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THE GALLANT FIFTY-ONE
by Flash, Henry Lynden [1835- ]

Freedom called them—up they rose,
Grasped their swords and showered blows
On the heads of Freedom's foes—
And Freedom's foes alone.
Fate decreed that they should die;
Pitying angels breathed a sigh;
Freedom wildly wept on high,
For the gallant Fifty-one!
There they stood in proud array;
None for mercy there would pray;
None would coward looks betray—
All stood forth with fearless eye,
Showing by their dauntless air,
What their noble souls could dare;
Showing to the tyrants there,
How Freedom's sons could die.
None there strove their fate to shun—
Gallant band of Fifty-one!
Then a voice the stillness broke:
'Twas their gallant leader spoke,
Scorning to receive Death's stroke,
Kneeling humbly on the sod!
Gazing calmly on the dead,
Whose life-blood had just been shed,
Proudly then the words he said,
"Americans kneel but to God!"
Perished thus Kentucky's son—
Leader of the Fifty-one.
Rejoice! sons of Thermopylæ!
Kindred spirits join with thee,
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Who fell in fight for Liberty,
For Freedom's sacred name.
Future days their deeds shall tell,
How they nobly fought and fell,
Youthful bosoms proudly swell
At mention of their fame—
Rays of light from Freedom's sun,
Gallant band of Fifty-one!
Honor's rays will ever shed
Glory 'round their hallowed bed.
Though their hearts are cold and dead,
Though their sands of life have run,
Still their names revered will be,
Among the noble and the free—
Glorious sons of Liberty;
Gallant band of Fifty-one!
Henry Lynden Flash.

Source: Project Gutenberg

Source: Project Gutenberg