Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1896-06-14
THE VALE OF SHENANDOAH.

Composed and read by Capt. b. f. Rus
cell. Sergeant-at-Arms House of Represeedne-
tatives, on Memorial Day, May Soth, 1870
at Winchester, Va.
Where are the brave. the conquering bands
That swept the vale OF Shenana9dni
That filled yon pass, and crossed these
And shook the crags with lannon's roar?
Where are the brave. intrepid hosts,
That jackson marshalled, Farley leo'
Where are the troops that Snerldan
Cheered to the conflict, whither heu'
Thus to myself I whispered low.
AS on the heights of Fishers Hill
l sat and watched the quiet now
OF mooulit river. cool and stlll.
The mountain reared its craggy head,
The wind sighed through the lofty plnes'
But no more | heard the marching tread
OF serried hosts in battle lines.
I thought of how that grim host stood
To guard the gate way of the vale
Against the troops of northern blood;
That midst the storm of leaden han
Came surging up the rugged steep
With death and carnage IN the Vah'
Resistless as the tempests sweep;
For at their head rode Sheridan.
And through the vista of the past
/ saw the sleeping camp awake
From dreamless slumber deep ana iast'
As sudden Volleys seemed TO shake
The tented ground at CeudI nun,
When Ger the ramparts Farley broke
And brief and fruitless victory won
Mid day-break's gloom and volleyed
smoke
And later in that awful day.
When Ger the aTrowy turnpike came
The dashing leader and away,
From fell disaster. like flame
OF lightning snatched eternal iafhe-
Eternal fame that glowing on
Shines radiant the SCNlptuEeu HdIief
That marks his tomb at Arlington.
s,u, Tho field as night closed down,
with shattered guns and broken wheels,
With bloody coarses thickly strown-
[ thought of all the Vanquished teels'
And still beyond in memory grew
The picture Of the fated hour
When Winchester beleagured knew
The horrors of the victor'S power.
! Then came the hour when battle won
| The victor counts the awful cost
/ The streams where crimson currents run,
The long. long list of comrades lost,
| The hearts bereaved. the home berett,
| The souls that trod the upWaru way
! Cut down al once and nothing LETT
] But lifeless, cold, insensate clay,
| Not so, for though the hero dies,
/ lust at the hour when victory came
! His fame eternal in the skies.
| CLOVIS like a stars unquenchless name;
! And though mis- face and form may FADE
! His souls IDENTITY ne loSl,
! The principle for which ne lalo,
His sacrifice at any cost
J-pon the altar cannot die;
| But glowing on a deafness nght
| Across the oVerarchinS SKY,
| Shines on a beacon in the night
| A star that lights the gloom OF earun-
! A steadfast point whose CeathIess sio"
/ Gives Liberty a newer birth.
| When Freedoms fires are burning low
! saw the narrow trenches lay
And there, uncoffined side by SIDE
! In CHASTITY lines that stretched away.
| We laid our heroes where they d1ed.
| Away In distant northern lands
| Their loved ones waited them IN vain
| And called: Alas, their empty hands
| Would never clasp their loved again.
The longed-for word that never came,
The missive bringing no reply;
The babe that lisped his fathers name
But saw him not as years went by.
! The mothers eyes were wet with tears
| With waiting weary hearts were sore,
| But in the long and empty years,
| Their loved and lost came back no more.
All these and more and mingled too.
l saw a thousand scenes untold,
| In that strange picture memory drew,
! OF years that now are waxing old,
| And there | stood again and saw
! The waving grass and bending grain,
| For peace had come and right was law,
! With JOY and gladness In her train.
| The echoing cannonade was still,
| The volleyed muskets no more rolled,
| The lowing kline across the hill
| Called home the wanderer to the fold.
| And through the streets were rolling drums
! And bugles sent a rallying peal,
! The maiden with her lover comes,
With lingering step or flying wheel,
| And up the valley comes a host,
| With grizZled locks and snowy beard,
| To deck the graves Of comrades lost,
| But not a phalanX to be feared.
| They come with olive branches new,
| With lilies white and roses red,
! For graves OF gray and graves OF blue,
| The sepulchers of all our dead.
| The chasm wide at last We cross,
! And meet as only patriots should;
] common shrine. common loss,
| One flag, one land. one brotherhood.
| The North and South are Joined in one,
| The East and West are banded here;
! And as the onward centuries run,
! Let discord never more appear.
/ Flow on sweet river to the seas.
! Sigh gentle breezes through the pines,
! And may no harsher sounds than these
| (Of serried hosts and battle lnes)
/ Fer breathe upon thy sweet pure air,
! or cloud thy vale, . Shenandoah,
/ But peace be monarch everywhere