How it woke one April morn
Fame shall tell;
As from Moultrie, close at hand,
And the batteries on the land,
Round its faint but fearless band
Shot and shell
Raining hid the doubtful light;
But they fought the hopeless fight
Long and well
(Theirs the glory, ours the shame!),
Till the walls were wrapped in flame,
Then their flag was proudly struck, and Sumter fell!
Now—oh, look at Sumter now,
In the gloom!
Mark its scarred and shattered walls.
(Hark! the ruined rampart falls!)
There's a justice that appals
In its doom;
For this blasted spot of earth
Where rebellion had its birth
Is its tomb!
And when Sumter sinks at last
From the heavens, that shrink aghast,
Hell shall rise in grim derision and make room!
Richard Henry Stoddard.
CHAPTER X
THE FINAL STRUGGLE
A survey of the field at the opening of the fourth year of the war shows how steadily the North had been gaining the advantage—an advantage due to superior numbers and greater resources rather than to brilliant generalship. The Union forces in the field numbered eight hundred thousand, while the Confederates had scarcely half as many, and were compelled to stand on the defensive. The North hoped to crush them by one mighty effort.
PUT IT THROUGH
[1864]
Come, Freemen of the land,
Come, meet the last demand,—
Here's a piece of work in hand;
Put it through!
Here's a log across the way,
We have stumbled on all day;
Here's a ploughshare in the clay,—
Put it through!