Who is this ye say is slain?
Whose voice answers not again?
Ellsworth, shall we call in vain
On thy name to-day?
No! from every vale and hill
Our response all hearts shall thrill,
"Ellsworth's fame is with us still,
Ne'er to pass away!"
Bring that rebel banner low,
Hoisted by a treacherous foe:
'Twas for that they dealt the blow,
Laid him in the dust.
Raise aloft, that all may see
His loved flag of Liberty.
Forward, then, to victory,
Or perish if we must!
Hark to what Columbia saith:
"Mourn not for his early death,
With each patriot's dying breath
Strength renewed is given
To the cause of truth and right,
To the land for which they fight.
After darkness cometh light,—
Such the law of Heaven."
So we name him not in vain,
Though he comes not back again!
For his country he was slain;
Ellsworth's blood shall rise
To our gracious Saviour—King:
'Tis a holy gift we bring;
Such a sacred offering
God will not despise.
COLONEL ELLSWORTH[8]
It fell upon us like a crushing woe,
Sudden and terrible. "Can it be?" we said,
"That he from whom we hoped so much, is dead,
Most foully murdered ere he met the foe?"
Why not? The men that would disrupt the State
By such base plots as theirs—frauds, thefts, and lies—
What code of honor do they recognize?
They thirst for blood to satisfy their hate,
Our blood: so be it; but for every blow
Woe shall befall them; not in their wild way,
But stern and pitiless, we will repay,
Until, like swollen streams, their blood shall flow;
And should we pause; the thought of Ellsworth slain,
Will steel our aching hearts to strike again!
Richard Henry Stoddard.
ON THE DEATH OF "JACKSON"
[May 24, 1861]
Not where the battle red
Covers with fame the dead,—
Not where the trumpet calls
Vengeance for each that falls,—
Not with his comrades dear,
Not there—he fell not there.