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FIRST EDITION 
 5 5 O CO PI ES 
 
 
 COPYRIGHT (1912) BY 
 
 WALTER SMITH GRIFFITH 
 
 ALL .PJGHTS RESERVED 
 
 m 44 
 
 HENRY r. FRIT/,. PRINTER 
 (i03 Jersey Avenue. Jersey City 
 
 ©CI.A328604 
 
BELL PHOTO STUDIO, JERSEY CITV 
 
 ■^^4^2^ 
 
MY LAND OF DAZZLING GLORY 
 
 Of thee, my native land, my soul is proud, 
 Of thy broad plains and rolling hils ; 
 
 Thou art my father, yea, my mother dear. 
 The universe thy being thrils ; 
 
 Thy hand hast broken many galling chains, 
 To be thy son my proudest claim. 
 
 Thou art so fair, thy way so just. 
 The world of care and sordid lust 
 
 Quails back, afraid, at thy command. 
 
 Thy glory shines thruout the earth. 
 Thy thriling chimes wil e'er giv birth 
 To stiring deeds and sacrifice. 
 
 And when my time has come to sing 
 My passing prayer to Him, my King, 
 May I with glory join the host 
 In battle to enrich thy fame. 
 
ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 EMANCIPATOR 
 
Abraham LIncola 
 
 (Emancipator.) 
 
 Within a lowly prairie cabin home, 
 
 Whose carpet was the virgin prairie's loam, 
 
 A child was born unto a humble pair — 
 
 A gift of love to grace the fondest care, 
 
 And mother heart to feed his mind rare fare , 
 
 Tho Want and Struggle were around the board 
 
 To tax to utmost father's slender hoard. 
 
 Yet, stil, one more was welcome. 
 
 The boy grew strong and sturdy in his might, 
 He grasped the Sword of Truth with ready right, 
 He split the rails that marked his daily toil 
 With cheerful mien and thought no one could soil 
 With tricky art or other rankling boil ; 
 And how his righteous wrath would tear the wretch 
 Who dared strive hard to force his soul to stretch 
 A link in Honor's armor. 
 
 Then on and up he won the rocky path 
 
 That leads away from Sodom's sordid wrath — 
 
 The path that runs thru satan's great stronghold, 
 
 Where daily souls are sold to gain the cold 
 
 And scanty comfort of the earthly mold ; 
 
 The mazes of the legal art he tore 
 
 Until the title just he proudly bore 
 
 Of Honest Abe, the lawyer. 
 
Then politics was satan's next bold game 
 To lure his soul away from Freedom's fame, 
 But on in dauntless majesty he swept, 
 And e'en the wind roared by in gusts that wept 
 For dreadful carnage that old Time stil kept 
 Within the womb of years to try his worth 
 When he should guide fair Freedom's ship of earth 
 Thru war and public clamor. 
 
 As President his path was torn with shel 
 From satan's guns of brothers' fiercest hel ; 
 But Lincoln, Abraham, was true to God ; 
 He built his faith on Father's grandest sod — 
 The purging fire of Freedom's smiting rod 
 Poured out to strike the shackles from the meek. 
 To give to them a chance to Freedom seek. 
 With right to freely labor. 
 
 The tramping feet of sturdy martial men, 
 The clash of arms of brothers of the ken 
 Of Freedom's Flag, the roar of cannon loud, 
 The grief and pain of war's enormous cloud. 
 Outpouring wo to cleanse the surging crowd. 
 Bowed down his head with weight of many lives 
 That paid the price, for Freedom rarely strives 
 Without a frightful rending. 
 
 10 
 
And when grand peace spread o'er this mighty land, 
 'Twas then, with waves of steel at his command — 
 Exultant veterans of gory fields — 
 He showed the highest form that Freedom yields — 
 A holy love that God's great blessing shields — 
 He put away the thoughts of flesh renown, 
 He placed upon his brow the laurel crown — 
 A democratic ruler. 
 
 But Fate had marked the end of his life's task 
 And called for his great soul to leave the mask; 
 Within a wicked brain the deed was pland, 
 And helish fires the passion further faned 
 Unto a deed the nation most unmaned. 
 In proudly lofty station stands his name, 
 His imprint's deep upon the scroll of fame 
 As, Father Abe, the martyr. 
 
 Republics. 
 
 And stil the cause of Freedom spreads, 
 Despite the fight of crowned heads, 
 From north to south, from east to west, 
 The people realize 'tis best 
 
 To rule themselves. 
 
 11 
 
Thanksgiving Dav. 
 
 Come sing a hymn to Freedom's King, 
 
 Let anthem to high Heaven ring, 
 
 Our hearts are ful of joy today 
 
 And praise is due our Father's sway ; 
 
 He's brought us thru a trying year 
 
 And freed our hearts from chiling fear ; 
 
 Our arms have won rare triumphs grand 
 
 O'er foes in far-off foreign lands ; 
 
 He's burst the chains of many slaves, 
 
 He's soothed our tears o'er heroes' graves; 
 
 Now bow our heads and humbly pray 
 
 For aded blessings on our way ; 
 
 Then sing with vim the Nation's songs. 
 
 Loud cheer our sons, to them belongs 
 
 The credit due for daring skil 
 
 On ocean deep, up steepest hil, 
 
 And ring the notes on Freedom's bel, 
 
 Ring loud its voice, ring clear its swel 
 
 All o'er the land where freemen dwel, 
 
 That it may weave its mystic spel. / 
 
 12 
 
Sumter. 
 
 A frightful roar, the storm of war 
 Spread quickly far, with rending jar, 
 Thru Freedom's streets, with pulsing beats 
 Of drum and fife to call to strife, 
 To rouse each heart to bear its part, 
 To loose the purse, to wounded nurse, 
 When rebels fired on Sumter. 
 
 The people hear, with anxious ear, 
 Each cannoned note to battled moat, 
 And pulses beat with fervid heat. 
 While every sense is drawn and tense 
 Lest Freedom's crown and fair renown 
 Shal trail the dust for serfdom's lust, 
 
 While rebels fight with Sumter. 
 
 A cry of rage, the battle gage 
 
 Was thrown afar by loyal tar 
 
 And soldier brave, on land and wave; 
 
 To arms ! To arms ! From towns and farms 
 
 A rolling wave of freemen brave 
 
 Came dashing fast to face the blast 
 
 When rebels captured Sumter. 
 
 13 
 
Our Emblem. 
 
 Caressing breezes waft no nobler emblem high ; 
 'Tis Heaven's quick relief to slaving people nigh 
 From suffering's travail and sorrow's bitter cry ; 
 A strong and sure uplift to bosom's hopeless sigh ; 
 The refuge close, direct from tyrants' dirgeful die, 
 And liting, true release from serfdom's thralling eye- 
 The Flag of our great Fatherland, 
 The thril of each rare hero grand. 
 The rock round which the valiant stand, 
 The boon of our brave fighting band — 
 Fair Freedom's Starry Crown. 
 
 Our riag. 
 
 The stripes of white are an emblem of light, 
 The stripes of red are our footprints of might, 
 The gleaming stars in the azure so bright 
 Are Freedom's beacon from serfdom's dread blight. 
 
 14 
 
Uncle Sam's Host. 
 
 What nation dare disturb Old Glory land, 
 Where rich and poor march forward hand in hand 
 To loose the chains from many weeping slaves, 
 To ask a fair account for needless graves? 
 
 Where can you find a land so rich and grand. 
 
 So ful of Charity and Love's command 
 
 To make each soul a brother in the fight 
 
 To reap the best that comes from Freedom's might? 
 
 Where can you find a people that old Self 
 Has lost so strong a hold upon their pelf, 
 Where children ad a charm unto each hearth 
 And rich and poor rejoice in prattlers' mirth? 
 
 Where are the chances half so good and fair 
 To gain a place upon the golden stair. 
 And where may poor achieve so much renown 
 As under Freedom's shining Starry Crown?. 
 
 Our fathers faced their fate and friendship broke, 
 Determined to throw ofif the galling yoke, 
 When taxed without a voice in making laws. 
 And now the earth resounds with Freedom's cause. 
 
 15 
 
Fair Freedom's land has shed its richest blood 
 To stem the tide of serfdom's awful flood, 
 And precious lips have madly bit the dust 
 To pay the price for lordlings' greedy lust. 
 
 The day is near when Freedom's mighty host 
 Wil make the crumbling thrones yield up the ghost. 
 When thru the climes the chimes wil proudly sing 
 A paen grand unto our righteous King. 
 
 Within a lowly manger slept a child, 
 
 Who rose and bore the cross of sin that wild, 
 
 Licentious satan pland for our disgrace, 
 
 By Savior's precious Blood we gained new place. 
 
 Tho He is risen, onward flies the Word, 
 Until by hosts the theme is gladly heard; 
 The mighty Truth is sweeping down the years, 
 Upheld by Freedom's sons, 'mid mothers' tears. 
 
 16 
 
•••••••••••• 
 
 •••••••••••• 
 
GEN. WINFIELD SCOTT HANCOCK 
 
Gettysburg. 
 
 The Battle of Gettysburg was the keystone of the 
 Civil War. The men were harangued by their com- 
 manders before the conflict. So fierce was the re- 
 sultant zeal of the combatants that when ammunition 
 became exhausted the battle was continued hand-to- 
 hand, like unto the days when knights were bold. 
 
 The Federals held Gettysburg and the surrounding 
 country. It was a natural battlefield, and they 
 strengthened the position by every means in their 
 power. 
 
 The First Day. 
 
 July 1, 1863 — The Confederates commenced their 
 assault at 9 A. M. from the northwest with a savage 
 attack on the skirmishers along the Chambersburg 
 Road. Seminary Ridge was held by the engineers to 
 be the key to the position, and here was where the 
 Federals made their stand. Desperate fighting ensued. 
 Reinforcements were hurried up by the commanders 
 on both sides. The Confederates posted batteries to 
 command the Federal position, and the frightful cross- 
 fire and repeated charges by the outnumbering Con- 
 federate force turned the tide of battle against the 
 Federals, who retreated through Gettysburg in great 
 confusion. The Confederates took about 5,000 pris- 
 oners. 
 
 21 
 
The Second Day. 
 
 July 2, 1863 — Gen. Winfield Scott Hancock arrived 
 and took command of the Federals, who massed 
 around Little Round Top and Round Top, to the south 
 of Gettysburg, where one of the most valiant battles 
 in history followed. The Confederates commenced the 
 attack from the west at half-past three in the after- 
 noon, swarming in on the Federal skirmishers in the 
 peach orchard to the west of Devil's Den, whom they 
 drove back to their main position at Little Round 
 Top, where a bitter fight ensued. The Confederates 
 were beaten back. They reformed and again attacked. 
 The fighting was of a sanguinary character, and the 
 Federals were driven back to Cemetery Hill, resisting 
 every step. Gen. Hancock then took personal com- 
 mand, and there were furious charges and counter- 
 charges. The Federals brought up more batteries, 
 and their flank and cross-fires caused the Confederates 
 to halt. Both sides bivouaced on the field. Nothing 
 decisive. 
 
 22 
 
The Third Day. 
 
 July 3, 1863 — At daybreak the Federal artillery 
 opened the engagement. The Confederates attacked 
 all along the Federal line, finaly retiring to their posi- 
 tion on Seminary Ridge. From 1 to 3 P. M. a furious 
 artillery duel took place between the Confederate 
 artillery, about 115 guns, and the Federal batteries, 
 about 80 guns. Shortly after 3 o'clock the Federal 
 general, Hunt, ordered the fire to cease in order to 
 cool the guns and bring up more ammunition in prep- 
 aration for the contest at close quarters, which he 
 judged would soon follow. Gen. George E. Pickett 
 believed Gen. Hancock's batteries were silenced and 
 ordered an advance, personaly leading the charge. A 
 mile and a quarter separated the armies, and Pickett's 
 brigade faced a withering fire of solid shot, shel and 
 canister, which tore great holes in its alinement. To 
 this was aded volleys of musketry. They paused, but 
 again came on with desperate valor, and were only 
 repulsed after a terrific hand-to-hand encounter. The 
 Federals captured about 4,500 prisoners. There was 
 more fighting, but the Federals had won the day. 
 From this point the star of the Confederacy com- 
 menced to wane. 
 
 Forces engaged — About 100,000 men on each side. 
 Federal loss — 23,000 men (about). 
 Confederate loss — 26,000 men (about). 
 
 23 
 
The Storm Breaks. 
 
 Far northward swept the rebel tide — 
 "ril camp down by the Hudson's side," 
 Quoth Lee, with dashing southern pride ; 
 But, grimly brave, the northmen dare 
 The chivalry of battles' flare, 
 And wait the issue calmly there 
 
 On Gettysburg's bold field. 
 
 The sun shone down resplendent rays 
 Upon the hosts beneath its blaze, 
 Like leashed tigers held at bay, 
 Awaiting but the word to slay 
 For what each held to be the right 
 And hoped to win by force of might 
 And gallant conduct there. 
 
 The grays, with dashing lilt and yel, 
 Ope wide the doors of War's dread hel; 
 The blues as stubbornly contest 
 Their hold upon the Ridge's crest, 
 While back and forth the raging roar 
 Of flashing guns the ether tore 
 As on the battle raged. 
 
 24 
 
The tide runs strong against the blues, 
 Who battle on, with aching thews. 
 But reinforcements swerve the flood. 
 The battlefield runs red with blood. 
 With might and main, with flashing steel, 
 With storms of shot, they slaying reel 
 In deadly combat grim. 
 
 The gray's reserves come swarming fast. 
 
 Like angry bees, in battle blast, 
 
 The blues, outnumbered, slowly yield, 
 
 They stubbornly contest the field, 
 
 But enfilading batteries 
 
 Fil ful their cup with miseries — 
 
 The blues are beaten back. 
 
 25 
 
When darkness sent its mantle down 
 It hid the battle's beetling frown, 
 And 'neath its cloak the blues retire 
 Thru Gettysburg, confusion dire, 
 To where their comrades wait the fray 
 They know wil come with thriling sway 
 When foemen storm their line. 
 
 The Reaper garners fast the sons 
 'Mid thundrous roar of mighty guns, 
 As thru the day, with gruesome flare, 
 Dread armaments' momentous blare 
 Unrolls the scroll of dazzling fame 
 Fair Freedom's sons reap from the flame 
 Of battle's dashing thrall. 
 
 26 
 
HaneocU's Heroism. 
 
 Into the breach, with gallant dash, 
 With fearless scorn of combat's clash,. 
 Rode Hancock on his fiery steed 
 To cheer with buoyant word and deed. 
 
 His soul soared o'er the battle's swings 
 On Energy's high-powered wings ; 
 Where raging tempest fiercely blew, 
 From charge to charge he quickly flew. 
 
 Tho wounded sore he kept the field 
 Until he saw the foemen yield. 
 Until his men's victorious cheers 
 Came welcome to his anxious ears. 
 
 Where Glory, with her perfumed breath. 
 Led o'er the yawning jaws of death. 
 They strove in Freedom's glorious name 
 To cleanse our land from serfdom's shame. 
 
 And many precious sons were slain 
 That slaves might Freedom's honors gain 
 As row on row the rebel steel 
 Was trampled 'neath their valiant heel. 
 
 27 
 
Picf^elt'5 Charge. 
 
 For two long days the storm of war 
 O'er Gettysburg's red field 
 
 Had swept the hosts both near and far, 
 While foemen slashed and reeled, 
 
 And rank on rank the leaden spray 
 
 Had lain the slain of blue and gray. 
 
 But Fate stil held the victor's crown 
 Past noon the third bright day ; 
 
 From Cemetery Ridge the frown 
 Of cannon, grim, to slay ; 
 
 Debouching from the forest del, 
 
 The grays, in spite of cannons' knel. 
 
 Brave Pickett led the long gray line, 
 Torn oft with shot and shel, 
 
 At double quick, formation fine. 
 Loud rang the Southern yel, 
 
 As forward, with a swinging stride, 
 
 They sought to turn the battle's tide. 
 
 From Seminary Ridge they came, 
 
 A useless sacrifice; 
 The air throbed with the deadly hum. 
 
 And hearts seemed in a vise 
 As canister and grape mowed fast 
 The men in gray with fiery blast. 
 
 28 
 
And on and on, with scarce a pause, 
 
 Across the zone of death. 
 The flower of the Southern cause, 
 
 Swept by the cannon's breath, 
 Endurance great and courage rare, 
 Charged on the blues with reckless dare. 
 
 A flanking force came runing, then 
 Their musketry poured in. 
 
 And groans and shrieks of wounded men 
 Increased the awful din; 
 
 The right then yielded up the field, 
 
 Beneath such fire the bravest reeled. 
 
 Then hand-to-hand the fight was waged, 
 
 And forward once again, 
 The conflict fiercely onward raged. 
 
 Their path was heaped with slain ; 
 The blues retired behind their guns, 
 Which belched their double-shoted tons. 
 
 No aid for them thus madly sent, 
 
 Their star began to fade. 
 Retiring, sadly, back they went, 
 
 Their history was made; 
 The King, from His grand judgment seat, 
 Had set upon their brows "Defeat.'* 
 
 29 
 
Memorial Dqv. 
 
 Each nation that is great and just 
 Rare honor pays to heroes' dust, 
 Each flag that breezes gaily wave 
 Sings gladsome tribute to the brave. 
 
 When month of May is at its end 
 Fair Freedom's sons their footsteps bend 
 To churchyards where the heroes sleep, 
 And o'er the clay they softly weep. 
 
 High shait and grandly worded phrase 
 Enhance the worth of hero craze, 
 But privates in their modest graves 
 Are just as much the bravest braves. 
 
 What more could man ask of his God 
 Than mound of earth and fragrant sod. 
 Wherein his weary limbs to rest 
 And wait the time for His behest? 
 
 No nobler strain for them can ring, 
 No choirs can chant or sweetly sing 
 More honor to their humble clay 
 Than flowers strewn on blue and gray. 
 
 With heroes head the marching throngs; 
 To them, indeed, all praise belongs ; 
 Get them to sing the old war songs ; 
 Scourge not the old with sneering thongs. 
 
 30 
 
Too soon their heads wil lie at rest 
 Besides comrades — the Nation's blest- 
 In honor cross on silent breast 
 Emblazoned arms with Nation's crest. 
 
 Our dazzling stars stil o'er you wave, 
 Ye dead and living heroes brave ; 
 Let tears of peace enrich each grave 
 Of them who died their cause to save. 
 
 Plant roses on their resting place. 
 Let ivy now their tombstones grace ; 
 Deep down within our heart of hearts 
 We cherish love that ne'er departs. 
 
 Meek Jesus came to save from sin, 
 To teach the way to brothers win, 
 His Blood hath bought out sinful clay 
 From Satan's dark and deadly way. 
 
 31 
 
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 32 
 
MEMORIAL DAY SCENE 
 
SHIP OF '61 
 
PRESIDENT WILLIAM McKINLEY 
 
President William McKinlev. 
 
 In calm, judicial, fearless way 
 
 He steers the Ship of State 
 Past beetling rocks of jealous fray 
 
 To reach her shining fate ; 
 He won his spurs with courage rare, 
 
 With skil and daring dash. 
 His victories now are ones of care, 
 
 Red tape the combat's clash ; 
 Unworthy sons would shirk the work, 
 
 No privates would they be, 
 They bar the way, with foolish quirk, 
 
 Of Freedom's gallant free. 
 
 41 
 
The Destruction of the Maine. 
 
 (February 15, J 898.) 
 
 At anchor swung a gallant ship 
 
 Within Havana's port; 
 
 No need for war's resort 
 To man her guns and bravely fight 
 Upon that calm and peaceful night. 
 
 She seemed at peace with all mankind 
 While gently swinging there; 
 No need for trumpets' blare, 
 Or officers the range to find 
 For guners down behind steel blind. 
 
 Old satan found a fertile soil 
 
 Wherein to sow a seed 
 
 Unto a dastard deed, 
 And crafty men had placed a mine 
 That tore apart the cruiser fine. 
 
 It was a sneaking, wicked act 
 
 That hurled the Maine to doom; 
 Around the world the loom 
 Of wires announced the anguished wail 
 That freemen raised — a mighty flail. 
 
 42 
 
Then and Now, 
 
 The Spaniards bold, 
 
 In days of old, 
 
 So we've been told, 
 Could conquer peaceful tribes; 
 
 With fire and sword 
 
 They came aboard 
 
 For natives' hoard, 
 And promised life for bribes. 
 
 And when the natives gave their hoard 
 Did Spaniards cease the fire and sword? 
 Where, then, had Spanish honor flown 
 When flames of lust were widely blown 
 To scorch the soil of natives' home, 
 And dons reeked red with natives' blood 
 To stil the gold and bestial flood ? 
 
 'Tvvas fun to laugh and jeer and sneer 
 
 And brag of name, with haughty leer, 
 
 In days of old. 
 
 43 
 
In modem times 
 
 The Spanish crimes 
 
 'Mid Southern climes 
 Aroused our Yankee ire; 
 
 No more with sword 
 
 Shal duke and lord 
 
 Reap rich reward, 
 Or rule by ruin dire. 
 
 The tricky Spaniards were the same 
 Vile creatures, foul, and of il-fame; 
 They wrecked the Maine with dastard skil, 
 They showed how gladly they would kil 
 Each daring soul who'd brave their wil ; 
 But times were changed and Yankee dash 
 Soon checked their way with awful crash. 
 
 They had no time for joke or jest 
 When cannons spoke the trite behest 
 Of Yankees bold. 
 
 44 
 
War With Spain. 
 
 Starvation, lust and pain, with wanton hands, 
 Had Spain spread wide o'er her colonial lands; 
 The suckling- babes at Spain's unwholesome breast 
 Were doomed outright to years of wild unrest 
 Or torn by dogs at soulless dons' behest. 
 
 But angels of this world's all-wise, great King 
 Had kept the score until the mighty ring 
 Of wo had grown unto a tempest wail 
 That tore apart proud Spain with flashing flail 
 Of Vengeance's sword — the golden holy grail. 
 
 Then one by one her colonies were lost, 
 But stil she reckoned not the dreadful cost 
 Of soulless deeds, and onward rushed her fate 
 With heartless jest and frightful lust to sate 
 Her greed for gold and bloody vampire trait. 
 
 At last she struck upon fair Freedom's rock. 
 Her ship of state sustained a rending shock 
 And split in twain before the tempest ceased; 
 Her empire to one-half had then decreased. 
 And soon she'll pay her all unto the fleeced. 
 
 45 
 
Battle of Manila. 
 
 Outside Manila Bay the rippling tide 
 
 Bore on its bosom broad the Yankees' pride — 
 
 Brave Dewey's men awaited deadly fray 
 
 With vessels changed from white to somber gray; 
 
 No shiver crept thruout their manly clay, 
 
 But like a fiery blast the surging blood 
 
 Spured on the sturdy seamen with its flood. 
 
 Aboard each gallant ship the hardy tars 
 
 Had fixed the means for meeting battles' jars ; 
 
 The captains met below the polished decks 
 
 Of Commodore's trim home, and pland the wrecks 
 
 That caused bold dons to tremble lest their necks 
 
 Should feel the steel with which they'd slain the weak 
 
 And dyed the soil that they might vengeance wreak. 
 
 When rumor flew and grew with steady pace 
 That soon those dons might know the sad disgrace 
 They wel deserved, the gallant seamen strode 
 With hurried steps to place each steel abode 
 In shape to meet the best that ever rode 
 The billows high or stemed the swinging tide 
 Within a port when belching guns were tried. 
 
 46 
 
"Remember wel the Maine," the slogan rang, 
 
 In mighty chorus thus the seamen sang, 
 
 And burning words rose from the jackies' lips : 
 
 "Just wait," they cried, "and see who holds the whips, 
 
 The cruisers of the dons or Yankee ships!" 
 
 And cheer on cheer rose high unto the sky 
 
 When forth they went to do or bravely die. 
 
 All lights went out, and midnight's mantling shroud 
 Encompassed round the Yankees' cruisers proud 
 As up the channel broad, in stern array, 
 Olympia in front to feel the way, 
 They steamed upon that glorious first of May — 
 The day that threw a broad and dazzling light 
 Into the eyes that read of Freedom's might. 
 
 Beside the guns were figures grim and grave, 
 Which waited word to send our message brave 
 Of might unto a dark and stubborn foe. 
 Whose bloody tread had fild the world with woe, 
 Whose course had long been ever downward flow. 
 And who, with hauty brow and iron hand. 
 Had sought to gird the earth with his harsh band. 
 
 47 
 
A flash and roar — Corregidor spake strong 
 A harsh command that bade our ships prolong 
 Their stay until the word that all was wel — 
 But no ! the time had come for Spanish knel ; 
 The answer quick was sent — a bursting shel — 
 Whose fragments laid the gunners low in death 
 And paved the way for more from cannons' breath. 
 
 Then onward up the stream in single file 
 
 The Yankee cruisers steamed in wining style, 
 
 While, silent, at their posts, the gunners wait — 
 
 No fear, but feelings keen of awful hate 
 
 When thoughts crowd fast of gallant Maine's harsh fate. 
 
 And visions came of many comrades where 
 
 The sharks glide by and at their corpses glare. 
 
 And on until the sun's resplendent rays 
 
 Revealed Manila to their anxious gaze, 
 
 And further on, where Spanish cruisers wait 
 
 In readiness to strike and hatred sate, 
 
 With Cavite's huge guns to indicate 
 
 Their wilingness to aid the Spanish fleet 
 
 When belching guns announce that foemen meet. 
 
 48 
 
Then on they steamed, Olympia in front 
 To clear the way and bear the battle's brunt, 
 With Baltimore and Raleigh steaming next, 
 While Petrel, Concord, Boston and the text 
 That taught proud Spain the question vexed 
 Of death unto her power upon the seas, 
 Of heedless ears unto her crafty pleas. 
 
 The Spanish guns began the mad refrain, 
 
 And Spanish guners worked with might to gain 
 
 A quick advantage o'er our jackies true, 
 
 Who silent stood and anxious glances threw — 
 
 While nearer, nearer to Spain's ships they drew — 
 
 To where their officers await the call 
 
 Despite the storm of hurtling shel and ball. 
 
 At forty minutes past the hour of five 
 
 The Yankee crews began their awful drive 
 
 Of wel-sent shels into the Spanish foes. 
 
 Whose crews fought on or died in frightful throes, 
 
 While al around the battle onward flows, 
 
 And cheer on cheer betokened skilful blows 
 
 The Yankees dealt unto the Spanish foes. 
 
 49 
 
Then from the shore the spark flew on its course 
 That caused the mines to wreak their direful force. 
 But Spanish estimate was very wide — 
 The mines flashed out their force upon the tide; 
 And onward to their work our cruisers ride, 
 While thunder of the crashing armament 
 Bespake the course of war's destructive bent. 
 
 Ah ! see ! two gliding phantoms quickly start ; 
 From Bacoor Bay the dreaded launches dart 
 That wield torpedo tubes — they must be stayed— 
 And swiftly rapid-firing guns are played 
 Until the dread torpedo boats are flayed; 
 One sank amid the bursting shels' harsh screech 
 The other madly flew unto the beach. 
 
 The Spanish flagship bravely sallied forth, 
 
 Olympia engaged the foeman wroth, 
 
 Then fore and aft the Yankees raked the foe, 
 
 Until she was a scene of frightful wo — 
 
 While Spanish skil caused them no deathly thro — 
 
 Then, wobbling like a senile derelict, 
 
 She weakly staggered back from close conflict. 
 
 50 
 
Two long and anxious hours they drubed proud Spain, 
 
 Until her ships were shambles of the main, 
 
 And devastating fire had spread its might 
 
 To ad unto Spain's terrors in the fight ; 
 
 The drifting, sinking cruisers were a sight 
 
 To make the stoutest heart abhor war's hel 
 
 And long for everlasting peaceful spel. 
 
 Three times around our ships, in grand array, 
 
 Upheld the flag in broad Manila Bay, 
 
 And then their crews went to a wel-earned rest, 
 
 While cheer on cheer announced the King's behest— 
 
 That surging life stil thriled each Yankee breast; 
 
 But woful scenes of desolation rife 
 
 They left to tel the Spaniards of the strife ! 
 
 Refreshed, they steamed in haste to end the fray, 
 'Twas nearly noon upon that first of May ; 
 They flew along the Spanish line and played 
 Their guns in quick succession, naut dismayed, 
 Until the Spanish flags no longer stayed 
 Aloft, and noblest part of Yankee pride 
 Was spent in saving men from strangling tide. 
 
 51 
 
But i:til the minor gunboats huged the shore 
 And seemed to slyly hanker for more war. 
 The Petrel quickly stild their rash pretense; 
 She taught the minor foes some common sense, 
 Thus bringing to the fleet rare recompense 
 Of wel-earned rest from toil and daring skil 
 That won the day when foemen sought to kill. 
 
 The Stoker. 
 
 The grimy stoker plays a hero's part 
 Supplying coal into the cruiser's heart; 
 He risks his life to gain the victor's crown 
 Without a hope of sharing great renown 
 
 Of daring men behind the guns. 
 
 Then here's a cheer to the man in the hold, 
 For loyal heart of the passer of coal, 
 
 The King looks down from His Throne of rare gold 
 And credit gives for the worth of his soul. 
 
 52 
 
The Pough Riders. 
 
 ''Our flag is insulted !" flew fiercely the cry, 
 From freeman to freeman, it rose to the sky, 
 Like surging, wild heat its fire raced in the veins ; 
 "To arms!" was the call, "strike the land that profane^ 
 The law of our King, and then scatter the grain — 
 The horde of vile villains who sank our ship Maine." 
 
 From east to west it rose in a wail, 
 From north to south it beat like a flail. 
 In streets it ran, like fire was its breath. 
 In woodman's hut it found not its death. 
 But rose in might, so steady its roll. 
 Its call aroused each worthy son's soul 
 Who loves the Red and White and the Blue 
 That floats o'er land of brave and the true ; 
 It reached our sons on rolling, wide plains. 
 And found brave arms to bear its harsh chains ; 
 Then "Teddy" Roosevelt, knowing their worth, 
 And knowing of more salt of the earth 
 In manly hearts that throb in fine clothes 
 Where love of country zealously glows. 
 Developed them, with kindly, firm hand 
 Into a troop of cavalry grand — 
 The Rough Riders. 
 
 53 
 
Then brave Colonel Wood gave the word that them sent 
 
 For country united on Freedom's cause bent ; 
 
 They went to the front in the infantry line, 
 
 Their martial array showed a discipline fine; 
 
 They sang in a way that all hearts felt the thril, 
 
 The "Star-spangled Banner" of plain and high hil. 
 
 In covert dense the Spaniards in wait, 
 
 On come the Riders, skirmishers' gait; 
 
 From top of La Guasimas' steep hil. 
 
 The bullets pour with deadliest skil; 
 
 Onward they press with nonchalant grit, 
 
 Tho many drop so f earf uly hit ; 
 
 They sweep the foe like chaflf in the wind, 
 
 These fighting Yankees, all of one mind; 
 
 From fiery charge the Spaniards then fly. 
 
 The Yankees praise their King in the sky; 
 
 For "Forward, Forward!" you hear the boys 
 
 plead, 
 No matter where their duty may lead; 
 Their line goes forward, it never bends ; 
 A host they are of kindliest friends, 
 And manly tears they silently weep 
 When covering deep their dead in last sleep — 
 The Rough Riders. 
 
 54 
 
Heroes of the Merrlmac. 
 
 (Santiago de Cuba*) 
 
 All eyes aloft to the Flag of Stars, 
 With red and white interweaving bars,^ 
 Now duty calls for a deed to ring 
 In history's pages and make bards sing; 
 No man afraid to meet Him, our King, 
 Need ask to go thru the fiery hef 
 Of solid shot and the bursting shel. 
 
 Too many heroes plead hard for place 
 Upon the Merrimac when she'll race 
 Fast o'er the mines, under frowning forts. 
 To block this flower of the Cuban ports; 
 Can they outwit the bold dons' cohorts? 
 Death hath no wos for the fearless tars 
 Who do and dare under Stripes and Stars^ 
 
 Thru dark'ning mist, just before the dawn,. 
 They steam away, no heart is forlorn ; 
 Nine noble sons to attempt the deed. 
 To lay down lives for their country's need ; 
 All fame and glory to such pure seed. 
 Which upward soars to heroic height 
 And cares for naut in its righteous might. 
 
 55 
 
The guns then flash with their fitful glare, 
 
 The roar comes quick to their shipmates there, 
 
 Who peer and listen to learn their fate 
 
 While steaming for Santiago's gate, 
 
 'Mid hissing shels of mad Spanish hate; 
 
 Stil on they go toward the destined spot, 
 
 From stem to stern raked by shel and shot. 
 
 All firing ceases, the deed is done, 
 
 The race is o'er and the goal is won ; 
 
 The sunlight comes with its cheering gleam, 
 
 But are our jackies within its beam — 
 
 Those heroes picked from the Nation's cream. 
 
 And one brave soul, who had stowed away 
 
 To help them on in their deadly way? 
 
 Soon comes the news that all are alive, 
 Two only hurt in that deadly drive; 
 Cervera sends in the trusty hands 
 Of his chief officer, sealing bands 
 That bind so close the brave in all lands, 
 The joyful tidings that every brave 
 Is safe from death in a watery grave. 
 
 56 
 
COMMODORE GEORGE DEWEY 
 
COL. THEODORE ROOSEVELT 
 
Colonel Theodore Poosevelt. 
 
 In front of charging, sweeping host — 
 The boys who are the Nation's boast — 
 Rode Roosevelt, leader, brave and true, 
 To him the Nation's meed is due. 
 His horse stopd short in miry soil, 
 The Spanish fence ceased equine's toil, 
 But off he sprang, with cheering call, 
 And led them thru the battle's thrall. 
 
 The Vesuvius. 
 
 Thou engine of destructive might. 
 Whose frightful flame lights up the night, 
 Whose smashing force disrupts the rocks. 
 Thou art a source of earthquake shocks. 
 
 Troop C, Ninth U. 5. Cavair/. 
 
 In that mad race with Death 
 They charged with bated breath ; 
 The colored troop, with gallant rush, 
 Advanced the Spanish foe to crush. 
 And up the hil, San Juan its name, 
 They led the charge of world-wide fame. 
 
 61 
 
Spain. 
 
 Rich talents rare gave God to greatest Spain^ 
 She hauty grew in her corrupt disdain ; 
 She lost her prestige on the Spanish main. 
 Oppression ne'er unearthed a plan that pays, 
 No nation gains which for amusement slays 
 And finds no time to mend her evil ways. 
 Her soldiers were as brave as braves could be, 
 Her sailors fought right wel upon the sea — 
 They needed naut but right to make her free. 
 She ruled her hosts with rasping iron hand, 
 She sought to keep a royal conscript band 
 And would not listen to our God's command. 
 Then province after province slipped away, 
 And blindly on she struggled in dismay; 
 She would not see the dawn of Freedom's day. 
 But God is stronger far than kings or lords. 
 He conquers quick the wrong with smiting swords 
 And sweeps away the vaunting, bestial hordes. 
 
 62 
 
The Wav Our rathers 
 
 Saw Their Duh/. 
 
 Our fathers fought for homes, and treasures true, 
 
 Such heroes bold would have naut else; 
 "All honest men are equal when true blue," 
 
 That was their standard, nothing else ; 
 They held that blood was purest when no taint 
 
 Of cowardice was found therein; 
 And they who fought with hearts that knew no faint 
 
 Should reap reward for slaying sin. 
 
 The mantle of the citizen for all. 
 
 From workingman to plutocrat, 
 Unless we yield to satan's drear pitfall, 
 
 When poor shal fare like autocrat; 
 For all must toil, from humblest one to sage, 
 
 All earthly hopes end in the grave, 
 And flaunting titles rare upon Life's page 
 
 Do not reveal the modest brave. 
 
 63 
 
The gallant lads who sail the ocean blue 
 
 Encounter storms upon their way, 
 But manfuly they strive while binding true 
 
 The nations close in peaceful sway ; 
 And when red war, with rending, frightful cloud, 
 
 Comes roaring on to tear the foe. 
 It finds the jacky, fearless, calm and proud. 
 
 To meet the blast for weal or woe. 
 
 Each valiant son who loves the Stars and Stripes 
 
 A soldier true shal be to fight 
 The battles of his native land when jars 
 
 Of war endanger Freedom's might; 
 To plowshare turn the musket, cannon, sword. 
 
 When war is o'er and peace is won ; 
 Dictator, king, or duke, or earl, or lord. 
 
 No name shal make a noble son. 
 
 One hundred years and more have passed away. 
 
 And heroes fair have braved the fray; 
 We stronger grow and better day by day, 
 
 And virtue seek, altho we slay; 
 In God we trust, in mercy have our hold, 
 
 And conscious are of path to hew 
 To reach the Cross of sinners — purest gold — 
 
 Which stands for all, and not the few. 
 
 64 
 
New York's Heroic 7i5t. 
 
 The first to enlist, 
 
 The first in the line, 
 
 The first in the field. 
 
 They charge in the van. 
 
 They alway resist, 
 
 These soldiers so fine, 
 
 Their lives are a shield 
 To Yankeeland's clan. 
 
 New York's great heroes, can more be said. 
 You who have died and so nobly bled, 
 Than soaring cheers to your mighty tread. 
 As you sweep with resistless might 
 To the top of a frowning height 
 And keep close your comradeship tight, 
 Or march down our peaceful streets, 
 'Mid the Nation's joyful meets, 
 Marking time to drummer's beats? 
 
 65 
 
Can we of jewels give you and gold, 
 The hauty emblems of mean and cold, 
 Who for their shine have our country sold 
 Far too often to suit the brave, 
 Who mount war's wild, destructive wave 
 To earn glory or early grave, 
 Or is't best to be our love, 
 Kindly true as turtle dove. 
 Fiercely strong as battle's glove? 
 
 Go on in might, with your fearless hearts, 
 In ways of war and the peaceful arts; 
 We hold a place in our busy marts 
 
 Where you'll find richest treasure rare 
 To impart to old age good care. 
 And thus find our love's rarest fare; 
 Petty mortals never turn 
 Our rich love from Freedom's urn, 
 Where unceasing fires e'er burn. 
 
 66 
 
Cervera's Crushing Defeat. 
 
 (July 3, J 898.) 
 
 In annals of the sea 
 The tale wil thril the free 
 In many climes. 
 
 In single file they steamed from port 
 In desperate, last mad resort 
 To gain the sea, escape to Spain, 
 Recoup once more and try again, 
 And hope, next time, for better luck 
 Afighting Yankee skil and pluck. 
 
 Cervera, of renown, 
 Was beaten, foot to crown. 
 For Spanish crimes. 
 
 The Yankee fleet was in the way, 
 
 The Yankee guns began to play 
 
 A tattoo hard on Spanish ribs 
 
 That smashed away the steel in dribs ; 
 
 At last it reached their cruisers' hearts 
 
 And made fit prey for Yanke parts. 
 
 67 
 
The Spanish ships ashore, 
 By Yankee shells sore tore. 
 Ring loud our chimes. 
 
 The news that flew to Freedom's land 
 Was birthday gift to Nation grand — 
 A gift unto our natal day, 
 When cannons boom and children play, 
 And rockets blaze in starry night 
 To celebrate our Nation's might. 
 
 The Men Behind the Guns. 
 
 Then Commodore gave speech, in kindly way, 
 "You are the boys who won the deadly fray; 
 To men behind the guns is credit due 
 For sterling skil that hauty foeman slew." 
 
 "A victory that's large enough for all," 
 Thus spake the Commodore at duty's call; 
 No selfish thought unhinged his judgment rare, 
 "To men behind the guns," he did declare. 
 
 It takes far more than cranky discipline 
 To make a cruiser's crew fight hard to win. 
 For men wel know the credit rarely goes 
 To those who toil to crush a country's foes. 
 
 68 
 
COMMODORE WINFIELD SCOTT SCHLEY 
 
.Siinrkigo. 
 
 To Santiago they are bound, 
 
 Altho the dead may strew the ground; 
 
 They, boldly land on Cuba's shore 
 
 To gain more wealth for Freedom's store. 
 
 The torrid su-n sends down its blaze 
 To ad to thirst and hunger's craze ; 
 The weeping clouds pour chily rain 
 To ad to suffering's long train. 
 
 The gallant boys contest each mile : 
 Thev work with wil or hours beguile 
 As soldiers do the weary hours 
 That come between the battle's showers. 
 
 Along the line, thru tropic brush. 
 They chase the foemen with a rush, 
 Until the Spanish flag comes down 
 And upward flies our Starry Crown. 
 
 It was a sight that wel repaid 
 The toilsome march thru muddy glade, 
 It was a sight to cheer the heart 
 Of heroes grand for Freedom's part. 
 
 71 
 
In Meinorinin. 
 
 Ye sons whose precious blood was shed. 
 Who nobly fought and sadly bled 
 To strike the shackles from the wrists 
 With mighty blows of brawny fists, 
 \\> mourn vour loss. 
 
 Xo marble shaft can wel repay 
 The worth of your enraptured clay ; 
 Vour onward spirit numbs the pain 
 Or fights the rush for sordid gain 
 And pfolden dross. 
 
 Within our dreams we hear the tramp 
 Of mighty hosts in Freedom's camp ; 
 We see the lightning of the age 
 A striking down the narrow gage 
 Of rotten thrones. 
 
 Your loyal blood hath won the soil 
 Of Spanish dons by weary toil. 
 But only Christ can cleanse the guilt 
 That centuries of sin hath built — 
 His Blood atones. 
 
 72 
 
NOV 11 'rm