ASHBY by John Oliver CrownA wail swells o'er the valley, Virginia, deep with woe; Thy noble sons and daughters In mournful grief bend low, In mournful grief bend low, Above that fallen brave, The high-souled, gallant Ashby, Who sleeps in Glory's grave. His clarion voice is silent That stirred his band to dare The front and shock of battle When cannon rent the air, When cannon rent the air, And armies met in strife, Advancing or recoiling Before the tide of life. Amid the war-storm's thunder A battle god he moved; But in the hour of victory Stern death relentless proved, Stern death relentless proved, As he pressed down the foe That came in mocking triumph To lay Virginians low. Virginia, with thy glory Will live his endless fame! The Shenandoah's waters Will chant his deathless name, Will chant his deathless name, And every rill will tell And every breeze will whisper How, fighting, Ashby fell. With his proud name we linger Like some bright dream that's fled, And scarce our hearts can echo -- He sleeps among the dead, He sleeps among the dead, But, oh, his deeds live on, That speak in battle's language -- Strive on till victory's won!
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Last modified 16-April-2001