VII.
On by the railroad—still onward they press’d—
Thro’ rampart—thro’ swamp, like a sword of the Lord—
True sons of the East, true sons of the West,
A knight of King Arthur confronting a horde!
And Battery F, unafraid of the brunt,
Kept its pace, and its guns, right up to the front!
VIII.
See! See! the walls of the Capital rise
Away to the right, a vision of power—