Learned's brigade have espied him, rending the air with a cheer; Woe to the terrified foeman, now that our leader is here! Piercing the tumult behind him, Armstrong is out on his track; Gates has dispatched his lieutenant to summon the fugitive back. Armstrong might summon the tempest, order the whirlwind to stay, Issue commands to the earthquake-would they the mandate obey? Wounds, they were healed in a moment! weariness instantly gone! Forward he pointed his saber-led us, not ordered us on. Down on the Hessians we thundered, he, like a madman ahead; Vainly they strove to withstand us; raging, they shivered and fled. On to their earthworks we drove tnem, shaking with ire and dismay; There they made stand with a purpose to beat back the tide of the day. Onward we followed, then faltered; deadly their balls. whistled free. Where was our death-daring leader? Arnold, our hope, where was he? He? He was everywhere riding! hither and thither his form, On the brown charger careering, showed us the path of the storm; Over the roar of the cannon, over the musketry's crash, Sounded his voice, while his saber lit up the way with its flash. Throwing quick glances around him, reining a moment his steed "Brooks, that redoubt!" was his order; "let the rest follow my lead! Mark where the smoke-cloud is parting! see where the gun-barrels glance! Livingston, forward! On, Wesson, charge them! Let Morgan advance!" "Forward!" he shouted, and, spurring on through the sally-port then, Fell sword in hand on the Hessians, closely behind him our men. Back shrank the foemen in terror; off went their forces pellmell, Firing one Parthian volley; struck by it, Arnold, he fell. Ours was the day. Up we raised him; spurted the blood from his knee "Take my cravat, boys, and bind it; I am not dead yet," said he. "What! did you follow me, Armstrong? Pray, do you think it quite right, Leaving your duties out yonder, to risk your dear self in the fight?" "General Gates sent his orders"-faltering the aid-decamp spoke "You're to return, lest some rashness-" Fiercely the speech Arnold broke: "Rashness! Why, yes, tell the general the rashness he dreaded is done! Tell him his kins folk are beaten! tell him the battle is won!" Oh, that a soldier so glorious, ever victorious in fight, Passed from a daylight of honor into the terrible night!— Fell as the mighty archangel, ere the earth glowed in space, fell Fell from the patriot's heaven down to the loyalist's hell! 64 KEENAN'S CHARGE1 GEORGE PARSONS LATHROP The sun had set; The leaves with dew were wet, Down fell a bloody dusk Where "Stonewall's" corps, like a beast of prey, "They've trapped us, boys!" Rose from our flank a voice. 1. At the battle of Chancellorsville, May 1, 2, and 3, 1863, the Confederates under General Lee turned back the Union army under General Hooker. On the second day of the fight General Pleasanton, in order to gain time to place some, guns, ordered Major Keenan with four hundred Pennsylvania cavalrymen to charge ten thousand advancing Confederates under "Stonewall" Jackson. The story of the charge is told in the poem. Broke and fled. Not one stayed, but the dead! With curses, shrieks, and cries, Horses, and wagons, and men Tumbled back through the shuddering glen, There's some hope, still,— Those batteries parked on the hill! The horses plunged, The cannon lurched and lunged, To join the hopeless rout. But suddenly rose a form Calmly in front of the human storm, With a stern commanding shout: 3 "Align those guns!" (We knew it was Pleasanton's.) The cannoneers bent to obey, And worked with a will at his word, And the black guns moved as if they had heard. But, ah, the dread delay! "To wait is crime; O God, for ten minutes' time!" The general looked around. There Keenan sat, like a stone, With his three hundred horse alone, Less shaken than the ground. 2. Prolonge. A rope of three pieces for drawing a gun carriage. 3. Align. Range in line. "Major, your men?" "Are soldiers, general." "Then, Charge, major! Do your best; Hold the enemy back, at all cost, Till my guns are placed; else the army is lost. By the shrouded gleam of the western skies "Cavalry, charge!" Not a man of them shrank. Their sharp, full cheer, from rank on rank, Rose joyously, with a willing breath,— Rose like a greeting hail to death. Then forward they sprang, and spurred, and clashed; Shouted the officers, crimson-sashed; Rode well the men, each brave as his fellow, In their faded coats of the blue and yellow; And above in the air, with an instinct true, With clank of scabbard, and thunder of steeds, Line after line the troopers came To the edge of the woods that was ringed with flame; Rode in, and sabered, and shot,-and fell; Nor came one back his wounds to tell. |