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Harrisburgh (Tennessee, United States) (search for this): chapter 187
Heroes of Gettysburgh. Harrisburgh, Pa., Nov. 3, 1863. Frank Moore, Esq.: dear Sir: Perhaps this is too late. Perhaps it is not good enough to appear in the rebellion record. It is nevertheless true, and although its author does not pretend to be a poet, he would wish to record the instance, the singularity of which may attract readers to it, and cause it to be remembered. The hero, Weed, was a citizen of New-York. Of Hazlett I know nothing except that he was a dear friend of Wel never recover that blow. Long may History's muse her fair pages adorn With the names of the heroes who fell on that morn; Who fell for the Union--for Freedom who fell-- Let Fame sound her trumpet proclaiming who fell. Anonymous. The verses are not worth having a name affixed to them. For the facts, however, I am responsible, they having been related to me by an officer of the United States army, in whom I have entire confidence. I am respectfully yours, James Worral. Harrisburgh, Pa.
Ohio (Ohio, United States) (search for this): chapter 187
is too late. Perhaps it is not good enough to appear in the rebellion record. It is nevertheless true, and although its author does not pretend to be a poet, he would wish to record the instance, the singularity of which may attract readers to it, and cause it to be remembered. The hero, Weed, was a citizen of New-York. Of Hazlett I know nothing except that he was a dear friend of Weed's, and in the same regiment, the Fifth United States artillery, a First Lieutenant, and appointed from Ohio. An incident at Gettysburgh. “On to the Round Top!” cried Sykes to his men; “On to the Round Top!” was echoed again; “On to the Round Top!” said noble Steve Weed; Now comes the hour for the Southron to bleed. Weed's fierce artillery foremost in fight; Rebels! prepare ye for death or for flight: Weed's fierce artillery, dreaded of old, Belching destruction — refulgent as gold. On toward the Round Top, revolve the strong wheels, Spurned is the ground by the war-horses' heels; Ploug
New York (New York, United States) (search for this): chapter 187
Heroes of Gettysburgh. Harrisburgh, Pa., Nov. 3, 1863. Frank Moore, Esq.: dear Sir: Perhaps this is too late. Perhaps it is not good enough to appear in the rebellion record. It is nevertheless true, and although its author does not pretend to be a poet, he would wish to record the instance, the singularity of which may attract readers to it, and cause it to be remembered. The hero, Weed, was a citizen of New-York. Of Hazlett I know nothing except that he was a dear friend of Weed's, and in the same regiment, the Fifth United States artillery, a First Lieutenant, and appointed from Ohio. An incident at Gettysburgh. “On to the Round Top!” cried Sykes to his men; “On to the Round Top!” was echoed again; “On to the Round Top!” said noble Steve Weed; Now comes the hour for the Southron to bleed. Weed's fierce artillery foremost in fight; Rebels! prepare ye for death or for flight: Weed's fierce artillery, dreaded of old, Belching destruction — refulgent as gold
Gettysburgh (Pennsylvania, United States) (search for this): chapter 187
Heroes of Gettysburgh. Harrisburgh, Pa., Nov. 3, 1863. Frank Moore, Esq.: dear Sir: Perhaps this is too late. Perhaps it is not good enough to appear in the rebellion record. It is nevertheless true, and although its author does not pretend to be a poet, he would wish to record the instance, the singularity of which may attract readers to it, and cause it to be remembered. The hero, Weed, was a citizen of New-York. Of Hazlett I know nothing except that he was a dear friend of Weed's, and in the same regiment, the Fifth United States artillery, a First Lieutenant, and appointed from Ohio. An incident at Gettysburgh. “On to the Round Top!” cried Sykes to his men; “On to the Round Top!” was echoed again; “On to the Round Top!” said noble Steve Weed; Now comes the hour for the Southron to bleed. Weed's fierce artillery foremost in fight; Rebels! prepare ye for death or for flight: Weed's fierce artillery, dreaded of old, Belching destruction — refulgent as go
Steve Weed (search for this): chapter 187
ers to it, and cause it to be remembered. The hero, Weed, was a citizen of New-York. Of Hazlett I know nothing except that he was a dear friend of Weed's, and in the same regiment, the Fifth United States artillery, a echoed again; “On to the Round Top!” said noble Steve Weed; Now comes the hour for the Southron to bleed. WeWeed's fierce artillery foremost in fight; Rebels! prepare ye for death or for flight: Weed's fierce artillery,Weed's fierce artillery, dreaded of old, Belching destruction — refulgent as gold. On toward the Round Top, revolve the strong wheels,st morn. Bold Mississippians, pause and take breath, Weed is before you — beside him is death! On to the Round Top! the Round Top we gain! Falls gallant Weed from a ball — is he slain? Prone on the earth he lies heavilyn wounded and dying. “Hazlett, come hither,” sighed Weed as he lay; “Hither, my friend — I have something to- Whistles a mine — ball — Hazlett is dead! Dead ere Weed uttered the words he would speak; Dea
Fitz-Hugh Lee (search for this): chapter 187
“On to the Round Top!” was echoed again; “On to the Round Top!” said noble Steve Weed; Now comes the hour for the Southron to bleed. Weed's fierce artillery foremost in fight; Rebels! prepare ye for death or for flight: Weed's fierce artillery, dreaded of old, Belching destruction — refulgent as gold. On toward the Round Top, revolve the strong wheels, Spurned is the ground by the war-horses' heels; Ploughed is the furrow with shrapnel and ball, Little avails them the field's friendly wall. Lee's serried ranks are mowed down as the corn Falls 'neath the cradle on hot harvest morn. Bold Mississippians, pause and take breath, Weed is before you — beside him is death! On to the Round Top! the Round Top we gain! Falls gallant Weed from a ball — is he slain? Prone on the earth he lies heavily sighing, Near him lie gallant men wounded and dying. “Hazlett, come hither,” sighed Weed as he lay; “Hither, my friend — I have something to say.” Hazlett rushed forward, bent do
James Worral (search for this): chapter 187
er,” sighed Weed as he lay; “Hither, my friend — I have something to say.” Hazlett rushed forward, bent down, raised his head-- Whistles a mine — ball — Hazlett is dead! Dead ere Weed uttered the words he would speak; Dead are both heroes on field, cheek to cheek ; Mingling their dying thoughts — their dying breath; Grasped by each other — united in death. Thus fell the gallant artill'ry men twain In the supreme hour of victory slain, Just as the Round Top was won from the foe, And rebels shall never recover that blow. Long may History's muse her fair pages adorn With the names of the heroes who fell on that morn; Who fell for the Union--for Freedom who fell-- Let Fame sound her trumpet proclaiming who fell. Anonymous. The verses are not worth having a name affixed to them. For the facts, however, I am responsible, they having been related to me by an officer of the United States army, in whom I have entire confidence. I am respectfully yours, James Worral. H
Sykes (search for this): chapter 187
ion record. It is nevertheless true, and although its author does not pretend to be a poet, he would wish to record the instance, the singularity of which may attract readers to it, and cause it to be remembered. The hero, Weed, was a citizen of New-York. Of Hazlett I know nothing except that he was a dear friend of Weed's, and in the same regiment, the Fifth United States artillery, a First Lieutenant, and appointed from Ohio. An incident at Gettysburgh. “On to the Round Top!” cried Sykes to his men; “On to the Round Top!” was echoed again; “On to the Round Top!” said noble Steve Weed; Now comes the hour for the Southron to bleed. Weed's fierce artillery foremost in fight; Rebels! prepare ye for death or for flight: Weed's fierce artillery, dreaded of old, Belching destruction — refulgent as gold. On toward the Round Top, revolve the strong wheels, Spurned is the ground by the war-horses' heels; Ploughed is the furrow with shrapnel and ball, Little avails them the f
Hazlett (search for this): chapter 187
ld wish to record the instance, the singularity of which may attract readers to it, and cause it to be remembered. The hero, Weed, was a citizen of New-York. Of Hazlett I know nothing except that he was a dear friend of Weed's, and in the same regiment, the Fifth United States artillery, a First Lieutenant, and appointed from Ohi lies heavily sighing, Near him lie gallant men wounded and dying. “Hazlett, come hither,” sighed Weed as he lay; “Hither, my friend — I have something to say.” Hazlett rushed forward, bent down, raised his head-- Whistles a mine — ball — Hazlett is dead! Dead ere Weed uttered the words he would speak; Dead are both heroes on fieHazlett is dead! Dead ere Weed uttered the words he would speak; Dead are both heroes on field, cheek to cheek ; Mingling their dying thoughts — their dying breath; Grasped by each other — united in death. Thus fell the gallant artill'ry men twain In the supreme hour of victory slain, Just as the Round Top was won from the foe, And rebels shall never recover that blow. Long may History's muse her fair pages ado
Frank Moore (search for this): chapter 187
Heroes of Gettysburgh. Harrisburgh, Pa., Nov. 3, 1863. Frank Moore, Esq.: dear Sir: Perhaps this is too late. Perhaps it is not good enough to appear in the rebellion record. It is nevertheless true, and although its author does not pretend to be a poet, he would wish to record the instance, the singularity of which may attract readers to it, and cause it to be remembered. The hero, Weed, was a citizen of New-York. Of Hazlett I know nothing except that he was a dear friend of Weed's, and in the same regiment, the Fifth United States artillery, a First Lieutenant, and appointed from Ohio. An incident at Gettysburgh. “On to the Round Top!” cried Sykes to his men; “On to the Round Top!” was echoed again; “On to the Round Top!” said noble Steve Weed; Now comes the hour for the Southron to bleed. Weed's fierce artillery foremost in fight; Rebels! prepare ye for death or for flight: Weed's fierce artillery, dreaded of old, Belching destruction — refulgent as gol
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