AS some half-vanquished lion,
Who long hath kept at bay
A band of sturdy foresters
Barring his blood-stained way–
Sore-smitten, weak and wounded–
Glares forth on either hand;
Then, cowed with fear, his cavernous lair
Seeks in the mountain land:
So when their stern Cornwallis,
On Yorktown heights resigned,
His sword to our great leader,
Of the stalwart arm and mind–
So when both fleet and army
At one grand stroke went down
And Freedom’s heart beat high once more
In hamlet, camp and town;–
Through wasted Carolina,
Where’er from plain to hill
The Briton’s guarded fortresses
Uprose defiant still,
Passed a keen shock of terror,
And the breasts of war-steeled men
Quailed in the sudden blast of doom
That smote their spirits then.
“Our cause is lost!” they muttered,
Pale browed, with trembling lips;
“Our strength is sapped, our hope o’erwhelmed,
In final, fierce eclipse;
And what to us remaineth
But to blow our earthworks high,
And hurl our useless batteries
In wild fire to the sky?”
‘Twas done! each deadly fastness
In flaming fragments driven
Farther than e’er their souls could climb
Along the path to heaven–
Coastward the Britons hurried,
In reckless throngs that flee
Wild as December’s scattered clouds
Storm-whirled toward the sea.
In Charleston streets they gathered,
Each dazed wiseacre’s head
Wagging, perchance in prophecy,
Or more perchance in dread.
Horsemen and footmen mingled,
They talked with bated breath
Of the shameful fate that stormed the gate,
Of wrack, and strife, and death!
Meanwhile our squadrons hastened,
Keen as a sleuth-hound pack
That near their destined quarry
By some drear wild-wood track,
Ah, Christ! what desolation
Before us grimly frowned!
The roadways trenched and furrowed,
The gore-ensanguined ground,
With many a mark (oh! deep and dark!)
Made ghastlier by the star-white frost,
‘Twixt broken close and thorn-hedgerow,
Of desperate charge and mortal blow
In conflicts won or lost!
Proud manors once the centre
Of jubilant life and mirth,
Now silent as the sepulchre,
Begirt by ruin and dearth;
Their broad domains all blackened
With taint of fire and smoke,
And corpses vile with a death’s-head smile,
Swung high on the gnarl
(Paul Hamilton Hayne)
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Based on Topics: Death & Dying Poems, Soul Poems, Christianity Poems, Fire Poems, Smiling Poems, Fear Poems, Jesus Christ Poems, Prophets & Prophecies Poems, Leading & Managing Poems, Lions Poems, Leadership PoemsBased on Keywords: sapped, charleston, gnarl, manors, s-head, yorktown, trenched, browed, foresters, ghastlier, cornwallis