“Now, I hate the tyrants who grind us down,
    While the wolf snarls at our door,
  And the men who’ve risen from us—­to laugh
    At the misery of the poor;
  But I tell you, mates, while this weak old hand
    I have left the strength to lift,
  It will touch my cap to the proudest swell
    Who fought in the Dandy Fifth!”

“BAY BILLY.”

BY F.H.  GASSAWAY.

    ’Twas the last fight at Fredericksburg—­
      Perhaps the day you reck—­
    Our boys, the Twenty-second Maine,
      Kept Early’s men in check. 
    Just where Wade Hampton boomed away
      The fight went neck and neck.

    All day we held the weaker wing,
      And held it with a will;
    Five several stubborn times we charged
      The battery on the hill,
    And five times beaten back, re-formed,
      And kept our columns still.

    At last from out the centre fight
      Spurred up a general’s aid. 
    “That battery must silenced be!”
      He cried, as past he sped. 
    Our colonel simply touched his cap,
      And then, with measured tread,

    To lead the crouching line once more
      The grand old fellow came. 
    No wounded man but raised his head
      And strove to gasp his name,
    And those who could not speak nor stir
      “God blessed him” just the same.

    For he was all the world to us,
      That hero grey and grim;
    Right well he knew that fearful slope
      We’d climb with none but him,
    Though while his white head led the way
      We’d charge hell’s portals in.

    This time we were not half-way up,
      When, ’midst the storm of shell,
    Our leader, with his sword upraised,
      Beneath our bay’nets fell;
    And, as we bore him back, the foe
      Set up a joyous yell.

    Our hearts went with him.  Back we swept,
      And when the bugle said,
    “Up, charge, again!” no man was there
      But hung his dogged head. 
    “We’ve no one left to lead us now,”
      The sullen soldiers said.

    Just then, before the laggard line,
      The colonel’s horse we spied—­
    Bay Billy, with his trappings on,
      His nostrils swelling wide,
    As though still on his gallant back
      His master sat astride.

    Right royally he took the place
      That was his old of wont,
    And with a neigh, that seemed to say,
      Above the battle’s brunt,
    “How can the Twenty-second charge
      If I am not in front?”

    Like statues we stood rooted there,
      And gazed a little space;
    Above that floating mane we missed
      The dear familiar face;
    But we saw Bay Billy’s eye of fire,
      And it gave us hearts of grace.