Bristol news. [volume] (Bristol, Va. & Tenn.) 1867-189?, 1873-04-15
THEODORE O-naRs.S EIEGy


Delivered AT THE BURIAL IN FRANKFORT OF tn
hENTUcKT SOLDIERS SLAIN AT BuESA VIsTA
The Muaied drums sad roll has beat
The soldiers last tattoo:
No more on life's parade shall meet
That brave and 6fIie7i few,
On falne's eternal camping ground
Their silent tents are spread
And Glory guards with solemn round
The bivouae of the dead
No rumor Of the foes advance
Now sweils upon the wind
No troubled thought, at midnight. haunts
or loved ones left behind:
No vision Of the mOrruws strife
The warriors dream alarms:
nor 5raylng horn, nor screaming dfe,
At dawn shall call to arms.
Their shivered swords are red with rust.
Their plumed heads are bowed
Their naughty banner tTailed in dust
Is row tDeir martial shrOud;
And PleHteous fCne raj tears have washed
The rcd stains from each brow,
And the proud forms by battle sashed
Are free FROM anguish now,
The neiehing troop, the flashing blade,
The bugle'S stlrIi.,g blast
The charge, the dreadful cannonade
The din and shout ar past;
Nor wars wild note, nor glory's zeal,
Shall thrill with fierce delight
Those breasts that never more mdV feel
The raptsre of the fight.
Like the Jfeycs Northern hurricane
That sweeps his broad plateau,
Flushed with the triumph yet to gain
Came down the serried foe,
Who heard fhe thunder of the FRAY
Break o'erthe field beneath
Knew well the watehword OF the day
Was victory or death"
Long had the doubtful conflict ragged
DER all that stricken plain,
For never GercCr fight had waced
The vengeful blood uf Spain:
And still the storm of battle blew,
Still swelled the z. ry tide
Not long our stout old chieltain knew
Such odds his strength could bide.
Twas in that hour his stern command
Called to a martyrs grave
The fOwerof his own loved land,
The nations flag to save.
By rivers of their fathers gore
His frst-b bOru laurels grew,
And well he deemed he sons would pour
Their lives orglorv, too.
Full many Norther's breath hath swept
Der Angostura's plain
And long the pitying sky has swept
Above its mOuldered slain.
The ravens scream. or eagles fight,
Or shepherds peIsive lay,
Alone awake each suilen height
That frowned Ger that dread fray.
Sens OF the " dark and BIoody ground"
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 heir parent turf they rest,
Far from the CORY field.
Borne to Spartan mothers breast
On many bieody shield,
The Sunshine Of their native sky
Smiles sadly on them here,
And kindred eyes and hearts watch by
The hero's sepulchcr.
Rest on, emhslmed and sslnted dead,
Dear as the 5toOd gs goee,
No impious fsotstep 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 YalOr proudly sleeps.
Yon marble minstrel's roicefut stone
In deathless song shall tell,
When many a rGHiShed age hath flown,
The story how ye fell,
Nor wreck. nor change, nor winters blight,
Nor Tines remOrseless doom,
Can dim one raw Of holy light
That gilds your glorious tomb.
NoTE-The words in Italics mark the correct
eading which the comHoB versions often fail tC
i've.