BALLADS OF THE CAMPAIGN IN MEXICO. NO. III.

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BY HENRY KIRBY BENNER, U. S. A.

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Monterey.

It was early in September, in the morning of the day,

When our army paused admiringly in front of Monterey; —

Like Cortez, had our general led his gallant little band

Through hosts of savage foemen to the centre of the land; —

Guerilla and Ranchero had followed on his track,

Like hungry wolves, but steadily our men had beat them back.

There lay the noble city—its cathedrals, and its towers

And parapets; its palaces, and gardens bright with flowers —

With the sunlight falling on it, over tower and dome and spire,

Through the mellow morning radiance, in a rain of golden fire:

Never, even in dreams of Orient lands, had Saxon eyes looked down

On so glorious a country, or so beautiful a town.

Through the grove of San Domingo our general led the way,

Reconnoitring in silence the city as it lay —

When from the Citadel, which frowned scarce half a league before,

We saw a flash of flame leap out, and heard a cannon’s roar:

The enemy were there in force, and we braced us for the fray,

Though retiring for the time before the guns of Monterey.

All day our parties scanned the place; and never had our eyes

Beheld a spot so guarded from all danger of surprise;

Its fortresses apparently all human force defied,

For what nature left unfinished, consummate art supplied:

We felt, while gazing on it, that many a bloody day

Would pass before our gallant troops were lords of Monterey.

Next morning came the order; and we saw chivalrous Worth,

With his regulars, march silently and determinedly forth.

On the heights that overhung his road the Bishop’s Palace rose,

Like a giant looking down on the columns of his foes;

But his men pressed bravely on, led by Hays and noble May,

Till from their eyry in the hills they gazed on Monterey.

Meanwhile we stood like restive steeds, fretful and full of fire,

And anxious for the conflict which every hour brought nigher.

Day waned, and morning came again, and then the word was given

And answered by a thousand shouts that shook the vaults of heaven,

For our troops, long curbed, now held the reins, and lightly leapt away,

Sweeping with headlong fury toward defying Monterey.

We saw brave Worth, whose noble band was ordered to the right,

Lead on his men through sheets of flame, and storm the castled height,

And the Mexic flag go down, and the stars and stripes expand

In the golden yellow sunlight, like a rainbow o’er the land,

As, led by gallant Butler, our division fought its way,

Foot by foot, and step by step, toward the town of Monterey.

The Citadel had greeted us, but we passed along the plain,

While its showers of grape and musket-shot deluged our ranks like rain;

But fierce and hot as was its fire, ’twas naught to what ensued

When in the suburbs narrow ways our little phalanx stood;

But Butler led us on, and we swore to win the day

Or die, like Yankee volunteers, in the streets of Monterey.

The cannon of the Citadel still swept our falling flanks —

The guns of Fort Teneria sent death throughout our ranks; —

Every window, door and house-top concealed a hidden foe,

Who sent his leaden welcome to the files that fought below:

Death reigned supreme: we stood aghast; but not a man gave way,

Though never yet was fight so fought as that at Monterey.

Sudden! arose a cry—a yell! and we saw our banners wave

Over Fort Teneria’s summit: God! what a shout we gave!

Quitman and his brigade were there, and the enemy’s flag went down,

As, with another rallying cry, we hurried through the town:

Fort Diablo’s guns received us, and one third our columns lay

Gasping—wounded—dying—dead—in the streets of Monterey.

The rest grew sick at heart; but we closed our ranks and dashed

Onward, with cheers, as all around our enemies’ muskets flashed;

But Butler, tottering on his steed, staggered, and reeled, and sank,

And with him, at the same discharge, went down our leading rank: —

Human nature could endure no more, and the now departing day

Saw us retreating slowly through the town of Monterey.

Another day passed slowly by, and we made our bivouac

Where we fought, for, though our foes were brave, they could not drive us back;

But the morrow brought fresh orders, and our men with hurrying feet

Pressed on again, troop after troop, contesting street by street;

From door to door, from house to house, we fiercely fought our way,

Determined that the night should see us lords of Monterey.

Then came the deadly conflict, foot to foot and hand to hand,

For at every nook and corner our foemen made a stand;

From the barricades which swept the streets, from the roofs above our head,

And the windows at our sides, descended showers of iron and lead;

And the crash of tumbling timbers, and the clash of steel, that day,

With the death-cries of the dying, rent the skies of Monterey.

That night the conflict ceased, and the crimson morning sun

Beheld the city in our hands—the bloody battle won.

Next day our conquered foes marched out, and slowly over the plain

Moved from our sight in silence—a sad, disheartened train;

But many an eye glanced backward, remembering the affray,

While we gazed on, like statues—the Men of Monterey.

THE SUNSHINE OF LOVE.