Oh! cursed for aye that traitor's hand,
And cursed that aim so deadly,
Which smote the bravest of the land,
And dyed his bosom redly.
Serene he lay, while past him pressed
The battle's furious billow,
As calmly as a babe may rest
Upon its mother's pillow.
So Lyon died; and well may flowers
His place of burial cover,
For never had this land of ours
A more devoted lover.
Living, his country was his bride;
His life he gave her, dying;
Life, fortune, love, he nought denied
To her, and to her sighing.
Rest, patriot, in thy hillside grave,
Beside her form who bore thee!
Long may the land thou diedst to save
Her bannered stars wave o'er thee!
Upon her history's brightest page,
And on fame's glowing portal,
She'll write thy grand, heroic age,
And grave thy name immortal.
Henry Peterson.
John C. Frémont had been placed in command of the department and advanced against the Confederates at the head of a strong force. On October 23, 1861, he detached a squadron of cavalry under Major Charles Zagonyi to reconnoitre the Confederate position at Springfield. Zagonyi found the Confederates two thousand strong, but charged them at the head of his hundred and fifty men, routed them, cut them to pieces, and drove them from the city. The charge was one of the most remarkable in history. The Confederates finally withdrew from the state.
ZAGONYI
[October 25, 1861]
Bold Captain of the Body-Guard,
I'll troll a stave to thee!
My voice is somewhat harsh and hard,
And rough my minstrelsy.
I've cheered until my throat is sore
For how Dupont at Beaufort bore;
Yet here's a cheer for thee!
I hear thy jingling spurs and reins,
Thy sabre at thy knee;
The blood runs lighter through my veins,
As I before me see
Thy hundred men with thrusts and blows
Ride down a thousand stubborn foes,
The foremost led by thee.
With pistol snap and rifle crack—
Mere salvos fired to honor thee—
Ye plunge, and stamp, and shoot, and hack
The way your swords make free;
Then back again,—the path is wide
This time,—ye gods! it was a ride,
The ride they took with thee!