Sir Copp

31 December 1862 – 2 January 1863

Battle of Stones River

And, how the sires have stemmed the flood
That fills our land with grief and blood;
How well they bear the brunt of woe,
We learn from scenes like this below:
Not tales of fiction to appal,
But truths. Let one suffice for all!

There lives near Elgin, Illinois,
A man whose wealth, five noble boys,
Was all he had to cheer his age,
And soothe life’s closing pilgrimage;
The call was heard; and, one by one,
He sent them forth with sword and gun;
At Lexington his youngest fell,
And one at Shiloh by a shell:
A third at Pea Ridge lost his life,
With honor in that fearful strife;
At Fredericksburgh’s terrific fray,
A fourth was swept from light of day;
His wife, borne down by sorrow’s wave,
Found consolation—in the grave.
Of all his treasures one remained,
Which still the father’s hopes sustained:
Would Heaven this loved one soon restore,
To bless his aged eyes once more?
Alas! he too was doomed to sleep
In death, and leave his sire to weep.
At Murfreesboro he was shot;
His father mourned, for he was not!
But when the first rude pangs had passed,
And the cold grave received his last,
He thanked his Father in Heaven that he
Had thus been privileged to be
The sire of Martyrs for the Right,
Who fell in Freedom’s sacred fight.
His heavy loss he nobly bore,
And wished that God had given him more,
To offer at his country’s feet,
To make the sacrifice complete!
And hark that wild, yet glorious strain!
’Tis from the spirits of the slain;
Whose privilege it was to fall,
First victims, at their country’s call:

SONG OF THE SPIRITS.

THE BATTLE OF MURFREESBORO.

Cheered on by noble Rosecrans,
Behold our Union troops advance
To seek the foe in fight!
The center fearless Thomas leads;
The left with Crittenden proceeds;
McCook commands the right.

_From the Chicago Republican._

Mr. Clarke is favorably known to the reading public as the author of
several poems published in England, which have received warm praise from
the leading English reviews. The purpose of this effort of his muse
is to contrast a dark phase of human depravity, as exhibited by the
copperhead rebels of the northern states, with the beauty and power of
loyalty to God and country. Incidentally, he satirises Tennyson, mourns
over the grave of Lincoln, and celebrates the heroes of Murfreesboro,
and many another bloody field. He writes with a sharp pen, and shows
no mercy to the traitors. “Sir Copp,” having undergone a severe moral
and physical dissection, is introduced by the author into hell, whence
Satan, unwilling to entertain him, sends him back to earth to be punished
according to his deserts.

_From the Staats Zeitung (German.)_