Helena weekly herald. [volume] (Helena, Mont.) 1867-1900, 1876-08-03
THE SONG OF CUSTER AND HIS MEN


High on the hills, in camp, we slept,
The soldiers tent of stars;
While on his round, the last vidcttc.
Thought of his love and cares;
TIL morning shot its purple flood,
Prophetic of storm,
Then burst along that field of blood
The buglc's last alarm!
Once more mount. and ride away
The savage foe pursue;
And weari'd hOofs did beat the clay,
As unto death we flew,
The mountains lift their threat'ning brOws,
The hills with pine are dark.
And blood shall pour where water flows,
When Battle makes his mark!
No hunter tracks, the antelope
Along the Rosebud ridge;
Our path is on the pathless scope
The waters have no bridge.
Long, weary miles we rode that week.
Der hi and gorges vast;
We stran'd our eyes from every peak.
We found the Sioux at last.
The buglc sounds the last array,
Each hOrstman draws his rein
Soon shall burst the furious tray,
And battle blaze amain!
We heard the click behind the ledge,
OF meanIy hidden Ioes;
But little thought by battles edge,
We soon should sleep in rows.
And where you see those flowers bloom,
Along that singing stream,
One moment more. the crack of doom,
Shall rend the rosy dream!
A thousand foes are found before,
A thousand more behind;
And battle will be battle sore,
For blood is in the wind!
And now they come, with furious haste.
Each tree and rock afiame!
The front of war we oft have facd
Here death hath secret aim.
The bolts of wrath fall thick and fast
Each hero finds his hour;
And valOr's arm will tall at last
Before the unequal power!
The combat thickeps on these hills.
Beneath us each, a grave!
And furious every demon yells,-
A tempest for the brave.
The deluge rains internal hail!
And yet we hold the field;
The Seventh know not how to quail.
Nor yet know how to yield.
In front. in rear, on flank and flank,
Deaths darkening circles sweep,
And horrid whirlwinds on each rank,
Red as the lghtnings, leap!
We fronted north, we fronted south,
Then east and west away;
Our front was in the battles mouth.
Front ever as we may.
Heart of the Seventh! die we must,
For death is thick'ning round;
Wen light each gallant heart to dust,
With foes upon the ground!
That battle-flag! how could we yield
A hundred years of fame!
Brighten the stars upon its shield,
We dare not bring it shame!
A hundred widows now are made
Along that bloody glen!
But what are we to wife or maid:
Close up the ranks again!
Our place is in the battles roar,
Or in soldiers grave;
God bless the hearts which we adore.
Your blessings on the brave!
Two hundred empty saddles now,-
And horses in the dust!
And yet there's not one palld brow; -
We can. we will we must!
We launch that standard once again,
To match bitter foe,
And though two hundred men are slain,
That flag keeps honor's glow!
Thn'd are the ranks which Custer led
This morning to the fray;
That empty saddle; Custer dead;
Ours d be the foe to-day;
A fiery chief, a mighty man,
A bulwark in his breast;
His home was in the battles van;-
Can bullets give him rest?
He rag'd upon that battle-plain,
A lion in his wrath:
And from his hand, the leaden rain
Smote devils from his path;
His spirit lives in every frame,
Around his bloody bed;
And double death we deal with flame,
For living and the dead:
Impetus as the eagles wing,
No foe could curb his fires:
Caught in the tolls which devils spring.
matchlcss man expires;
And acLion is the soldiers life;
On fame his heart is set;
The world demands this savage strife,
Here's debtor and the debt;
A hapless lot is thine, sweet wives.
To know this dismal ycene;
We pour like W ne three hundred lives
Upon this cory green!
One thought, one kiss, we fling to thee.
Above the battles roar;
We die for country and forge
Adieu forevermore!
And now to death we fearless rush,
Nor unavenged we die;
mountain storm, the foe we crush.
And peal the battle CRY.
Like rocks we stand, like lions fight.
Like eagles in the air!
win bloody hands the Seventies might
Hath writ its glory there!
The foe. they. thin our shattered files,
AS fast their rifles crack;
Our dead, 'hey lie in ghastly piles,
Along our hdeous track!
Like hungry wolves, the demons yell!
For blood hath made them mad:
We dress our ranks III fare of he'll.