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Browsing named entities in a specific section of Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 4. (ed. Frank Moore). Search the whole document.

Found 14 total hits in 4 results.

Cumberland River (Kentucky, United States) (search for this): chapter 146
47. by the Banks of the Cumberland. by S. C. Mercer. By the banks of the Cumberland echoes the roar Of the sentinel's warning — the foe's on the shore! Our war-drums are beaten, our bugles are blown, And our legions advance to their musical tone. By the banks of the Cumberland, slippery and red, With the death-dew of battle, and strewn with the dead, Kentucky has routed her insolent foe, And victory's star gilds the night of our woe. By those banks, that once bloomed like an Eden of joy, The Cumberland, slippery and red, With the death-dew of battle, and strewn with the dead, Kentucky has routed her insolent foe, And victory's star gilds the night of our woe. By those banks, that once bloomed like an Eden of joy, The demon of treason stalked forth to destroy. Our rich teeming harvests he swept in his wrath, And the blaze of our dwellings illumined his path. Like an eagle-plumed arrow our Nemesis comes. Shout, soldiers! sound bugles! and clamor, O drums! Let the land ring aloud in the wildness of joy, And the bonfires blaze brightly-but not to destroy. For the God of the Union has prospered the right, And the cohorts of treason have melted in flight. Blow, bugles! roll, river! and tell to the sea That our
Kentucky (Kentucky, United States) (search for this): chapter 146
sentinel's warning — the foe's on the shore! Our war-drums are beaten, our bugles are blown, And our legions advance to their musical tone. By the banks of the Cumberland, slippery and red, With the death-dew of battle, and strewn with the dead, Kentucky has routed her insolent foe, And victory's star gilds the night of our woe. By those banks, that once bloomed like an Eden of joy, The demon of treason stalked forth to destroy. Our rich teeming harvests he swept in his wrath, And the blaze of ots he swept in his wrath, And the blaze of our dwellings illumined his path. Like an eagle-plumed arrow our Nemesis comes. Shout, soldiers! sound bugles! and clamor, O drums! Let the land ring aloud in the wildness of joy, And the bonfires blaze brightly-but not to destroy. For the God of the Union has prospered the right, And the cohorts of treason have melted in flight. Blow, bugles! roll, river! and tell to the sea That our swords shall not rest till Kentucky is free. Louisville Journal
S. C. Mercer (search for this): chapter 146
47. by the Banks of the Cumberland. by S. C. Mercer. By the banks of the Cumberland echoes the roar Of the sentinel's warning — the foe's on the shore! Our war-drums are beaten, our bugles are blown, And our legions advance to their musical tone. By the banks of the Cumberland, slippery and red, With the death-dew of battle, and strewn with the dead, Kentucky has routed her insolent foe, And victory's star gilds the night of our woe. By those banks, that once bloomed like an Eden of joy, The demon of treason stalked forth to destroy. Our rich teeming harvests he swept in his wrath, And the blaze of our dwellings illumined his path. Like an eagle-plumed arrow our Nemesis comes. Shout, soldiers! sound bugles! and clamor, O drums! Let the land ring aloud in the wildness of joy, And the bonfires blaze brightly-but not to destroy. For the God of the Union has prospered the right, And the cohorts of treason have melted in flight. Blow, bugles! roll, river! and tell to the sea That our
Nemesis (search for this): chapter 146
s of the Cumberland echoes the roar Of the sentinel's warning — the foe's on the shore! Our war-drums are beaten, our bugles are blown, And our legions advance to their musical tone. By the banks of the Cumberland, slippery and red, With the death-dew of battle, and strewn with the dead, Kentucky has routed her insolent foe, And victory's star gilds the night of our woe. By those banks, that once bloomed like an Eden of joy, The demon of treason stalked forth to destroy. Our rich teeming harvests he swept in his wrath, And the blaze of our dwellings illumined his path. Like an eagle-plumed arrow our Nemesis comes. Shout, soldiers! sound bugles! and clamor, O drums! Let the land ring aloud in the wildness of joy, And the bonfires blaze brightly-but not to destroy. For the God of the Union has prospered the right, And the cohorts of treason have melted in flight. Blow, bugles! roll, river! and tell to the sea That our swords shall not rest till Kentucky is free. Louisville Journal