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BUENA VISTA
by Pike, Albert [1809-1891]

From the Rio Grande's waters to the icy lakes of Maine,
Let all exult! for we have met the enemy again;
Beneath their stern old mountains we have met them in their pride,
And rolled from
Buena Vista
back the battle's bloody tide;
Where the enemy came surging swift, like the Mississippi's flood,
And the reaper, Death, with strong arms swung his sickle red with blood.
Santana
boasted loudly that, before two hours were past,
His Lancers through Saltillo should pursue us fierce and fast:—
[365]
On comes his solid infantry, line marching after line;
Lo! their great standards in the sun like sheets of silver shine:
With thousands upon thousands,—yea, with more than three to one,—
Their forests of bright bayonets fierce-flashing in the sun.
Lo! Guanajuato's regiment; Morelos' boasted corps,
And Guadalajara's chosen troops!—all veterans tried before.
Lo! galloping upon the right four thousand lances gleam,
Where, floating in the morning wind, their blood-red pennons stream;
And here his stern artillery climbs up the broad plateau:
To-day he means to strike at us an overwhelming blow.
Now,
Wool
, hold strongly to the heights! for, lo! the mighty tide
Comes, thundering like an avalanche, deep, terrible, and wide.
Now,
Illinois
, stand steady! Now,
Kentucky
, to their aid!
For a portion of our line, alas! is broken and dismayed:
Great bands of shameless fugitives are fleeing from the field,
And the day is lost, if Illinois and brave Kentucky yield.
One of O'Brien's guns is gone!—On, on their masses drift,
Till their cavalry and infantry outflank us on the left;
Our light troops, driven from the hills, retreat in wild dismay,
And round us gather, thick and dark, the Mexican array.
Santana
thinks the day is gained; for, now approaching near,
Miñon's
dark cloud of Lancers sternly menaces our rear.
Now,
Lincoln
, gallant gentleman, lies dead upon the field,
Who strove to stay those cravens, when before the storm they reeled.
Fire,
Washington
, fire fast and true! Fire,
Sherman
, fast and far!
Lo!
Bragg
comes thundering to the front, to breast the adverse war!
Santana
thinks the day is gained! On, on his masses crowd,
And the roar of battle swells again more terrible and loud.
Not yet!
Our brave old General comes to regain the day;
Kentucky
, to the rescue!
Mississippi
, to the fray!
Again our line advances! Gallant
Davis
fronts the foe,
And back before his rifles, in red waves the Lancers flow.
Upon them yet once more, ye brave! The avalanche is stayed!
Back roll the Aztec multitudes, all broken and dismayed.
Ride!
May!
—To Buena Vista! for the Lancers gain our rear,
And we have few troops there to check their vehement career.
Charge,
Arkansas
!
Kentucky
, charge!
Yell
,
Porter
,
Vaughan
, are slain.
But the shattered troops cling desperately unto that crimsoned plain;
Till, with the Lancers intermixed, pursuing and pursued,
Westward, in combat hot and close, drifts off the multitude.
And
May
comes charging from the hills with his ranks of flaming steel,
While, shattered with a sudden fire, the foe already reel:
They flee amain!—Now to the left, to stay the torrent there,
Or else the day is surely lost, in horror and despair!
For their hosts pour swiftly onward, like a river in the spring,
Our flank is turned, and on our left their cannon thundering.
Now, good Artillery! bold Dragoons! Steady, brave hearts, be calm!
Through rain, cold hail, and thunder, now nerve each gallant arm!
What though their shot fall round us here, yet thicker than the hail?
We'll stand against them, as the rock stands firm against the gale.
Lo! their battery is silenced! but our iron sleet still showers:
They falter, halt, retreat,—Hurrah! the glorious day is ours!
[366]
In front, too, has the fight gone well, where upon gallant
Lane
,
And on stout Mississippi, the thick Lancers charged in vain:
Ah! brave Third Indiana! you have nobly wiped away
The reproach that through another corps befell your State to-day;
For back, all broken and dismayed, before your storm of fire,
Santana's
boasted chivalry, a shattered wreck, retire.
Now charge again,
Santana
! or the day is surely lost—
For back, like broken waves, along our left your hordes are tossed.
Still faster roar his batteries,—his whole reserve moves on;
More work remains for us to do, ere the good fight is won.
Now for your wives and children, men! Stand steady yet once more!
Fight for your lives and honors! Fight as you never fought before!
Ho!
Hardin
breasts it bravely! and heroic
Bissell
there
Stands firm before the storm of balls that fill the astonished air:
The Lancers dash upon them too! The foe swarm ten to one:
Hardin
is slain;
McKee
and
Clay
the last time see the sun:
And many another gallant heart, in that last desperate fray,
Grew cold, its last thought turning to its loved ones far away.
Speed, speed, Artillery! to the front!—for the hurricane of fire
Crushes those noble regiments, reluctant to retire!
Speed swiftly! Gallop! Ah! they come! Again
Bragg
climbs the ridge,
And his grape sweeps down the swarming foe, as a strong man moweth sedge:
Thus baffled in their last attack, compelled perforce to yield,
Still menacing in firm array, their columns leave the field.
The guns still roared at intervals; but silence fell at last,
And on the dead and dying came the evening shadows fast.
And then above the mountains rose the cold moon's silver shield,
And patiently and pitying she looked upon the field.
While careless of his wounded, and neglectful of his dead,
Despairingly and sullenly by night
Santana
fled.
And thus on
Buena Vista's
heights a long day's work was done,
And thus our brave old General another battle won.
Still, still our glorious banner waves, unstained by flight or shame,
And the Mexicans among their hills still tremble at our name.
So, honor unto those that stood! Disgrace to those that fled!
And everlasting glory unto Buena Vista's dead!
Albert Pike.
February 28, 1847.

Source: Project Gutenberg

Source: Project Gutenberg