Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 7.
Frank Moore, Ed.

[54]
Once, twice, and thrice the fight
Hurling; red battle-piles,
Torn in his mighty wrath,
Heaping his thunder-path.
Smiting on, smiting on,
Till the fierce field was won;
And the foe, wild with fear,
Plunged in his back career,
Wild for the river near,
Wild to hide there the drear
Change from the onset, bright
With his hope's fickle light;
Triumph is ours, Hurrah!

Victory ours, Hurrah!
Proudly Meade towers, Hurrah!
Banks, too, whose starry brain
Shines over'war's domain
Bright as in civic reign;
Who, with unyielding strain,
Rent the Port Hudson chain,
Last of the bonds that vain
Flung the mad foe across
Mississippi's mighty path.
Have ye seen torrents toss
Off their ice-bands in wrath?
So, when the moment came,
Did the strong River claim
All his grand liberty.
Fools, did ye deem to see
Fettered the Conqueror?
He whose majestic sweep
Holds the world's climates! Soar,
Eagle, in rapture! leap
Echoes, as high and bold,
All round the shout is rolled!
As on each roof and hold
Banners from every fold
Flash joy in sunny gold.
As in tones uncontrolled,
Still is the gladness told,
Shouted o'er wood and wold,
In the bell's music knolled,
Vicksburgh is ours, Hurrah!
The valley is ours, Hurrah!
Grant, Banks, and Meade ours, Hurrah!