A thousand fell where Kemper led; A thousand died where Garnett bled: In blinding flame and strangling smoke The remnant through the batteries broke And crossed the works with Armistead. “Once more in Glory’s van with me!” Virginia cried to Tennessee: “We two together, come what may, Shall stand upon these works to-day!” (The reddest day in history.) Brave Tennessee! In reckless way Virginia heard her comrade say: “Close round this rent and riddled rag!” What time she set her battle-flag Amid the guns of Doubleday. But who shall break the guards that wait Before the awful face of Fate? The tattered standards of the South Were shriveled at the cannon’s mouth, And all her hopes were desolate. In vain the Tennesseean set His breast against the bayonet! In vain Virginia charged and raged, A tigress in her wrath uncaged, Till all the hill was red and wet! Above the bayonets, mixed and crossed, Men saw a gray, gigantic ghost Receding through the battle-cloud, And heard across the tempest loud The death-cry of a nation lost! The brave went down! Without disgrace They leaped to Ruin’s red embrace. They only heard Fame’s thunders wake, And saw the dazzling sun-burst break In smiles on Glory’s bloody face! They fell, who lifted up a hand And bade the sun in heaven to stand! They smote and fell, who set the bars Against the progress of the stars, And stayed the march of Motherland! They stood, who saw the future come On through the fight’s delirium! They smote and stood, who held the hope Of nations on that slippery slope Amid the cheers of Christendom! God lives! He forged the iron will That clutched and held that trembling hill. God lives and reigns! He built and lent The heights for Freedom’s battlement Where floats her flag in triumph still! Fold up the banners! Smelt the guns! Love rules. Her gentler purpose runs, A mighty mother turns in tears The pages of her battle years, Lamenting all her fallen sons! WILL HENRY THOMPSON. (By special permission of the author, and of The Century Company.) 37 THOMAS AT CHICKAMAUGA It was that fierce contested field when Chickamauga lay Beneath the wild tornado that swept her pride away; Her dimpling dales and circling hills dyed crimson with the flood That had its sources in the springs that throb with human blood. “_Go say to General Hooker to reinforce his right!_” Said Thomas to his aide-de-camp, when wildly went the fight; In front the battle thundered, it roared both right and left, But like a rock “Pap” Thomas stood upon the crested cleft.