Chickamuga! Chickamauga!
O'er thy dark and turbid wave
Rolls the death-cry of the daring,
Rings the war-shout of the brave;
Round thy shore the red fires flashing,
Startling shot and screaming shell--
Chickamauga, stream of battle,
Who thy fearful tale shall tell?

Olden memories of horror,
Sown by scourge of deadly plague,
Long hath clothed thy circling forests
With a terror vast and vague;
Now to gather further vigor
From the phantoms grim with gore,
Hurried, by war's wilder carnage,
To their graves on thy lone shore.

Long, with hearts subdued and saddened,
As th' oppressor's hosts moved on,
Fell the arms of freedom backward,
Till our hopes had almost flown;
Till outspoke stern valor's fiat--
"_Here_ th' invading wave shall stay;
_Here_ shall cease the foe's proud progress;
_Here_ be crushed his grand array!"

_Then_ their eager hearts all throbbing,
Backward flashed each battle-flag