The weekly Ottumwa courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1857-1872, 1861-03-13
Death of Young Henry Clay.
BY GEORGE LIPPARD.


and Monterey, saw the clouds come down on
the last charge of Buena Vista, that scene
worthy Of the days Of Washington closed
the day in glory.
Do you tehold that dark ravine, deep
sunken between these precipitous banks? p
Here no sunlight comes, for these walls of
rock wrap the pass in eternal twilight
Withered trees grow between the masses OF
granite, and scattered stones make the bed
Of the ravine uncertain and difficult for the
tread.
Hark That cry, that rush like noun
tain torrent bursting its barriers, and quick
as the lightning flashes from darkness, the
dismal ravine is bathed in red battle light.
From its northern extremity a confused band
of Mexicans an army in ITSELF come yelling
along the pass, treading one another down
as they fly, their banners, spears, horses and
men tossed together in inextricable confu-
sion
BY thousands they rush into the shadows
of the pass, their dark faces reddening by
the sheeted blaze of musketry. The caverns
of the rayine send back the roar of the panic,
and the grey rocks are washed by their blood.
But TIE little band who pursues this army /.
Who are they9 You may see in their firm
heroic ranks, the volunteer costume of Hi
nois and Kentucky. At their head, urging
his men with shouts, rides the gallant MKee,
by his side young Henry Clay, that broad
forehead which reminds you of his father,
bathed in the glare as his sword quivers on
high ere it falls to kill. There, too, wild
figure red with his own blood and the blood
of his Mexican foes, his uniform rent in tat
ters, his arms barred to the shoulders striking
terrible blows with his good sword, Harden,
of Illinois, come CALAMITY forward
The small but iron band hurl the Mexicans
from the heights to the ravine, and follow
up the chase, far down into the eternal twi
light of that mountain pass
Look! As their musketry streams its
steady blaze. you woud think that one ceas-
less sheet of lightning bathed these rocks in
flames. .-.
Over the Mexicans, men, and horse hurl
ed back in mad disaster the Americans dash
on their way never needing the overwhcl-
ming numbers of their Ioes, never needing
the papitating forms beneath their feet,
with bayonet, and rife, and sword, they
press steadily on, their well known banners
streaming evermore overhead.
The howl of the dying war horse, hark.-
Does it not chill your blood to hear it ? The
bubbing CIV Of thc wounded mar, With the
horses ncof upon his mouth, tra:.. ping his
face into hideous wreek-does it not sick
en- your soul to hear it?
A hundred yards or more into the pass,
the Americans have penetrated, when sud
denly young Mexican, rushing back upon
their ranks, seized the fallen flag of Anahu,
ac, and dashes to his death.
To see him, young and beardless, a very
boy, rush with his country's flag, with barred
breast, upon that line Of sharp steel-it was
a sight to stir towards into manhood, and it
shot into the Mexican hearts like an electric
fame
Even in their panic stricken disorder they
turned; hundreds grasped their arms and
rolled in one long wave Of lance aad bayo-
net upon the foe. Woe to the brave men OF
Illinois and Kentucky now! Locked in by
that wall Of infuriated Mexicans between
them and that wall or rocks-above their
heads, through every aperture among the
cliffs the blaze Of mIskets pouring shower
of bullets in their faccs--wherever they
turned, the long and deadly lance pointed at
their throats--it was moment to think once
Of home and die.
Those who survived the fearful moment,
tell with shuddcring triumph of the deeds OF
the three heroes-M' Kee, Hardin and Clay.
MKee, you see him yonder, with his shat.
tered sword dropping blood, he endeavors tc
ward off the aim Of those deadly lances, and
hghts on his kness when he can stand nc
longer, and then the combatants close over
him and you see him no more.
Hardin arose from heap Of slaughtered
foes, his face streaming from its hideous
lance wounds, and waved Mexican flag in
triumph, rs his blood rushes in a torren,
over his muscular form. That instant the
full light of battle was upon his manly face
Then flinging the captured flag to brothe'
soldier, he shouted
'Give it to her as memorial of Buen,
Vista! My spife"
II was his last words. Uuoon his bareG
breast the fury of tehslances rushed, and th,
horses hoofs trampled him into the heap o
dead
But most sad and yet most glorious of al
was it to see the death Of the second Henr,
Clay! You should have seen him with hi
back against yonder rock, his sword g,aspet
firmly, as the consciousness that he bore
name that must not die ingloriously, seem
ed to fill his every vein, and dart dead,
fire from his eyes!
At that moment he looked like the oil,
man. For his brow, high and retreating
with the blood clotted hair waving back from
its outline, was swollen in every vein, q
though his soul shoae from it. ere she fle,
forever. Lips SCI, brow knit, hands firm