Cofachiqui, and Other Poems/The battle of Nashville
THE BATTLE OF NASHVILLE.
THE blue-coats of Sherman had marched to the seaAnd the rebels with Hood thought their pathway freeTo the land where the wealth of the Northmen lay,For their leader had sworn that ere New Year's dayTheir flag should float and their camp-fires glowMirrored bright on the breast of Ohio's flow.O'er the Tennessee all their horsemen swarmed,On its hither bank fast their footmen formed,And on toward the gleam of the polar starTheir columns pressed and their files stretched far.O'er Pulaski's hills and through Linwood's valeWound the blackened path of their broad war trail,And the blue-clad columns were backward pressedTill at last they stood on the lofty crestOf the hills which loom 'round Columbia townAnd with trenches, bastions and guns did frown.But in vain the trenches their lightning flashed,And in vain the bastions thundered and crashedTo stay the march of the rebel horde,And over the river the gray-coats poured. 'Gainst the shallow trenches and walls of clayWhere the Union army in waiting lay,At Franklin, the foemen dashed and brokeLike the stormy waves 'gainst the walls of oak,And the uniforms which the clay mire strewedWere of homespun gray or butternut-hued,And they scattered lay like the harvest sheaves,While gold-starred collars and gilt-trimmed sleeves,The sergeant's chevrons and captain's barsAnd many a colonel's silver starsLay in mire beside the jackets coarseOf the conscript men of the rebel force.
But at last the city our lines enfoldAnd they stand at bay in a stern stronghold.The smoke of camp-fires was mingled highIn the murky air of the wintry skyWith the wreaths that curled from the house-tops brownWhich lined the streets of the 'leaguered town.And the rebel lines in a crescent grandSwept 'round on the south to the Cumberland,And their flanks came down to the river's flowFar above the city and far below.
The days of December were gliding past;Came the fourteenth night of the night at last.'Neath the wintry sweep of the northern galeThe earth had been locked in an icy mail,But a milder breeze from the far gulf shoreHad unlocked the fetters of frost once more,And again the hill-tops were bare and brown,While a dense fog hung over river and town. Then the scattered camps came the order through:"Fill each cartridge-box, fill it up anew,And ready—be ready ere morning light,For the fight must come ere another night."As along the camp streets the warning went,The lights gleamed forth from each lowly tent.Then, when all prepared, sank the men to sleepAnd the camp was hushed in a silence deep,And in darkness lay save the watch-fire's lightAs it struggled up through the misty nightEre the old church clock tolled the hour of three,On the morning air rang the reveillé,And the camp-fires glowed thro' the mist-cloud grayLike a presage red of that bloody day.
Ere the gray cloud rolled from the city's breast,Out at Negley fortress the blue-coats pressed.In a living torrent the troops poured by:There were massive columns of infantryWith their slanting guns, then the troopers rode.With a clanking saber and jingling goadAt each one's side and on each one's heel-On the sloping hillside their squadrons wheel.Then the heavy wheels of the bright brass guns,And the ordnance trains, and the dark caissons,And the limbers roll; and each iron tireGrates harshly down in the gravelly mire.
Then the battle came. First the quick, sharp crackFrom each skirmisher in the front came back,While at intervals came a heavy bang!And its deep bass notes in the concert rang. Then a rattling roll from the infantry,And the clanging sweep of the cavalry,And the fierce deep throbs of artillery;With their mingled echoes the ridges rang,And the iron cones and the minies sang,As with rallying cheers 'mid the deepening crashThe long blue lines of the Northmen dash'Gainst the motley ranks of the clay-hued host,Like the ocean waves on the sandy coast.
Dim and low o'er the hills shone the sinking sunWhen the fiercest charge of the fight was done.With a swarming shout came the fearful shock,As when breakers swell on the fast-bound rock,And the high stone walls that the broad road hemWere but feeble barriers the tide to stem;For the rebels quailed and their fire grew tameAs the fierce, wild rush of the Northmen came.
With no foe in front, then our boys looked 'roundTo see if their comrades were gaining ground.To the left the ranks of the foemen grayWere all broken and fast were drifting away,Like the flying clouds by the west breeze rivenWhen the blue sky gleams through their rifts at even.But away to the right where the grand hills roseThere the foe fell back 'neath the heavy blows;But their ranks were stubborn and broken not,Although beaten and torn by the howling shot.There the bullets hissed and the shells shrieked nighLike a demon troop on a revel high.As the rifles cracked sharp, the white wreaths curled, 'Round each cannon's mouth fast the war-cloud swirl'd,And the wreathing clouds from the bursting shellsScattered lightning out from their misty cells,And their jagged missiles were downward hurledAs their fleecy folds in the blue air curled.
Then the twilight came, and the cannon's glare,Seeming angry and red through the dusky air,For a time lit up the dark ridge's crest;Then the wintry darkness hushed all to rest.