Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1872-08-22
The BiyOuaC of the Dead.
Hf THEODORE HN(A.

The Legislature Of Kentucky eau,
the dead of that State who fell at BuC
Vista, lobc brought home and intcrrcc
Frankfort, undcra splendid monumc
Theodore OIlara, q gifted IriSh-K,
tuckian, soldier and scholar, was ScIe
ed the orator and poet Of the occasiC
whence the beautiful cuIogy whi
alone, Suillccs to rescue his name trC
oblivion, The poem was written me
than twenty years ago. 1t has the sal
to-day
The muffled drums sad roll has beat
The soldiers last tattoo
No more on life's parade shall meet
That brave and fallen few.
On Fame's etern i camping-ground
Their silent tents are spread,
And Glory guards, with solemn round
The bivouac of the dead.
No rumor Of the foes advance
NOM sNCllS upon lut WIFI
No troubled thought at midnight haunts
OF loved ones left behind;
No vision of the morrow strife
The warriors dream alarms
Nor Drawing horn nor screaming fife
At dawn shall call to arms.
Their shivered swords are red with rust.
Their plumed heads are bowed
Their naughty banner. trailod in dust,
Is now their martial smoud,
And plenteous funeral tears have washed
The red stains from each brow.
And the proud forms by battle gasheI,
Are free from anguish now
The neighing troop, the flashing blade,
The bugle's stirring blast,
The charge, the dreadful cannonado,
The din and shout are past
Nor wars wild note, nor glorys peal.
Shall thrill with fierce delight
Those breasts that never more may feel
lHC lNlJItAC U Vi t!ic liS Nv
Like the fierce Northern hurricane
That sweeps his great plateau,
Flushed with the triumph yet to gain.
Came down the serried foe.
Who heard the thunder of the fray
Break DER the field beneath,
knew well the watchword of the day
Was Victory or death"
Long had the doubtful conflict ragged
Ger all that stricken plain
For never forcer fight had waged
The yengeful blood of Spain
And still the storm of battle blew,
Sill swelled the CORY tide
Not long our stout old chieftain% knew.
Such odds his strength could bide.
Twas i'll that hour his stern command
Called to Il martyrs grave
The hower of his own loved land,+
The nations flag to save.
BY rivers of their fathers gore
HIS tirst-born laurels grew,
And well he deemed the sons would pour
Their lives for glory, too.
Full many norther's breath has swept
Der Angostura'st plain
And long the pitylng sky has swept
Above its mouldered slain,
The ravens scream, Or eagles flight
Or shepherds pensiye lay,
Alone awakes each sullen height
That frowned DER that dread fray.
Sons Of the Dark and Bloody grounds
Ye must not slumber there,
Where stranger steps and tongues resound
Along the needless air;
Your own proud lands heroic soil
Shall be your filter grave
She claims from war his richest spoil
The ashes of her brave.
SO, meath their parent turf they rest,
Far from the CORY field,
bolhc 10 spartan mOtNeI DIeast
On many a blody shield
The sunshine of their native sky
Smiles sadly on them here.
And kindred eyes and hearts watch by
The heroes's sepulchrc.
Rest on, embalmed and sainted dead,
Dear as the blood ye gave;
No impious footstep here shall tread
The herbage of your grave;
Nor shall your glory be forgot
While fame her record keeps,
Or honor points the hallowed spot
Where valor proudly sleeps.
Yon marble minstrcls voiceless stone,
In deathless song shall tell.
When many vanished age hath flown,
The story how We fell
Nor wreck, for change, nor winters blight.
Nor Times remorseless doom,
Shall dim one ray of holy light
That gilds your glorious tomb.
Taylor.
Gen. Taylor was a native of Kentucky, and
} Kentucky troops are here alluded to.
a Gt,n fl,a hnft Nt