. American war ballads and lyrics: a collection of the songs and ballads of the colonial wars, the revolution, the war of 1812-15, the war with Mexico, and the civil war . 134 ^be JSlac?? IRe^iment Down they tear man and horse,Down in their awful course ;Trampling with bloody heelOver the crushing steel,—All their eyes forward bent,Rushed the black regiment. Freedom ! their battle-cry,— Freedom ! or leave to die ! Ah ! and they meant the word,Not as with us t is a mere party shout;They gave their spirits out,Trusted the end to God,And on the gory sodRolled in triumphant to
. American war ballads and lyrics: a collection of the songs and ballads of the colonial wars, the revolution, the war of 1812-15, the war with Mexico, and the civil war . 134 ^be JSlac?? IRe^iment Down they tear man and horse,Down in their awful course ;Trampling with bloody heelOver the crushing steel,—All their eyes forward bent,Rushed the black regiment. Freedom ! their battle-cry,— Freedom ! or leave to die ! Ah ! and they meant the word,Not as with us t is a mere party shout;They gave their spirits out,Trusted the end to God,And on the gory sodRolled in triumphant to strike one free for weal or woe ;Glad to breathe one free breath,Though on the lips of death ;Praying,—alas ! in vain !That they might fall again,So they could once more seeThat burst to liberty !This was what freedom lentTo the black regiment. Hundreds on hundreds fell;But they are resting well ; ^be JSIacK IReaiment 135 Scourges, and shackles strongNever shall do them , to the living few,Soldiers, be just and true !Hail them as comrades tried ;Fight with them side by , in field or the black regiment! May 27, ^ ^ (^^ ^ f^ SL3 ~^^#^^-4|^ i^ >^<^ r/0s ^N ^JJ^ Jl^^ S(j IT^ m^ ^ P^^-^fS Mk & k^^l LITTLE GIFFEN OF TENNESSEE. By FRANCIS O. TICKNOR. OUT of the focal and foremost fire,Out of the hospital walls as dire,Smitten of grape-shot and gangrene,(Eighteenth battle, and he sixteen !)Spectre such as we seldom see,Little Giffen of Tennessee ! Take him—and welcome ! the surgeon said** Much your doctor can help the dead ! And so we took him and brought him whereThe balm was sweet on the summer air ;And we laid him down on a wholesome bed—Utter Lazarus, heel to head ! Weary war with the bated boy against skeleton Death,Months of torture, how many such !Weary wrecks of the stick and crutch !Still a glint in the steel-blue eyeSpoke of the spirit that would not die, 136 Xittle ©iften of Tennessee 137 And
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