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BATTLE OF SOMERSET
by Cullen, Cornelius C.

I gazed, and lo! Afar and near,
With hastening speed, now there, now here,
The horseman rode with glittering spear—
'Twas awful to behold!
Ten thousand men, in dread array—
On every hill and mound they lay—
A dreadful sight it was that day
To see the front they formed.
The polished sabres, waving high,
Flashed brightly in the morning sky;
While, beaming on the dazzled eye,
The glittering bayonets shone.
All, all was hushed among the trees,
Save now and then a gentle breeze,
Which stirr'd the brown and serried leaves
That in the forest lay.
But what is that which greets mine eye?
Is it Columbia's sons I spy?
Hark! hark! I hear their battle cry—
Their shouts of victory!
Still hotter does the conflict grow;
While dealing death in every blow,
McCook charged on the routed foe
His daring little band.
Rest, patriots, rest; the conflict's o'er,
Your erring brethren punished sore;
Oh, would they'd fight their friends no more,
And cease this bloody strife.
Cornelius C. Cullen.

Source: Project Gutenberg

Source: Project Gutenberg