling On Their Dusky Wings Above The Smoke-Hid Valley; Then They Plunged To Gorge Themselves Upon The Slaughter-Heaps, As At The Buddhist Temples In Siam Whereto The Hideous Vultures Flock To Feast With Famished Dogs Upon The Pauper Dead. "The Day Wore On. Two Mighty Armies Stood Defiant Watching Dreading To Assault; Each Hoping That The Other Would Assault And Madly Dash Against Its Glittering Steel. As In The Jungles Of The Chambez? Glaring Defiance With Their Fiery Eyes Two Tawny Lions Rival Monarchs Meet And Fright The Forest With Their Horrid Roar; But Ere They Close In Bloody Combat Crouch And Wait And Watch For Vantage In Attack; So On Their Bannered Hills The Opposing Hosts, Eager To Grapple In The Tug Of Death, Waited And Watched For Vantage In The Fight. Noon Came. The Fire Of Pickets Died Away. All Eyes Were Turned To Seminary Ridge, For Lo Our Sullen Foemen Park On Park Had Massed Their Grim Artillery On Our Corps. Hoarse Voices Sunk To Whispers Or Were Hushed; The Rugged Hills Stood Listening In Awe; So Dread The Ominous Silence That I Heard The Hearts Of Soldiers Throbbing Along The Line. "Up From Yon Battery Curled A Cloud Of Smoke, Shrieked O'Er Our Heads A Solitary Shell, Then Instantly In Horrid Concert Roared Two Hundred Cannon On The Rebel Hills Hurling Their Hissing Thunderbolts And Then An Hundred Bellowing Cannon From Our Lines Thundered Their Iron Answer. Horrible Rolled In The Heavens The Infernal Thunders Rolled From Hill To Hill The Reverberating Roar, As If The Earth Were Bursting With The Throes Of Some Vast Pent Volcano; Rocked And Reeled, As In An Earthquake-Shock, The Solid Hills; Anon Huge Fragments Of The Hillside Rocks, And Limbs And Splinters Of Shot-Shattered Trees Danced In The Smoke Like Demons; Hissed And Howled The Crashing Shell-Storm Bursting Over Us. Prone On The Earth Awaiting The Grand Charge, To Which We Knew The Heavy Cannonade Was But A Prelude, For Two Hours We Lay Two Hours That Tried The Very Souls Of Men And Many A Brave Man Never Rose Again. Then Ceased Our Guns To Swell The Infernal Roar; The Roll And Crash Of Cannon In Our Front Lulled, And We Heard The Foeman'S Bugle-Calls. Then From The Slopes Of Seminary Ridge Poured Down The Storming Columns Of The Foe. As When The Rain-Clouds From The Rim Of Heaven Are Gathered By The Four Contending Winds, And Madly Whirled Until They Meet And Clash Above The Hills And Burst Down Pours A Sea And Plunges Roaring Down Through Gorge And Glen, So Poured The Surging Columns Of Our Foes Adown The Slopes And Spread Along The Vale In Glittering Ranks Of Battle Line On Line Mile-Long. Above The Roar Of Cannon Rose In One Wild Yell The Rebel Battle-Cry. Flash In The Sun Their Serried Ranks Of Steel; Before Them Swarm A Cloud Of Skirmishers. That Eager Host The Gallant Pickett Leads; He Right And Left His Fiery Charger Wheels; Steadies The Lines With Clarion Voice; Anon His Outstretched Saber Gleaming Points The Way. As Mid The Myriad Twinkling Stars Of Heaven Flashes The Blazing Comet, And A Column Of Fiery Fury Follows It, So Flashed The Dauntless Chief, So Followed His Wild Host. "We Waited Grim And Silent Till They Crossed The Center And Began The Dread Ascent. Then Brazen Bugles Rang The Clarion Call; Arose As One Twice Twenty Thousand Men, And All Our Hillsides Blazed With Crackling Fire. With Sudden Crash And Simultaneous Roar An Hundred Cannon Opened Instantly, And All The Vast Hills Shuddered Under Us. Yelling Their Mad Defiance To Our Fire Still On And Upward Came Our Daring Foes. As When Upon The Wooded Mountain-Side The Unchained Loki[D] Riots And The Winds Of An Autumnal Tempest Lash The Flames, Whirling The Burning Fragments Through The Air Huge Blazing Limbs And Tops Of Blasted Pines Mowing Wide Swaths With Circling Scythes Of Fire, So Fell Our Fire Upon The Advancing Host, And Lashed Their Ranks And Mowed Them Into Heaps, Cleaving Broad Avenues Of Death. Still On And Up They Come Undaunted, Closing Up The Ghastly Gaps And Firing As They Come. As If Protected By The Hand Of Heaven, Rides At Their Head Their Gallant Leader Still; The Tempest Drowns His Voice His Naming Sword Gleams In The Flash Of Rifles. One Wild Yell Like The Mad Hunger-Howl Of Famished Wolves Midwinter On The Flying Cabris'[E] Trail, Swelled By Ten Thousand Hideous Voices, Shrills, And Through The Battle-Smoke The Bravest Burst. Flutters Their Tattered Banner On Our Wall! Thunders Their Shout Of Victory! Appalled Our Serried Ranks Are Broken But In Vain! On Either Hand Our Cannon Enfilade, Crushing Great Gaps Along The Stalwart Lines; In Front Our Deadly Rifles Volley Still, Mowing The Toppling Swaths Of Daring Men. Behold They Falter! Ho! They Break! They Fly! With One Wild Cheer That Shakes The Solid Hills Spring To The Charge Our Eager Infantry. Headlong We Press Them Down The Bloody Slope, Headlong They Fall Before Our Leveled Steel And Break In Wild Disorder, Cast Away Their Arms And Fly In Panic. All The Vale Is Spread With Slaughter And Wild Fugitives. Wide O'Er The Field The Scattered Foemen Fly; Dread Havoc And Mad Terror Swift Pursue Till Battle Is But Slaughter. Thousands Fall Thousands Surrender, And The Southern Flag Is Trailed Upon The Field. "The Day Was Ours, And Well We Knew The Worth Of Victory. Loud Rolled The Rounds Of Cheers From Corps To Corps; Comrades Embraced Each Other; Iron Men Shed Tears Of Joy Like Women; Men Profane Fell On Their Knees And Thanked Almighty God. Then 'Hail Columbia' Rang The Brazen Horns, And All The Hill-Tops Shouted Unto Heaven; The Welkin Shouted To The Shouting Hills And Heavens And Hill-Tops Shouted 'Victory!' "Night With Her Pall Had Wrapped The Bloody Field. The Little Remnants Of Our Regiment Were Gathered And Encamped Upon The Hill. Paul Was Not With Them, And They Could Not Tell Aught Of Him. I Had Seen Him In The Fight Bravest Of All The Brave. I Saw Him Last When First The Foremost Foemen Reached Our Wall, Thrusting Them Off With Bloody Bayonet, And Shouting To His Comrades, 'Steady, Men!' Sadly I Wandered Back Where We Had Met The Onset Of The Foe. The Rounds Of Cheers Repeated Oft Still Swept From Corps To Corps, And As I Passed Along The Line I Saw Our Dying Comrades Raise Their Weary Heads, And Cheer With Feeble Voices. Even In Death The Cry Of Victory Warmed Their Hearts Again. Paul Lay Upon The Ground Where He Had Fought, Fast By The Flag That Floated On The Line. He Slept Or Seemed To Sleep, But On His Brow Sat Such A Deadly Pallor That I Feared My Paul Would Never March And Fight Again. I Raised His Head He Woke As From A Dream; I Said, 'Be Quiet You Are Badly Hurt; I'Ll Call A Surgeon; We Will Dress Your Wound.' He Gravely Said: "'Tis Vain; For I Have Done With Camp And March And Battle. Ere The Dawn Shall I Be Mustered Out Of Your Command, And Mustered Into The Grand Host Of Heaven.' "I Sought A Surgeon On The Field And Found; With Me He Came And Opened The Bloody Blouse, Felt The Dull Pulse And Sagely Shook His Head. A Musket Ball Had Done Its Deadly Work; There Was No Hope, He Said, The Man Might Live A Day Perchance But Had No Need Of Him. I Called His Comrades And We Carried Him, Stretched On His Blankets, Gently To Our Camp, And Laid Him By The Camp-Fire. As The Light Fell On Paul'S Face He Took My Hand And Said: