by George H. Boker.Bold captain of the Body-Guard,
I'll troll a stave to thee!
My voice is somewhat harsh and hard,
And rough my minstrelsy.
I've cheered until my throat is sore
For how our boys at Beaufort bore;
Yet here's a cheer for thee!
I hear thy jingling spurs and reins,
Thy sabre at thy knee;
The blood runs lighter through my veins,
As I before me see
Thy hundred men, with thrusts and blows,
Ride down a thousand stubborn foes,
The foremost led by thee.
With pistol snap and rifle crack--
Mere salvos fired to honor thee--
Ye plunge, and stamp, and shoot, and hack
The way your swords make free;
Then back again — the path is wide
This time — ye gods! it was a ride,
The ride they took with thee!
No guardsman of the whole command
Halts, quails, or turns to flee;
With bloody spur and steady hand
They gallop where they see
Thy leading plume stream out ahead,
O'er flying, wounded, dying, dead;
They can but follow thee.
So, captain of the Body-Guard,
I pledge a health to thee!
I hope to see thy shoulders starred,
My Paladin; and we
Shall laugh at fortune in the fray,
Whene'er you lead your well-known way
To death or victory!