He followed his star on the Romney march
  Through the sleet to the wintry war;
And he followed it on when he bowed the grain—­
  The Wind of the Shenandoah;
    At Gaines’s Mill in the giant’s strain—­
    On the fierce forced stride to Manassas-plain,
    Where his sword with thunder was clothed again,
      Stonewall followed his star.

His star he followed athwart the flood
  To Potomac’s Northern shore,
When midway wading, his host of braves
  “My Maryland!” loud did roar—­
    To red Antietam’s field of graves,
    Through mountain-passes, woods and waves,
    They followed their pagod with hymns and glaives,
      For Stonewall followed a star.

Back it led him to Marye’s slope,
  Where the shock and the fame he bore;
And to green Moss-Neck it guided him—­
  Brief respite from throes of war: 
    To the laurel glade by the Wilderness grim,
    Through climaxed victory naught shall dim,
    Even unto death it piloted him—­
      Stonewall followed his star.

Its lead he followed in gentle ways
  Which never the valiant mar;
A cap we sent him, bestarred, to replace
  The sun-scorched helm of war: 
    A fillet he made of the shining lace
    Childhood’s laughing brow to grace—­
      Not his was a goldsmith’s star.

O, much of doubt in after days
  Shall cling, as now, to the war;
Of the right and the wrong they’ll still debate,
  Puzzled by Stonewall’s star: 
    “Fortune went with the North elate”
    “Ay, but the south had Stonewall’s weight,
      And he fell in the South’s vain war.”

Gettysburg. 
The Check. 
(July, 1863.)

O pride of the days in prime of the months
  Now trebled in great renown,
When before the ark of our holy cause
    Fell Dagon down—­
Dagon foredoomed, who, armed and targed,
Never his impious heart enlarged
Beyond that hour; god walled his power,
And there the last invader charged.

He charged, and in that charge condensed
  His all of hate and all of fire;
He sought to blast us in his scorn,
    And wither us in his ire. 
Before him went the shriek of shells—­
Aerial screamings, taunts and yells;
Then the three waves in flashed advance
  Surged, but were met, and back they set: 
Pride was repelled by sterner pride,
  And Right is a strong-hold yet.

Before our lines it seemed a beach
  Which wild September gales have strown
With havoc on wreck, and dashed therewith
    Pale crews unknown—­
Men, arms, and steeds.  The evening sun
Died on the face of each lifeless one,
And died along the winding marge of fight
    And searching-parties lone.

Sloped on the hill the mounds were green,
  Our center held that place of graves,
And some still hold it in their swoon,
  And over these a glory waves. 
The warrior-monument, crashed in fight,[8]
Shall soar transfigured in loftier light,
    A meaning ampler bear;
Soldier and priest with hymn and prayer
Have laid the stone, and every bone
    Shall rest in honor there.