Conviction.

Charge of the 1st Minnesota

Ready and ripe for the harvest lay the acres of golden grain,
Waving on hillock and hillside and bending along the plain.
Ready and ripe for the harvest two veteran armies lay,
Waiting the signal of battle on the Gettysburg hills that day.
Sharp rang the blast of the bugles calling the foe to the fray,
And shrill from the enemy's cannon the demon shells shrieked as they flew.
Crashed and rumbled and roared our batteries ranged on the hills,
Rumbled and roared at the front the bellowing guns of the foe
Swelling the chorus of hell ever louder and deadlier still,
And shrill o'er the roar of the cannon rose the yell of the Rebels below,
As they charged on our Third Corps advanced and crushed in the lines at a blow.

Leading his clamorous legion, flashing his saber in air,
Forward rode furious Longstreet charging on Round Top there-
Key to our left and center-key to the fate of the field-
Leading his yelling Southrons on to the lion's lair-
And our Third Corps broken and scattered and only one battery there.
And there,-its only support,-the "Old First" regiment stood-
Only a handful of heroes from many a field of blood-
Bearing the banner of Freedom on the Gettysburg hills that day.
Down at the marge of the valley our broken ranks stagger and reel,
Grimy with dust and with powder, wearied and panting for breath,
Flinging their rifles in panic, flying the hail-storm of death.
Rumble of volley on volley of the enemy hard on the rear,
Yelling their wild, mad triumph, thundering cheer upon cheer,
Dotting the slope with slaughter and sweeping the field with fear.

Drowned is the blare of the bugle, lost is the bray of the drum-
Yelling, defiant, victorious, column on column they come.
"The Old First"-only a handful-there in the gap of our lines,
Holding the perilous breach where the fate of the battle inclines,
Only a handful are they-column on column the foe-
Flaunting exultant their colors-column on column they come.
Thunder of cheers on the right!-dashing down on his stalwart bay-
Spurring his panting charger till his foaming flanks dripped blood-
Hancock-the hero-the lion-rode down where their Colonel stood.
"Charge those lines!" thundered Hancock; Colvill shouted the charge to his men:
"Charge-Double-quick,-Minnesota!"-They sprang to the charge and away
Like a fierce pack of hunger-mad wolves that pant for the blood of the prey.

Two hundred and sixty and two-all that were there of them then-
Two hundred and sixty and two fearless, unfaltering men
Dashed at a run for the enemy, sprang to the charge with a yell:
On them the batteries thundered canister, grape-shot and shell:
Never a man of them faltered, but many a comrade fell.
"Charge-double-quick, Minnesota!"-Like panthers they sprang at their foes;
Grim gaps of death in their ranks, but ever the brave ranks close:
Down went their sergeant and colors-defiant their colors arose!
"Fire!"-At the flash of their rifles grim gaps in the ranks of their foes!
"Forward, my First Minnesota!" their brave Colonel cried as he fell-
Gashed and shattered and mangled-"Forward!" he cried as he fell.
Over him mangled and bleeding frenzied they sprang to the fight,
Over him mangled and bleeding they sprang to the jaws of hell.
Flashed in their faces the rifles-roared on the left and the right;
The foe swarmed around them by thousands-they fought them with desperate might.

Five times their colors went down-five time their colors arose,
Shot-tattered and torn but defiant, and flapped in the face of their foes.
Hold them! They held them at bay, as a bear holds the hounds on his track,
Steel to steel, banner to banner, they met them and staggered them back.
Desperate, frenzied, bewildered, the enemy fired on their own;
Like reeds in the whirl of the cyclone columns and colors went down.
Banner of stars on the right! Hurrah!-It's the gallant "Nine-teenth!"
With a yell and a rush and a roar the Old Bay State heroes they come!
Thunder of guns on the left! 'Tis our own Gibbon's cannon that boom!
Shrapnel and grape-shot and canister crash like the cracking of doom.
Baffled, bewildered and broken, the ranks of the enemy yield;
Panic-struck, routed and shattered they fly from the fate of the field.

Hold them? they held them at bay as a bear holds the hounds on his track;
Steel to steel, banner to banner, they met them and staggered them back;
Two hundred and sixty and two, they held the mad thousands at bay;
Met them and baffled and broke them, turning the tide of the day:
Two hundred and sixty and two when the sun hung low in heaven,
But ah! when the stars rode over they numbered but forty-seven.
Dead on the field or wounded the rest of the "Old First" lay;
Never a man of them faltered or flinched in the fire of the fray,
For they bore the banner of Freedom on the Gettysburg hills that day.
Honor our fallen comrades-cover their graves with flowers,
For they fought and fell like Spartans for this glorious land of ours:
They fell, but they fell victorious, for the Rebel ranks were riven,
And over our land united-one nation from sea to sea-
Over the grave of Treason, over millions of men made free,
Triumphant the flag of our fathers waves in the winds of heaven-
Red with the blood of her heroes she waves in the winds of heaven.

Honor our fallen comrades-cover their graves with flowers,
For they fought and fell like Spartans for this glorious land of ours;
And oft shall our children's children garland their graves and say-
"They bore the banner of Freedom on the Gettysburg hills that day."

by Hanford Lennox Gordon, 1884.