Classic Poem

( NATHAN BEDFORD FORREST )

'Twas out of the South that the lion heart came,
From the ranks of the Gray like the flashing of flame,
A juggler with fortune, a master with fame —
The rugged heart born to command.

As he rode by the star of an unconquered will,
And he struck with the might of an undaunted skill,
Unschooled, but as firm as the granite-flanked hill —
As true and as tried as steel.

Though the Gray were outnumbered, he counted no odd,
But fought like a demon and struck like a god,
Disclaiming defeat on the blood-curdled sod,
As he pledged to the South that he loved.

'Twas saddle and spur, or on foot in the field,
Unguided by tactics that knew how to yield;
Stripped of all, save his honor, but rich in that shield,
Full armored by nature's own hand.

As the rush of the storm, he swept on the foe;
It was " Come! " to his legions, he never said " Go! "
And with sinews unbending, how could the world know
That he rallied a starving host?

And the wondering ranks of the foe were like clay
To these men of flint in the molten day;
And the hell-hounds of war howled afar for their prey,
When the arm of a Forrest led.

For devil or angel, life stirred when he spoke,
And the current of courage, if slumbering, woke
At the yell of the leader, for never was broke,
The record, men wondering read.

With a hundred he charged like a thousand men,
And the hoof-beats of one seemed the tattoo of ten;
What bar were burned bridges or flooded fords, when
The wizard of battles was there?

But his pity could bend to a fallen foe,
The mailed hand soothe a brother's woe;
There was time to be human, for tears to flow —
For the heart of the man to thrill.

Then " On! " as though never a halt befell,
With a swinging blade and the Rebel yell,
Through the song of the bullets and plowshares of hell —
The hero, half iron, half soul!

Swing, rustless blade in the dauntless hand;
Ride, soul of a god, through the deathless band,
Through the low green mounds or the breadth of the land,
Wherever your legions dwell!

Swing, Rebel blade, through the halls of fame,
Where courage and justice have left your name;
By the torches of glory your deeds shall flame
With the reckoning of Time!