Cofachiqui, and Other Poems/Shiloh
SHILOH.
QUIET were the camps at even, In the woods of Tennessee,Outward from the dark, deep river Spread through vale, o'er hill and lea.Curled the smoke-wreaths from their camp-fires 'Mid the tents so low and white,On the eve before the sabbath, On the eve of Shiloh's fight.Darkness came. No sound was wafted To the pickets clad in blue—None but when the dark woods echoed To the rattle of tattoo.Morning came. The darkness vanished From the bosom of the earth.Rose the sun, and time had given To a day of slaughter birth.
Through the quiet air come crashing Rattling volleys, sharp and clear, And the pickets, backward driven By the rebel hosts, appear.Onward come the rebel columns, With their lines of slanting guns,Till all 'round one lone division Sulphurous fire bright-flashing runs.As the breath of black tornadoes Rends the forests of the oak,So that rush of desperadoes Through the lines of Prentiss broke.Backward on the ranks of Sherman Were our shattered fragments pressed,Backward all the long day struggling, Till the sun sank to the west.Broken, our men, and exhausted Were; in front a swarming foe,And behind the deep, wide river— Then the bravest hearts sank low.
Oh! how sweet then seemed the booming To the wearied Union men,Of the thunder-bearing gunboats, Shaking river, hill and glen.Full soon had the swarming rebels Cause to fear each murderous gunOf the staunch and grim old Tyler And the black-hulled Lexington.But at last the darkness lowered And the blood-red day was o'er,And Grant's broken army cowered Closely by the river shore.But amid the mantling darkness Came the ranks of Buell's menAnd amid the beating rain-floods Formed the broken lines again.
Slowly dawned the gloomy morning And again began the fray,And again upon us urging Came those triple lines of gray.Yelling, down there came upon us, Charging out from sulphurous screens,Came the "Louisiana Tigers," Fiery footmen of Orleans.Up our brigadier came dashing, "Light of battle" in his eye,And above the cannon crashing Rose his voice so shrill and high:"Never quail before these devils, Be ye heroes every one!Let your country read in story What Wisconsin men have done!"Thus cried the Kentucky colonel, "Charge!" the steady ranks advanced,Never quailing, though around them Grape shot shrieked and lightnings glanced;Blue waves capped with sparkling bubbles, Point of steel was every one,For a bayonet was bristling On the point of every gun.
Won at the day at last, but thickly Strewn o'er all that fatal space,Rebel bars and Union blouses, Jackets rough and gilded lace.There the stalwart, fair-skinned Norseman, With his yellow hair blood-dyed,Lay beside the swarthy Indian From Superior rolling wide.Close the men of Indiana By the Texan Rangers lay,And the Zou'ves of Crescent City By the men of Iowa.Bravely fought both North and Southron, But in all those ranks that day,Sternest stood those three Wisconsin Regiments amid the fray;Where was raised the bannered Badger On the silken field of blue,While the "Flowery Flag" beside it With its gorgeous colors flewGleamed amid the dun cloud rolling As upon the frowning crestOf the eastern storm-cloud darkening, When the gateway of the westOpes to Phœbus' golden chariot, Then, to stay the threatened doom,Gleams the seven-hued bow of promise On that savage front of gloom.But no sign of peace or promise Brought the flag of triple hue,But the flame-winged bolts of vengeance Fast around, beneath it slew.