I

The sun had set; The leaves with dew were wet: Down fell a bloody dusk On the woods, that second of May, Where Stonewall's corps, like a beast of prey, Tore through, with angry tusk.

"They've trapped us, boys!"-- Rose from our flank a voice. With a rush of steel and smoke On came the rebels straight, Eager as love and wild as hate; And our line reeled and broke;

Broke and fled. No one stayed--but the dead! With curses, shrieks, and cries, Horses and wagons and men Tumbled back through the shuddering glen, And above us the fading skies.

There's one hope, still-- Those batteries parked on the hill! "Battery, wheel!" ('mid the roar) "Pass pieces; fix prolonge to fire Retiring. Trot!" In the panic dire A bugle rings "Trot"--and no more.

The horses plunged, The cannon lurched and lunged, To join the hopeless rout. But suddenly rode a form Calmly in front of the human storm, With a stern, commanding shout:

"Align those guns!" (We knew it was Pleasonton's.) The cannoneers bent to obey, And worked with a will at his word: And the black guns moved as if they had heard. But ah, the dread delay!

"To wait is crime; O God, for ten minutes' time!" The General looked around. There Keenan sat, like a stone, With his three hundred horse alone, Less shaken than the ground.

"Major, your men?" "Are soldiers, General." "Then, Charge, Major! Do your best: Hold the enemy back, at all cost, Till my guns are placed;--else the army is lost. You die to save the rest!"