The Scranton tribune. [volume] (Scranton, Pa.) 1891-1910, 1898-09-09

When Hell its flames outcast,
In the maddest, widest fray,
Was there ever a man gave way,
Hundred and Forty-Third?
At Chancellorsville your baptism came,
A baptism of blood amid battle fame
Then Gettysburg sounded the trumpets
blaro,
And our Hundred and Forty-Third was
there,
Aye. you we're there and "there to stay"
win the old keystone forget the day:
Let the records speak, for the records tell
How you breasted the tide when 1t rose
to its swell.
Fighting 'gainst odds that well might
Tho stoutest hearts. but did you fail?
Was It cannon to left of you, cannon TO
Cannon in front of you in that fight?
1t was He'll to the left of you, Hell to the
right,
Hell was in front Of you in that fight.
Hell gaped, and belched, and roared, and
thundered
But you fought on, and on, and no one
bundered.
A band Of iron was Doubleday's word,
Reporting the Hundred and Forty-Thrd
A band of iron? A band of steel.
1t bends and quivers as peal on peal
OF battle thunder rends the air,
Shot and shell its sinews tear.
But 1t gives not away, 1t stands the
strain,
And hurls the grey line back again.
Just over the way there Crippen stood
In that heroic attitude
And still he stards, and still he holds
That banner aloft whose starry folds
Swept over him with caresses sweet,
And plated its folds for his winding sheet
In q cloud of fire he was borne away,
TO take his place in that galaxy
OF star crowned heroes his mantel fell
On one who wore it bravely well.
Until he, too, in battle strife
On the nations altar laid his life,
And was welcomed above by that hero
Immortals from every age and land.
When ye scatter blossoms DER your dead.
Weave a garland to place above Phillips
head.
Let the rebel flag from victors torn,
Let the rebel foes, of victory shorn,
Tell of the Wilderness and what oc-
When they met our Hundred and Forty
Third.
Then Laurel Hill, where struggling men
Fought over the ground again and again,
Forward, and backward, across the field,
Advancing. retreating. but not to yield
To gain new strength for the forward
sweep
And into the struggle again to leap.
Winning and losing, and winning again,
Fighting more like demons than men,
Defeated, defeating, victorious STILL
That was the fight of Laurel Hill.
Let Southern breezes watt refrain,
For Spottsylvania's hero slain,
And let North Anna speak and tell
How you breasted the storm of shot and
shell.
From Bethesda Church wars echoes roll
And add name to the lengthening scroll,
Cold Harbor, and Chickahominy, too,
Offer their tributes unto you
Then Petersburg. Oh! God, can 1t be
That men will leap unflinchngly
Into the very jaws of He'll,
If the tales be true, that the records tell,
Then Sebastopol, and the Malakoff fade.
BY the side of the assaults that there
were made.
And on, and on unto the end,
To lead, TO hold. attack, defend.
From every field comes back the word.
Glory, for our Hundred and Forty-Third.
All, could the memories trace,
OF you who stand here face to face,
With those other years. if l could reap
The harvest of those years. and heap
Their treasure, filled would the measure
| be
OF grist for immortality,
Filled to the full of brave endeavor,
| OF purpose high, that faltered never.
Filled to the full of hopes and fears,
Filled to the full of blood and tears,
Filled to the full of toll and pain
| OF weary march and battle strain,
Filled to the full of noble deeds
OF sacrifice that throbs and bleeds,
Filled to the full with that patriot zeal,
That recks not, cares rot for woe or veal,
But only this, whateer assail,
The nations honor must prevail.
Time never halts. the years roll round,
| Column forward" the bugles sound,
Tis a weary maj ch, and day by day
Comrades are dropping along the way,
Tears are shed when you see them fall,
But Column forward" the bugles call.
The files close up, and the ranks march
on,
third of a century has come and gone
Since you fronted the line since you
stemmed the tide
Since you won glory that will ever
abide.
| The years roll on, they never return,
But memory halts, and in memorys urn
Sacred as incense, heaven refined,
Your noble deeds are forever enshrined.
And men are greater, braver more true
Because of the great things wrought by
you,
| The old keystone rings out the word,
Glory for our Hundred and Forty-Third.
Arthur l.. Collins.