l these woes and hopes defeated,
Left their gloomy impress on him,
Added years of bitter pining.
May the dove of peace brood over
Every blighting grief and trial,
May all past despair and anguish
Hold abeyance till the Judgment.
The Confederates were rallied,
Oft in haste and stealth and darkness.
All the archives of their columns
Are obscure, or lost forever.
See Appendix, for the gathering
Of the names that float about us,
Whether officers or privates;
Let the blanks be duly pardoned.
H. D. Brown,[6] was First Lieutenant
Of command of Captain Logan;
J. T. McQuery was Lieutenant;
James McMurray was a Sergeant,
And the Sergeant, Joseph Arnold,
Was promoted while in service.
Sergeant D. A. King is numbered
With the officers belonging
To the gallant Third Kentucky,
Of the Cavalry--the horsemen.
Other names are linked together
In my song's replete Appendix.

Captain Michael Salter mustered
Company E--the Third Kentucky,
With Lieutenant L. B. Hudson,
Fellow-officer and leader;
Samuel Curd, the Orderly Sergeant.
Captain Salter's fearless spirit,
His bold exploits and his daring,
Led him into bonds and capture,
Till he languished long in prison,
At the Johnson's Island stronghold.

James and William Jennings, brothers,
Natives of remote Lancaster,
Skillful surgeons by profession,
Cast their fortunes in the balance,
In the trembling Southern balance.
One survived the toil and peril,
One was sacrificed to rapine.
On the scattered army records
Of the "Dixie Boys" of Garrard,
Captain H. Clay Myers is written,
And Captain Jack W. Adams:
Also S. F. McKee, another
Scion of a race of soldiers,
Claims a place within my canto,
In the "grey" and "faded" columns.
Major Baxter Smith was foremost,
In events of risk and danger,
Was a son of brave Lancaster,
Served the South in many battles.
Morgan's men were soon recruited,
By Confederates[8] from Garrard;
History furnishes already,
Stormy raids and dashing charges,
Led within the fruitful borders
Of Kentucky's fair dominion.
Thrilling incidents unnumbered,
Mark the story of the struggle,
Mark the hideous distortion
Of the nation's sunny temper,
Tell the sad and fatal meaning
Of this Cain and Abel quarrel,
When the slain in myriad numbers,
Filled the "furrows" in "God's Acre."
When the "seed" of Death's "rude plowshare