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Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 6. (ed. Frank Moore) 6 0 Browse Search
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Browsing named entities in Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 6. (ed. Frank Moore). You can also browse the collection for Eddie Lee or search for Eddie Lee in all documents.

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Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 6. (ed. Frank Moore), chapter 125 (search)
fer!--bring the drum, To test this noble youth!” And well his part he did perform, A “drummer-boy,” in truth! “Yes, madam, I will take your boy,” The captain kindly said. “Oh! bring him back,” her quick reply, “Unnumbered with the dead! And Eddie Lee, of Tennessee, Shall play for you the reveille.” 'Twas many a weary march was made, To sound of drum and fife, And well the “drummer-boy” essayed To play the march of life; Each soldier loved and sought to share Their part of good with him; Ton that blood-stained field of woe The darkness threw its pall! The morning dawned on flying foe; When, list!--the “morning call!” Our “drummer-boy” from Tennessee, Beating for help the reveille! Upon the valley sod he lay Beside a lifeless foe, Whose dying hand had sought to stay The life-blood's ebbing flow: The quivering drum yet echoing The beating of his heart-- The encamping angel beckoning From drum and fife to part! And Eddie Lee, of Tennessee, Awaits the
Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 6. (ed. Frank Moore), chapter 128 (search)
A New Cassabianca.--A correspondent, giving an account, by a rebel prisoner who participated in the affair, of the capture of the Harriet Lane, at Galveston, Texas, relates the following remarkable incident: Almost the first men struck down were the gallant Captain Wainwright and Lieut. Lee, who both fought, the prisoner says, with a desperation and valor that no mortal could surpass. He saw them bleeding and prostrate upon the deck, still dealing death among their enemies. One young son of Captain Wainwright--only ten years old, just think of it!--stood at the cabin door, a revolver in each hand, and never ceased firing until he had expended every shot. One of his poor little hands was disabled by a ball, shattering his four fingers, and then his infantile soul gave way; he burst into tears, and cried: Do you want to kill me? Darling young hero — may his country never forget him! Where is the Hemans to wed his name to immortal verse, like another Cassabianca? Philanthropi