The Washington critic., 1888-01-07
A SINGLE POEM MAN.
The Song which VIII Always Abide In
Amarican Iftarature.

Steuben County, N. Y, last month,
at the age of So, man who wrote one
celebrated poem, and, as far as the
public know, never did anything else
that was remarkable. His death has
not attracted as much notice in the
press as would that Of second-class
variety show.actress. Indeed, the first
mention we have seen of it is not in
q newspaper, but in the New York
Critic, literary journal, which copies
an article ON the subject from the
local Bath paper. The man was
Judge G. II. McMaster, and his one
poem, doubtless familiar to many
readers of the Sentinel, since it is in
cluded in many of the current collec-
tions of verses, is as follows
CARMEN BELMcosUM.
In their ragged regimentals
Stood the old ContinentalS'
While the grenadiers were lunging,
And like Iiail fell the plunging
Cannon shot
When the files
of the Isles,
From the smoky night encampment, bore
the banner of the rampant
Unicorn;
And grummer, grummer, grummer, rolled
the roll of the drummer,
Through the morn
Then with eyes to the front, all,
And with guns horizontal
Stood our sires;
While the balls whistled deadly,
And in streams flashing redly,
Blazed the fires;
AS the roar
On the shore
Swept the strong battle-breakers DER the
green-sodded acres
OF the plain;
And louder, louder, louder, cracked the
/. black gunpowder,
Cracking amain
Now like smiths at their forges
Worked the red st. Georges
Cannoneers;
And the villainous saltpeter
Rang a fierce, discordant meter
Round our ears;
As the swift
Storm drift,
With hot sweeping anger, came the horse
guards clangor
On our fianks.
Then higher, higher, higher, burned the
old-fashioned fire.
Through the ranks
Then the bare-headed colonel
Galloped through the white internal
Powder-cloud;
And his broad sword was swinging,
And his braZen throat was ringing
Trumpet loud
Then the blue
Bullets few
And the trooper jackets redden at the
touch of the leaden
Rife breath;
And rounder, rounder. rounder, roared
the iron six FOUNDER,
Hurting death.
OF this poem, Edmund Clarence
Stedman wrote in the GALAXY Maga-
zine many years ago: "There is moth
ing like it in our language; tbs the
| ringing characteristic utterance of an
original man. There is a perfect
blending of sense to sound and of
both to the spirit of the theme. To
include picture often ruins O song;
but here we have the knot of patriots
clustered upon a battle hillside, the
powder cracking again, the old-fash-
Toned colonel galloping with drawn
sword, and as
Rounder, rounder, rounder roared the
iron six-Rounder,,
Hurting death;
it seems heavier piece of ordnance,
and charged with weightier issues
than a whole park of artillery in q
modern armament. This song will
last with the memory of revolutions
ary days" 1t was written when the
author was but 20 years old, and first
appeared in the Knicker6ockGr Maga-
zine for February, 1S49, under the sig
nature "John McGrom." McMaster
became lawyer, and at one time was
County Judge of Steuben County. II
is strange that a man who at 20 was
capable of writing poem so original
and striking that it was at once recog-
nized as a masterpiece should have
never made further venture in lit
erature.