The Storming Of Monterey.

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BY CAPT. J. R. B. GARDENIER, U. S. A.

Fling out your banners to the breeze!
Fire, drum and trumpet play;

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Undauntedly your weapons seize, —
We march to Monterey.

'Tis true that many in our ranks
Must bleed and die to-day:
Enough reward, their country's thanks,
Forward! to Monterey.

The Mexican in yonder walls,
Shall dearly rue this day;
For every one of us that falls,
Shall two in Monterey.

The gallant TAYLOR at our head
Who lingers by the way;
His very name is heard with dread
Yonder, at Monterey.

Keep closed your files — grasp gun and sword
Your chivalry display!
A laurel wreath is your reward,
Or death at Monterey!

Be firm and staunch! Repel all thought
Of loved ones far away!
'Twill glad their hearts to hear your fought
So well, at Monterey.

Sound, sound the trumpet! Wake the drum
Nought can our hearts dismay;
Beneath the ‘stars and stripes’ we come,
To conquer Monterey.

The clink of arms is heard around:
Impatient chargers neigh:
A measured tramp along the ground, —
They march for Monterey!

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From house-top, battery, and street,
The heavy ordinance play;
But still they face the iron sleet;
‘On! on to Monterey.’

In torrents pours the metal rain,
And sweeps our ranks away;
But fiercer rings that shout again,
‘On! on to Monterey.’

The Infantry, with eager pace,
Advance in bold array;
Whilst strongly marked on every face
Is ‘Death! or Monterey.’

On press Dragoons — Artillery —
Impatient of delay;
Each vies with each in haste to be
The first in Monterey.

From yonder hill, in war-clouds veiled,
The vapor curls away;
And hark! the shout — "WORTH'S troops have scaled
The heights of Monterey!"

The fortress down is still the foes —
The day-light fades away —
The living with the dead repose
In front of Monterey.

The living and the gory dead;
Together silent lay,

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Upon that chill and cheerless bed
In front of Monterey.

So deep their sleep, 'twere hard to tell
As through the field you stray,
Who lives to fight from him who fell
Beseiging Monterey.

The living, wounded and the dead,
The beasts and birds of prey, —
Great God! that was a night of dread
That night of Monterey.

Again the trumpet, drum, and fife,
As grimly dawns the day,
Awake the living to the strife
Of death at Monterey.

Famished and cold, their ranks they form,
Well disciplined, obey;
And rush like some terrific storm,
Again towards Monterey.

Again the din! the clash of steel.
The tumult of the fray!
Gun answers gun — with peal on peal: —
We enter Monterey.

And now from breast-work, house and street
The thick'ning missiles play; —
Till one tremendous fiery sheet
Envelopes Monterey!

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Too great the odds their stand to keep,
The bravest must give way;
The living with the dead must sleep,
Again at Monterey.

Two nights, a hungered on the field.
Upon their arms they lay;
And yet they never thought to yield
Those men of Monterey.

That second night! Fatigued and cold,
That starving band survey;
And tell me, where beat hearts more bold,
Than those of Monterey!

Peal out the drum and trumpet blast!
In honor of this day;
It is the third; — it is the last;
WE'VE CONQUERED MONTEREY!

The iron shout of cannon throats,
To silence yield their sway —
The ‘Banner’ of our country floats
Proudly, at Monterey.

With drooping flag, midway its staff,
We mourn the dead to-day;
Be this their proudest epitaph,
THEY FELL AT MONTEREY!