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| ’T WAS the last fight at Fredericksburg,— | |
| Perhaps the day you reck, | |
| Our boys, the Twenty-Second Maine, | |
| Kept Early’s men in check. | |
| Just where Wade Hampton boomed away | 5 |
| The fight went neck and neck. | |
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| All day the weaker wing we held, | |
| And held it with a will. | |
| Five several stubborn times we charged | |
| The battery on the hill, | 10 |
| And five times beaten back, re-formed, | |
| And kept our column still. | |
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| At last from out the centre fight | |
| Spurred up a General’s Aid. | |
| “That battery must silenced be!” | 15 |
| He cried, as past he sped. | |
| Our Colonel simply touched his cap, | |
| And then, with measured tread, | |
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| To lead the crouching line once more | |
| The grand old fellow came. | 20 |
| No wounded man but raised his head | |
| And strove to gasp his name, | |
| And those who could not speak nor stir, | |
| “God blessed him” just the same. | |
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| For he was all the world to us, | 25 |
| That hero gray and grim. | |
| Right well he knew that fearful slope | |
| We ’d climb with none but him, | |
| Though while his white head led the way | |
| We ’d charge hell’s portals in. | 30 |
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| This time we were not half-way up, | |
| When, midst the storm of shell, | |
| Our leader, with his sword upraised, | |
| Beneath our bayonets fell. | |
| And, as we bore him back, the foe | 35 |
| Set up a joyous yell. | |
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| Our hearts went with him. Back we swept, | |
| And when the bugle said | |
| “Up, charge, again!” no man was there | |
| But hung his dogged head. | 40 |
| “We ’ve no one left to lead us now,” | |
| The sullen soldiers said. | |
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| Just then before the laggard line | |
| The Colonel’s horse we spied, | |
| Bay Billy with his trappings on, | 45 |
| His nostrils swelling wide, | |
| As though still on his gallant back | |
| The master sat astride. | |
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| Right royally he took the place | |
| That was of old his wont, | 50 |
| And with a neigh that seemed to say, | |
| Above the battle’s brunt, | |
| “How can the Twenty-Second charge | |
| If I am not in front?” | |
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| Like statues rooted there we stood, | 55 |
| And gazed a little space, | |
| Above that floating mane we missed | |
| The dear familiar face, | |
| But we saw Bay Billy’s eye of fire, | |
| And it gave us heart of grace. | 60 |
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| No bugle-call could rouse us all | |
| As that brave sight had done. | |
| Down all the battered line we felt | |
| A lightning impulse run. | |
| Up! up! the hill we followed Bill, | 65 |
| And we captured every gun! | |
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| And when upon the conquered height | |
| Died out the battle’s hum, | |
| Vainly mid living and the dead | |
| We sought our leader dumb. | 70 |
| It seemed as if a spectre steed | |
| To win that day had come. | |
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| And then the dusk and dew of night | |
| Fell softly o’er the plain, | |
| As though o’er man’s dread work of death | 75 |
| The angels wept again, | |
| And drew night’s curtain gently round | |
| A thousand beds of pain. | |
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| All night the surgeons’ torches went, | |
| The ghastly rows between,— | 80 |
| All night with solemn step I paced | |
| The torn and bloody green. | |
| But who that fought in the big war | |
| Such dread sights have not seen? | |
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| At last the morning broke. The lark | 85 |
| Sang in the merry skies | |
| As if to e’en the sleepers there | |
| It bade awake, and rise! | |
| Though naught but that last trump of all | |
| Could ope their heavy eyes. | 90 |
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| And then once more with banners gay, | |
| Stretched out the long Brigade. | |
| Trimly upon the furrowed field | |
| The troops stood on parade, | |
| And bravely mid the ranks were closed | 95 |
| The gaps the fight had made. | |
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| Not half the Twenty-Second’s men | |
| Were in their place that morn, | |
| And Corporal Dick, who yester-noon | |
| Stood six brave fellows on, | 100 |
| Now touched my elbow in the ranks, | |
| For all between were gone. | |
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| Ah! who forgets that dreary hour | |
| When, as with misty eyes, | |
| To call the old familiar roll | 105 |
| The solemn Sergeant tries,— | |
| One feels that thumping of the heart | |
| As no prompt voice replies. | |
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| And as in faltering tone and slow | |
| The last few names were said, | 110 |
| Across the field some missing horse | |
| Toiled up with weary tread, | |
| It caught the Sergeant’s eye, and quick | |
| Bay Billy’s name he read. | |
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| Yes! there the old bay hero stood, | 115 |
| All safe from battle’s harms, | |
| And ere an order could be heard, | |
| Or the bugle’s quick alarms, | |
| Down all the front, from end to end, | |
| The troops presented arms! | 120 |
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| Not all the shoulder-straps on earth | |
| Could still our mighty cheer; | |
| And ever from that famous day, | |
| When rang the roll-call clear, | |
| Bay Billy’s name was read, and then | 125 |
| The whole line answered, “Here!” | |
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