Our striplings flung the scoff.
But the elders with foreboding
Mourned the days forever o'er,
And re called the forest proverb,
The Iroquois' old saw:
_Grief to every graybeard
When young Indians lead the war._



The March into Virginia,
Ending in the First Manassas.
(July, 1861.)


Did all the lets and bars appear
To every just or larger end,
Whence should come the trust and cheer?
Youth must its ignorant impulse lend--
Age finds place in the rear.
All wars are boyish, and are fought by boys,
The champions and enthusiasts of the state:
Turbid ardors and vain joys
Not barrenly abate--
Stimulants to the power mature,
Preparatives of fate.

Who here forecasteth the event?
What heart but spurns at precedent
And warnings of the wise,