For he was all the world to us,
That hero grey and grim;
Right well he knew that fearful slope
We'd climb with none but him,
Though while his white head led the way
We'd charge hell's portals in.
This time we were not half-way up,
When, 'midst the storm of shell,
Our leader, with his sword upraised,
Beneath our bay'nets fell;
And, as we bore him back, the foe
Set up a joyous yell.
Our hearts went with him. Back we swept,
And when the bugle said,
"Up, charge, again!" no man was there
But hung his dogged head.
"We've no one left to lead us now,"
The sullen soldiers said.
Just then, before the laggard line,
The colonel's horse we spied—
Bay Billy, with his trappings on,
His nostrils swelling wide,
As though still on his gallant back
His master sat astride.
Right royally he took the place
That was his old of wont,
And with a neigh, that seemed to say,
Above the battle's brunt,
"How can the Twenty-second charge
If I am not in front?"
Like statues we stood rooted there,
And gazed a little space;
Above that floating mane we missed
The dear familiar face;
But we saw Bay Billy's eye of fire,
And it gave us hearts of grace.
No bugle-call could rouse us all
As that brave sight had done;
Down all the battered line we felt
A lightning impulse run;
Up, up the hill we followed Bill,
And captured every gun!
And when upon the conquered height
Died out the battle's hum;
Vainly 'mid living and the dead
We sought our leader dumb;
It seemed as if a spectre steed
To win that day had come.
At last the morning broke. The lark
Sang in the merry skies,
As if to e'en the sleepers there
It said awake, arise!—
Though naught but that last trump of all
Could ope their heavy eyes.
And then once more, with banners gay,
Stretched out the long brigade;
Trimly upon the furrowed field
The troops stood on parade,
And bravely 'mid the ranks we closed
The gaps the fight had made.