Browsing named entities in Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 11. (ed. Reverend J. William Jones). You can also browse the collection for Nemesis or search for Nemesis in all documents.

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Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 11. (ed. Reverend J. William Jones), General Beauregard's report of the battle of Drury's Bluff. (search)
Artillery), and captured in mid street; a few yet, more too late, and wholly unable to follow; I, of course, again doffing the black to don the gray, among these last. Right briskly did those invaders (bold, quick men, for Yankees,) occupy the village, plant cannon at each end of it, spy out Jackson's trains, and begin to reach forth the hand to grasp them, while we, cut off and almost powerless, make such resistance as we may. Haste thee, Master Shields. What thou doest do quickly! for Nemesis is coming, and thy time is short—too short, alas! for Shields, for mortal man; for lo! yonder, one hath clattered through the bridge, and bounding up the heights where the forces lay, pressing his steed with burning spurs, his visage all aglow and blue eye blazing, and shouts: Beat the Long Roll! Drums roll with palpitating throb; men spring to the ranks, cannoneers harness; and ere Shields can brush away the flimsy obstacles between him and the trains, already Jackson comes streaming ba
Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 11. (ed. Reverend J. William Jones), Stonewall Jackson. (search)
Artillery), and captured in mid street; a few yet, more too late, and wholly unable to follow; I, of course, again doffing the black to don the gray, among these last. Right briskly did those invaders (bold, quick men, for Yankees,) occupy the village, plant cannon at each end of it, spy out Jackson's trains, and begin to reach forth the hand to grasp them, while we, cut off and almost powerless, make such resistance as we may. Haste thee, Master Shields. What thou doest do quickly! for Nemesis is coming, and thy time is short—too short, alas! for Shields, for mortal man; for lo! yonder, one hath clattered through the bridge, and bounding up the heights where the forces lay, pressing his steed with burning spurs, his visage all aglow and blue eye blazing, and shouts: Beat the Long Roll! Drums roll with palpitating throb; men spring to the ranks, cannoneers harness; and ere Shields can brush away the flimsy obstacles between him and the trains, already Jackson comes streaming ba