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158. the bones of Washington. A year ago, and by the maples brown, O'erhanging swift Potomac's broadened wave, Bareheaded stood the heir of England's crown, By the poor stone that shuts an ill-kept grave, Giving meet reverence to the dead that lay Beneath the stripes and stars carved on that stone, Which nothing of inscription doth display, To mar the majesty that broods upon The ten plain letters spelling Washington. England's crown-prince at this arch-rebel's tomb, First Magistrate, twice-chosen, of the States That rose impatient for more elbow-room, And flung the English crown out of their gates. The contrast of those times and these so shows, In this respect of Prince for President, That e'en the trite prize-poem-maker flows Into some lines of grave and deep intent, Describing that young head in solemn reverence bent. Passed there a stir from wasting bone to bone,-- Ran there a thrill through the great chief's gray dust, That the old king's great-grandson by his stone Shoul
Doc. 53.-fight at Occoquan, Va. New-York Herald account. United States steamer Stepping Stones, Occoquan Bay, Potomac River, Feb. 20, 1862. quite a brisk little action has just taken place in Occoquan Bay, between the Stepping Stones and a rebel field-battery of five guns. This morning we ran alongside the Yankee, now the flag-ship, when a rifled twelve-pounder, belonging to that vessel, was put on board of us. The gun, which, while on board the Yankee, had been mounted on a slide, was placed on a field-carriage, in view of our high bulwarks. Lieut. Commanding Eastman came on board, with the gig's crew, to take temporary command. We then cast off, towing the launch Decatur, with a full crew from the Yankee, commanded by Master's Mate Lawrence, a young gentleman that Capt. Eastman generally intrusts with special duties, such as that of to-day. It was evident that something was up, and it soon became certain that Occoquan Bay was to be reconnoitred. We ran up thre
Doc. 83.-occupation of Cockpit Point, Va. New-York Herald account. United States steamer Stepping Stones, Mattawoman Creek, Potomac River, March 11, 1862. on Sunday, at noon, Lieut. Commanding Badger, of the Anacostia, observing the absence of the usual sentries at Cockpit Point, and the familiar sights incident thereto, concluded that the rebels had evacuated. Acting on this supposition, Capt. Badger ran alongside the Yankee and inquired of Commodore Wyman what he should do. The Commodore told him to take the Piedmontesa and reconnoitre. He did so, and the result was he was satisfied that the rebels had really left. Capt. Badger then went back to the Yankee and reported to this effect, and asked permission to test the matter by shelling the battery, when the Commodore gave him permission to do so at long range — not without reason — apprehending some diabolical trick. This was done. Shell after shell was thrown into the Point. Soldiers of General Hooker's division
ith fair, promising lips, and arms O'erladen with the gifts, should make me rich. And like a bauble-loving child, I fear My hands have grasped the tinsel, not the gold. And yet I would not lose my last year's life; I had no love for the dear mother-land, No holy pride in her free floating flag, Till Sumter fell, and hearts beat martially, And voices rang like trumpets in my ears, And gathering thousands sought the Capital, To stay the threatening flood that treason poured. A year ago, upon Potomac's banks, Silence was sleeping; and the stars shone down On quiet cities, on the talking waves, Or glanced through lovely forests. But to-night The hills are white with tents; the camp-fires glow; The cannon wait to utter burning words; The sentries keep their watch. And God looks down Upon the infant nation as it learns A newer, harder lesson. There are homes That rang with mirth and song a year ago, Whose lights are quenched in death. Young hearts have laid Their life upon the altar, a
as ever, With their battle-shout and blade, They shed new lustre on their mother, When that final charge they made. So let the Yankees, etc. Old Abe may make another effort, For to take his onward way, But his legions then as ever, Will be forced to run away. So let the Yankees, etc. Brave Jeff. and glorious Beauregard, With dashing Johnston, noble, true, Will meet their hireling hosts again, And scatter them like morning dew. So let the Yankees, etc. When the Hessian horde is driven, O'er Potomac's classic flood, The pulses of a new-born freedom, Then will stir old Maryland's blood. So let the Yankees, etc. From the lofty Alleghanies, To old Worcester's sea-washed shore, Her sons will come to greet the victors, There in good old Baltimore. So let the Yankees, etc. Then with voices light and gladsome, We will swell the choral strain, Telling that our dear old mother, Glorious Maryland's free again. So let the Yankees, etc. Then we'll crown our warrior chieftains, Who have led us in t
be a beacon-brand. At each Iowa hearth stood stern a mailed man-- Young Kansas knelt in wrath, and swore with Michigan! A wall of flame blazed up the border-line; A thousand camp-fires lit the midnight sky; The white tents glistened in the trampled rye; An armed man replaced each ash and pine; The trooper rode where erst had grazed his kine; The barley-blades grew up to bayonets; A navy tore the frightened fisher's nets; A crusade swarmed across each mount and moor, Their fane to rescue by Potomac's shore; The first great hearts beat out at Baltimore. O zeal too rash! O treason too profound! O feeble king! O keen and subtle Warwick! O quiet plains that blood has made historic! O simple hearts that valor has renowned! O carnivals where vulture gorged with hound! O martyrdoms where yet the relics bleach! O agonies that words can never reach! O heroisms that must ever thrill! The brook is red that flows by Centreville; The Leesburg bluffs are ghostly in the dun, A thousand spectres st
res--“O my brother!” then he cried. And he bore the body back again, and laid it 'neath the moon, Ah! 'twas shame and pity, noble youth, thy spirit fled so soon; For with speed the news was bruited, at the coming of the dawn; Through the Southern camp a tremor ran — a noble heart was gone. “He deserted, and he perished.” But they said it not with scorn. For denied all leave of absence, yet his heart was ever true; And upon the wings of love to meet his own sweetheart he flew. She was o'er Potomac's water, far beyond its swelling tide Was the fair one who, betrothed to him, had sworn to be his bride, And you ne'er would find a nobler pair in all the world beside. Who shall dare convey the news to her? If any be so bold, Let him pray for nerves of triple strength, and heart that's icy cold! They be few can stay a woman's tears, or soothe her in distress; Since the balm so offered fails to heal, e'en silence wounds her less; And proud manhood, when it deigus to bend, is rough in te
eer. Poor Volunteer! the shot, the blow, Or swift disease hath laid him low; And few his early loss deplore-- His battle fought, his journey o'er. Alas! no wife's fond arms caressed. His cheek no tender mother pressed, No pitying soul was by his side, As lonely in his tent he died. He died — the Volunteer — at noon; At evening came the small platoon That soon will leave him to his rest, With sods upon his manly breast. Hark to their fire! his only knell-- More solemn than the passing bell; For, ah! it tells a spirit flown, Unshriven, to the dark unknown. His deeds and fate shall fade away, Forgotten since his dying day, And never on the roll of Fame Shall be inscribed his humble name. Alas! like him, how many more Lie cold upon Potomac's shore! How many green unnoted graves Are bordered by those placid waves! Sleep, soldier, sleep! from sorrow free, And sin and strife. 'Tis well with thee. 'Tis well: though not a single tear Laments the buried Volunteer! --Evening Po
ould produce a better effect than anything else that can be done, and would have the effect to neutralize a large portion of the enemy's force. G. B. McClellan. Barnard to McClellan.Washington, March 19, 1862, 2.30 P. M. dear general: Fox didn't like the propeller plan; thinks the channel could not be effectually obstructed in that way. I told him you and I both objected to the other (landing plan), which I consider an exact parallel to the expedition of Hooker's to capture the Potomac batteries, and where he would have got captured himself; or, more truly, to the last plan, to make a campaign merely to take batteries as preliminary to a campaign. I just saw Stanton, and was must gratified by what he said. It was: Gen. McClellan has no firmer friend than myself; but I may not be where I am long. I think Gen, McClellan ought not to move till he is fully ready. I told him that the Mystic would be in Hampton Roads in ten days, and then we could certainly control the M
rmy, fifty thousand strong, had crossed the Potomac at Leesburg and had concentrated around Frederick, the scene of the Barbara Frietchie legend, only forty miles from Washington. When it became known that Lee, elated by his victory at Second Bull Run, had taken the daring step of advancing into Maryland, and now threatened the capital of the Republic, McClellan, commanding the Army of the Potomac, pushed his forces forward to encounter the invaders. Harper's Ferry, at the junction of the Potomac and the Shenandoah rivers, was a valuable defense against invasion through the Valley of Virginia, but once the Confederates had crossed it, a veritable trap. General Halleck ordered it held and General Lee sent Stonewall Jackson to take it, by attacking the fortress on the Virginia side. Jackson began his march on September 10th with secret instructions from his commander to encompass and capture the Lee locks the gates Sharpsburg, Maryland, September 17, 1862. There were long m
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