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| ’T WAS amidst a scene of blood, | |
| On a bright autumnal day, | |
| When misfortune like a flood | |
| Swept our fairest hopes away; | |
| ’T was on Savannah’s plain, | 5 |
| On the spot we love so well, | |
| Amid heaps of gallant slain, | |
| That the daring Jasper fell! | |
| |
| He had borne him in the fight, | |
| Like a soldier in his prime, | 10 |
| Like a bold and stalwart knight, | |
| Of the glorious olden time; | |
| And unharmed by sabre-blow, | |
| And untouched by leaden ball, | |
| He had battled with the foe, | 15 |
| Till he heard the trumpet’s call. | |
| |
| But he turned him at the sound, | |
| For he knew the strife was o’er, | |
| That in vain on freedom’s ground | |
| Had her children shed their gore; | 20 |
| So he slowly turned away, | |
| With the remnant of the band, | |
| Who, amid the bloody fray, | |
| Had escaped the foeman’s hand. | |
| |
| But his banner caught his eye, | 25 |
| As it trailed upon the dust, | |
| And he saw his comrade die, | |
| Ere he yielded up his trust. | |
| “To the rescue!” loud he cried, | |
| “To the rescue, gallant men!” | 30 |
| And he dashed into the tide | |
| Of the battle-stream again. | |
| |
| And then fierce the contest rose, | |
| O’er its field of broidered gold, | |
| And the blood of friends and foes | 35 |
| Stained alike its silken fold; | |
| But, unheeding wound and blow, | |
| He has snatched it midst the strife, | |
| He has borne that flag away, | |
| But its ransom is his life! | 40 |
| |
| “To my father take my sword,” | |
| Thus the dying hero said, | |
| “Tell him that my latest word | |
| Was a blessing on his head; | |
| And when Death had seized my frame, | 45 |
| And uplifted was his dart, | |
| That I ne’er forgot the name | |
| Which was dearest to my heart. | |
| |
| “And tell her whose favor gave | |
| This fair banner to our band, | 50 |
| That I died its folds to save, | |
| From the foe’s polluting hand; | |
| And let all my comrades hear, | |
| When my form lies cold in death, | |
| That their friend remained sincere | 55 |
| To his last expiring breath.” | |
| |
| It was thus that Jasper fell, | |
| ’Neath that bright autumnal sky; | |
| Has a stone been reared to tell | |
| Where he laid him down to die? | 60 |
| To the rescue, spirits bold! | |
| To the rescue, gallant men! | |
| Let the marble page unfold | |
| All his daring deeds again! | |
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