by a bloody and protracted struggle. Yet it was gained, and was the first and largest success gained anywhere along the whole line of our army. For nearly eight hours, under a scorching sun and destructive fire, you firmly held your footing, and only withdrew when the enemy had largely massed their forces and concentrated their attack upon you. Comrades: You have done much, yet something more remains to be done. The enemy's odious defences still block your access to Vicksburgh. Treason still rules that rebellious city, and closes the Mississippi River against rightful use by the millions who inhabit its sources and the great North-West. Shall not the flag float over Vicksburgh? Shall not the great Father of Waters be opened to lawful commerce? Methinks the emphatic response of one and all of you is: "It shall be so!" Then let us rise to the level of a crowning trial! Let our common sufferings and glories, while uniting as a band of brothers, rouse us to new and surpassing efforts! Let us resolve upon success, God helping us. How and why the general assault failed, it would be useless now to explain. The Thirteenth army corps, acknowledging the good intentions of all, would scorn indulgence in weak regrets and idle criminations. According justice to all, it would only defend itself. If, while the enemy was massing to crush it, assistance was asked for by a diversion at other points, or by reen- I join with you, comrades, in your sympathy forcement, it only asked what, in one case, Major- for the wounded and sorrow for the dead. May General Grant had specifically and peremptorily we not trust-nay, is it not so, that history will ordered—namely, simultaneous and persistent at-associate the martyrs of this sacred struggle for tack all along our lines, until the enemy's outer law and order, liberty and justice, with the honworks should be carried; and what, in the other, ored martyrs of Monmouth and Bunker Hill? by massing a strong force in time upon a weakJOHN A. McCLERNAND, ened point, would have probably insured success. Major-General Commanding. POETRY AND INCIDENTS. MITCHEL. BY W. FRANCIS WILLIAMS "Hung be the heavens with black." Smote him before his course seemed run. The constellations of the sky, The Pleiades, the Southern Cross, Looked sadly down to see him die, To see a nation weep his loss. "Send him to us," the stars might cry; "You do not feel his worth below; Your petty great men do not try The measure of his mind to know. "Send him to us-this is his place, Not 'mid your puny jealousies; You sacrificed him in your race Of envies, strifes and policies. "His eye could pierce our vast expanse, His ear could hear our morning songs, His mind, amid our mystic dance, Could follow all our myriad throngs. "Send him to us! no martyr's soul, No hero slain in righteous wars, No raptured saint could e'er control A holier welcome from the stars." Take him, ye stars! take him on high, His name on martial scrolls to trace. That once was when his country's call VICTORY. BY LIZZIE E. H. BATES. All the day the stormy clouds For the brave and noble dead; Breaks the sombre veil at last, Like to the exultant show Victors make when battle's past. VOL. VI.-POETRY 1 Listen! Hear the deepening roar Shaking earth, and air, and sky, From the distant river shoreHow its echoes thunder by! Does an earthquake stalk abroad O'er Missouri's fated soil, Making one vast grave her sod While her rivers seethe and boil? Listen! No! It is the boom Of the cannon's fearful notes, While the wreaths of battle bloom All around their bellowing throats! Listen! No! It cannot be ! Price is still in full retreat, And our troops in Tennessee Rebel arms shall ne'er defeat! Listen! Still the ceaseless roar Peals along the quivering air, From the city on the shore News of victory it must bear ! Listen! Hear the loud hurrahs In the quiet village streets, While the distant thunder jars Echo still with echo meets. Listen! Loudly peal the bells! Listen! Guns are thundering here! Every thing of victory tells, Hearts of millions yearn to hear. God be praised! the die is cast! God be praised! His arm of wrath Stanches, guides its crimson flow. Listen! Hear the sighing gale That we conquer cannot bring Loved and lost ones back to life That Right conquers, Glory sings O'er the field of deadly strife; That Right conquers still, shall be Balm for hearts with deepest wound, And this thought eternally Sanctifies the battle-ground! BUNKER HILL, ILL., Feb. 17, 1862. "BUT GOD IS OVER ALL." BY M. H. COBB. Night closes in with threat'ning skies, From glowing grates we turn, to think And who their deathly cup shall drink- How fare they in the distant camp- O mothers, wives! distraught with fears, No base ambitions quickened these; But honor dwells where fall the brave, How nobler these than they who fought For in this strife shall be outwrought Where thickest falls war's leaden rain, And on its crimson sea, They closely press, and fight again Remember, ye who watch the night With dimming eyes and pain, Him shall men know as Freedom's son, THE CAPTURE OF NEW-ORLEANS. BY WILLIAM DENSMORE, U.S.N. Come, all you Union-loving men, wherever you may be, I hope you'll pay attention now, and listen unto me, Concerning of a gallant ship, the Brooklyn is her name, Which name deserves to be engraved upon the list of fame. |