1
FIRST, O songs, for a prelude, | |
| Lightly strike on the stretch’d tympanum, pride and joy in my city, | |
| How she led the rest to arms—how she gave the cue, | |
| How at once with lithe limbs, unwaiting a moment, she sprang; | |
| (O superb! O Manhattan, my own, my peerless! | 5 |
| O strongest you in the hour of danger, in crisis! O truer than steel!) | |
| How you sprang! how you threw off the costumes of peace with indifferent hand; | |
| How your soft opera-music changed, and the drum and fife were heard in their stead; | |
| How you led to the war, (that shall serve for our prelude, songs of soldiers,) | |
| How Manhattan drum-taps led. | 10 |
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2
Forty years had I in my city seen soldiers parading; | |
| Forty years as a pageant—till unawares, the Lady of this teeming and turbulent city, | |
| Sleepless amid her ships, her houses, her incalculable wealth, | |
| With her million children around her—suddenly, | |
| At dead of night, at news from the south, | 15 |
| Incens’d, struck with clench’d hand the pavement. | |
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| A shock electric—the night sustain’d it; | |
| Till with ominous hum, our hive at day-break pour’d out its myriads. | |
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| From the houses then, and the workshops, and through all the doorways, | |
| Leapt they tumultuous—and lo! Manhattan arming. | 20 |
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3
To the drum-taps prompt, | |
| The young men falling in and arming; | |
| The mechanics arming, (the trowel, the jack-plane, the blacksmith’s hammer, tost aside with precipitation;) | |
| The lawyer leaving his office, and arming—the judge leaving the court; | |
| The driver deserting his wagon in the street, jumping down, throwing the reins abruptly down on the horses’ backs; | 25 |
| The salesman leaving the store—the boss, book-keeper, porter, all leaving; | |
| Squads gather everywhere by common consent, and arm; | |
| The new recruits, even boys—the old men show them how to wear their accoutrements—they buckle the straps carefully; | |
| Outdoors arming—indoors arming—the flash of the musket-barrels; | |
| The white tents cluster in camps—the arm’d sentries around—the sunrise cannon, and again at sunset; | 30 |
| Arm’d regiments arrive every day, pass through the city, and embark from the wharves; | |
| (How good they look, as they tramp down to the river, sweaty, with their guns on their shoulders! | |
| How I love them! how I could hug them, with their brown faces, and their clothes and knapsacks cover’d with dust!) | |
| The blood of the city up—arm’d! arm’d! the cry everywhere; | |
| The flags flung out from the steeples of churches, and from all the public buildings and stores; | 35 |
| The tearful parting—the mother kisses her son—the son kisses his mother; | |
| (Loth is the mother to part—yet not a word does she speak to detain him;) | |
| The tumultuous escort—the ranks of policemen preceding, clearing the way; | |
| The unpent enthusiasm—the wild cheers of the crowd for their favorites; | |
| The artillery—the silent cannons, bright as gold, drawn along, rumble lightly over the stones; | 40 |
| (Silent cannons—soon to cease your silence! | |
| Soon, unlimber’d, to begin the red business;) | |
| All the mutter of preparation—all the determin’d arming; | |
| The hospital service—the lint, bandages, and medicines; | |
| The women volunteering for nurses—the work begun for, in earnest—no mere parade now; | 45 |
| War! an arm’d race is advancing!—the welcome for battle—no turning away; | |
| War! be it weeks, months, or years—an arm’d race is advancing to welcome it. | |
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4
Mannahatta a-march!—and it’s O to sing it well! | |
| It’s O for a manly life in the camp! | |
| And the sturdy artillery! | 50 |
| The guns, bright as gold—the work for giants—to serve well the guns: | |
| Unlimber them! no more, as the past forty years, for salutes for courtesies merely; | |
| Put in something else now besides powder and wadding. | |
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5
And you, Lady of Ships! you Mannahatta! | |
| Old matron of this proud, friendly, turbulent city! | 55 |
| Often in peace and wealth you were pensive, or covertly frown’d amid all your children; | |
| But now you smile with joy, exulting old Mannahatta! | |
