Grandpa Nathan.

Grandpa Nathan.
377.6

By the beech and hickory Dre
Grandpa Nathan sat at night.
With details of marching armes,
And the news of many a fight.

When he laid aside the paper.
Though its contests he had told.
He was plied with any questions
By the young and by the old.

‘Tis a war the most infernal.
Grandpa Nathan made reply.
But the legions of the Union
Scon will crush it out or die.

If I only had the vigoг
Of just twenty years ago,
How I’d leap into my saddle.
How I’d fly to meet the foe!

Nannie Hardin, dearest daughter.
There’s a spirit now abroad
That’s akin to whatsoever
Is at enmity with God.

It has wrought upon a portion
Of the people of this land.
‘Till they almost think they’re honest
In the treason they have planned.

It has struck the sea with rapine.
It has tinged its shores with blood.
And it rolls and surges Inland
Like a desolating flood.

It has rent the nearest kindred.
Even the mother and the son;
But as God’s a God of justice
Its career will soon be run.

There’s a camp at Wyckliffe’s meadow.
Less than eighteen miles away.
John, at your age I could make it twice
Twixt now and break of day.

Fill the buggy up with baskets,
Fill each basket to the brim.
Strip the pantry of its cholcest.
Till the shelves are lean and sitm.

Take a jug or two of apple.
For those chill November dampS
Oft benumb the weary sentries.
As they guard the sleeping camps.

Drive the gait of old Sarpedon
For the glory of his stres.
And you’ll reach the camp at Wyckliffe’s
Ere they build the morning fires.

Tell the so dier of Kentucky
And the soldier from abroad.
Who have come to fight the battles
Of their country and of God.

Tell them one who on the Wabash
Fought with Davis when he fell.
Who fought at Meigs where Dudley met
The painted hosts of hell.

One who fought with Hurt at Raisin.
And with Johnson on the Thames.
And nd with Jackson at New Orleans,
Where we won inimmortal names.

Sends them from his chimney corner
Such fair greeting as he may.
With a few small creature comforts
For this drear November day.

Tell them he has watched this quarrel
From its outbreak until now.
And with hand upon his hear! beat.
And God’s light upon his brow.

He invokes their truest manhood.
The e full full prowess of their youth.
In this battle of the nation.
For the right and for the truth.

Tell them one whose years are sinking
To the quiet of the grave.
Thus enjoins each gallant spirit
Who would scorn to be a slave.

By the toll and blood their fathers
In the cause of freedom spent,
By the memory of their mothers,
And the noble and they lent.

By the blessings God has showered
On this birthright of the free,
Give to braven a reverent spirit.
Bend to heaven a wiiling knee.

And in silence ‘mid the pauses
Of the hyran and of the prayer,