Montgomery County sentinel. [volume] (Rockville, Md.) 1855-1974, 1874-11-13
lCKVILLE. MARYLAND. FRIDAY MORNING. n
THE BIvoUAc OF THE DEAD.

Who wrote ''The Bivouac of the Dead ~
This is the question; aad we answer that it
was Col Theodore o. Hara, of Kentucky. He
served in the Mexican war, and also in the
war of the rebellion, first as colonel Of an AL
ALBANIA regiment and afterwards as chief OF
staff to Gen. Breckenridge. He died in 1861
on an Alabama plantation, and the Legislature
Of Kentucky have brought his remains home
for interment, with those of other Kentucky
soldiers, under monument erected by the
State His poem drew its inspiration from
scenes in the Mexican war, and these are Its
stanzas
The muifled drum sad roll has beat
The soldiers last tuttoo;
No more on lfe's parade shall meet
That brave and fallen few.
On Fumes eternal camping ground
Their silent tents are spread,
And glory guards with solemn round,
The bivouac of the dead.
No rumor OF the foes advance
Now swels upon the wind,
No irouh ed thought at midnight haunts
OF loved ones left behind
No vision OF the morrow's strife
The warriors dream alarms,
No 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, traied in dust,
Is now their martial shroud---
And plentcous funeral tears have washed
The red stains from each brow,
And the proud forms by battle gashed,
Are free from anguish now.
The neighing troop the flashing blade,
The huges stirring blast,
The charge the dreadful cannonade,
The din and shout are passed
Nor wars wild note, nor glorys peal,
Shall thrill with fierce delight
These breasts that ncvermore may feel
The rapture or the fight.
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 thnnder OF the fray
Break DER the field beneath,
| Knew well the watchword OF that day
Was victory or death.
| Full many mother breath has swept
| Der Angoslnra's plain.
| And long the playing sky has wept
| Above its molder'd slain.
The ravens scream on eagles flight,
Or shepherds pensive lay,
| Alone now wake cncb solemn height
That frowned DER that dread fray.
Sons Of the Dark and Bloody Ground
Ye must not suinber there
1 Where stranger steps and tongues resound
| Along The needless air:
| Your own proud land heroic soil
! Shall be your filter grave;
She claims from WAR its richest spoil
The ashes Of her brave.
Thus meath their parent turf they rest,
| Far from the cory field,
Borne 10 Spartan mothers breast
| On many a bloody shield.
The sunshine Of their native sky
! Smiles sadly on them here,
And kindred eyes and hearts watch by
| The heroes scpulchre.
Rest on, embaimed and sainted dead
Dear as The blood ye gave.
No mpious footsteps here shall tread
| The herbnge Of your grave.
Nor ehall your glory be forgot
| While fame her record keeps,
| Or Honor points the halowed spot
Where yalor proudly sleeps.
! Yon marble mnstrel's voiceless stone,
| In deathess song can tell,
When many vanished year bath flown,
The story how ye fell:
Nor wreck, nor change, nor winters blight,
| Nor time remorseless doom,
Can dim one ray Of holy light
That 9ilds your glorious tomb.
!