A cry across the tumult runs,—

The voice that rang through Shiloh’s woods

And Chickamauga’s solitudes,

The fierce South cheering on her sons!

Ah, how the withering tempest blew

Against the front of Pettigrew!

A khamsin wind that scorched and singed

Like that infernal flame that fringed

The British squares at Waterloo!

A thousand fell where Kemper led;