Singing in tune, how the scabbards Loud on the stirrup-irons rang, Clinked as the men rose in saddle, Fell as they sank with a clang. What is it moves by the river, Jaded and weary and weak, Gray-backs--a cross on their banner-- Yonder the foe whom they seek. Silence! They see not, they hear not, Tarrying there by the marge: _Forward! Draw sabre! Trot! Gallop!_ _Charge!_ like a hurricane, _charge_! Ah! 'twas a man-trap infernal-- Fire like the deep pit of hell! Volley on volley to meet them, Mixed with the gray rebels' yell. Ninety had ridden to battle, Tracing the enemy's track,-- Ninety had ridden to battle, Nine of the ninety came back. Honor the name of the ninety; Honor the heroes who came Scathless from five hundred muskets, Safe from the lead-bearing flame. Eighty and one of the troopers Lie on the field of the slain-- Lie on the red field of honor: Honor the nine who remain! Cold are the dead there, and gory, There where their life-blood was spilt; Back come the living, each sabre Red from the point to the hilt. Give them three cheers and a tiger! Let the flags wave as they come! Give them the blare of the trumpet Give them the roll of the drum! [Illustration] [Illustration] MANASSAS. July 21, 1861. BY CATHERINE M. WARFIELD. They have met at last--as storm-clouds Meet in heaven, And the Northmen back and bleeding Have been driven: And their thunders have been stilled, And their leaders crushed or killed, And their ranks with terror thrilled, Rent and riven! Like the leaves of Vallambrosa They are lying; In the moonlight, in the midnight, Dead and dying: Like those leaves before the gale, Swept their legions, wild and pale; While the host that made them quail Stood, defying. When aloft in morning sunlight Flags were flaunted, And "swift vengeance on the rebel" Proudly vaunted: Little did they think that night Should close upon their shameful flight, And rebels, victors in the fight, Stand undaunted. But peace to those who perished In our passes! Light be the earth above them; Green the grasses! Long shall Northmen rue the day When they met our stern array, And shrunk from battle's wild affray At Manassas. (Southern.) [Illustration] [Illustration] UPON THE HILL BEFORE CENTREVILLE. July 21, 1861. BY GEORGE H. BOKER.