|
|||||||||||||
Gettysburg By Herman Melville |
|||||||||||||
The Check. (July, 1863.) O pride of the days in prime of the months Now trebled in great renown, When before the ark of our holy cause Fell Dagon down— Dagon foredoomed, who, armed and targed, Never his impious heart enlarged Beyond that hour; god walled his power, And there the last invader charged. He charged, and in that charge condensed His all of hate and all of fire; He sought to blast us in his scorn, And wither us in his ire. Before him went the shriek of shells— Aerial screamings, taunts and yells; Then the three waves in flashed advance Surged, but were met, and back they set: Pride was repelled by sterner pride, And Right is a strong-hold yet. Before our lines it seemed a beach Which wild September gales have strown With havoc on wreck, and dashed therewith Pale crews unknown— Men, arms, and steeds. The evening sun Died on the face of each lifeless one, And died along the winding marge of fight And searching-parties lone. Sloped on the hill the mounds were green, Our center held that place of graves, And some still hold it in their swoon, And over these a glory waves. The warrior-monument, crashed in fight, Shall soar transfigured in loftier light, A meaning ampler bear; Soldier and priest with hymn and prayer Have laid the stone, and every bone Shall rest in honor there. | |||||||||||||
|