Hillsborough Recorder

August 21, 1861

Page 4

From the North Carolina Standard

VICTORY AT MANASSAS

By Luola

Not surer was the sword of Gideon

                                                            Wielded by almighty power,

Than the Lord was with our armies

                                                            In their great victorious hour;

By the well of Harod gathered

                                                            Israel’s feeble scatter’d bands,

While the mighty host of Midian

                                                            Lay around like ocean sands.

 

Proudly o’er the hill of Moreb

                                                            Swell’d the trumpet’s pealing blast;

But the morn that sparkled o’er them

                                                            Was to Midian’s host the last;

Torn at evening lay their banners

                                                            And the dying and the dead

Mark’d the way where, panic stricken,

                                                            They fled from Israel’s God had fled.

 

Brightly dawn’d the summer morning

                                                            Brightly beam’d the Sabbath blest,

As the pomp of Lincoln’s army

                                                            Onward to Manassas press’d.

Proudly waved their spangled banners

                                                            Breathed they vengeance on the foe;

“Death to traitors” was their watch-word,

                                                            “Crush the rebels evermore.”

 

And their Senate, wise in counsel,

                                                            With the nobles of their land,

Waited at a distance prudent,

                                                            For their great victorious band.

Costliest viands, like Belshazzar’s,

                                                            And the richest, rosiest, wine,

Waited the returning conqueror

                                                            With a wreath his brow to twine.

 

Alas! that conqueror! Better far,

                                                            That he had fallen long ago,

When his brow was wreathed in laurels,

                                                            Bravely won in Mexico,

Better for himself and country

                                                            He had fill’d an infant’s tomb,

Than to have his gray hairs merit

                                                            And await a traitor’s doom!

 

On they rush’d with hearts exultant,

                                                            Might and power were on their side,

Batteries strong and dauntless leaders

                                                            Should the day for them decide;

On they rush’d with iron bracelets

                                                            For the captives, soon to be,

Southern freemen! Iron bracelets

                                                            Forged by Northern hands for THEE!

 

On they rush’d, but God who gave us

                                                            Victory at Bethel’s hill,

In the valley of Manassas

                                                            Proved himself our leader still;

Scatter’d, routed, crush’d, o’erpower’d,

                                                            All their mighty columns riven,

Like the chafe before the whirlwind,

                                                            Were they by our army driven.

 

Land of the South!  adore, exalt Him,

                                                            God did for your brave sons fight;

‘Twas his hand that gain’d the victory,

                                                            And proclaim’d the struggle right.

Not to human skill or wisdom,

                                                            Be the song or ____ raised,

To the Lord, the God of battles,

                                                            Be the glory and the praise!

[Transcribed by Sharon Strout]