Our trust is now in thee,
Beauregard!
In thy hand the God of Hosts
Hath placed the sword;
And the glory of thy fame
Has set the world aflame—
Hearts kindle at thy name,
Beauregard!
The way that lies before
Is cold and hard;
We are led across the desert
By the Lord!
But the cloud that shines by night
To guide our steps aright,
Is the pillar of thy might,
Beauregard!
Thou hast watched the southern heavens
Evening starred,
And chosen thence thine emblems,
Beauregard;
And upon thy banner's fold
Is that starry cross enrolled,
Which no Northman shall behold
Shamed or scarred.
By the blood that crieth loudly
From the sword,
We have sworn to keep around it
Watch and ward,
And the standard of thine hand
Yet shall shine above a land,
Like its leader, free and grand,
Beauregard!
Mrs. C. A. Warfield.
The advance against Corinth was continued, and on May 30, 1862, the Union army entered the city, which the Confederates had evacuated. On October 3, 4, the Confederates attempted to recapture it, but were repulsed with heavy loss. The Eighth Wisconsin carried a live eagle in place of a flag, and during the battle the great bird circled and circled above the field.
[October 3, 4, 1862]
Did you hear of the fight at Corinth,
How we whipped out Price and Van Dorn?
Ah, that day we earned our rations
(Our cause was God's and the Nation's,
Or we'd have come out forlorn!)—
A long and terrible day!
And at last, when night grew gray,
By the hundreds, there they lay
(Heavy sleepers, you'd say),
That wouldn't wake on the morn.
Our staff was bare of a flag,
We didn't carry a rag
In those brave marching days;—
Ah, no, but a finer thing!
With never a cord or string,
An eagle of ruffled wing,
And an eye of awful gaze.
The grape it rattled like hail,
The minies were dropping like rain,
The first of a thunder shower;
The wads were blowing like chaff
(There was pounding like floor and flail,
All the front of our line!),
So we stood it hour after hour;
But our eagle, he felt fine!
'Twould have made you cheer and laugh,
To see, through that iron gale,
How the old fellow'd swoop and sail
Above the racket and roar,—
To right and to left he'd soar,
But ever came back, without fail,
And perched on his standard-staff.