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

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Europe (search for this): chapter 3
3. our Chief. An old man sits in his old oak chair-- Full seventy years have crossed the line, Deep ploughed on his ample brow by care, Where torrid and temperate zones combine: Through years, through care, from first to last, The flag of his country he nails to the mast. His eye glances over the map of the world-- For the moment, the war-cry in Europe is stilled; While the dark crimson banner at home is unfurled, And the States, disunited, with discord are filled: The patriot mourns — but, still true to the last, The flag of his country he nails to the mast. The Stars and the Stripes are in danger to-day! Carolina's secession the world fills with dread-- But the chieftain laments with a deeper dismay; For his own native State lies like one of the dead! Virginia, the mother of States and of men, To the music she taught us will ne'er march again! We will fight for our flag with that chieftain commanding-- The Southrons are false to the red, white, and blue-- The “bow in the clo
Carolina City (North Carolina, United States) (search for this): chapter 3
e brow by care, Where torrid and temperate zones combine: Through years, through care, from first to last, The flag of his country he nails to the mast. His eye glances over the map of the world-- For the moment, the war-cry in Europe is stilled; While the dark crimson banner at home is unfurled, And the States, disunited, with discord are filled: The patriot mourns — but, still true to the last, The flag of his country he nails to the mast. The Stars and the Stripes are in danger to-day! Carolina's secession the world fills with dread-- But the chieftain laments with a deeper dismay; For his own native State lies like one of the dead! Virginia, the mother of States and of men, To the music she taught us will ne'er march again! We will fight for our flag with that chieftain commanding-- The Southrons are false to the red, white, and blue-- The “bow in the cloud” that our fathers left standing, We swear to preserve it — mast, pennon, and hue! Mid Sinai's deep thunders its colors we
October 15th (search for this): chapter 4
e flying, And many a man and stolen horse Were bleeding, limping, dying. I heard the Rebel General say, “This place is rather shelly: I feel just like I did that day-- The pains were in my----.” I thought about the Booneville fight-- Thought this a noble omen; Just then I heard the General scream-- “You must not shoot a woman.” I turned to see what he could mean-- My place was nice and shady; No stranger sight was ever seen-- Our General was a lady! I saw her on a splendid coach, By four white horses drawn; But ere she made a close approach, The Rebels all had gone. Just then I saw a Chief in sight, With firm and steady gait, And knew that he would end the fight, If Price would only wait. Ere now, his train, and staff, and guard, Would have surrounded Price, Had they not had to toil so hard With bergs of rolling ice! I thought a shower struck my head From an iceberg streaming; I ‘woke, all shivering in my bed, And found I had been dreaming. St. Louis Evening News, Oct. 1
Elizabeth Price (search for this): chapter 4
4. the Georgetown battle. I had a dream the other night, When sleeping snug and nice: I thought I saw an awful fight Between our folks and Price> With pen and paper in my hand, Near Georgetown, there I stood; I never had described a fight, But thought I quickly should. I saw an army from the West, On stolen horses come-- Jus But ere she made a close approach, The Rebels all had gone. Just then I saw a Chief in sight, With firm and steady gait, And knew that he would end the fight, If Price would only wait. Ere now, his train, and staff, and guard, Would have surrounded Price, Had they not had to toil so hard With bergs of rolling ice! I thought a send the fight, If Price would only wait. Ere now, his train, and staff, and guard, Would have surrounded Price, Had they not had to toil so hard With bergs of rolling ice! I thought a shower struck my head From an iceberg streaming; I ‘woke, all shivering in my bed, And found I had been dreaming. St. Louis Evening News, Oct. 15
Ellsworth (search for this): chapter 5
by that valley of the dead. The one, with forehead saintly bland, And lips of blessing, not command, Leaned, weeping, on her olive wand. The other's brows were scarred and knit; His restless eyes were watch-fires lit, His hands for battle-gauntlets fit. “How long!” --I knew the voice of Peace, ”Is there no respite?--no release?-- When shall the hopeless quarrel cease? ”Oh Lord, how long!--One human soul Is more than any parchment scroll, Or any flag the winds unroll. ”What price was Ellsworth's, young and brave? How weigh the gift that Lyon gave? Or count the cost of Winthrop's grave? ”Oh brother! if thine eye can see, Tell how and when the end shall be-- What hope remains for thee or me.“ Then Freedom sternly said: ”I shun No strife nor pang beneath the sun, When human rights are staked and won. ”I knelt with Ziska's hunted flock; I watched in Toussaint's cell of rock; I walked with Sydney to the block. ”The moor of Marston felt my tread; Through Jersey snows
Lyon (search for this): chapter 5
saintly bland, And lips of blessing, not command, Leaned, weeping, on her olive wand. The other's brows were scarred and knit; His restless eyes were watch-fires lit, His hands for battle-gauntlets fit. “How long!” --I knew the voice of Peace, ”Is there no respite?--no release?-- When shall the hopeless quarrel cease? ”Oh Lord, how long!--One human soul Is more than any parchment scroll, Or any flag the winds unroll. ”What price was Ellsworth's, young and brave? How weigh the gift that Lyon gave? Or count the cost of Winthrop's grave? ”Oh brother! if thine eye can see, Tell how and when the end shall be-- What hope remains for thee or me.“ Then Freedom sternly said: ”I shun No strife nor pang beneath the sun, When human rights are staked and won. ”I knelt with Ziska's hunted flock; I watched in Toussaint's cell of rock; I walked with Sydney to the block. ”The moor of Marston felt my tread; Through Jersey snows the march I led; My voice Magenta's charges sped.
Toussaint (search for this): chapter 5
e? ”Oh Lord, how long!--One human soul Is more than any parchment scroll, Or any flag the winds unroll. ”What price was Ellsworth's, young and brave? How weigh the gift that Lyon gave? Or count the cost of Winthrop's grave? ”Oh brother! if thine eye can see, Tell how and when the end shall be-- What hope remains for thee or me.“ Then Freedom sternly said: ”I shun No strife nor pang beneath the sun, When human rights are staked and won. ”I knelt with Ziska's hunted flock; I watched in Toussaint's cell of rock; I walked with Sydney to the block. ”The moor of Marston felt my tread; Through Jersey snows the march I led; My voice Magenta's charges sped. ”But now, through weary day and night, I watch a vague and aimless fight For leave to strike one blow aright. ”On either side my foe they own: One guards through love his ghastly throne, And one through fear to reverence grown. ”Why wait we longer, mocked, betrayed By open foes, or those afraid To speed thy coming thr
Theodore Winthrop (search for this): chapter 5
ng, not command, Leaned, weeping, on her olive wand. The other's brows were scarred and knit; His restless eyes were watch-fires lit, His hands for battle-gauntlets fit. “How long!” --I knew the voice of Peace, ”Is there no respite?--no release?-- When shall the hopeless quarrel cease? ”Oh Lord, how long!--One human soul Is more than any parchment scroll, Or any flag the winds unroll. ”What price was Ellsworth's, young and brave? How weigh the gift that Lyon gave? Or count the cost of Winthrop's grave? ”Oh brother! if thine eye can see, Tell how and when the end shall be-- What hope remains for thee or me.“ Then Freedom sternly said: ”I shun No strife nor pang beneath the sun, When human rights are staked and won. ”I knelt with Ziska's hunted flock; I watched in Toussaint's cell of rock; I walked with Sydney to the block. ”The moor of Marston felt my tread; Through Jersey snows the march I led; My voice Magenta's charges sped. ”But now, through weary day and
Marston (search for this): chapter 5
Or any flag the winds unroll. ”What price was Ellsworth's, young and brave? How weigh the gift that Lyon gave? Or count the cost of Winthrop's grave? ”Oh brother! if thine eye can see, Tell how and when the end shall be-- What hope remains for thee or me.“ Then Freedom sternly said: ”I shun No strife nor pang beneath the sun, When human rights are staked and won. ”I knelt with Ziska's hunted flock; I watched in Toussaint's cell of rock; I walked with Sydney to the block. ”The moor of Marston felt my tread; Through Jersey snows the march I led; My voice Magenta's charges sped. ”But now, through weary day and night, I watch a vague and aimless fight For leave to strike one blow aright. ”On either side my foe they own: One guards through love his ghastly throne, And one through fear to reverence grown. ”Why wait we longer, mocked, betrayed By open foes, or those afraid To speed thy coming through my aid? ”Why watch to see who win or fall?-- I shake the dust agains
John G. Whittier (search for this): chapter 5
5. the Watchers. by John G. Whittier. Beside a stricken field I stood; On the torn turf, on grass, on wood, Hung heavily the dew of blood. Still in their fresh mounds lay the slain; But all the air was quick with pain, And gusty sighs and tearful rain. Two angels, each with drooping head, And folded wings, and noiseless tread, Watched by that valley of the dead. The one, with forehead saintly bland, And lips of blessing, not command, Leaned, weeping, on her olive wand. The other's brows were scarred and knit; His restless eyes were watch-fires lit, His hands for battle-gauntlets fit. “How long!” --I knew the voice of Peace, ”Is there no respite?--no release?-- When shall the hopeless quarrel cease? ”Oh Lord, how long!--One human soul Is more than any parchment scroll, Or any flag the winds unroll. ”What price was Ellsworth's, young and brave? How weigh the gift that Lyon gave? Or count the cost of Winthrop's grave? ”Oh brother! if thine eye can see, Tell how and wh
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