“There from the pelting storm and bitter blast,
My weary soul its refuge finds at last.
Behold the Cross! The pang of Death is past.
“Parnassus! up whose steeps I long have striven,
Thy summit, by the thunder-tempest riven,
Stops in the clouds—but Calvary’s rests in Heaven.”
ELEGY
On the death of Captain Bacon, Kentucky Volunteers, U. S. A., slain at Sacraments, Ky., December, 1861.
Oh, sacred mountain of Kentucky’s dead,
Room in thy heart for Bacon’s honored head,
Whose true blood streaming from his manly breast
Shall dye with glories new thy marble crest,
And caught by every sun upon the air
Appeal to Heaven in everlasting prayer—
Prayer for the rescue of our outraged land,
From dark rebellion’s impious sword and brand;
Prayer for the fiery bolt by justice sped
To fall in vengeance for our slaughtered dead;
Prayer which, becoming of the winds a part,
Through all the land shall stir the nation’s heart,
And summon martial millions to the field
A patriot host, the nation’s living shield.
Promethean sun! whose early splendors kiss
These pillars of Death’s grand Acropolis,
Of Boone the daring, Johnson stern and just,
Hardin the true, and Daveiss’ glorious dust,
Much-loved McKee, and gallant Henry Clay,—
Oft as thy torch illumes the morning gray
Touch Bacon’s tomb with thy reviving fire
And it shall answer thee like Memnon’s lyre,
With an inspiring voice whose kindling strain
Shall rouse Kentucky to avenge her slain,
And shed his base assassin’s blood as free
As yonder waves which hasten to the sea.
Oh, much-loved friend, for manly virtues dear,
Untimely up yon hill ascends thy bier.
We knew that with or on thy stainless shield
We would receive thee from the battle-field!
True to Kentucky’s and thy country’s call
Thou wert the first to arm thee—and to fall.
The plaintive dirge, the sob, the smothered groan
Thrill the pained air with melancholy moan,
While the slow river winding far below
Whispers through all its waves the song of woe,
And Frankfort’s echoing wall of cedared hills
With mournful cadence all the valley fills.
TO THE LAW AND ORDER LEAGUE.
After Judge Bruce’s Address
At Hopkinsville.
Take courage, ye people of order and law,
Nor longer let Night Riders hold you in awe;
Though your crops be destroyed, your barns burnt in ashes,
Your women outraged, your backs scourged with lashes,
Take courage! Remember that God reigns on high
Who foredooms your tyrants ’neath His vengeance to die.