"I give cie/i Booh \ fcr the founding of a. College in- this Colos-f ' 1910 GENERAL JOHN B.GORDON To whose memory this volume is dedicated by the author. War Songs and Poems -OF THE- Southern Confederacy 1861-1865 A COLLECTION OF THE MOST POPULAR AND IMPRESSIVE SONGS AND POEMS OF "WAR TIME, DEAR TO EVERY SOUTHERN HEART, "WRITTEN AND SUNG BY MANY KNO'VVN AND UNKNOV^^N W^RITERS COLLECTED AND EDITED WITH PERSONAL REMINISCENCES OF WAR DAYS By H. M. WHARTON, D.D. Private in General John B. Gordon's Brigade of the Army of Northern Virginia PROFUSELY ILLUSTRATED Entered aocordlntf to Act of Congress In the year 1904 by W. E. SCVLL. In tKe office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. D. C. All Rights Reserved. TO GENERAL JOHN B. GORDON CouMANDBR, Friend, Patriot, Christian, Comrade, THIS BOOK IS AEFBCTIONATELY inscribed as a sincere tokbn of grateful remembrance The Authoe FORE-WORD 'TpHESE songs and poems belong to -*- the Nation. Although our friends at the North will smile at some, wince at others, and even have their blood warmed by one here and there, they must not forget that they were written by their brothers and sisters during a family quarrel when feeling was intense and the fight hot and fast. It is all over now ; we are more united than ever and shall never fall out with each other again. My object has been to rescue from oblivion, these pro ductions of a people as brave and true as ever lived, and yet within half a century forgetting the past, they have built up their shattered fortunes, and side by side with the men they had once fought, they stood in battle for the defense of our glorious flag. No North, no South, no East, no West, but one and inseparable now and forever. y/?^, ^^c^'^ THE AUTHOR'S REMINISCENCES OF WAR DAYS STANDING forty years away from the terrible days of the early "sixties", we are able to look back now upon those times with cooler blood and calmer judgment. In all the history of the world there has not been a conflict in which there was greater generalship displayed or more courage, and sacrifice and devotion by the men and women at home or the soldiers in the field. Never, while memory lasts, shall I forget a scene which transpired early in April, 1861, as our family sat at breakfast in the farm-house home in Culpepper County, Va. My oldest brother suddenly entered the dining-room and exclaimed, " The war has commenced ; Fort Sumter is being bombarded I " I was too young to understand these words, but saw, upon the faces of my father and mother, an expression which filled my heart with anxiety. Little did I know that our own beloved State was to become the battleground of the great struggle, and that our home should be left desolate, while some of the dearest members of that little circle around the breakfast table must soon be taken away forever. THE COMING OF THE STORM As to the causes of the War, there can be but little difiFer- ence of opinion now. When the Union was formed, it was the determination of our forefathers that while many of the rights which would have been held by us as separate colonies should be given up, yet, there were other rights which must ever be held sacred, and among these, the special privilege of conducting our own affairs according to our own will and pleasure. The doctrine of States' Rights was really the begin ning of the strife, which commenced years before war was 6 THE AUTHOR'S REMINISCENCES OF WAR DAYS declared. It was well known, however, that the real provok ing cause of war was the Negro. While Mr. Lincoln was not nominated or elected upon the platform of Abolition, yet it was a well-known doctrine of his party, and the people knew that the ultimate object of that party was to emancipate the slaves in the Southern States. The platform of thc Repub lican party did claim, however, the privilege of prohibiting slavery in any new States and Territories that raight come into the Union, and it was but a step from that position to a further determination to abolish slavery everywhere. Mr. Lincoln could never have been elected but for the fact that there was a remarkable and unprecedented division in the opposing parties. An example of this was found in my own family. My father, and one of my brothers, were for Brecken- ridge ; another brother for Douglas, and still another supported the Bell and Everett ticket. This division and confusion pervaded the country everywhere, and although Mr. Lincoln lacked more than a million to give him the popular vote, he was elected. His election, of course, was the red rag to the Southern bull ; it was the fire to the powder ; and the very fact that he had to travel in disguise to take his seat at Washing ton, showed the red-hot condition of popular feeling. South Carolina, small, impulsive, brave, was the first to take her stand, declaring her right to withdraw from a Union into which she had entered of her own free will and accord. Other States followed in rapid succession and excitement was at high tide. OLD VIRGINIA'S STAND All eyes were turned to Virginia, ever regarded the strong, proud, old Commonwealth which had given to the Union its greatest leaders, and whose sons had been first and foremost in peace as well as in war — not only to declare her rights, but to stand to them, and, if necessary, to fight and die for them. A convention was called to meet at Richmond Virginia, and no sooner had they assembled and the sense of THE AUTHOR'S REMINISCENCES OF WAR DAYS 7 the meeting ascertained, than it was discovered that the great majority were for remaining in the Union, and standing by the Flag of our Country. Mr. Lincoln, at this time, occupied a most unenviable and desperate situation. The people of the South were defiant, and declared their purpose to resist any invasion of their rights. A certain party of the North just as violently declared that the Southern States had no right to secede, and should be forced back into the Union. With these flaming declarations they goaded the new President from day to day. Mr. Lincoln finally yielded, and called for 75,000 troops from the different States to suppress the rebellion. Vir ginia, being still in the Union, was called upon for her quota. Quick as a flash the sentiment of the great Convention at Richmond changed from a strong determination to remain in the Union, to an immediate decision to withdraw from the United States. See what the Old Commonwealth had to face I She was called upon to take up arms against her sister States in the South ; nor did she wait or hesitate for one moment but cast in her lot " for weal or woe " with those who were bone of her bone, flesh of her flesh; blood of her blood ; and her most distinguished son and ablest military general of his day, or of any day, who was at that time offered the command of the United States forces, presented his sword to the authorities at Washington, and turned his back upon all that had been dear to him as a citizen and a soldier, and offered his services to his own State and his loved Southland. That man was Robert Edward Lee, whose name grows more precious, not only to the South, but to the North, and to all the world aa years roll on. Events transpired in rapid and bewildering succes sion. Great trains loaded with soldiers followed in sight of each other along the railways. Armies were established at points where the struggle would likely be the most severe, and of these places, Manassas, a little railway station not fai' from Alexandria, Virginia, was early chosen. The battle of Bull Run 8 THE AUTHOR'S REMINISCENCES OF WAR DAYS on the 18th of July, and the first battle of Manassas on the 21st, just three days later, have gone forth to the world in the annals of war as the decisive struggles of two great armies. It has been thought, and with much reason, that if the initial victories of the Southern forces on these occasions had been followed up, the war would have ended; but four long weary years must follow, and hundreds and thousands of the best men of the land must die, countless homes be made desolate, and the whole country utterly laid waste and ruined. MY FATHER'S FAMILY IN THE WAR Our family remained in the County of Culpepper until about the middle of the war. God took our dear mother from us ; the older boys had to go to war and father was alone with his daughters and myself, I being the youngest child. As I was under age, and not large enough to be noticed, I was often in conversation with Federal officers, and also with those from the South. One army or the other seemed almost incessantly passing to and fro through our part of the State. It was my privilege to witness the battle of Cedar Mountain, which was fought two miles from my father's home, and the next day I rode over the field in company with him to see if we might, in any way, mimster to the wants of the wounded and suffering. It was my first study of a battle field, and the impression made upon my mind, when I saw hundreds of men lying in every position — the most of them dead, others wounded and dying — can never be removed. It was a matter absolutely incomprehensible to me, that men should kill each other as they had done on the bloody field, and I wonder at it to this day. I was standing in my father's yard when Pope's army commenced its retreat. Several stragglers came in to get a drink of water, and I inquired of them which way they were going. They answered, " Back where we came from." I asked them who was in command on the other side the day before. The reply was, " That man Jackson ; his name is better than THE AUTHOR'S REMINISCENCES OF W.-tR DAYS 9 10,000 men any day." Another convei-sation occurred about this time with reference to General Jackson. Several Federal ofiicers who had been in the fight the day before, were discus sing the point whether General Jackson was a Christian. One said, '• I do not believe he is a Christian, for if he was he would not be such a devil of a fighter;" the other said, " I do not know whether he is a Christian or not ; but there is one thing certain, if ever he makes up his mind to go to Heaven all hell can't keep him from it." Such was the impression that Stonewall Jackson had made upon the men of the Federal Army. He was a Christian indeed, and when he fell asleep in the arms of victory at Chancellorsville, his last words gave evidence that he had gained another and greater triumph — " Let us cross over the river, and rest under the shade of the trees." IN THE BREASTWORKS BELOW PETERSBURG The second day of April, 1865, found me in the breast works below Petersburg on the Appomattox River, — a boy of sixteen, and a soldier in an army of 40,000 men opposing fully five times that many on the other side. Our attenuated line, which was "long drawn out," extended from beyond Richmond on the one side to miles below Petersburg on the other. These lines were very close together, so close indeed, that we could easily hear the rumbling of wagons within the lines of the Federal Army. Often I have sat at night and witnessed an artillery duel of the batteries, as the fiaming mes sengers of death passed each other in the night air on their mission of destruction. It was Sunday, the second day of April, 1865, when orders came to us to be ready at once to march. It does not take a soldier long to pack his goods and chattels, nor does he have to tarry for many courses at his morn ing meal. Suffice it to say, we were soon under way, we knew not whither, though the impression on our minds was that it would be to advance, and we should soon be in the thick of the fight. 10 THE AUTHOR'S REMINISCENCES OF WAR DAYS Our surprise and humiliation may be more easily imag ined than described, when our faces were turned away from the enemy's lines, and the firing in the rear told us we were hotly pursued. One solid week of fighting aud march ing followed. Our soldiers were hungry, sleepless and dispir ited. It is no mere war story to say that for days we had nothing to eat, the exception being an ear of hard com, or, on one occasion, an ox shot down in a pasture, we carved him with our pocket-knives as we passed on the rapid march, and at tke first halt broiled on a hastily made fire the raw morsel we had captured. I remember distinctly when nearing Farm- ville, we crossed a high bridge, one end of which was on fire, and a little beyond as we walked along the road, I went into such a sound sleep, marching with my musket on my shoulder, that I fell, and was only awakened when my tired body struck the earth. Still on we went, with never a thought of anything but victory. The battle of Sailor's Creek is well- known to have been one of the severe fights we had as we went on our way. GENERALS LEE AND GORDON General John B. Gordon, of Georgia, a valiant soldier who never knew a fear, and whose splendid patriotism dazzled the eyes of the world ; the man who flung himself in front of General Lee's horse, and seizing the bridle turned him back to the rear, then hastening to the front, led the charge himself; the man whose military record was not greater than his record as a follower of Jesus Christ — the now sainted Gordon, I am proud to say, was my commander. Never in all my life, have I known a sweeter spirit, or a nobler character : he has been in my home, held my baby upon his knee, and delighted the household with hia words of faith and wisdom, and whether he was delighting a little family circle, or charming and thrill ing an immense audience, he was always the same simple- hearted nobleman. To-day, he lives in the hearts of millions of his countrymen. North and South, for be it said to his THE .AUTHOR'S REMINISCENCES OF WAR DAYS 11 praise, his great heart was as large as his counlvy, and having fought the battle with uncompromising loyalty, he was as faith ful iu the hour of surrender, as he was in the day of victory. A little incident occurred in a fight one day which General Gordon loved to tell. In the course of his splendid lecture — " The Last Days of the Confederacy, " he said that one day he discovered a private soldier running to the rear as fast as ever he could go. Calling to him at once General Gordon said, " What are you running for? " " I am running because I can't fly," he answered, and went right on. If ever a man had excuse for running, it surely must have been on occasions like that when trying to escape the storm of shot and shell. But the end came at last, and on Sunday, the ninth day of April, 1865j as we stood on the battle ground facing the line of the Federal forces, orders came to us to stack arms. It could not have been more thoroughly understood if a book had been written on the subject. Stack arms on the battle field, and in the very face of the enemy I It could mean but one thing, and that was surrender. Many of us felt as Greneral Wise expressed himself when coming out of the camp that morning to the roadside, having washed his face in a mud hole, and could hardly therefore be recognized, he saw General Lee passing, and called to him saying, " General Lee, they tell me you have surrendered. Is it true ? 0 1 is it true ? " General Lee replied, " General Wise, I am on my way now to arrange the terms of surrender with General Grant." General Wise lifted both hands above his head and ."aid, "0! Lord, what shall I do? What shall I do?" General Lee replied in a quiet tone, " General Wise, I would suggest that you go and wash your face." This little story was given to me one night at a Confederate Veterans' Camp, in the City of Baltimore by Colonel Marshall, the aide and friend of General Lee. It was a revelation to us (I think there were not more than 8,000 who reached Appomattox) when the salutes began 12 THE AUTHOR'S REMINISCENCES OF WAR DAYS to be fired. The sound of artillery was all around us, and we discovered for the first time that General Grant's entire army encompassed us. But the end had come, and we accepted the situation and determined to abide by the decision of our great General. It is a fact, well-known, that strong influence was brought to bear upon General Lee at that time to prolong the war, as the Boers have since done in South Africa, and there is no telling to what extent it might have been carried on. But with far-seeing wisdom, he determined that the proper course to pursue was for the men to surrender forever the cause for which they had so earnestly fought, and go back to their homes, and to the support of their families, as loyal citi zens of the United States. So deep was the impression of the famous " General Order No. 9 ", that many of us carry much of it in our memories from that day to this. The first words set forth in full the whole situation : " After four years of arduous service, marked by unsurpassed valor and devotion, the army of Northern Virginia has been compelled to yield to overwhelming numbers and resources." This, indeed, was the truth of our position, and when we surrendered we ended forever our opposition to the Union. THE LOYALTY OF THE SOUTHERN PEOPLE The loyalty of the Southern people has been clearly shown from that day to this, nor have the most skeptical doubted their sincerity since the days of the Spanish-American War, when the men of the South rushed to the defense of our Flag with the same patriotism and courage as the men of any other section of this great country. So thoroughly was our country cemented together, and so completely were old animosities forgotten, that when William McKinley selected bis men to lead our armies, he chose them from the South as well as from the North ; and to-day, if an American is asked for the heroes of that late war he does not hesitate as he mentions Dewey of Vermont, Fitzhugh Lee of Virginia, or Joe Wheeler of Alabama. The great country is one, and will remain as it THE AUTHOR'S REMINISCENCES OF WAR DAYS 13 is now and forever. Like a fair woman who rests her head upon the snowy pillows of the North and bathes her feet in the placid waters of the Gulf of Mexico, her left hand extended to welcome the nations of the East, while her right unlocks the golden stores of the West, she is destined to lead the world to higher achievements, and more glorious con quest than has ever been known to the sons of men. THE POETRY AND SONG OF WAR A popular and characteristic feature of every war is its literature — in poetry and song. " The Marseillaise Hymn " stirred the heart of France as never before ; Cromwell, with his Puritans, went forth to battle singing their hallelujahs of praise ; who that lived amid the days of '61 does not remem ber the little Irishman, Harry McCarty, who went forth throughout the Southern States singing to the assembled mul titudes " The Bonnie Blue Flag " until they went wild with excitement ? What soldier in the Southern States has not had every nerve thrilled as the band would strike up " Dixie ? " It is true that we cannot find much evidence of genius at such times, nor the productions of mature and thonghtful study. Such poems and songs are sparks of flame from the fires of war, and high literary merit must not be expected. But if you wish to find the hearts of the people you will hear it in their songs. It has been a delightful task to me in the past year to collect from all quarters of the South these songs and poems, and so to rescue from oblivion the productions which are dear to every Southern heart and home. Nor is it con fined alone to the South, for in the North, and even in other lands, people listen with glad interest to the war songs of those days. "THE BONNIE BLUE FLAG" There is an incident of my own adventure connected with this song which brings to my mind some very pleasant asso ciations, and goes to show how very popular the song is wherever it may be sung. 14 THE AUTHOR'S REMINISCENCES OF WAR DAYS I was crossing the ocean a few summers ago, on the Anchor Line steamer Fumesia. It so happened that we found the Fourth of July out in mid-ocean, and determined to cele brate it. There being a great dearth of good speakers, the selection fell upon me to make the address, and I responded the best I could. Of course, I need not say it was eminently patriotic, and loyal to the Stars and Stripes. At the conclu sion, however, I announced to my audience that I was the only Southern man on board ship, that I was an Ex-Confed erate soldier, and if it pleased them, I would conclude my address by singing a Confederate War Song, thus giving them a piece of unwritten History. This announcement was received with applause, and I proceeded at once to sing with all my might, and the fervor of a true Southern heart, " The Bonnie Blue Flag." The clapping and cheering that followed gave unmistakable evidence that this song of the South was well received. That day at dinner we had, of course, the usual patriotic meal — Columbia Soup, Star Spangled Banner Pudding, Stars and Stripes Ice Cream, etc., — and at every plate, save mine, there was a small American flag, about 3x4 inches large. At my plate there was a Blue Flag with a White Star in the middle. Several hundred guests, seated at the table, had evi dently been informed of the delicate little compliment that had been paid to me, and when I lifted the Flag from its place, a very pleasant greeting carae from all who were present, and I proceeded to devour, with unusual delight, the dinner that was set before me. It has been my purpose to cull from every State the most popular and impressive songs, and to lay them before the world not only for their present use and enjoyment, but to be handed down to generations yet to come. The old veteran will take this book, and with a voice, that may not be as strong or true as of forty years ago, will sing to his grandchild those hymns of the days of battle, while he lives over again the toil and THE AUTHOR'S REMINISCENCES OF WAR DAYS 16 strife for the cau.se he so truly loved. The walls of our school-houses will resound with declamations from these pages, and generations yet unborn will sing the songs of the great Civil War. I have no word to say iu their praise, for none is needed ; I have no apology to offer for presenting them to my own people of the South, because I know how gladly they will receive them. I only hope that the sweet spirit which now characterizes our great country will receive this book, and preserve these treasures as a part of the Literature of our whole land, and not that of any particular people or section. God bless our countrj', and carry us forward to peace and prosperity until the cry of victory over every enemy shall be heard amid the " hosannas " of the redeemed in Heaven, H. M. WHARTON. Residence in Richmond. Vs., occupied by Qeneral Lee wlilU CommBnder'ia.Chlef of tbe Confederate Armlee. Table of Contents \j Pack Author's Reminiscences of War Days 5 A Ballad of the War George Herbert Sass 70 A Christmas of Long Ago . . Morton Bryan Wharton, D.D. 133 A Farewell to Pope John R. Thompson 35 1 After the Battle Miss Agnes Leonard 171 All Quiet along the Potomac to-night . . Ethel Lynn Elliott 27 All is Gone Fadette 361 A Prayer for Peace S. Teacle Wallis 81 A Rebel Soldier Killed in the Trenches Before Petersburg, Virginia, April 15, 1865 209 A Reply to the Conquered Banner . Sir Henry Houghton 404 Ashes of Glory A.J. Requier 186 Awake — Arise! G. W. Archer, M. D. 189 At Fort Pillow James R. Randall 292 Ballad— "Yes, Build Your Walls " 373 Ballad— "What Have Ye Thought?" 301 Baltimore Grays 85 Battle Hymn 163 Battle of Hampton Roads Ossian D. Gorman 210 Battle of Belmont J. Augustine Signaigo 217 Beaufort W. J. Grayson 127 Beauregard Miss Warfield 254 Bowing Her Head 366 Bull Run — A Parody 375 Captain Latane ". John R. Thompson 37 Captain MafiStt's Ballad of the Sea 331 Captives Going Home igg Carmen Triumphale Henry Timrod 341 Carolina Anna Peyre Dinnies 247 Carolina, April 14, 1861 John A.Wagner 58 Carolina Henry Timrod 158 Charge of Hagood's Brigade Joseph Blyth Allston 181 Charleston . . ^ Henry Timrod 233 16 TABLE OF CONTENTS 17 Page Charleston E. B. Cheeseborough 328 Charleston Paul H. Hayne 78 Chickamauga — " The Stream of Death " 147 Christmas Henry Timrod 325 Cleburne M. A. Jennings 114 Clouds in the West A.J. Requier 222 Close the Ranks J. L. O' Sullivan 320 Dear Mother, I've Come Home to Die , . . . E. Bowers 258 Dirge for Ashby Mrs. M. J. Preston 152 Dixie AlbertPike 29 Dofl&ng the Giuy Lieutenant Falligant 374 Ella Ree 213 England's Neutrality J.R. Thompson 313 Enlisted To-day 225 Eulogy of the Dead B. F. Porter 40 Farewell to Star Spangled Banner Anon. 378 Fort Wagner W. GUmore Simms 243 From the Rapidan — 1863 288 Gathering Song Annie Chambers Ketchum. 329 Gendron Palmer, of the Holcombe Legion Ina M. Porter 42 Gen. Albert Sidney Johnston Maryjervey 46 ^ General Dabney H. Maury Rosetvell Page d,oo Georgia, My Georgia Carrie Bell Sinclair 3 1 Give Back Thy Sword 286 God Save the South Geo. H. Miles 281 Graveof A. Sidney Johnston J. B . Synnott ut, Hospital Duties 297 Hymn to the National Flag . . . Mrs. M.J. Preston 291 If You Love Me /. Augustine Signaigo 393 I Give My Soldier Boy a Blade H.M. L. i%o Imogen — Air, 112 ; Words 114 In His Blanket on the Ground .... Caroline H. Gervais 308 V In the Land Where We Were Dreaming . . . D. B. Lucas 369 Is There, Then, No Hope for the Nations ? 289 In Memoriam 178 Is This a Time to Dance ? 396 2 18 TABLE OF CONTENTS Faoh Jackson 302 Jackson, the Alexandria Martyr . W.H. Holcombe, M.D. 295 ^• Joe Johnston J- R- Thompson 89 *^ John Pegram W. Gordon McCabe 197 John Pelham James R. Randall 276 Katy Wells 212 Kentucky Required to Yield Her Arms .... Boone 95 Kentucky, She is Sold J. R. Barrick 164 Land of King Cotton /. Augustine Signaigo 132 Let Me Kiss Him for His Mother Anon. 2sT^ Let Us Cross Over the River — Jackson's Last Words . ... 180 ^ Libera Nos, O Domine 1 J. Barron Hope 167 Lincoln's Troops A. Goodlett 145 Little Giffin Dr. Francis O. Ticknor 125 Lorena 52 Manassas Catherine M. Warjield 75 Melt the Bells F. V. Rockett 2T2 Missing 303 Moonstruck Morton Bryan Wharton, D. D. 338 Morris Island W. GUmore Simms 245 Mumford, the Martyr of New Orleans .... hia M. Porter 183 My Country W. D. Porter 1 70 My Maryland James R. r.a-'dal. 192 My Warrior Boy 389 Nellie Gray ^4 No Land Like Ours . J. R. Barrick 259 Not Doubtful of Your Fatherland no Notes on the Illustrations 409 Ode— " Do Ye Quail ? " W . GUmore Simms i Thy heroes all have nobly died. That thou mayst be the spotless bride Of Liberty, my Georgia I Then wave thy sword and baimer high. And louder raise the battle-cry, 'Till shouts of victory reach the sky, And thou art free, my Georgia I OUR FAITH IN '61. By a. j. Requier. " The governments are instituted among men, deriving their just pow ers from the consent of the governed ; that whenever any form of govern ment becomes destructive of these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or abolish it, and to institute a new government, laying its foundation on such principles, and organizing its powers in such form, as TO THEM SHALX, SEEM most likely to effect then: safety and happiness."— (Declara tion of Independence, July 4, 1776.) "VToR yet one hundred years have flown "'' ^ Since on this very spot. The subjects of a sovereign throne — Liege-master of their lot— This high degree sped o'er the sea. From council board and tent, " No earthly power can rule the free But by their own consent I " WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Vi For this, they fought as Saxons fight, On bloody fields and long — Themselves the champions of the right. And judges of the wrong ; For this their stainless knighthood wore The branded rebel's name, Until the starry cross they bore Set all the skies aflame ! And States co-equal and distinct Outshone the western sun. By one great charter interlinked — Not blended into one ; , Whose graven key that high decree The grand inscription lent, " No earthly power can rule the free But by their own consent ! " Oh, sordid age, oh, mthless rage I Oh, sacrilegious wrong I A deed to blast the record page. And snap the strings of song ; In that great charter's name, a band By grovelling greed enticed, Whose warrant is the grasping hand Of creeds without a Christ — States that have trampled every pledge Its crystal code contains. Now give their swords a keener edge To harness it with chains — To make a bond of brotherhood The sanction and the seal. By which to arm a rabble brood With fratricidal steel. ai WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Who, conscious that their cause is black, In puling prose and rhyme, Talk hatefully of love, and tack Hypocrisy to crime ; Who smile and smite, engross the gorge Or impotently frown ; And call us " rebels " with King George, As if they wore his crown. Most venal of a venal race. Who think you cheat the sky With every pharisaic face And stimulated lie ; Round Freedom's lair, with weapons bare, We greet the light divine Of those who throned the goddess there. And yet inspire the shrine. Our loved ones' graves are at our feet, Their homesteads at our back — No belted Southron can retreat With woman on his track ; Peal, bannered host, the proud decree Which from your fathers went, " No earthly power can rule the free But by their own consent I " WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 36 VICKSBURG— A BALLAD. By Paul H. Hayne. T^OR sixty days and upwards, ^ A storm of shell and shot Rained 'round us in a flaming shower. But still we faltered not 1 " If the noble city perish," Our brave young leader said, " Let the only walls the foe shall scale Be the ramparts of the dead !" For sixty days and upwards The eye of heaven waxed dim, And even throughout God's holy morn, O'er Christian prayer and hymn, Arose a hissing tumult, As if the fiends of air Strove to ingulf the voice of faith In the shri^s of their despair. There was wailing in the houses, There was trembling on the marts, While the tempest raged and thundered, 'Mid the silent thrill of hearts ; But the Lord, our shield, was with us, And ere a month had sped Our very women walked the streets With scarce one throb of dread. And the little children gambolled— Their faces purely raised. Just for a wondering moment. As the huge bomb whirled and blazed ! Then turned with silvery laughter To the sports which children love, Thrice mailed in the sweet, instinctive thought, That the good God watched above. .W WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Yet the hailing bolts fell faster. From scores of flame-clad ships, And about us, denser, darker, Grew the conflict's wild eclipse, Till a solid cloud closed o'er us, Like a type of doom and ire, ".Whence shot a thousand quivering tongues Of forked and vengeful fire. But the unseen hands of angels Those death-shafts turned aside, And the dove of heavenly mercy Ruled o'er the battle tide ; In the houses ceased the wailing, And through the war-scarred marts The people trod with the step of hope. To the music in their hearts. SONNET— THE AVATAR OF HELL. Oix thousand years of commune, God with man, ^ Two thousand years of Christ ; yet from such roots, Immortal, earth reaps only bitterest fruits ! The fiends rage now as when they first began 1 Hate ! Lust I Greed, Vanity, triumphant still. Yell, shout, exult, and lord o'er human will J The sun moves back ! The fond convictions felt. That, in the progress of the race, we stood, Two thousand years of height above the flood Before the day's experience sink and melt. As frost beneath the fire ! and what remains Of all our grand ideals and great gains. With Goth, Hun, Vandal, warring in their pride. While the meek Christ is hourly crucified I MONUMENT TO THE CONFEDERATE DEAD IN ''HOLLYWOOD" CEMETERY, RICHMON D, VI RGI N IA Here lie 12,000 Confederate dead, to whose memory Virginia's noble women erected a monument of rough Virginia granite nearly 100 feet tall in the shape of a pyramid. From a photograph taken for this work by Edyth Carter Beveridge. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 37 CAPTAIN LATANE. By John R. Thompson, or Virginia. This pathetic poem tells its own incident, which appeals to everyone who thinks of stranger hands laying one's friend to rest when death has claimed its own. By the courtesy of Mrs. .Tames T. Halsey, the daughter of the distinguished General Dabney H. Maury, the editor is permitted to reproduce elsewhere for this work a picture in her possession portraying the scene described in this poem. 'T^HE combat raged not long ; but ours the day. And through the hosts which compassed us around Our little band rode proudly on its way, Leaving one gallant spirit, glory crowned, Unburied on the field he died to gain ; Single, of all his men, among the hostile slain ! One moment at the battle's edge he stood, Hope's halo, like a helmet, round his hair — The next, beheld him dabbled in his blood. Prostrate in death ; and yet in death how fair I And thus he passed, through the red gates of strife, From earthly crowns and palms, to an eternal life. A brother bore his body from the field, And gave it into strangers' hands, who closed His calm blue eyes, on earth forever sealed. And tenderly the slender limbs composed ; Strangers, but sister, who with Mary's love, Sat by the open tomb and, weeping, looked above, A little girl strewed roses on his bier. Pale roses — not more stainless than his soul. Nor yet more fi-agrant than his life sincere, That blossomed with good actions — ^brief, but whole The aged matron, with the faithful slave, Approached with reverent steps the hero's lowly grave. 58 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY No man of God might read the burial rite Above the rebel — thus declared the foe. Who blanched before him in the deadly fight ; But woman's voice, in accents soft and low. Trembling with pity, touched with pathos, read Over his hallowed dust, the ritual for the dead I '"Tis sown in weakness; it is raised in power." Soft the promise floated on the air. And the sweet breathings of the sunset hour. Come back responsive to the mourner's prayer. Gently they laid him underneath the sod. And left him with his fame, his country and his God. We should not weep for him I His deeds endure ; So young, so beautiful, so brave — he died As he would wish to die. The past secure. Whatever yet of sorrow may betide Those who still linger by the stormy shore ; Change cannot hurt him now, nor fortune reach him more. And when Virginia, leaning on her spear, Vitrix et vidua, the conflict done, Shall raise her mailed hand to wipe the tear That starts, as she recalls each martyr son ; No prouder memory her breast shall sway Than thine — the early lost — lamented Latane ! WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 89 "THE CONFEDERATE NOTE." Written by Major S. A. Jonas, of Mississippi. On a Confederat« note at the surrender of the Confederate army. See illoatration of an old note with endorsement made by a deserving officer "O EPRHSBNTININQ nothing on God's earth now, -*^ And naught in the water below it — Aa a pledge of the nation that's dead and gone. Keep it, dear friend, and show it. Show it to those who will lend an ear To the tale that this paper can tell, Of liberty born, of patriot's dream — Of the storm cradled nation that fell. Too poor to possess the precious ores. And too much of a stranger to borrow, We issued to-day our promise to pay. And hope to redeem on the morrow. The days rolled on and weeks became years, But our coffers were empty still. Coin was so rare that the Treasury quaked, If a dollar should drop in the till. But the faith that was in us was strong indeed. And our poverty well discerned ; And these little checks represented the pay, That our volunteers earned. We know it had hardly value in gold, Yet as gold her soldier received it. It gazed in our eyes with a promise to pay, And each patriot soldier believed it. JO WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY But our boys thought little of price of pay. Or of bills that were ever due ; We knew if it brought us bread to-day, 'Twas the best our poor country could do. Keep it, for it tells our history o'er. From the birth of its dreams to the last. Modest and born of the angel Hope, Like the hope of success it passed. EULOGY OF THE DEAD. By B. F. Porter, of Alabama. " Weep not for the dead ; neither bemoan him." — ^Jeremiah. (~\s I weep not for the dead, ^-^ Whose blood for freedom shed, Is hallowed evermore I Who on the battle-field Could die — but never yield I Oh, bemoan them never more — They live immortal in their gore 1 Oh, what is it to die Midst shouts of victory. Our rights and home defending I Oh I what were fame and life Gained in that basest strife For tyrants' power contending. Our country's bosom rending I Oh I dead of red Manassas I Oh I dead of Shiloh's fray ! Oh I victors of the Richmond field 1 Dead on your mother's breast. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 41 You live in glorious rest I Each on his honored shield, Immortal in each bloody field I Oh ! sons of noble mothers I Oh I youth of maiden lovers I Oh I husbands of chaste wives 1 Though asleep in beds of gore. You return, oh ! never more ; Still immortal are your lives I Immortal mothers I lovers I wives I How blest is he who draws His sword in freedom's cause I Though dead on battle-field, Forever to his tomb Shall youthful heroes come, Their hearts for freedom steeled, And leam to die on battle-field. As at Thermopylae, Grecian child of liberty ; Swears to despot ne'er to yield — Here, by our glorious dead. Let's revenge the blood they've shed, Or die on bloody field, By the sons who scorned to yield I Oh I mothers I lovers I wives I Oh I weep no more — our lives Are our country's evermore I More glorious in your graves. Than if living Lincoln's slaves, Ye will perish never more. Martyred on our fields of gore I 42 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY GENDRON PALMER, OF THE HOLCOMBE LEGION. By Ina M. Porter, of Alabama. TTe sleeps upon Virginia's strand, -*--^ While comrades of the Legion stand With arms reversed — a mournful band — Around his early bier I His war-horse paws the shaking ground, The volleys ring — they close around — And on the white brow, laurel-bound, Falls many a soldier's tear. Up, stricken mourners I look on high. Loud anthems rend the echoing sky. Re-born where heroes never die — The warrior is at rest ! Gone is the weary, pain-traced frown ; Life's march is o'er, his arms cast down, His plumes replaced by shining crown. The red cross on his breast I Though Gendron's arm is with the dust. Let not his blood-stained weapon rust. Bequeathed to one who'll bear the trust, Where Southern banners fly I Some brave, who followed where he led— Aye, swear him o'er the martyred dead. To avenge each drop of blood he shed. Or, like him, bravely die 1 He deemed a death for honor sweet, — And thus he fell — 'Tis doubly meet, Our flag should be his winding-sheet, Proud banner of the free I Oh, let his honored form be laid Beneath the loved Palmetto's shade ; His praises sung by Southern maid. While flows the broad Santee I WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 43 We come around his urn to twine Sweet clusters of the jasmine vine, Culled where our tropic sunbeams shine, From skies deep-dyed and bright ; And, kneeling, vow no right to yield I On, brothers, on I — Fight 1 win the field I Or dead return on battered shield, As martyrs for the right I Where camp-fires light the reddened sod. The grief-bowed Legion kneel to God, In Palmer's name, and by his blood. They swell the battle-cry ; We'll sheathe no more our dripping steel, 'Till tyrants Southern vengeance feel, And menial hordes as suppliants kneel. Or, terror-stricken, fly I THE SILENT MARCH. On one occasion during the war in Virginia General Lee lay down by the waymde for a few minutes' rest. Fifteen thousand men passed by with noiseless step, because it was whispered from one to the other all down the line, " Mars Bob's asleep ; don't wake him." /^'ercomh with weariness and care. The war-worn veteran lay On the green turf of his native land. And slumbered by the way ; The breeze that sighed across his brow. And smoothed its deeped lines. Fresh from his own loved mountain bore The murmur of their pines ; And the glad sound of waters. The blue rejoicing streams. Whose Bweet familiar tones were blent With the music of his dreams : 44 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY They brought no sound of battle's din, Shrill fife or clarion. But only tenderest memories Of his own fair Arlington. While thus the chieftain slumbered, Forgetful of his care. The hollow tramp of thousand.s Came sounding through the air : With ringing spur and sabre. And trampling feet they come. Gay plume and rustling banner, And fife, and trump, and drum ; But soon the foremost column Sees where, beneath the shade. In slumber, calm as childhood. Their wearied chief is laid ; And down the line a murmur From lip to lip there ran. Until the stilly whisper Had spread to rear from van ; And o'er the host a silence As deep and sudden fell, As though some mighty wizard Had hushed them with a spell ; And every sound was muffled. And every soldier's tread Fell lightly as a mother's 'Round her baby's cradle-bed ; And rank, and file, and column. So softly by they swept. It seemed a ghostly army Had passed him as he slept , But mightier than enchantment Was that with magic move — The spell that hushed their voices Deep reverence and love. HOUSE IN WHICH "s [ONE WALL" JACKSON DltD WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 4A "THE MARYLAND LINE." By j. D. M'Cabb, Jr. The Maryland regiments in the Confederate army adopted tbe title of " The Maryland Line," which was so heroically sustained by their patriot sires of the first Revolution, smd which the deeds of Marylanders at Manas sas, show that the patriot Marylanders of this second Revolution are worthy to bear. T) Y old Potomac's rushing tide, -*-^ Our bayonets are gleaming ; And o'er the bounding waters wide We gaze, while tears are streaming. The distant hills of Maryland Rise sadly up before us — And tyrant bands have chained our land. Our mother proud that bore us. Our proud old mother's queenly head Is bowed in subjugation ; With her children's blood her soil is red, And fiends in exultation Taunt her with shame as they bind her chains, While her heart is torn with anguish ; Old mother, on famed Manassas' plains Our vengeance did not languish. We thought of your wrongs as on we rushed, 'Mid shot and shell appalling ; We heard your voice as it upward gush'd. From the Maryland life-blood falling. No pity we knew I Did they mercy show When they bound the mother that bore us ? But we scattered death 'mid the dastard foe Till they, shrieking, fled before us. 46 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY We mourn for our brothers brave that fell On that field so stem and gory ; But their spirits rose with our triumph yell To the heavenly realms of glory. And their bodies rest on the hard-won field — By their love so true and tender. We'll keep the prize they would not yield. We'll die, but we'll not surrender. GENERAL ALBERT SIDNEY JOHNSTON. [Killed at the Battle of Shiloh, Tenn., April 6, 1862, while leading and directing his troops.] By Mary Jervey, of Charleston. Tn thickest fight triumphantly he fell, -*- While into victory's arms he led us on ; A death so glorious our grief should quell : We mourn him, yet his battle-crown is won. No slanderous tongue can vex his spirit now. No bitter taunts can stain his blood-bought fame ; Immortal honor rests upon his brow. And noble memories cluster round his name. For hearts shall thrill and eyes grow dim with tears. To read the story of his touching fate; How in his death the gallant soldier wears The crown that came for earthly life too late. Ye people I guard his memory — sacred keep The garlands green above his hero-grave ; Yet weep, for praise can never wake his sleep. To tell him he is shrined among the brave ! WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 47 "STONEWALL JACKSON'S WAY." By John Williamson Palmer These verses were fonnd ^Titten on a small piece of paper, all stained with blood, in the bosom of a dead soldier of the old Stonewall Brigade, after one of Jackson's battles in the Shenandoah Valley. There had been terrific fighting, and Jackson had encountered three separate armies, defeating each in turn. It is well known that he was a man of prayer. His servant man, a faitliful negro, would sometimes go out early in the morning to the officer's camp and say : " Gentlemen, there's gwine to be hard fightin' to-day ; Mars Tom was on his knees praying all night long." Jackson's favorite way of sending the news of his victories to Richmond, the headquarters of the Confederacy, was the following telegram : " God has blessed our arms with another glorious victory." No wonder, then, that the spirit of prayer should have been in this wonderful poem. Though the author is unknown, this beautiful production will go down the ages as a classic in the English language. See the air to which this is sung, page 61. /^'^OME, stack arms men, pile on the rails — ^^ Stir up the camp-fire bright; No matter if the canteen fails. We'll make a roaring night. Here Shenandoah crawls along. Here burly Blue Ridge echoes strong. To swell the brigade's rousing song, Of " Stonewall Jackson's way." We see him now — the old slouched hat Couched o'er his eye askew — The shrewd, dry smile — the speech so pat. So calm, so blunt, so true. The " Blue Light Elder " knows 'em well : Says he, " That's Bank's, he's fond of shell ; Lord, save his soul ! we'll give him " well That's "Stonewall Jackson's way." Silence I ground arms ! kneel all I caps off! Old " Blue Light's " going to pray ; Strangle the fool that dares to scoff ! Attention ! it's his way 1 48 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Appealing from his native sod, " Hear us. Almighty God I Lay bare thine arm, stretch forth thy rod, " Amen I " That's Stonewall Jackson's way. He's in the saddle now \ Fall in I Steady I The whole brigade { Hill's at the ford, cut off; we'll win His way out, ball and blade. What matter if our shoes are worn ? What matter if our feet are torn ? Quick step I we're with him ere the dawn I That's Stonewall Jackson's way I The sun's bright lances rout the mists Of morning — and, by George I Here's Longstreet, struggling in the lists. Hemmed in an ugly gorge. Pope and his Yankees, whipped before ; " Bayonets and grape 1 " hear Stonewall roar; " Charge, Stuart I pay off Ashby's score," Is Stonewall Jackson's way I Ah I maiden, wait, and watch, and yearn. For news of Stonewall's band I Ah I widow, read — with eyes that bum — That ring upon thy hand I Ah I wife, sew on, hope on, and pray I Thy life shall not be all forlorn — The foe had better ne'er been born. That gets in Stonewall's way. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 49 "OH NO, HE'LL NOT NEED THEM AGAIN." On the morning of the battle of Franklin, Tennessee, Major-Qeneral Patrick Cleburne, while riding along the linea encouraging his men, saw an old friend, a Captain of bis command, bare-footed, his feet sore and bleed ing — a pitiful sight to look upon, indeed. Dismounting at once, he walked up to the Captain and said : " Captain, will you kindly pull off my boots?" The Captain looked np in some surprise, but, always ready to obey his com manding officer, responded at once to the request of the General, and pulled off his boots, holding them in his hands as if asking, " What next 7 " The General said to him, " Captain, will you try them on and see if they will fit you? " This the Captain did also. The General then turned and mounted his horse, saying, " Captain, I am tired wearing those boots, and can do well without them." The Captain remonstrated, and so did others aronnd him, but he would not listen to them. With a pleasant smile, he sainted the Captain, and saying, " Good-bye, Captain," he rode away. That day he was killed, and was taken from the field in the condition in which he had left the Captain. /^H, no I he'll not need them again — ^-^ No more will he wake to behold The splendor and fame of his men, The tale of his victories told 1 No more will he wake from that sleep Which he sleeps in hia glory and fame. While his comrades are left here to weep Over Clebume, his grave and his name. Oh, no I he'll not need them again ; No more will his banner be spread O'er the field of his gallantry's fame — The soldier's proud spirit is fled ! The soldier who rose 'mid applause. From the humblemost place in the van- T sing not in praise of the cause But rather in praise of the man. 50 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Oh, no I he'll not need them again ; He has fought his last battle without them, For barefoot he, too, must go in. While barefoot stood comrades about him ; And barefoot they proudly marched iu, With blood flowing fast from their feet : They thought of the past victories won. And the foes that they now were to meet. Oh, no 1 he'll not need them again ; He is leading his men to the charge. Unheeding the shells, or the slain. Or the showers of the bullets at large Oh the right, on the left, on the flanks. He dashingly pushes his way. While with cheers, double-quick and in ranks. His soldiers all followed that day. Oh, no I he'll not need them again ; He falls from his horse to the ground I Oh, anguish I oh, sorrow I oh, pain I In the brave hearts that gathered around. He breathes not of grief, nor a sigh On the breast where he pillowed his head. Ere he fix'd his last gaze upon high — " I'm killed, boys, but fight it out," said. Oh, no ! he'll not need them again ; But treasure them up for his sake ; And oh I should you sing a refrain Of the memories they still must awake, Sing it soft as the summer-eve breeze. Let it sound as refreshing and clear ; Tho' grief-born, there's that which can please In thoughts that are gemmed with a tear. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 51 "STACK ARMS." Written in the prison of Fort Delaware, Del., on hearing of the surrender of Genertl Lee. By Jos. Blyth Alston. It makes a great difference as to the circumstances under which the soldier hears these woris of command. Sometimes, upon the drill-ground, " Stack arms " is a sweet relief; sometimes, after a long and weary march, " Stack arms " is ordered, and the men know there is rest for their tired bodies. I stood one day in Une with the men of the South when the order " Stack arms ! " was given. It was on Sunday morning, April 9, 1865. We were in Une of battle, and well did we know when this order was given that it meant the surrender of our army. Two days later we were in Une again ; the long blue Une of the Federal army confronted us. We stood within ten feet of each other, face to face. Again the order was given, " Stack arms," and we placed our muskets upon the ground, with their muzzles touching each other in the air, and around the stack we wrapped the tattered, bullet- torn battle-flag of our loved Confederacy, and came away. Strong men wept like children as with awkward stride they turned away from the foe they liad never feared to face ; and even now, if the command had been given to " Take arms," the men would have gladly plunged into the fight until not one should have been left to tell the tale. " Otack Arms 1 " I've gladly heard the cry ^ When, weary with the dusty tread Of marching troops, as night drew nigh, I sank upon my soldier bed. And calmly slept ; the starry dome Of heaven's blue arch my canopy. And mingled with my dreams of home, The thoughts of Peace and Liberty. " Stack Arms 1 " I've heard it, when the shout Exulting, rang along our line, Of foes hurled back in bloody rout. Captured, dispersed ; its tones divine Then came to mine enraptured ear. Guerdon of duty nobly done. And glistening on my cheek the tear Of grateful joy for victory won. 52 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY " Stack Arms ! " In faltering accents, slow And sad, it creeps from tongue to tongue. A broken, murmuring wail of woe. From manly hearts by anguish wrung. Like victims of a midnight dream, We move, we know not how nor why. For life and hope but phantoms seem, And it would be relief — to die I "LORENA." As the soldier boys went from their homes many of them (not to say every one of them) left their sweethearts behind. Many were the love songs that ware vmtten in those days, sung by the lad to his lassie, and then when he was far away at the front he sang them in the camp, and she in the home, with the hope of an early meeting again. As this Uttle song comes to my mind it brings up a thousand associations of the past, as it will do in the minds of others who knew it, and sang it, in the long-ago past. 'T^HE years creep slowly by, Lorena ; -*- The snow is on the grass again ; The sun's low down the sky, Lorena ; The frost gleams where the flowers have been. But the heart throbs on as warmly now As when the summer days were nigh ; Oh I the sun can never dip so low Adown affection's cloudless sky. A hundred months have passed, Lorena, Since last I held that hand in mine. And felt the pulse beat fast, Lorena, Though mine beat faster far than thine, A hundred months — 'twas flowery May, When up the hilly slope we climbed, To watch the dying of the day And hear the distant church bells chimed. GENERAL RICHARD S. EWELL GENERAL JAMES LONGSTREET WAR SONGS OF THE COX FILnr.RACY 53 We loved each other then, Lorena, More than we ever dared to tell ; And what we might have been, Lorena, Had but our loving prospered well I But then, 'tis past; the years have gone, I'll not call up their shadowy forms ; I'll say to them, Lost years, sleep on. Sleep on, nor heed life's pelting storms. The story of the past, Lorena, Alas I I care not to repeat ; The hopes that could not last, Lorena, They lived, but only lived to cheat. I would not cause e'en one regret To rankle in your bosom now — " For if we try we may forget," Were words of thine long years ago. Yes, these were words of thine, Lorena — They are within my memory yet — They touched some tender chords, Lorena, Which thrill and tremble with regret. 'Twas not the woman's heart which spoke — Thy heart was always true to me ; A duty stem and piercing broke The tie which linked my soul with thee. It matters little now, Lorena, The past is in the eternal past ; Our hearts will soon lie low, Lorena, Life's tide is ebbing out so fast. There is a future, oh, thank God I Of life this is so small a part — 'Tis dust to dust beneath the sod, But there, up there, 'tis heart to heart. 54 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY "NELLIE GRAY." The sweetest singers in all the world are the '" darkeys" of the South. You may call their songs " Plantation ditties," or "Coon songs," or what ever you will, but to me there is more of pathos and power in one of the old-fashioned " darkey " songs of the South than in many of the magnificent oratorios and operas of the present day. This charming Uttle song is one of them. It comes along down the years Uke a bird to entertain us with its sweet and charming music. This song is sung to-day both North and South, and like most popular songs it may be printed in several forms. We believe the following version is as it should appear. The authorship of the poem is in doubt. It is suggested by Mrs. A. T. Smythe, Preadent of the "Daughters of the Confederacy," Charleston, South CaroUna, that the author is Stephen D. Foster, who composed it to be sung at a public entertainment. 'T^here's a low green valley on the old Kentucky shore, -^ There I've whiled many happy hours away; Sitting and singing in my little cabin door. Where lived my darling Nellie Gray. Chorus : Oh, my poor Nellie Gray, They have taken you away And I'll never see my darling any more, I'm sitting by the river, And I'm watching all the day. For you've gone from my old Kentucky shore. When the moon had climbed the mountains. And the stars were shining too, Then I'd take my darling Nellie Gray, And we'd float down the river In our little red canoe While my banjo sweetly I would play. — Owrue. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 55 My canoe is under water, And my banjo is unstrung, I'm tired of living any more. My eyes shall look downward. And my song shall be unsung If she's gone from my old Kentucky shore. — Chorus. My eyes are getting blinded And I cannot see my way. Hark I there is someone knocking at the door. Oh, I hear the angels calling. And I see my Nellie Gray. Farewell, to the old Kentucky shore. — Chorus. "YE MEN OF ALABAMA!" By John D. Phelan, of Montgomery, Alabama. It is well known that the flrst Capital of the Confederacy was estab Ushed at Montgomery, Alabama. The men of that noble State responded to the call of their country from every town, and hamlet, and home, nor did they ever, in all the four years, lack courage and devotion to her cause. The name Alabama is an Indian name, and means " Here we rest." It was a misnomer in those days, for it was " Here we hustle, and here we fight," " Usque ad fitiem." TTe men of Alabama, ' -*- Awake, arise, awake I And rend the coils asunder Of this Abolition snake. If another fold he fastens — If this final coil he plies — In the cold clasp of hate and power Fair Alabama dies. Though round your lower limbs and waist His deadly coils I see. Yet, yet, thank Heaven ! your head and arms, And good right hand are free ; 56 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY And in that hand there glistens — 0 God I what joy to feel ! — A polished blade, full sharp and keen. Of tempered State Rights steel. Now, by the free-bom sires From whose brave loins ye sprung ! And by the noble mothers At whose fond breasts ye hung ! And by your wives and daughters. And by the ills they dread, Drive deep that good Secession steel Right through the Monster's head. This serpent Abolition Has been coiling on for years ; We have reasoned, we have threatened. We have begged almost with tears : Now, away, away with Union, Since on our Southern soil The only union left us Is an anaconda's coil. Brave, little South Carolina Will strike the self-same blow. And Florida, and Georgia, And Mississippi, too ; And Arkansas, and Texas ; And at her death, I ween, The head will fall beneath the blows Of all the brave Fifteen. In this our day of trial. Let feuds and factions cease, Until above this howling storm We see the sign of Peace. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 57 Let Southem men, like brothers, In solid phalanx stand. And poise their spears, and lock their shields. To guard their native land. The love that for the Union Once in our bosoms beat. From insult and from injury Has turned to scorn and hate; And the banner of Secession To-day we lift on high. Resolved, beneath that sacred flag. To conquer, or TO DIE 1 "STONEWALL" JACKSON. MortaUy wounded — "The Brigade must not know, sir." - It is a well known fact that Stonewall Jackson was killed by his own men. He rode through the picket Unes at Chancellorsville, and gave orders that they muflt fire on any who came along their road, not expecting to re- tnm that way himself; but changing his mind afterward, his men, obedient to orders, poured a volley of shot into the Uttle group of officers and men, and we all know with what deadly effect. As they bore General Jackson to the rear, mortally wounded, he said to the officer who had him in charge, "The brigade must not know, sir, that I am wounded." i i TTTho've ye got there ? " — " Only a dying brother, ^ ^ Hurt in the front just now." " Good boy I he'll do. Somebody tell his mother Where he was killed, and how." " Whom have you there ? " — " A crippled courier, major. Shot by mistake, we hear. He was with Stonewall." " Cmel work they ve made here ; Quick with him to the rear I " 58 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY " Well, who comes next ? " — Doctor, speak low, speak low, sir; Don't let the men find out. " It's Stonewall ! " " God 1 " " The brigade must not know, sir, While there's a foe about." Whom have we hero — shrouded in martial manner. Crowned with a martyr's charm ? A grand dead hero in a living banner, Born of his heart and arm. The heart whereon his cause hung — see how clingeth That banner to his bier ! The arm wherewith his cause struck — hark ! how ringeth His trumpet in their rear ! What have we left ? His glorious inspiration. His prayers in council met. Living, he laid the first stones of a nation ; And dead, he builds it yet. CAROLINA. April 14, 186L ^arolina I Carolina ! Noble name in State and story. How I love thy truthful glory, ~ As I love the blue sky o'er ye, Carolina evermore I Carolina ! Carolina ! Land of chivalry unfearing. Daughters fair beyond comparing, Sons of worth and noble daring, Carolina evermore I Carolina ! Carolina ! Soft thy clasp iu loving greeting. Plenteous board and kindly meeting. All thy pulses nobly beating, Carolina evermore I WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 59 Carolina I Carolina I Green thy valleys, bright thy heaven, _ Bold thy streams through forest riven. Bright thy laurels, hero-given, Carolina evermore 1 Carolina I Carolina I Holy name, and dear forever. Never shall thy children, never, Fail to strike with grand endeavor, Carolina evermore I John A Wagner, of S. C. THE ORIGINAL "DIXIE." The song of "Dixie" is indelibly connected with the South. We all know the air, but how few have seen the original song ! There have been many versions, but we give here the original one, from which they all sprang. T WISH I was in the land of cotton, -^ Old times dar am not forgotten ; Look away, look away, look away, Dixie Land, In Dixie Land, whar I was born in Early on one frosty mornin'. Look away, look away, look away, Dixie Land. Chorus : Den I wish I was in Dixie, Hooray I hooray I In Dixie Land I'll took my stand, To lib and die in Dixie. Away, away, away down South in Dixie ; Away, away, away down South in Dixie. Old missus marry " Will de weaber?" William was a gay deceaber. Look away, look away, look away, Dixie Land. (io WAR SONOS OF THE CONFEDERACY But when he put his arm around 'er, He smiled as fierce as a forty-pounder, Look away, look away, look away, Dixie Land. His face was as sharp as a butcher's cleaber, But dat did not seem to greabe 'er, Look away, look away, look away, Dixie Land. Old missus acted the foolish part. And died for the man dat broke her heart, Look away, look away, look away, Dixie Land. Now here's a health to the next old missus. And all the gals dat want to kiss us. Look away, look away, look away, Dixie Land. But if you want to drive away sorroe. Come and hear dis nig to-morrow ; Look away, look away, look away, Dixie Land. Der buckwheat cakes and ingen batter Makes you fat, or a little fatter. Look away, look away, look away, Dixie Land. Den hoe it down and scratch your grabble To Dixie Land I'm bound to trabble. Look away, look away, look away, Dixie Laud. The Old Bell House, Capitol Square, Richmond, Va. THE BURIAL OF LATANE From a rare engraving in possession of Mrs. James 'I', iruls- v, loaned for this work. The pathetic story is beaiitihiUy dcsc reside [..¦d ill It c.r Illi- "11, .f lllL- Cn ¦c title. ledeiiuy" ..f ] 'll iladelphis WAR SO.VG.'s OF Tin-. CONFEDERACY "DIXIE'S LAND." «i ii| J' J j'.jN'. n^^ 5^ ij^ jpr^if.frJi:^^ Mj, j' j. J' 1^ Jj'i!-r'ii:r.Hi. .Mj. ^'UM-rpiFr i "STONEWALL JACKSON'S WAY. n See the words as found in the beautiful Poem on page 47. They were v^rritten by John Williamson Palmer of Charleston, South Carolina. These are stirring verses and win popularity owring to this air. These are tbe well-koawn aire of war days for eoaei, than ss popular with the loldier boye. 62 WAR SONGS OF IHE CONFEDERACY "OUR CONFEDERATE DEAD." What the Heart of a Young Girl Said to a Dead Soldier. By James R. Randall. One of the most beautiful customs that exist in the South is the habit of the people once a year to go forth and scatter flowers upon the graves of our dead. Not long since a friend of mine was standing in thc cemetery at Nash ville, on Decoration Day, and seeing a cart pass through the gates, loaded with a heavy marble slab, he followed it, and soon came to a grave where pre parations were being made to plant this stone. A gentleman was standing near, and my friend asked him if it was the grave of his son. " No," said he, " I was a member of the Tennessee Company ; my wife was at the point of death, our company was ordered to the front, and this young man, though under the prescribed age, came to me and insisted upon taking my place. He was killed at the battle of Missionary Ridge, near Chattanooga." Upon the stone was the inscription of the name of the young man who had been killed, then of the name of the man who was having the stone placed at the grave, and underneath it all these simple words : " He died for me." What a book could be written of such incidents of splendid heroism aa characterized the true warm-hearted men of those days. T Tnknown to me, brave boy, but still I wreathe ^ For you the tenderest of wildwood flowers ; And o'er your tomb a virgin's prayer I breathe, To greet the pure moon and the April showers, I only know, I only care to know, You died for me — for me and country hied ; A thousand Springs and wild December enow Will weep for one of all the SauJthem dead. Perhaps some mother gazes up the skies, Wailing, like Rachel, for her martyred brave — Oh, for her darling sake, my dewy eyes Moisten the turf above your lowly grave. The cause is sacred, \\hen our maidens s**ud Linked with sad matrons and heroic sires. Above relics of a vanquished land And light the torch of sanctifying fir© WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY fis Your bed of honor has a rosy cope To shimmer back the tributary stars ; And every petal glistens with a hope Where Love hath blossomed in the disk of Mars. Sleep J On your couch of glory slumber comes Bosomed amid the archangelic choir ; Not with the grumble of impetuous drums Deep'ning the chorus of embattled ire. Above you shall the oak and cedar fling Their giant plumage and protecting shade ; For you the song-bird pause upon his wing Aud warble requiems ever undismayed. Farewell I And if your spirit wander near To kiss this plant of unaspiring art — Translate it, even in the heavenly sphere. As the libretto of a maiden's heart. THE SOUTHERN REPUBLIC. By Miss Thomas, of Mississippi. T N the galaxy of nations, A nation's flag's unfurled, Transcending in its martial pride The nations of the world. Though born of war, baptized in blood, Yet mighty from the time, Like fabled phoenix, forth she stood — Dismembered, yet sublime. And braver heart, and bolder hand, Ne'er formed a fabric fair As Southern wisdom can command, And Southem valor rear. IM WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Though kingdoms scorn to own her sway, Or recognize her birth, The laud blood- bought for Liberty Will reign supreme on earth. Clime of the Sun \ Home of the Brave f Thy sons are bold and free, And pour life's crimson tide to save Their birthright. Liberty f Their fertile fields and sunny plains That yield the wealth alone, That's coveted for greedy gains By despots — and a throne \ Proud country I battling, bleeding, torn. Thy altars desolate ; Thy lovely dark-eyed daughters mourn At war's relentless fate ; And widows' prayers, and orphans' tears, Her homes will consecrate. While more than brass or marble rears The trophy of her great. Oh I land -that boasts each gallant name Of Jackson, Johnson, Lee, And hosts of valiant sons, whose fame Extends beyond the sea ; Par rather let thy plains become. From gulf to mountain cave. One honored sepulchre and tomb. Than we the tyrant's slave I Fair, favored land I thou mayst be free; Redeemed by blood and war ; Through agony and gloom we see Thy hope— a glimmering star ; WAR SONCS OF THE CONFEDERACY C") Thy. banner, too, may proudly float, A herald on the seas — Thy deeds of daring worlds remote Will emulate and praise I But who can paint the impulse pure. That thrills and nerves thy brave To deeds of valor, that secure The rights their fathers gave ? Oh ! grieve not, hearts ; her matchless slain. Crowned with the warrior's wreath From beds of fame their proud refrain Was " Liberty or Death ! " "TELL THE BOYS THE WAR IS ENDED." By Emily J. Moore. Our brave fitzhugh Lee, of Virginia, relates an interesting anecdote concerning himself and an old farmer : After the surrender at Appomat tox, General Lee was on his way home. He met an old farmer on the road on hia way to mill, who of course inquired of the soldier the latest news. "General Lee has surrendered," he answered, "and you can tell your neighbors that the war is over." " What," said the old farmer, " General Lee?" "Yes," he replied." "Oh, no," said he, "You cannot mean Eobert Lee?" "Yes, sir," replied the General, " Eobert Lee has sur rendered." "I don't believe it," said the old farmer, and herode on, say ing as he went, " That fool, Fitz Lee, may have surrendered, but not old Eol)ert." The General concluded liis account of the incident by saying that he thought it best, under the circumstances, not to make himself known. ( t'T^Bix the boys the war is ended," -¦- The.se were all the words he said; " Tell the boys the war is ended," In an instant more was dead. Strangely bright, serene, and cheerful Was the smile upon his face, While the pain, of late so fearful. Had not left the slightest trace. 66 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY " Tell the boys the war is ended," And with heavenly visions bright Thoughts of comrades loved were blended, As his spirit took its flight. " Tell the boys the war is ended," " Grant, 0 God, it may be so," Was the prayer which then ascended. In a whisper deep, though low. " Tell the boys the war is ended," And his warfare then was o'er, As, by angel bands attended. He dep&rted from earth's shore. Bursting shells and cannon roaring Could not rouse him by their din ; He to better worlds was soaring. Far from war, and pain, and sin. PRESIDENT DAVIS. By Jane T. H. Cross. 'TpHB cell is lonely, and the night •*- Has filled it with a darker gloom; The little rays of friendly light, Which through each crack and chink found room To press in with their noiseless feet. All merciful and fleet, And bring, like Noah's trembling dove, God's silent messages of love — These, too, are gone, shut out and goa«, And that great heart is left alone. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 67 Alone, with darkness and with woe, Around him Freedom's temple lies. Its arches crushed, its columns low, The night-wind through its ruin sighs • Rash, cruel hands that temple razed, Then stood the world amazed I And now those hands — ah, ruthless deeds 1 Their captive pierce — his brave heart bleeds ; And yet no groan Is heard, no groan I He suffers silently, alone. For all his bright and happy home, He has that cell, so drear and dark. The narrow walls, for heaven's blue dome. The clank of chains, for song of lark ; And for the grateful voice of friends — That voice which ever lends Its charm where human hearts are found- He hears the key's dull, grating sound ; No heart is near. No kind heart near. No sigh of sympathy, no tear I Oh, dream not thus, though true and good I Unnumbered hearts on thee await, By thee invisibly have stood. Have crowded through thy prison-gate ; Nor dungeon bolts, nor dungeon bars. Nor floating " stripes and stars," Nor glittering gun or bayonet. Can ever cause us to forget Our faith to thee. Our love to thee. Thou glourious soul I thou strong I thou fre« I 68 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY THE IRREPRESSIBLE CONFLICT. It is a well-known fact that during the War many people spoke and sang more bravely than they fought. I remember a fiery speech that I heard in the early days of the War on the great green in our County. The speech was made in a frenzied manner by a prominent and wealthy farmer. One expression I shall not forget — " If those Yankees come down to this sacred soil, I will take my negroes, and my neighbors, and drive them out of the country with corn stalks." The truth is, before the gentlemen referred to appeared in sight, this farmer was seen with his slaves, and his cattle (but not his neighbors) making his way to the South, and he never caught the smell of powder during the whole War. 'npHEN welcome be it, if indeed it be ¦*- The Irrepressible Confiict 1 Let it come ; There will be mitigation of the doom. If, battling to the last, our sires shall see Their sons contending for the homes made free In ancient conflict with the foreign foe I If those who call us brethren strike the blow; No common conflict shall the invader know I War to the knife, and to the last, until The sacred land we keep shall overflow With blood as sacred — valley, wave, and hill. Or the last enemy finds his bloody grave ! Aye I welcome to your graves — or ours I The brave May perish, but ye shall not bind one slave. ri7^^^5^«ss^r:s r:.,i:^jaigtifi»e^- *!tt^ " ro if EC °"S >£.a. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 93 "Just look at Methodist," he said ; " He goes at a rapid pace, He bellows till he splits your head; But once neglected to be fed He's sure to fall from grace. " Episcopalian's kind and bright. But gay and giddy ever. While the reverse is Campbellite ; He's always spoiling for a fight, And lies down in the river. " There's Presbyterian, strict new school. Has hydrophobia sorter ; He's true and faithful as a rule, But when he strikes a stream or pool He leaps clean o'er the water. " There's Baptist, good, but very queer. On charity he's off; He's willing and obedient e'er. But won't permit another steer To eat from out his trough. " That big fat ox is Catholic ; He's of most ancient birth ; He's up to many a crafty trick, Against all other steers will kick, And always wants the earth. " But though these steers are different quite, At one great end they aim ; 'Tis true they sometimes skulk and fight, But still they keep the goal in sight. And get there all the same." 94 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY OVER THE RIVER. By Jane T. Cross. "\X7e hail your " Stripes " and lessened " stars," As one may hail a neighbor ; Now forward move ! no fear of jars. With nothing but free labor ; And we will mind our slaves and farm, And never wish you any harm, But greet you — over the river. The self-same language do we speak, The same dear words we utter ; Then let's not make each other weak. Nor 'gainst each other mutter ; But let each go his separate way. And each will doff his hat, and say : " I greet you — over the river I " Our flags, almost the same, unfurl. And nod across the border ; Ohio's waves between them curl — Our stripe's a little broader ; May yours float out on every breeze. And, in our wake, traverse all seas — We greet you — over the river ! We part as friends of years should part. With pleasant words and wishes. And no desire is in our heart For Lincoln's loaves and fishes : " Farewell," we wave you from afar. We like you best — just where you are — And greet you — over the river 1 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY M KENTUCKY REQUIRED TO YIELD HER ARMS. Boone. It will be observed that the name of Boone stands here aa the author of this song. It puts me in mind of the following story : Many years ago there lived upon the frontier a man and his family, struggling in the depths of the forest to make a living, and to establish himself upon what was then the Western Territory. Indians and wild animals were around him everywheie, and when the farmer went to the forests, he went with axe in one hand, and gun in the other. One day he heard the screams of his wife, and mBhing out of the woods to his little cabin he saw an Indian run ning away with his baby boy. He lifted his rifle, took the best aim he could, and fired. The Indian only turned and laughed at him, and went on. Just then he heard a voice behind him, saying, " A little too low; you aimed too low." And with that he heard the crack of a rifle and saw the Indian fall, as the Uttle boy, released from his grasp, came running back to hia father and mother. The glad-hearted father turned to the man who had killed the Indian, and said to him, "Tell me who you are ; give me your name that I may teach it to my chUd, and ever remember it with a gratefol heart." The man smiled, and, extending his hand, said, " Daniel Boone, with my best wishes." and turned away to the forest. He had aimed exactly right, and so did the Kentucky soldiers during the war. No wonder they were called upon to give up their arms. XTo I will the despot trifle, In dwellings of the free ; Kentuckians yield the rifle, Kentuckians bend the knee I With dastard fear of danger, And trembling at the strife ; Kentucky, to the stranger, Yield liberty for life I Up I up f each gallant ranger, With rifle and with knife I The bastard and the traitor. The wolfcub and the snake. The robber, swindler, hater. Are in your homes — awake I oa WAR .SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Nor let the cunning foeman Despoil your liberty ; Yield weapon up to no man, While ye can strike and see, Awake, each gallant yoeman, If still ye would be free ! Ay, see to sight the rifle, And smite with spear and knife, Let no base cunning stifle Each lesson of your life : How won your gallant sires The country which ye keep ? By soul, which still inspires The soil on which ye weep ! Leap up ! their spirit fires, And rouse ye from your sleep ! " What ! " cry the sires so famous. In Orleans' ancient field, " Will ye, our children, shame us. And to the despot yield ? What I each brave lesson stifle We left to give you life ? Let apish despots trifie With home and child and wife ? And yield, O shame I the rifle. And sheathe, O shame ! the knife ? " "THERE'S LIFE IN THE OLD LAND YET." TJ Y blue Patapsco's billowy dash The tyrant's war-shout comes. Along with the cymbal's fitful clash And the growl of his sullen drums ; WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 97 We hear it, we heed it, with vengeful thrills, And we shall not forgive or forget — There's faith in the streams, there's hope in the hills, " There's life in the Old Land yet ! " Minions I we sleep, but we are not dead. We are crushed, we are scourged, we are scarred- We crouch — 'tis to welcome the triumph-tread Of the peerless Beauregard. Then woe to your vile, polluting horde, When the Southern braves are met ; There's faith in the victor's stainless sword, " There's life in the Old Land yet I " Bigots ^ ye quell not the valiant mind With the clank of an iron chain ; The spirit of Freedom sings in the wind CVer Merryman, Thomas, and Kane ; And we — though we smite not — are not thralls. We are piling a gory debt ; While down by McHenry's dungeon walls " There's life in the Old Land yet ! " Our women have hung their harps away. And they scowl on your brutal bands. While the nimble poignard dares the day In their dear defiant hands ; They will strip their tresses to string our bows Ere the Northern sun is set — There's faith in their unrelenting woes — " There's life in the Old Land yet I " There's life, though it throbbeth in silent veins, " 'Tis vocal without noise ; It gushed o'er Manassas' solemn plains From the blood of the Maryland boys. 98 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY That blood shall cry aloud and rise With an everlasting threat — By the death of the brave, by the God in the skies, "There's life in the Old Land yet ! " THE BATTLE OF RICHMOND. By George Herbert Sass, Charleston, South Carolina. "VTow blessed be the Lord of Hosts through all our Southern '''^ land. And blessed be His holy name, in whose great might we stand ; For He who loves the voice of prayer hath heard His people's cry. And with His own almighty arm hath won the victory ; Oh, tell it out through hearth and home, from blue Potomac's wave To those far waters of the West which hide De Soto's grave. Now let there be through all the land one grand triumphant cry, Wherever beats a Southern heart, or glows a Southern sky ; For He who ruleth every fight hath been with us to-day. And the great God of battles hath led the glorious fray ; Oh, then unto His holy name ring out the joyful song, The race hath not been to the swift, the battle to the strono. From royal Hudson's cliff-crowned banks, from proud Ohio's flood, From that dark rock in Plymouth's bay where erst the Pilgrims stood, From East and North, from far and near, went forth the gathering cry. WAR SONGS OF THE CO.VFEDERACY 99 And the countless hordes came swarming on with fierce and lustful eye. In the great name of Liberty each thirsty sword is drawn ; In the great name of Liberty each tyrant presseth on. Alas, alas! her sacred name is all dishonored now. And blood-stained hands are tearing off each laurel from her brow. But ever yet rings out the cry, in loud and mocking tone, Still in her holy shrine they strive to rear a despot's throne ; And pressing on with eager tread, they sweep across the land, To bum, and havoc, and destroy — a fierce and ruthless band, I looked on fair Potomac's shore, and at my feet the while The sparkling waves leaped gayly up to meet glad summer's smile ; And pennons gay were floating there, and banners fair to see, A mighty host arrayed, I ween, in war's proud panoply ; And as I gazed a cry arose, a low, deep-swelling hum, And loud and stem along the line broke in the sullen drum. Onward, o'er fair Virginia's fields, through ranks of nodding grain. With shout and song they sweep along, a gay and gallant train. Oh, ne'er, I ween, had those broad plains beheld a fairer sight, And clear and glad those skies of June shed forth their glorious light. Onwards, yea, ever onwards, that mighty host hath passed. And " On to Richmond " is the cry which echoes on the blast. I looked again, the rising sun shines down upon the moors. And 'neath his beams rise ramparts high and frowning embrasures. And on each proud abattis yawn, with menace stern and dread, 100 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Grim-visaged messengers of death ; the watchful sentry's tread In measured cadence slowly falls ; all Nature seems at ease. And over all the Stars and Stripes are floating in the breeze. But far away another line is stretching dark and long. Another flag is floating free where armed legions throng ; Another war-cry's on the air, as wakes the martial drum, And onward still, in serried ranks, the Southern soldiers come, And up to that abattis high the charging columns tread, And bold and free the Stars and Bars are waving at their head. They are on it ! they are o'er it ! who can stay that living flood? Lo, ever swelling, rolleth on the weltering tide of blood. Yet another and another is full boldly stormed and won, And forward to the spoiler's camp the column presseth on. Hurrah I hurrah ! the field is won ! we've met them man to man, And ever still the Stars and Bars are riding in the van. They are fiying I they are flying ! and close upon their track Comes our glorious " Stonewall " Jackson, with ten thousand at his back ; And Longstreet, too, and gallant Hill, and Rhodes, and brave Hugee, And he whose name is worth a host, our bold, devoted Lee ; And back to where the lordly James his scornful billows rolls, The recreant foe is fleeing fast — those men of dastard souls. They are flying I they are flying I horse and foot, and bold dragoon, In one refluent mass are mingled, 'neath the slowly waning moon ; THE WASHINGTON MONUMENT IN RICHMOND, VIRGINIA From photograph made for this work by Edyth Carter Beveridge. W.IR SONuS OF THE CONFEDERACY 101 And louder still the cry is heard, as borne upon the blast, The shouts of the pursuing host are rising full and fast ; " On, on unto the river, 'tis our only chance for life ! We needs must reach the gunboats, or we perish in th>j strife ! " 'Tis done ! the gory fleld is ours ; we've conquered in the> fight! And yet once more our tongues can tell the triumph of the right ; And humbled is the haughty foe, who our destruction sought. For God's right hand and holy arm have great deliverance wrought. Oh, then, unto His holy name ring out the joyful song — The race has not been to the swift, the battle to the strong. THE GUERRILLAS : A SOUTHERN WAR SONG. Composed in the Yankee Bastille. By S. Teacle Wallis, of Maryland. Mr. WalUs died in Baltimore a few years ago. He was an eminent lawyer and a valued citizen. " A WAKE ! and to horse, my brother I For the dawn is glimmering gray ; And hark ! in tbe crackling brushwood There are feet that tread this way. Who cometh?" "A friend." " What tidings?" " O God ! I sicken to tell. For the earth seems earth no longer. And its sights are sights of hell ! 102 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY " From far-off conquered cities Comes a voice of stifled wail, And the shrieks and moans of the houseless Ring out like a dirge on the gale. I've seen, from the smoking village. Out mothers and daughters fly ; I've seen where the little children Sank down in the furrows to die. " On the banks of the battle-stained river I stood, as the moonlight shone. And it glared on the face of my brother. As the sad wave swept him on I Where my home was glad are ashes ; And horrors and shame had been there- For I found, on the fallen lintel. This tress of my wife's torn hair. " They are turning the slaves upon us. And, with more than the fiend's worst art, Have uncovered the fire of the savage. That slept in his untaught heart. The ties to our heart that bound him, They have rent with curses away. And maddened him with their madness. To be almost as brutal as they. " With halter, and torch, and Bible, And hymns to the sound of the drum, They preach the gospel of Murder, And pray for Lust's kingdom to come. To saddle I to saddle I my brothers I Look up to the rising sun, And ask the God who shines there. Whether deeds like these shall be done f WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 103 " Whenever the vandal cometh, Press home to his heart with your steel. And when at his bosom you cannot. Like a serpent, go strike at his heel. Through thicket and wood go hunt him, Creep up to his camp fireside. And let ten of his corpses blacken. Where one of our brothers hath died. In his fainting, footsore marches, In his flight from the stricken fray, In the snare of the lonely ambush. The debts we owe him pay. In God's hand, alone, is vengeance I But He strikes with the hands of men, And His blight would wither our manhood, If we smite not the smiter again. " By the graves where our fathers slumbered ! By the shrines where our mothers prayed ! By our homes, and hopes, and freedom 1 Let every man swear on his blade. That he will not sheath nor stay it. Till from point to hilt it will glow, With the flush of almighty vengeance. In the blood of the felon foe." They swore — and the answering sunlight Leapt red from their lifted swords. And the hate of their hearts made echo To the wrath in their burning words. There's weeping in all New England, And by Schuylkill's banks a knell, And the widows there, and the orphans. How the oath was kept can tell. 104 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY OUR DEAD HEROES. (Introduction by Mobton Bryan Wharton, D. D.] 'T^HE angels above us hover, And the breezes a requiem sing. As we meet this day to cover, Our dead with the flowers of Spring. They were brave, they were true, devoted, They died for their country's laws, And Montgomery will e'er be noted As the cradle of their cause. The waves of the Alabama Will no longer be seen to roll. Ere the men of that mighty drama Shall fade from memory's scroll. The names of Lee and Davis Shall gild the wing of time, Their armies and their navies. Be praised for deed^ sublime I Since then long years have vanished. Their forms have gone to dust, Their flags have all been banished, Their swords have gone to rust. But their souls are up in glory, And now like angels gleam ; Last night their mystic story, Came to me in a dream. WAR SONGS OF THE CO YFFDEh'.-lCV 105 THE PHANTOM HOST. By Rev. Peronnean D. Hay. M form was wrapped in the slumber Which steals from the heart its cares. For my life ^^•as weary With its barren waste of years ; But my soul, with rapid pinions. Fled swift to the light which seems From a phantom's sun and planets For the dreamer in his dreams. I stood in a wondrous woodland, Where the sunlight nestled sweet In the cups of snowy lilies Which grew about my feet ; And while the Gothic forest arches Stirred gently with the air The lilies underneath them Swung their censors pale in prayer. I stood amazed and wondering, And a grand memoriam strain Came sweeping through the forest. And died; then rose again. It swelled in solemn measure. Till my soul, with comfort blessed. Sank down among the lilies With folded wings to rest. Then to that mystic music Through the forest's twilight aisle Passed a host with muffled footsteps In martial rank and file; 106 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY And I knew those gray-clad figures. Thus slowly passing by. Were the souls of Southern soldiers Who for freedom dared to die. In front rode Sidney Johnston, With a brow no longer wrung By the vile and senseless slanders Of a prurient rabble tongue ; And near him mighty Jackson, With a placid front, as one Whose warfare was accomplished, Whose crown of glory won. There Hill, too, pure and noble. Passed in the spirit train. For he joined the martyred army From the South's last battle plain. The next in order followed The warrior-priest, great Polk, With joy to meet his Master, For he had nobly borne the yoke. There Stuart, the bold, the daring. With matchless Pelham rode ; With earnest, chastened faces. They were looking up to God. And Jenkins, glorious Jenkins, With his patient, fearless eyes. And the brave devoted Garnett, Journeyed on to Paradise. Before a shadowy squadron Rode Morgan, keen and strong, And I knew by his tranquil forehead He'd forgotten every wrong. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 107 There peerless Pegram marching With a dauntless, martial tread, And I breathed a sigh for the hero. The young, the early dead. 'Mid spectral black-horse troopers Passed Ashby's stalwart form. With that proud, defiant bearing Which so spurned the battle storm; But his glance was mild and tender, For in that Phantom Host He dwelt with lingering fondness On the brother he had k)st. Then strode the brave Maloney, Kind, genial adjutant; And next him walked the truthful, The lion-hearted Gantt. There to that solemn music Passed a triad of the brave : Lomax, Phelan, Alfred Pinckney — All had found a soldier's grave. They were young and gentle spirits, But they quaffed the bitter cup. For their country's flag was falling, And they fell to lift it up. And then passed in countless thousands In that mighty phantom host True hearts and noble patriots Whose names on earth are lost. There '•' the missing " found their places — Those who vanished from our gaze. Like brilliant, flashing meteors, And were lost in glory's blaze. 108 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Yes, they passed, that noble army — They passed to meet their Lord : And a voice within me whispered : " They but march to their reward." YE CAVALIERS OF DIXIE. By Benj. F. Porter, of Alabama. XT'e Cavaliers of Dixie That guard our Southern shores, Whose standards brave the battle-storm That round the border roars ; Your glorious sabres draw again. And charge the invading foe; Reap the columns deep Where the battle tempests blow, Where the iron hail in floods descends And the bloody torrents flow. Ye Cavaliers of Dixie ! Though dark the tempest lower. No arms will wear a tyrant's chains ! No dastard heart will cower ! Bright o'er the cloud the sign will rise. To lead to victory ; While your swords reap his hordes. Where the battle-tempests blow, And the iron hail in floods descends. And the bloody torrents flow. Ye Cavaliers of Dixie 1 Though Vicksburg's towers fall. Here still are sacred rights to shield I Your wives, your homes, your all r &4^ --..«:, ^»'^^ WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 109 With gleaming arms advance again. Drive the raging foe, Nor yield j'our native field, While the battle-tempests blow, And the iron hail in floods descends. And the bloody torrents flow. Our country needs no ramparts. No batteries to shield ! Your bosoms are her bulwarks strong. Breastworks that cannot yield ! The thunders of your battle-blades Shall sweep the hated foe. While their gore stains the shore. Where the battle-tempests blow. And the iron hail in floods descends. And the bloody torrents flow. The spirits of your fathers Shall rise ftom every grave 1 Our country is their field of fame. They nobly died to save ! Where Johnson, Jackson, Tilghman fell. Your patriot hearts shall glow ; While you reap columns deep. Through the armies of the foe. Where the battle storm is raging loud. And the bloody torrents flow. The battle-flag of Dixie On crimson field shall flame, With azure cross, and silver stars. To light her sons to fame I When peace with olive-branch returns, That flag's white folds shall glow, StiU bright on every height, 110 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Where the storm has ceased to blow. Where the battle tempests rage no more. Nor bloody torrents flow. The battle-flag of Dixie Shall long triumphant wave, Where'er the storms of battle roar. And victory crowns the brave I The Cavaliers of Dixie ! In woman's songs shall glow The fame of your name, When the storm has ceased to blow. When the battle- tempests rage no more. Nor the bloody torrents flow. " NOT DOUBTFUL OF YOUR FATHERLAND. "^ToT doubtful of your fatherland. Or of the God who gave it ; On, Southrons 1 'gainst the hireling band That struggle to enslave it ; Ring boldly out Your battle-shout. Charge flercely 'gainst these felon hordes : One hour of strife Is freedom's life. And glory hangs upon your swords ! A thousand mothers' matron eyes, Wives, sisters, daughters weeping. Watch, where your virgin banner flies. To battle fiercely sweeping : * Though science fails. The steel prevails, WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 111 When hands that wield, own hearts of oak : These, though the wall Of stone m.iy ftxll. Grow stronger \\ ith each hostile stroke. The faith that feels its cause as true, The virtue to maintain it; The soul to brave, the will to do, — These seek the fight, and gain it I The precious prize Before your eyes. The all that life conceives of charm. Home, freedom, life. Child, sister, wife. All rest upon your soul and arm I And what the foe, the felon race. That seek your subjugation? The scum of Europe, her disgrace. The lepers of the nation. And what the spoil That tempts their toil. The bait that goads them on to fight ? Lust, crime, and blood. Each fiendish mood That prompts and follows appetite. Shall such prevail, and shall you fail. Asserting cause so holy? With souls of might, go, seek the fight. And crush these wretches lowly. On, with the cry. To do or die. As did, in darker days, your sires, Nor stay the blow, Till every foe, Down stricken, in your path, expires 1 ^Charletton Mercury. 112 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY "THE VOLUNTEER." %i jir >;j J'li rrcj'F' r'r r-'i ^'-^''''f ^^^' >l)i'>T.1 MJ'J 1 J' I ^^ m P i< * 23 > J ^ >lf^.J3rjc;l f^7 1 1 "IMOGEN." j-lJU N j,rt|j'iJ|,i»tiliii|ia^ sc JJii) J j^-j|Jj.ilJjJii i|.i^J|J,i.v.i.|.| |.| ftt: iH 6^ i f(effa.in. JTJrrn ±y ^ ^ ^ i^ ' I o J^-J|Jj.LhJ.lj.ij,i I... I J ' W ' WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY ll;! GRAVE OF ALBERT SIDNEY JOHNSTON. By j. B. Synnott. 'npHE Lone Star State secretes the clay Of him who led on Shiloh's field. Where mourning wi\'es will stop to pray. And maids a weeping tribute yield. In after time, when spleen and strife Their madd'ning flame shall have expired, The noble deeds that gemm'd this life By Age and Youth will be admired. As o'er the stream the boatmen rove By Pittsburg Bend at early Spring, They'll show with moist'ning eye the grave Where havoc spread her sable wing. There, 'neath the budding foliage green, Ere Night evolved her dewy breath. While Vict'ry smiled upon the scene, Our Chieftan met the blow of death. Great men to come will bless the brave ; The soldier, bronzed in War's career, Shall weave a chaplet o'er his grave, While Mem'ry drops the glist'ning tear. Though envy wag her scorpion tongue, The march of Time shall find his fame ; Where Bravery's loved and Glory's sung. There children's lips shall lisp his name. 114 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY IMOGEN. By Genebal John B. Magruder. "TTTake 1 dearest, wake ! 'tis thy lover who calls, Imogen, ^ ^ List I dearest, list I the dew gently falls, Imogen, Arise to thy lattice, the moon is asleep. The bright stars above us their bright vigils keep. Chorus. Then fear not, my Imogen, Thou'rt dearer than life ! The heart of the soldier is the home of the wife, Imogen, The heart of the soldier is the home of the wife. Thy steed is impatient his mistress to bear, Imogen, Home to her lover, on the prairie afar, Imogen, Belov'd as a maiden, adored as a wife. Thou shalt be forever the star of my life I — Owrus. CLEBURNE. By M. a. Jennings, of Alabama. " Another Star now Shines on High." A NOTHER ray of light hath fled, another Southern brave Hath fallen in his country's cause and found a laureled grave — Hath fallen, but his deathless name shall live when stars shall set, Foi; noble Cleburne, thou art one this world will ne'er forget. 'Tis true, thy warm heart beats no more, that on thy noble head Azrael place his icy hand, and thou art with the dead ; The glancing of thine eyes are dim ; no more will they be bright Until they ope in Paradise, with clearer, heavenlier light. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 115 No battle news disturbs thy rest upon the sun-bright shore, No clarion voice awakens thee on earth to wrestle more. No tramping steed, no wary foe bids thee awake, arise, For thou art in the angel world, beyond the starry skies. Brave Cleburne, dream iu thy low bed, with pulseless, deadened heart ; Calm, calm and sweet, O warrior rest ! thou well hast borne thy part. And now a glory wreath for thee the angels singing twine, A glory wreath, not of the earth, but made by hands divine. A long farewell — we give thee up, with all thy bright renown, A chieftain here on earth is lost, in heaven an angel found. Above thy grave a wail is heard — a nation mourns her dead; A nobler for the South ne'er died, a braver never bled. A last farewell — how can we speak the bitter word farewell ! The anguish of our bleeding hearts vain words may never tell. Sleep on, sleep on, to God we give our chieftain in his might ; And weeping, feel he lives on high, where comes no sorrow's night. —Selma Despatch , 1864. THE BATTLE RAINBOW. By John R. Thompson, of Virginia. The poem which follows was written just after the Seven Days of Battle, near Eichmond, in 1862. It was suggested by the appearance of a rainbow the evening before the grand trial of strength between the contending armies. This rainbow overspread the eastern sky, and exactly defined the position of the Confederate army, as seen from the Capitol at Richmond. npHB warm, weary day, was departing — the smile Of the sunset gave token the tempest had ceased ; And the lightning yet fitfully gleamed for a while On the cloud that sank sullen and dark in the east. 116 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY There our army — awaiting the terrible fight Of the morrow — lay hopeful and watching, and still ; Where their tents all the region had sprinkled with white. From river to river, o'er meadow and hill. While above them the fierce cannonade of the sky Blazed and burst from the vapors that muffled the sun. Their " counterfeit clamors " gave forth no reply ; And slept till the battle, the charge in each gun. When, lo ! on the cloud, a miraculous thing ! Broke in beauty the rainbow our host to enfold ! The centre o'erspread by its arch, and each wing Suffused with its azure and crimson and gold. Blest omen of victory, symbol divine Of peace after tumult, repose after pain ; How sweet and how glowing with promise the sign. To eyes that should never behold it again ! For the fierce flame of war on the morrow flashed out, And its thunder-peals filled all the tremulous air : Over slippery intrenchment and reddened redoubt, Rang the wild cheer of triumph, the cry of despair. Then a long week of glory and agony came — Of mute supplication, and yearning, and dread ; When day unto day gave the record of fame, And night unto night gave the list of its dead. We had triumphed — the foe had fled back to his ships — His standard in rags and his legions a wreck — But alas ! the stark faces and colorless lips Of our loved ones, gave triumph's rejoicing a check. Not yet, oh, not yet, as a sign of release. Had the Lord set in mercy His bow in the cloud ; Not yet had the Comforter whispered of peace To the hearts that around us lay bleeding and bowed. "f ^/¦. THE SCOUTS WAR SONCS OF THE CONFEDERACY 117 But the promise was given — the beautiful arc, With its brilliant profusion of colors, that spanned The sky on that exquisite eve, was the mark Of the Infinite Love overarching the land. And that Love, shining richly and full as the day. Through the tear-drops that moisten each martyr's proud pall. On the gloom of the past the bright bow shall display Of Freedom, Peace, ^'^ictory, bent over all. SOUTHERN WAR HYMN. By John A. AVagener, of South Carolina. A RISE ! arise ! with arm of might, Sons of our sunny home ! Gird on the sword for the sacred fight, For the battle-hour hath come ! Arise ! for the felon foe draws nigh In battle's dread array ; To the front, ye brave ! let the coward fly, 'Tis the hero that bides the fray ! Strike hot and hard, my noble band, With the arm of fight and fire ; Strike fast for God and Fatherland, For mother, and wife, and sire. Though thunders roar and lightnings flash, Oh ! Southrons, never fear, Ye shall tum the bolt with the sabre's clash. Add the shaft with the steely spear. Bright blooms .shall wave o'er the hero's grave, While the craven finds no rest; Thrice cursed the traitor, the slave, the knave. While thrice is the hero blessed. 118 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY To the front in the fight, ye Southrons, stand. Brave spirits, with eagle eye, And standing for God and for Fatherland, Ye will gallantly do or die. THE TREE, THE SERPENT, AND THE STAR. By a. p. Gray, of South Carolina. Urom the silver sands of a gleaming shore. Where the wild sea- waves were breaking, A lofty shoot from a twining root Sprang forth as the dawn was waking ; And the crest, though fed by the sultry beam, (And the shaft by the salt wave only) Spread green to the breeze of the curling seas. And rose like a column loneljy. Then hail to the tree, the Palmetto tree. Ensign of the noble, the brave, and the free'. As the sea-winds rustled the bladed crest. And the sun to the noon rose higher A serpent came, with an eye of fiame. And coiled by the leafy pyre ; His ward he would keep by the lonely tree. To guard it with constant devotion ; Oh, sharp was the fang, and the armed clang. That pierced through the roar of the ocean. And guarded the tree, the Palmetto tree, Ensign of the noble, the brave, and the free. And the day wore dow-n to the twilight close, The breeze died away from the billow ; Yet the wakeful clang of the rattles rang Anon from the serpent's pillow; WAR SO.VGS OF HIE CONFEDERACY 119 When I saw through the night a gleaming star O'er the branching summit growing. Till the foliage green and the serpent's sheen In the golden light were glowing. That hung o'er the tree, the Palmetto tree. Ensign of the noble, the brave, and the free. By the standard cleave every loyal son. When the drums' long roar shall rattle ; Let the folds stream high to the victor's eye Or sink in the shock of the battle. Should triumph rest on the red field won. With a victor's song let us hail it; If the battle fail and the star grow pale, Yet never in shame will we veil it, But cherish the tree, the Palmetto tree. Ensign of the noble, the brave, and the free. " WHAT THE VILLAGE BELL SAID." By John G. M'Lemore, of South Carolina.'" 'pULL many a year in the village church, Above the world have I made my home; And happier there, than if I had hung High up in the air in a golden dome; For I have tolled When the slow hearse rolled Its burden sad to my door; And each echo that woke, With the solemn stroke. Was a sigh from the heart of the poor. ?Mortally wounded at the Battle of Seven Pine*. 120 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY I know the great bell of the city spire Is a far prouder one than such as I ; And its deafening stroke, compared with mine. Is thunder compared with a sigh : But the shattering note Of his brazen throat, As it swells on the Sabbath air. Far oftener rings For other things Than a call to the house of prayer. Brave boy, I tolled when your father died. And you wept while my tones pealed loud; And more gently I rung when the lily-white dame. Your mother dear, lay in her shroud : And I sang in sweet tone The angels might own. When your sister you gave to your friend ; Oh ! I rang with delight. On that sweet summer night. When they vowed they would love to the end I But a base foe comes from the regions of crime, With a heart all hot with the flames of hell ; And the tones of the bell you have loved so long No more on the air shall swell : For the people's chief. With his proud belief That his country's cause is God's own. Would change the song. The hills have rung. To the thunder's harsher tone. Then take me down from the village church. Where in peace so long I have hung ; But I charge you, by all the loved and lost, Memember tlie songs I have sung. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 121 Remember the mound Of holy ground. Where your father and mother lie ; And swear by the lo\'e For the dead above To beat your foul foe or die. Then take me ; but when (I charge you this) You have come to the bloody field. That the bell of God, to a cannon grown. You will ne'er to the foeman yield. By the love of the past. Be that hour your last, When the foe has reached this trust ; And make him a bed Of patriot daad. And let him sleep in this holy dust. SONG OF SPRING (1864). By John A. Wagener, of South Carolina. Q^PRING has come ! Spring has come 1 The brightening earth, the sparkling dew. The bursting buds, the sky of blue. The mocker's carol in tree and hedge. Proclaim anew Jehovah's pledge — " So long as man shall earth retain. The seasons gone shall come again." Spring has come I Spring has come I We have her here, in the balmy air, In the blossoms that bourgeon without a care , The violet bounds from her lowly bed. And the jasmine flaunts with a lofty head; All nature, in her baptismal dress, Is abroad — to win, to soothe, and bless. 122 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Spring has come ! Spring has come I Yes, and eternal as the Lord, Who spells her being at a word ; All blest but man, whose passions proud Wrap Nature in her bloody shroud — Hia heart is winter to the core, His spring, alas ! shall come no more I "STONEWALL" JACKSON. By H. L. Flash. "VToT 'midst the lightning of the stormy fight Not in the rush upon the vandal foe, Did kingly death, with his resistless might. Lay the great leader low I His warrior soul its earthly shackles bore In the full sunshine of a peaceful town ; When all the storm was hushed, the trusty oak That propped our cause, went down. Though his alone the blood that flecks the ground. Recording all his grand heroic deeds, Freedom herself is writhing with his wound, And all the country bleeds. He entered not the nation's " Promised Land," At the red belching of the cannon's mouth ; But broke the "House of Bondage" with his hand- The Moses of the South I Oh, gracious Godi not gainless is our loss; A glorious sunbeam gilds Thy sternest frown ; And while his country staggers with the cross — He rises with the crown I WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 123 "STONEWALL" JACKSON. A DIRGE. r^oTO thy rest, great chieftain I In the zenith of thy fame; AVith the proud heart stilled and frozen. No foeman e'er could tame; AVith the eye that met the battle As the eagle's meets the sun, Rayless — beneath its marble lid. Repose — thou mighty one ! Yet ill our cause could spare thee ; And harsh the blow of fate That struck its staunchest pillar From 'neath our dome of State. Of thee, as of the Douglas, We say with Scotland's king, " There is not one to take his place In all the knightly ring." Thou wert the noblest captain Of all that martial host That front the haughty Northman, And put to shame his boast. Thou wert the strongest bulwark To stay the tide of fight ; The name thy soldiers gave thee Bore witness of thy might ! But we may not weep above thee ; This is no time for tears I Thou wouldst not brook their shedding. Oh ! saint among thy peers I 124 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Couldst thou speak from yonder heaven, Above us smiling spread, Thou wouldst not have us pause for grief, On the blood-stained path we tread 1 Not — while our homes in ashes Lie smouldering on the sod ! Not — while our houseless women Send up wild wails to God ! Not — while the mad fanatic Strews ruin on his track ! Dare any Southron give the rein To feeling, and look back ; No I Still the cry is " onward I " This is no time for tears ; No 1 Still the word is " vengeance I " Leave ruth for coming years. We will snatch thy glorious banner From thy dead and stiffening hand. And high, 'mid battle's deadly storm, We'll bear it through the land, And all who mark it streaming — Oh ! soldier of the cross ! — Shall gird them with a fresh resolve Sternly to avenge our loss ; Whilst thou, enrolled a martyr. Thy sacred mission shown, Shalt lay the record of our wrongs Before the Eternal throne I CONFEDERATE MONUMENT IN "OAKWOOD,' RICHMOND, VIRGINIA Vrom photograph nimlr Inr tlii.s work I>y Ivlylh Carlt-r llevfriilflv. lici The inscriptions i-ead : "The epitaph of Hi":- .¦^oUlici , who (.ills with !¦ those who love the right, and honor the l-rav." "in itHmmy "( H' States, erected by the Ladies' Oakwood MLinuriQl Associ.itiun, ni;;an k (.¦uniili y , i.s wi il ten ii mo Cnnleilri ;4(f suUlici.'- /.(.•(.I I\I;iy Kith, iSbb.'' llu' hearls ot (Vlhu Lhirtefii WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 125 "LITTLE GIFFIN." Bv Dr. Francis 0. Ticknor. Mr. P. H. Hayne said of this little poem : "A ballad of such unique and really transcendent merit that, in my judgment, it ought to rank with the rarest gems of modern martial poetry." It is a fact that in all wars boys have taken part, and often showed the greatest endurance and bravery. It was so with the boys of the South. The battle of New Market, one of the hardest fought fights in the Valley of Vir^nia, was won by a lot of boys from tbe Virginia Military Institute. People said of them that their behavior on the fleld was so perfect that they moved like machinery, nor did they ever falter or waver in any part of the conflict. /^UT of the focal and foremost fire, ^-^ Out of the hospital walls as dire. Smitten of grapeshot and gangrene (Eighteenth battle, and he sixteen), Specter such as we seldom see. Little Giffin of Tennessee. " Take him and welcome ! " the surgeon said ; " Much your doctor can help the dead ! " And so we took him and brought him where The balm was sweet on the summer air ; And we laid him down on a wholesome bed Utter Lazarus, heel to head ! Weary War with the bated breath. Skeleton boy against skeleton Death, Months of torture, how many such I Weary weeks of the stick and crutch I Still a glint of the steel-blue eye Spoke of the spirit that wouldn't die — And didn't ; nay, more I in death's despite. The crippled skeleton learned to write I " Dear Mother," at first, of course, and then. 126 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY " Dear Captain," inquiring about the " men." Captain's answer : " Of eight and five, Giflin and I are left alive." " Johnston's pressed at the front, they say I " Little Giffin was up and away ; A tear, his first, as he bade good-bye, Dimmed the glint of his steel-blue eye. " I'll write, if spared." There was news of a fight. But none of Giffin ! he did not write ! I sometimes fancy that were I king Of the princely Knights of the Golden Ring, With the song of the minstrel in mine ear. And the tender legend that trembles here, I'd give the best on his bended knee, The whitest soul of chivalry, For little Giffin of Tennessee. Monument marking spot where General J. E. B. Stuart fell, seven miles from Richmond. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 1J7 BEAUFORT. By W. J. Grayson, op South Carolina. ^~^LD home ! what blessings late Mere yours ; The gifts of peace, the songs of joy ! No, hostile squadrons seek our shores. To ravage and destroy. The Northman comes no longer there With soft address and measured phrase, With bated breath, and sainted air, And simulated praise. He comes a vulture to his prey ; A wolf to raven in your streets ; Around on shining stream and bay Gather his bandit fleets. They steal the pittance of the poor ; Pollute the precincts of the dead ; Despoil the widow of her store, — The orphan of his bread. Crimes like their crimes — of lust and blood, No Christian land has known before ; Oh, for some scourge of fire and flood, To sweep them from the shore ! Exiles from home, your people fly, In adverse fortune's hardest school ; With swelling breast and flashing eye — They scorn the tyrant's rule ! Away, from all their joys away, The sports -that active youth engage ; The scenes where childhood loves to play. The resting-place of age. 128 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Away, from fertile field aud farm ; The oak-fringed island-homes that seem To sit like swans, with matchless charm, On sea-born sound and stream. Away, from palm-environed coast. The beach that ocean beats in vain ; The Royal Port, your pride and boast. The loud-resounding main. Away, from orange groves that glow With golden fruit or snowy flowers, Roses that never cease to blow, Myrtle and jasmine bowers. From these afar, the hoary head Of feeble age, the timid maid, Mothers and nurslings, all have fled. Of ruthless foes afraid. But ready, with avenging hand, By wood and fen, in ambush lie Your sons, a stern, determined band. Intent to do or die. Whene'er the foe advance to dare The onset, urged by hate and wrath. Still have they found, aghast with fear, A Lion in the path. Scouiiged, to their ships they wildly rush, Their shattered ranks to shield and save, And learn how hard a task to crush The spirit of the brave. O, God ! Protector of the right. The widows' stay, the orphans' friend. Restrain the rage of lawless might. The wronged and crushed defend I WAR SO.XCS OF THE CO.XrEDERACY 1:.",1 Be guide and helper, sword and shield I From hill and vale, where'er they roam, Bring back the yeoman to his field, The exile to his home I Pastors and yoattei'ed flocks restore ; Their fanes rebuild, their altars raise ; And let their quivering lips once more Rejoice in songs of praise I OLD MOULTRIE. By Catherine Gendron Poyas, of Charleston. npHE splendor falls on bannered walls Of ancient Moultrie, great in story ; And flushes now his scar-seamed brow, With rays of golden glory ! Great in his old renown. Great in the honor thrown Around him by the foe, Had sworn to lay him low / The glory falls — historic walls 'Too weak to cover foes insulting. Become a tower — a sheltering bower — A theme of joy exulting ; God, merciful and great, Preserved the high estate Of Moultrie, by His power Through the fierce battle-hour The splendor fell — his banners swell Majestic forth to catch the shower; Our own loved blue receives anew A rich immortal dower I Ado\\n the triple bars Of its companion, spars Of golden glory stream ; On seven-rayed circlet beam I 130 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY The glory falls — but not on walls Of Sumter deemed the post qf ditty ; A brilliant sphere, it circles clear The harbor in its beauty ; Holding in its embrace The city's queenly grace ; Stem battery and tower. Of manly strength and power. But brightest falls on Moultrie's walls. Forever there to rest in glory, A hallowed light — on buttress height — Oh, fort, beloved and hoary I Rest ikere and tell that Jailh Shall never suffer scaith ; BM there — and glow afar — Hope^s ever-bu7'ning star J St. Paul's Church, Richmond, Va., where President Jeffer son Davis and Geacral Lee had pews during ths war. o WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 131 ONLY ONE KILLED. By Julia L. Keyes, Montgomery, Alabama. nly one killed — in company B, 'Twas a trifling loss — one man I A charge of the bold and dashing Lee — While merry enough it was to see The enemj', as he ran. Only one killed upon our side — Once more to the field they tum. Quietly now the horsemen ride — And pause by the form of the one who died. So bravely, as now we learn. Their grief for the comrade loved and true For a time was unconcealed ; They saw the bullet had pierced him through, That his pain was brief — ah I very few Die thus, on the battle-field. The news has gone to his home, afar — Of the short and gallant fight. Of the noble deeds of the young La Var Whose life went out as a falling star In the skirmish of that night. " Only -one killed I It was my son," The widowed mother cried. She tumed but to clasp the sinking one. Who heard not the words of the victory won. But of him who had bravely died. Ah I death to her were a sweet relief. The bride of a single year. Oh I would she might, with her weight of grief. Lie down in the dust, with the autumn leaf Now trodden and brown and sere I 132 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY But no, she must bear through coming life Her burden of silent woe, The aged mother and youthful wife Must live through a nation's bloody strife. Sighing and waiting to go Where the loved are meeting beyond the stars. Are meeting no more to part. They can smile once more through the crystal bars- Where never more will the woe of wars O'ershadow the loving heart. "THE LAND OF KING COTTON." AiK— " Red, White, and Blue." By j. Augustine Signaigo. [From the Memphis Appeal, Becember 18, 1861.] This was a favorite song of tbe Tennessee troops, and especially of the Thirteenth and One Hundred and Fifty-fourth Regiments. There were no braver men than those from Tennessee, as I had occasion to know more than once. At the close of the war, Ex-Governor Isham G. Harris, of Tennessee, upon whose head Governor Brownlow, of war fame, set a price, went away with General Price and General Shelby and others to Mexico. I was one of the party. We Uved there for a while under the care of the Emperor MaximiUan, but found our way back to our own land before long. Governor Harris became a United States Senator, General Price occupied prominent positions in Missouri, and General Shelby held a high office under the Government. Governor Harris, the distinguished Tennesseean, was fond of martial music, and delighted in the old Southern songs. C\r ! Dixie, dear land of King Cotton, " The home of the brave and the free," A nation by freedom begotten. The terror of despots to be ; Wherever thy banner is streaming, Base tyranny quails at thy feet. And liberty's sunlight is beaming. In splendor of majesty sweet. ljl^jgll- ASHBY ON HIS MILK-WHITE STEED Brigadier-General Turner Ashby of Virginia was killed near Harrisonburg, Vir ginia, June 6, 1862. This picture is a copy of an old photograph and obtained for this book by ;Mi>s Edyth Carter Beveridge. .' ^r GENERAL LEE ON "TRAVELER' WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 13.S Chorus : Three cheers for our army so true, Three cheers for Price, Johnston, and Lee ; Beauregard and our Davis forever, The pride of the brave and the free 1 When Liberty sounds her war-rattle. Demanding her right and her due. The first land that rallies to battle Is Dixie, the shrine of the true ; Thick as leaves of the forest in summer, Her brave sons will rise on each plain, And then strike, until each Vandal comer Lies dead on the soil he would stain. Charus. — Three cheers, etc. May the names of the dead that we cherish, Fill memory's cup to the brim ; May the laurels they've won never perish, " Nor star of their glory grow dim ; " May the States of the South never sever, But the champions of freedom e'er be ; May they flourish Confederate forever. The boast of the brave and the free. Chorus. — Three cheers, etc. A CHRISTMAS OF LONG AGO. By Morton Bryan Wharton, D.D. T AM thinking to-night in sadness "^ Of a Christmas of long ago, When the air was filled with gladness, And the earth was wrapped in snow ; 134 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY When the stars like diamonds glistened And the night was crisp and cold. As I eagerly watched and listened For the Santa Claus of old. The forest was robbed of its treasures. The house was a mass of green. And I reveled in Christmas pleasures. At the dawn of Aurora's sheen ; Some talked of the Savior's mission. But I of my pretty toys ; Some knelt in devout petition — I romped and played with the boys. We went to the pond for skating, To the stable to take a ride. And we found new joys awaiting. To whatever spot we hied ; But the climax of my story Was that evening's fireworks show I Went out in a blaze of glory — That Christmas of long ago I But in sadness I think of that Christmas, For many then happy and gay Have gone to the realm of silence And sleep in their beds of clay ; The hands that filled kindly my stockings, I shall grasp in this world no more, But when at Heaven's portals I'm knocking They'll open the beautiful door. They will lead me in tenderness clinging. And place me before the throne. Where the choirs angelic are singing And the heavenly gifts are strown. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 135 And there in the realm of glory. With my loved ones at my side, I'll repeat the old Bethlehem story And join in that Christmas tide. THE DEATH OF JEFFERSON DAVIS. By Morton Bryan Wharton, D. D. My brother, the Rev. Morton Bryan Wharton, D. D., is a writer of poetry.and he writes good poetry. In fact, he has a book of poems. Some of his selections are given in these pages, and to show the appreciation of them, we publish elsewhere a letter of thanks from Mr. Davis upon the receipt of one of these poems. /^XJR mighty Chieftain breathes no more. His noble form, now cold and still. Has fallen at last, life's conflict o'er. Obedient to his Maker's will. As die the brave and true, he dies, — He rests upon a stainless shield. The great Commander of the skies Alone could call him from the field. His noble spirit dwells on high, Where slanders never vex the soul ; And fitting 'tis his dust should lie Far, far removed from prowling ghoul. Among his friends should be his tomb, There on old Ocean's utmost verge. Where snow-white fiowers perennial bloom And wild waves chant his funeral dirge. And he will stand on History's page, While cycling years shall onward move. The victim once of senseless rage, Now, idol of his people's love. 136 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY When hate is buried in the dust. When party strife shall break its spear, When truth is free and men are just, Then will his epitaph appear. The Parian quarry asks for time In which the marble to mature, Destined to speak his fame sublime. Worthy to shrine a heart so pure ; Till then unmarked we bid him lay. With carping critics plead a truce, But dear the spot which holds his clay As that which holds the heart of Bruce. PRO MEMORIA. AiK — ^There is rest for the weary. By Ina M. Porter, of Indiana. T o ! the Southland Queen, emerging From her sad and wintry gloom. Robes her torn and bleeding bosom In her richest orient bloom. Chorus — (Repeat first line three times.) For her weary sons are resting By the Edenshore; They have won the crown immortal, , And the cross of death is o'er ! Where the Oriflamme is burning On the starlit Edenshore ! Brightly still, in gorgeous glory, God's great jewel lights our sky ; Look I upon the heart's white dial There's a Shadow fiitting by ! Chorus — But the weary feet are resting, etc. THE FIRST CAPITOL OF THE CONFEDERACY, MONTGOMERY, ALABAMA In this building President Jefferson Davis was iunui^urHtcd I'ebnmry 18II1, i86i. The Alabama Convention assembled here January 7th, 1861, and declared her iudcpeiulence. WAR SONCS OF THE CONFEDERACY Vn Homes are dark and hearts are weary, Souls are numb wilh hopeless pain. Nor the footfall on the threshold Never more to sound again I Chorus — They ha\-e gone from us forever. Aye, for evermore ! We must win the crown immortal. Follow where they led before, Where the Oriflamme is burning On the starlit Edenshore. Proudly, as our Southern forests Meet the winter's shafts so keen ; Time-defying memories cluster Round our hearts in living green. Chorus — They have gone from us forever, etc. May our faltering voices mingle In the angel-chanted psalm ; May our earthly chaplets linger By the bright celestial palm. Chorus — I hey have gone from us forever, etc. When the May eternal dawneth At the living God's behest. We will quaff divine Nepenthe, We will share the Soldier's rest Chorus — Where the weary feet are resting, etc. Where the shadows are uplifted 'Neath the never-waning sun. Shout we, Gloria in Excelsis ! We have lost, but ye have won I Chorus — Our hearts are yours forever. Aye, for evermore I Ye have won the crown immortal. 138 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY And the cross of death is o'er. Where the Oriflamme is burning On the starlit Edenshore 1 THE SOUTHERN HOMES IN RUIN. By R. B. Vance, of N. C. IV 4" any a gray-haired sire has died, As falls the oak, to rise no more. Because his son, his prop, his pride. Breathed out his last all red with gore. No more on earth, at morn, at eve. Shall age and youth, entwined as one — Noi father, son, for either grieve — Life's work, alas, for both is done I Many a mother's heart has bled While gazing on her darling child. As in its tiny eyes she read The father's image, kind and mild ; For ne'er again his voice will cheer The widowed heart, which mourns him dead j Nor kisses dry the scalding tear. Fast falling on the orphan's head I Many a little form will stray Adown the glen and o'er the hill, And watch, with wistful looks, the way For him whose step is missing still ; And when the twilight steals apace O'er mead, and brook, and lonely home. And shadows cloud the dear, sweet face — The cry will be, " Oh, papa, come I " WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 139 And many a home's in ashes now, Where joy was once a constant guest. And mournful groups there are, I trow, With neither house nor place of rest ; And blood is on the broken sill, "Wliere happy feet went to and fro. And everywhere, by field and hill, Are sickening sights and sounds of woe ! There is a God who rules on high. The widow's and the orphan's friend. Who sees each tear and hears each sigh. That these lone hearts to Him may send I And when in wrath He tears away The reasons vain which men indite. The record book will plainest say Who's in the wrong, and who is right. THE RAPPAHANNOCK ARMY SONG. By John C. M'Lemore. The Eappahannock River, in Virgima, was at one lime the dividing line between the two armies. One beautiful moonlight night, as the armies lay behind their breastworks, like two mighty monsters, the band on the Federalside commenced to play "The Star-Spangled Banner." After the band had ceased playing, " Dixie " burstforth from the band on the South ern side ; then for a while all was quiet, when some soldier, on one side or the other, it matters not, commenced to sing, " Home, Sweet Home." It was caught up by others ; then by the soldiers on the opposite side, until both armies were singing that sweet old song, " Home,8weet Home." And who can tell the silent tears that were shed behind the breastworks that moonlight night? 'TpHE toil of the march is over — The pack will be bome no more — For we've come for the help of Richmond, From the Rappahannock's shore. 140 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY The foe is closing round us — We can hear his ravening cry; So, ho I for fair old Richmond I Like soldiers we'll do or die. We have left the land that bore us. Full many a league away. And our mothers and sisters miss us, As with tearful eyes they pray ; But this will repress their weeping. And still the rising sigh — For all, for fair old Richmond, Have come to do or die. We have come to join our brothers From the proud Dominion's vales, And to meet the dark-cheeked soldier. Tanned by the Tropic gales ; To greet them all full gladly, With hand and beaming eye. And to swear for fair old Richmond, We all will do or die. The fair Carolina sisters Stand ready, lance in hand. To fight as they did in an older war. For the sake of their fatherland. The glories of Sumter and Bethel Have raised their fame full high, But they'll fade, if for fair old Richmond They swear not to do oi die, Zollicoffer looks down on his people. And trusts to their hearts and arms, To avenge the blood he has shed. In the midst of the battle's alarms. IIAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 141 Alabamians, remember the past. Be the " South at Manassas," their cry ; As onward for fair old Richmond, They marched to do or die. Brave Bartow, from home on high, Calls the Empire State to the front, To bear once more as she has borne With glory the battle's brunt. Mississippians who know no surrender. Bear the flag of the Chief on high ; For he, too, for fair old Richmond, Has sworn to do or die. Fair land of my birth — sweet Florida^ Your arm is weak, but your soul Must tell of a purer, holier strength. When the drums for the battle roll. Look within, for your hope in the combat. Nor think of your few with a sigh — If you win not for fair old Richmond, At least you can bravely die. Onward all I Oh ! band of brothers I The beat of the long roll's heard I And the hearts of the columns advancing By the sound of its music stirred. Onward all ! and never return. Till our foes from the borders fly — To be crowned by the fair of old Richmond, As those who could do or die. 142 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY THE SOLDIER IN THE RAIN. By Julia L. Keyes. There was never any thought, of course, in the soldiers' life as to what kind of weather we had ; but one of our hardships was, either in camp life or on the march, when it rained. The water would run underneath us an* ¦'..'V- %^^- r ^ 1 L. 1 ti|;|iM|| ^^^^^^^* ;i* P' O tK.. wli ^§,"'%''l 1» ^ ^ < ^. 1 .^Sfe. i ri?" • t 0 I ''^ 1. 1 p '^"^^^^^¦¦^ '¦¦'"'¦ O.pjri;^htedig04 by Sue M. Maury Halsey. JEFFERSON DAVIS AND HIS CABINET i.lunt 11;. PeginninK at the left are Secretaries Mallory, Benj am jt Vice-President Stephens and Secretary Toombs. This i-^ :i icinodnct iun i>i :i rare engr.-i deut of the "Daughters of the Confederacy" of Pliiladvlithiu, ami ]Miblisluii in this h Walker, I'l cpi odnct il neral \.cc, Stcrclarios Re^au, INlfniinRtr, inj; ownti! h\ Mrs. JanifS T. Halse\'. I'resi- )uk 1>\' siKfinl (.unrtfsy lo Ihe anthur. WAR .SO.VGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 153 Bold as the lion's heart — Dauntlessly bravo — Knightly as knightliest ; Bayard might crave ; Sweet, with all Sydney's grace. Tender as Hampden 's face, Who now shall fill the space. Void by his grave ? *Tis not one broken heart, Wild with dismay- Crazed in her agony. Weeps o'er his clay I Ah I From a thousand eyes. Flow the pure tears that rise — Widowed Virginia lies Stricken to-day I Yet charge as gallantly, Ye, whom he led I Jackson, the victor, still Leads at your head I Heroes 1 be battle done Bravelier, every one Nerved by the thought alone Ashby is dead ! O' ONLY A SOLDIER'S GRAVE. By S. a. .Joxes, of Aberdeen, Mississippi. Jnly a soldier's grave ! Pass by, For soldiers, like other mortals, die. Parents he had — they are far away ; No sister weeps o'er the soldier's clay ; No brother comes, with a tearful eye : It's only a soldier's grave — pass by. 164 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY True, he was loving, and young, and brave. Though no glowing epitaph honors his grave ; No proud recital of virtues known. Of griefs endured, or of triumphs won ; No tablet of marble, or obelisk high ; — Only a soldier's grave — pass by. Yet bravely he wielded his sword in fight, And he gave his life in the cause of right I When his hope was high, and his youthful dream As warm as the sunlight on yonder stream ; His heart unvexed by sorrow or sigh ; — Yet, 'tis only a soldier's grave : — pass by. Yet, should we mark it — the soldier's grave. Some one may seek him in hope to save ! Some of the dear ones, far away. Would bear him home to his native clay ; 'Twere sad, indeed, should they wander nigh, Find not the hillock, and pass him by. PROMISE OF SPRING. T^ HE sun-beguiling breeze. From the soft Cuban seas. With life-bestowing kiss wakes the pride of garden bowers And lo I our city elms. Have plumed with buds their helms. And with tiny spears salute the coming on of flowers. The promise of the Spring, Is in every glancing wing That tells its flight in song which shall long survive the flight ; WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 155 And, mocking Winter's glooms. Skies, air and earth grow blooms, With charge as bless'd as ever came with passage of a night I Ah I could our hearts but share The promise rich and rare. That welcomes life to rapture in each happy fond caress. That makes each innocent thing- Put on its bloom and wing, Sino-ing for Spring to come to the realm she still would bless ! But, alas for us, no more Shall the coming hour restore The glory, sweet and wanted, of the seasons to our souls ; Even as the spring appears, Her smiling makes our tears While with each bitter memory the torrent o'er us rolls. Even as our zephyrs sing That they bring us in the Spring, Even as our bird grows musical in ecstasy of flight — We see the serpent crawl. With his slimy coat o'er all, And blended with the song is the hissing of his blight. We shudder at the blooms, Which but serve to cover tombs — At the very sweet of odors which blend venom with the breath. Sad shapes look out from trees, And in sky and earth and breeze. We behold but the aspect of a Horror worse than Death I South Carolinian. 156 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY SPRING. By Henry Timeod. Q^PEING, with that nameless pathos in the air Which dwells with all things fair, Spring, with her golden suns and silver rain, Is with us once again. Out in the lonely woods the jasmine bums Its fragrant lamps, and turns Into a royal couri, with green festoons The banks of dark lagoons. In the deep heart of every forest tree The blood is all aglee. And there's a look about the leafless bowers As if they dreamed of flowers. Yet still on every side appears the hand Of Winter in the land. Save where the maple reddens on the lawn. Flushed by the season's dawn ; Or where, like those strange semblances we find That age to childhood bind, The elm puts on, as if in Nature's scorn, The brown of Autumn corn. As yet the turf is dark, although you know That, not a span below, A thousand germs are groping through the gloom. And soon will burst their tomb. Already, here and there, on frailest stems Appear some azure gems, Small as might deck, upon a gala di^y. The forehead of a fr^' .^' A" »*3S* ¦¦•' *¦ *¦ BRIGADIER-GENERAL J. E. B. STUART LIEUTENANT-GENERAL JUBAL A. EARLY WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 157 In gardens you may see, amid the dearth, The crocus breaking earth ; And near the snowdrop, tender, white and green. The violet in its screen. But many gleams and shadows need must pass Along the budding grass, And weeks go by, before the enamored South Shall kiss the rose's mouth. Still there's a sense of blossoms yet unborn In the tiweet airs of morn ; One almost looks to see the very street Grow purple at his feet. At times a fragrant breeze comes floating by And brings, you know not why, A feeling as when eager crowds await Before a palace gate Some wondrous pageant ; and you scarce would start. If from a beech's heart A blue-eyed Dryad, stepping forth, should say " Behold me ! I am May ! " Ah ! who would couple thoughts of war and crime With such a blessed time ! "\\'ho in tbe westwind's aromatic breath Could hear the call of Death ! Yet not more surely shall the Spring awake The voice of wood and brake, Than she shall rouse, for all her tranquil cnarms A million men to arms. There shall be deeper hues upon her plains Than all her sunlight rains, And every gladdening influence around Can summon from the ground. 158 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Oh I standing on this desecrated mould, Methinks that I behold. Lifting her bloody daisies up to God, Spring, kneeling on the sod, And calling with the voice of all her rills. Upon the ancient hills. To fall aud crush the tyrants and the slaves Who turn her meads to graves. CAROLINA. By Henry Timrod. 'T^HE despot treads thy sacred sands, Thy pines give shelter to his bands. Thy sons stand by with idle hands, Carolina ! He breathes at ease thy airs of balm, He scorns the lances of thy palm ; Oh ! who shall break thy craven calm, Carolina I Thy ancient fame is growing dim, A spot is on thy garment's rim ; Give to the winds thy battle-hymn, Carolina ! Call on thy children of the hill, Wake swamp and river, coast and rill. Rouse all thy strength and all thy skill, Carolina I Cite wealth and science, trade and art, Touch with thy fire the cautious mart, And pour thee through the people's heart, Carolina I WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 159 Till even the coward spurns his fears. And all thy fields, and fens, and merea. Shall bristle like thy palm, with spears, Carolina I Hold up the glories of thy dead ; Say how thy elder children bled. And point to Eutaw's battle-bed, Carolina I Tell how the patriot's soul was tried. And what his dauntless breast defied ; How Rutledge ruled, and Laurens died, Carolina ! Cry ! till thy summons, heard at last. Shall fall, like Marion's bugle-blast, Re-echoed from the haunted past, Carolina I I hear a murmur, as of waves That grope their way through sunless caves. Like bodies struggling in their graves, Carolina ! And now it deepens ; slow and grand It swells, as rolling to the land An ocean broke upon the strand, Carolina I Shout ! let it reach the startled Huns 1 And roar with all thy festal guns ! It is the answer of thy sons, Carolina ! They will not wait to hear thee call ; From Sachem's head to Sumter's wall Resounds the voice of hut and hall, Carolina I 160 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY No ! thou hast not a stain, they say. Or none save what the battle-day Shall wash in seas of blood away, Carolina ! Thy skirts, indeed, the foe may part. Thy robe be pierced with sword and dart, They shall not touch thy noble heart, Carolina ! Ere thou shalt own the tyrant's thrall. Ten times ten thousand men must fall ; Thy corpse may hearken to his call, Carolina ! When by thy bier, in mournful throngs. The women chant thy mortal wrongs, 'Twill be their own funereal songs, Carolina ! From thy dead breast, by rufiians trod. No helpless child shall look to God ; All shall be safe beneath thy sod, Carolina ! Girt with such wills to do and bear, Assured in right, and mailed in prayer. Thou wilt not bow thee to despair,Carolina 1 Throw thy bold banner to the breeze ! Front with thy ranks the threatening seas. Like thine own proud armorial trees, Carolina ! Fling down thy gauntlet to the Huns, And roar the challenge from thy guns ; Then leave the future to thy sons, Carolina ! WAR SONGS OE 'THE CONFEDERACY 161 THE VOICE OF THE SOUTH. "T^WAS a goodly boon that our fathers gave. And fits but ill to be held by the slave ; And sad were the thought, if one of our band Should give up the hope of so fair a land. But the hour has come, and the times that tried The souls of men in our days of pride, Return once more, and now for the brave. To merit the boon which our fathers gave. And if there be one base spirit who stands Now, in our peril, with folded hands. Let his grave at once in the soil be wrought, With the sword with which his old father fought. An oath sublime should the freeman take, Still braving the fight and the felon stake ; — The oath that his sires brought over the sea. When they pledged their swords to Liberty ! 'Twas a goodly oath, and in Heaven's own sight, They battled and bled in behalf of the right ; 'Twas hallowed by God with the holiest sign, And seal'd with the blood of your sires and mine. We cannot forget and we dare not forego, The holy duty to them that we owe. The duty that pledges the soul of the son To keep the freedom his sire hath won. To suff'er no proud transgressor to spoil One right of our homes, or one foot of our soil. One privilege pluck from our keeping, or dare Usurp one blessing 'tis fit that we share I 11 162 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Art ready for this, dear brother, who still Keep'st Washington's bones upon Vernon's hill ? Art ready for this, dear brother, whose ear. Should ever the voices of Mecklenburg hear ? Thou art ready, I know, brother nearest my heart. Son of Eutaw and Ashley, to do thy part ; The sword and the rifle are bright in thy hands, And wait but the word for the flashing of brands ! And thou, by Savannah's broad valleys, — and thou Where the Black Warrior murmurs in echoes the vow ; And thou, youngest son of our sires, who roves Where Apalachicola glides through her groves. Nor shall Tennessee pause, when like voice from the steep. The great South shall summon her sons from their sleep ; Nor Kentucky be slow, when our trumpet shall call. To tear down the rifle that hangs on her wall ! Oh, sound, to awaken the dead from their graves. The will that would thrust us from place for our slaves. That, by fraud which lacks courage, and plea that lacks truth. Would rob us of right without reason or ruth. Dost thou hearken, brave Creole, as fearless as strong. Nor rouse thee to combat the infamous wrong ? Ye hear it, I know, in the depth of your souls, Valiant race, through whose valley the great river rolls. At last ye are wakened, all rising at length, In the passion of pride, in the fulness of strength ; And now let the struggle begin which shall see, If the son, like the sire, is fit to be free. We are sworn to the State, from our fathers that came. To welcome the ruin, but never the shame ; To yield not a foot of our soil, nor a right. While the soul and the sword are still fit for the fight. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY ir.3 Then, brothers, your hands and your hearts, while we draw The bright sword of right, on the charter of law ; — Here the record was writ by our fathers, and here. To keep, with the sword, that old record, we sweare. Let those who defile and deface it, be sure, No longer their wrong or their fraud we endure ; We will scatter in scorn every link of the chain, With which they would fetter our free souls in vain. How goodly and bright were its links at the first I How loathly and foul, in their usage accurst ! We had worn it in pride while it honor'd the brave. But we rend it, when only grown fit for the slave. BATTLE HYMN. T ord of Hosts, that beholds us in battle, defending The homes of our sires 'gainst the hosts of the foe. Send us help on the wings of thy angels descending. And shield from his terrors, and baffle his blow. Warm the faith of our sons, till they flame as the iron, Red-glowing from the fire-forge, kindled by zeal ; Make them forward to grapple the hordes that environ, In the storm-rush of battle, through forests of steel ! Teach them. Lord, that the cause of their country makes glorious The martyr who falls in the front of the fight ; — That the faith which is steadfast makes ever victorious The arm which strikes boldly defending the right ; — That the zeal, which is roused by the wrongs of a nation. Is a war-horse that sweeps o'er the field as his own ; And the Faith, which is winged by the soul's approbation. Is a warrior, in proof, that can ne'er be o'erthrown. 164 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY KENTUCKY, SHE IS SOLD. By j. R. Ba:^bick;, of Kentucky. A TEAR for " the dark and bloody ground," "^ For the land of hills and caves ; Her Kentons, Boones, and her Shelbys sleep Where the vandals tread their graves ; A sigh for the loss of her honored fame. Dear won in the days of old ; Her ship is manned by a foreign crew, For Kentucky, she is sold. The bones of her sons lie bleaching on The plains of Tippecanoe, On the field of Raisin her blood Avas shed, As free as the summer's dew ; In Mexico her McRee and Clay Were first of the brave and bold — A change has been in her bosom wrought. For Kentucky, she is sold. Pride of the free, was that noble State, And her banner still were so. Had the iron heel of the despot not Her prowess sunk so low ; Her valleys once were the freeman's home. Her valor unbought with gold. But now the pride of her life is fled. For Kentucky, she is sold. Her brave would once have scorned to wear The yoke that crushes her now. And the tyrant grasp, and the \-andal tread, Would sullen have made her brow ; Her spirit yet will be wakened up. And her saddened fate be told, Her gallant sons to the world yet prove That Kentucky is not sold. DISTINGUISHED MEN OF THE CONFEDERACY Beginniner at top and Roing to rigrht are Judah P. Benjamin, John Slidell, Williara L, Yancey, Major-Gencral John C. Breckenridge, Governor Henry A Wise, James M. Ma.son, Alexander H. Stephens. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 165 THE SALKEHATCHIE. By Emily J. Moore. Written when a garrison, at or near Salkehatchie Bridge, were threat ening a raid up in the Fork of Big and Little Salkehatchie. npHE crystal streams, the pearly streams. The streams in sunbeams flashing, The murra'ring streams, the gentle streams, The streams down mountains dashing, Have been the theme Of poets' dream. And, in wild witching story, Have been renowned for love's fond scenes. Or some great deed of glory. The Rhine, the Tiber, Ayr, and Tweed, The Arno, silver-flowing, The Hudson, Charles, Potomac, Don, With poesy are glowing ; But I would praise In artless lays, A stream which well may match ye, Though dark its waters glide along — The swampy Salkehatchie. 'Tis not the beauty of its stream. Which makes it so deserving Or honor at the Muses' hands, But 'tis the use it's serving. And 'gainst a raid. We hope its aid Will ever prove efficient. Its fords remain still overflowed. In water ne'er deficient. 166 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY If Vandal bands are held in check. Their crossing thus prevented. And we are spared the ravage wild Their malice has invented, Then we may well In numbers tell No other stream can match ye, And grateful we shall ever be To swampy Salkehatchie. THE KNELL SHALL SOUND ONCE MORE. T KNOW that the knell shall sound once more. And the dirge be sung o er a bloody grave , And there shall be storm on the beaten shore. And there shall be strife on the stormy wave ; And we shall wail, with a mighty wail. And feel the keen sorrow through many years. But shall not our banner at last prevail, And our eyes be dried of tears ? There's a bitter pledge for each fruitful tree, And the nation whose course is long to run. Must make, though in anguish still it be. The tribute of many a noble son ; The roots of each mighty shaft must grow In the blood-red fountain of many hearts ; And to conquer the right from a bloody foe, Brings a pang as when soul and body parts I But the blood and the pang are the need, alas I To strengthen the sovereign will that sways The generations that rise, and pass To the full fruition that crowns their days 1 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 167 'Tis still in the strife, they must grow to life : And sorrow shall strengthen the soul for care ; And the freedom sought must ever be bought By the best blood-offerings, held most dear. Heroes, the noblest, shall still be first To mount the red altar of sacrifice ; Homes the most sacred shall fare the worst. Ere we conquer and win the precious prize ! — The struggle may last for a thousand years. And only with blood shall the field be bought ; But the sons shall inherit, through blood and tears, The birth-right for which their old fathers fough « LIBERA NOS, O DOMINE I " By James Barron Hope. "^^That ! ye hold yourselves as freemen ? Tyrants love just such as ye I Go I abate your lofty manner ! Write upon the State's old banner, " A furore Normanorum, ' Libera nos, 0 Domine ! " Sink before the federal altar, Each one low, on bended knee. Pray, with lips that sob and falter, This prayer from the coward's psalter,- " A furore Normanorum, Libera nos, 0 Domine! " But ye hold that quick repentance In the Northern mind will be ; This repentance comes no sooner 168 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Than the robbers did, at Luna ! " A fur ore Normanorum, Libera nos, 0 Domine ! " He repented him : — the Bishop Gave him absolution free ; Poured upon him sacred chrism In the pomp of his baptism. " A furore Normanorum, Libera nos, 0 Domine ! " He repented ; — then he sickened ! Was he pining for the sea ? In extremis was he shriven, The viaticum was given, " A furore Normanorum, Libera nos, 0 Domine ! " Then the old cathedral's choir Took the plaintive minor key ; With the Host upraised before him, Down the marble aisles they bore him " A furore Normanorum, Libera nos, 0 Domine ! " While the bishop and the abbot — All the monks of high degree, Chanting praise to the Madonna, Came to do him Christian honor I " A furore Normanorum, Libera nos, 0 Domine!" Now the miserere's cadence, Takes the voices of the sea ; As the music-billows quiver, See the dead freebooter shiver I "A furore Normanorum, Libera nos, 0 Domine ! " WAR SONGS OF THE CO.VFEDE/CACY Kiil Is it that these intonations Thrill him thus from head to knee ? Lo, his cerements burst asunder ! 'Tis a sight of fear and wonder ! " A furore Normanorum, Libera nos, 0 Domine ! " Fierce, he stands before the bishop, Dark as shape of Destinie. Hark ! a shriek ascends, appalling, — Down the prelate goes — dead — falling I " A furore Normanorum, Libera nos, 0 Domine ! " Hastings lives ! He was but feigning- 1 What ! Repentant ? Never he ! Down he smites the priests and friars. And the city lights with fires ! " A furore Normanorum, Libera nos, 0 Domine ! " Ah ! the children and the maidens, 'Tis in vain they strive to flee ! Where the white-haired priests lie bleeding. Is no place for woman's pleading. " A furore Normanorum, Libera nos, 0 Domine ! " Louder swells the frightful tumult — Pallid Death holds revelrie ! Dies the organ's mighty clamor. By the horseman's iron hammer ! " A furore Normanorum, Libera nos, 0 Domine ! " So they thought that he'd repented I Had they nailed him to the tree. 170 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY He had not deserved their pity. And they had not — lost their city. " A furore Normanorum, Libera nos, 0 Domine ! " For the moral in this story. Which is plain as truth can be : If we trust the North', s relenting, We shall shriek — too late repenting- " A furore Normanorum, Libera nos, 0 Domine ! " MY COUNTRY. By W. D. Porter, of South Carolina. r^ o, read the stories of the great and free, The nations on the long, bright roll of fame. Whose noble rage has baffled the decree Of tyrants to despoil their life and name ; Whose swords have flashed like lightning in the eyes Of robber despots, glorying in their might, And taught the world, by deeds of high emprise, The power of truth and sacredness of right : Whose people, strong to suffer and endure, In faith have wrestled till tlie bles.-^ing came. And won through woes a victory doubly sure. As martyr wins his crown through blood aud flame. The purest virtue has been sorest tried. Nor is there glory without patient toil ; And he who woes fair Freedom for his bride. Through suffering must be purged of stain and soil. WAR SONCS OF THE CONFEDERACY 171 My country ! in this hour of trial sore. When iu the balance trembling hangs thy fate, Brace thy great heart with courage to the core, Not let one jot of faith or hope abate ! The world's bright eye is fixed upon thee still ; Life, honor, fame — these all are in the scale ; Endure I endure ! endure I with iron will. And by the truth of heaven, thou shalt not fail. AFTER THE BATTLE. By Miss Agnes Leonard. A LL day long the sun had wandered, Through the slowly creeping hours. And at last the stars were shining Like some golden-petal ed fiowers Scattered o'er the azure bosom Of the glory-haunted night. Flooding all the sky with grandeur. Filling all the earth with light. And the fair moon, with the sweet stars, Gleamed amid the radiant spheres Like " a pearl of great price " shining Just as it had shone for years. On the young land that had risen. In her beauty and her might. Like some gorgeous .'•uperstructure Woven in the dreams of night ; With her " cities hung like jewels " On her green and peaceful breast. With her harvest fields of plenty. And her quiet homes of rest. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY But a change had fallen sadly O'er the young and beauteous land. Brothers on the field fought madly That once wandered hand in hand. And " the hearts of distant mountains Shuddered," with a fearful wonder. As the echoes burst upon them Of the canon's awful thunder. Through the long hours waged the battle Till the setting of the sun, Dropped a seal upon the record. That the day's mad work was done. Thickly on the trampled grasses Lay the battle's awful traces, 'Mid the blood-stained clover blossoms Lay the stark and ghastly faces. With no mourners bending downward O'er a costly funeral pall ; And the dying daylight softly. With the starlight watched o'er all. And, where eager, joyous footsteps Once perchance were wont to pass. Ran a little streamlet making One " Blue fold in the dark grass ; " And where, from its hidden fountain, Clear and bright the brooklet burst Two had crawled, and each Mas bending O'er to slake his burning thirst. Then beneath the solemn starlight Of the radiant jewelled skies, Both had turned, and were intently Gazing in each other's eyes. SOLDIERS' MONUMENT AT NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Both were solemnly forgiving — Hushed the pulse of passion's breath — Calmed the maddening thirst for battle. By the chilling hand of death. Then spoke one in bitter anguish : " God have pity on my wife. And my children, in New Hampshire ; Orphans by this cruel strife." And the other, leaning closer. Underneath the solemn skY, Bowed his head to hide the moisture Gathering in his downcast eye : " I've a wife and little daughter, 'Mid the fragrant Georgia bloom," — Then his cry rang sharper, wilder, " Oh, God I pity all their gloom." And the wounded, in their death-hour. Talking of the loved ones' woes. Nearer drew unto each other, Till they were no longer foes. And the Geoigian listened sadly As the other tried to speak, While the tears were dropping softly O'er the pallor of his cheek : " How she used to stand and listen, Looking o'er the fields for me, Waiting till she saw me coming, 'Neath the shadowy old plum-tree. Never more I'll hear her laughter, As she sees me at the gate. And beneath the plum-tree's shadows All in vain for me she'll wait." 174 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Then the Georgian, speaking softly, Said : " A brown-eyed little one Used to wait among the roses. For me, when the day was done ; And amid the early fragrance Of those blos.soms, fresh and sweet, Up and down the old verandah I would chase my darling's feet. But on earth no more the beauty Of her face my eye shall greet, Nevermore I'll hear the music Of those merry, pattering feet — Ah, the solemn starlight, falling On the far-off Georgia bloom, Tells no tale unto my darling Of her absent father's doom." Through the tears that rose between them Both were trying grief to smother. An they clasped each other's fingers Whispering : " Let's forgive each other." When the morning sun was M^alking " Up the gray stairs of the dawn," And the crimson east was flushing All the forehead of the morn. Pitying skies were looking sadly On the " once proud, happy land," On the Southron and the Northman, Holding fast each other's hand. Fatherless the golden tresses, Watching 'neath the old plum-tree ' Fatherless the little Georgian, Sporting in unconscious glee. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 175 SONG OF THE TEXAS R.A.NGERS. Air—" The Yellow Rose of Texas." The name of Wharton occurring in this poem recalls an interesting in cident of a few years ago. I was engaged in conducting an evangelistic service in a little town in Texas. The founder of that town, Captain Kyle, c^une out to the meetings and was converted. His confession of faith was unique. He said, pointing to me : "I followed this man's cousin in many a hard-fonght battle, and now I propose to follow his commander, thc Lord Jesus Christ, for the balance of my days." 'T^HK morning star is paling -*- The camp-fires fiicker low, Our steeds are madly neighing. For the bugle bids us go. So put the foot iu stirrup. And shake the bridle free. For to-day the Texas Rangers Must cross the Tennessee. With Wharton for our leader, We'll chase the dastard foe. Till our horses bathe their fetlocks In the deep blue Ohio. Our men are from the prairies. That roll broad and proud and free. From the high and craggy mountains To the murmuring Mexic' sea ; And their hearts are open as their plains. Their thoughts as proudly brave As the bold cliffs of the San Bernard, Or the Gulfs resistless wave. Then quick 1 into the saddle. And shake the bridle free. To-day with gallant Wharton, We cross the Tennessee. 176 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 'Tis joy to be a Ranger ! To fight for dear Southland ; 'Tis joy to follow Wharton, With his gallant, trusty band I 'Tis joy to see our Harrison, Plunge like a meteor bright Into the thickest of the fray, And deal his deathly might. Oh I who'd not be a Ranger, And follow Wharton's cry I To battle for his country — And, if needs be — die ! By the Colorado's waters. On the Gulf's deep murmuring shore. On our soft green peaceful prairies Are the homes we may see no more ; But in those homes our gently wives. And mothers with silv'ry hairs Are loving us with tender hearts. And shielding us with prayers. So, trusting in our country's God. We draw our stout, good brand, For those we love at home, Our altars and our land. Up, up with the crimson battle-flag — Let the blue pennon fly ; Our steeds are stamping proudly — They hear the battle-cry I The thundering bomb, the bugle's call. Proclaim the foe is near ; We strike for God and native land. And all we hold most dear. Then spring into the saddle, And shake the bridle free — For Wharton leads, through fire and blood. For Home and Victory 1 WAR SONGS OF 'THE CONFEDERACY 177 THE GUERRILLA MARTYRS. A Y, to the doom — tbe scaffold and the chain, — To all j'our cruel tortures, bear them on. Ye foul and coward hangmen ; — but in vain ! — Ye cannot touch the glory they have won — And win — thus yielding up the martyr's breath For freedom ! — Theii-s is a triumphant death ! — A sacred pledge from Nature, that her womb Still keeps some sacred fires ; that yet shall burst. Even from the reeking ravage of their doom. As glorious — ay, more glorious — than the first ! Exult, shout, triumph ! Wretches, do your worst ! 'Tis for a season only ! There shall come An hour when ye shall feel yourtelves accurst ; When the dread vengeance of a century Shall reap its harvest in a single day ; And ye shall howl in horror ; — and, to die, Shall be escape and refuge ! Ye may slay ; — But to be cruel and brutal, does not make Ye conquerors ; and the vulture yet shall prey On living hearts ; and vengeance fiercely slake The unappeasable appetite ye wake. In the hot blood of victims, that have been. Most eager, binding freemen to the stake, — Most greedy in the orgies of this sin ! Ye slaughter, — do ye triumph ? Ask your chains, Ye Sodom-hearted butchers ! — turn your eyes. Where reeks yon bloody scaffold ; and the pains, Ungroaned, of a true martyr, ere he dies. Attest the damned folly of your crime. Now at its carnival I His spirit files, Unscathed by all your fires, through every clime. Into the world's wide bosom. Thousands rise, 12 178 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Prompt at its call, and principled to strike The tyrants and the tyrannies alike I — Voices, that doom ye, speak in all your deeds. And cry to heaven, arm earth, and kindle hell ! A host of freemen, where one martyr bleeds, Spring from his place of doom, and make his knell The tocsin, to arouse a myriad race, T' avenge Humanity's wrong, and wipe off man's disgrace ! We mourn not for our martyrs ! — for they perish, As the good perish, for a deathless faith : Their glorious memories men will fondly cherish. In terms and signs that shall ennoble death ! Their blood becomes a principle, to guide. Onward, forever onward, in proud flow. Restless, resistless, as the ocean tide. The Spirit heaven yields freedom here below ! How should we mourn the martyrs, who arise. Even from the stake and scaffold, to the skies ;- And take their thrones, as stars ; and o'er the night. Shed a new glory ; and to other souls. Shine out with blessed guidance, and true light. Which leads successive races to their goal I IN MEMORIAM Of our Right- Reverend Father in God, Leonidas Polk, Lieutenant-General Confederate States Army. TDeace, troubled soul ! The strife is done. This life's fierce conflicts and its woes are ended : There is no more — eternity begun, Faith merged in sight — hope with fruition blended. Peace, troubled soul ! WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 179 The warrior rests upon his bier, Within his coffin calmly sleeping. His requiem the cannon peals. And heroes of a hundred fields Their last sad watch are round him keeping. Joy, sainted soul ! Within the vale Of Heaven's great temple, is thy blissful dwelling ; Bathed in a light, to which the sun is pale. Archangels' hymns in endless transports swelling. Joy, sainted soul ! Back to her altar which he served, The Holy Church her child is bringing. The organ's wail then dies away, And kneeling priests around him pray, As De Profundis they are singing. Bring all the trophies that are owed. To him at once so great, so good. His Bible and his well-used sword — His snowy lawn not " stained with blood I " No ! pure as when before his God, He laid its spotless folds aside. War's path of awful duty trod. And on his country's altar died I Oh ! Warrior-bishop, Church and State Sustain in thee an equal loss ; But who would call thee from thy weight Of glory, back to bear life's cross ! The Faith was kept — thy course was run. Thy good fight finished ; hence the word, " Well done, oh I faithful child, well done. Taste thou the mercies of thy Lord 1 " 180 WAR SONCS OF THE CONFEDERACY No dull decay nor lingering pain, By slow degrees, consumed thy health, A glowing messenger of flame Translated thee by fiery death ! And we who in one common grief Are bending now beneath the rod. In this sweet thought may find relief, " Our holy father walked with God, And is not — God has taken him ! " "LET US CROSS OVER THE RIVER." Jackson's Last Words. " A few moments before his death, Stonewall Jackson called out in his delirium : ' Order A. P. Hill to prepare for action. Pass the infantry rapidly to the front. Tell Major Hawks ' Here the sentence was left unfin ished. But, soon after, a sweet smile overspread his face, and he mur mured quietly, with an air of relief: ' Let us cross over the river and rest under the shade of the trees.' These were his last words ; and, without any expression of pain, or sign of struggle, his spirit passed away." ^'^ome, let US cross the river, and rest beneath the trees. And list the merry leaflets at sport Mitli every breeze ; Our rest is won by fighting, and Peace aM'aits us there. Strange that a cause so blighting produces fruit so fair ! Come, let us cross the river, those that have gone before. Crushed in the strife for freedom, await on yonder shore ; So bright the sunshine sparkles, so merry hums the breeze. Come, let us cross the river, and rest beneath the trees. Come, let us cross the river, the stream that runs so dark ; 'Tis none but cowards quiver, so let us all embark. Come, men with hearts undaunted, we'll stem the tide Mitb [ease. We'll cross the fiowing river, and rest beneath the trees. LIEUTENANT-GENERAL LEONIDAS POLK WAR SONCS OF THE CONFEDERACY 181 Come, let us cross the river, the dying hero cried. And God, of life the giver, then bore him o'er the tide. Life's M-ars for him are over, tho warrior takes his ease, There, by the flowing river, at rest beneath the trees. CHARGE OF HAGOOD'S BRIGADE. By Joseph Blyth Allston. The foUowing lines were written in the summer of 1864, immediately after the charge referred to in them, which was always considered by the brigade as their most desperate encounter. Ocarce seven hundred men they stand In tattered, rude array, A remnant of that gallant band, Who erstwhile held the sea-girt strand Of Morris' Isle, with iron hand 'Gainst Yankees' hated sway. Secessionirille their banner claims, And Sumter held 'mid smoke and flames And the dark battle on the streams Of Pocotaligo ; And Walthall's Junction's hard-earned fight. And Drewry's bluff's embattled height, Whence, at the gray dawn of the light. They rushed upon the foe. Tattered and torn those banners now. But not less proud each lofty brow. Untaught as yet to yield ; With mien unblenched, unfaltering eye. Forward, where bombshells shrieking fly Flecking with smoke the azure sky On Weldon's fated field. 182 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Sweeps from the woods the bold array. Not theirs to falter in the fray, No men more sternly trained than they To meet their deadly doom ; While from a hundred throats agape, A hundred sulphurous flames escape. Round shot, and canister, and grape, The thundering cannon's boom ! Swift, on their flank, with fearful crash Shrapnel and ball commingling clash, And bursting shells, with lurid flash. Their dazzled sight confound ; Trembles the earth beneath their feet. Along their front a rattling sheet Of leaden hail concentric meet. And numbers strew the ground. On, o'er the dying and the dead, O'er mangled limb and gory head. With martial look, with martial tread, March Hagood's men to bloody bed, Honor their sole reward ; Himself doth lead the battle line. Himself those banners guard. They win the height, those gallant few, A fiercer struggle to renew. Resolved as gallant men to do Or sink iu glory's shroud ; But scarcely gain its stubborn crest. Ere, from the ensign's murdered breast. An impious foe has dared to wrest That banner proud. WAR SONOS OF THE CO.VFEDERACY 183 Upon him, Hagood, in thy raight I Flash on thy soul th' immortal light Of those brave deeds that blazon bright Our Southem Cross. He dies. Unfurl its folds again. Let it wave proudly o'er the plain ; The dying shall forget their pain. Count not their loss. Then, rallying to your chieftain's call. Ploughed through by cannon-shot and ball. Hemmed in, as by a living wall, Cleave back your way. Those bannered deeds their souls inspire, Borne amid sheets of forked fire, By the Two Hundred who retire Of that array. Ah, Carolina ! well the tear May dew thy cheek ; thy clasped hands rear In passion o'er their tombless bier, ^ Thy fallen chivalry ! Malony, mirror of the brave, And Sellers lie in glorious grave ; No prouder fate than theirs, who gave Their lives for Liberty. MUMFORD, THE MARTYR OF NEW ORLEANS. By Ina M. Porter, of Alabama. "\X7here murdered Mumford lies. Bewailed in bitter sighs, Low-bowed beneath the flag he loved. Martyrs of Liberty, 184 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Defenders of the Free I Come, humbly nigh. And learn to die ! Ah, Freedom, on that day. Turned fearfally away, While pitying angels lingered near. To gaze upon the sod. Red with a martyr's blood ; And woman's tear Fell on his bier ! O God ! that he should die Beneath a Southern sky ! Upon a felon's gallows swung, Murdered by tyrant hand, — While round a helpless band. On Butler's name Poured scorn and shame. But hark ! loud paeans fly From earth to vaulted sky, He's crowned at Freedom's holy throne I List ! sweet- voiced Israel Tolls far the martyr's knell ! Shout, Southrons, high, Our battle cry ! Come, all of Southern blood. Come, kneel to Freedom's God ! Here at her crimsoned altar swear I Accursed for evermore The flag that Mumford tore. And o'er his grave Our colors wave I WAR SO.VGS OF THE CONFEDER.-ICY 186 THE COTTON-BURNERS' HYMN. " On yesterday, all the cotton in Memphis, and throughout the coun try, was burned. Probably not less than 300,000 bales have been burned in the last three days, in West Tennessee and North Mississippi." — Mern- phis Appeal. \ T o ! where Mississippi rolls Oceanward its stream, L^pward mounting, folds on folds, Flaming fire-tongues gleam ; 'Tis the planters' grand oblation On the altar of the nation ; 'Tis a willing sacrifice — Let the golden incense rise — Pile the cotton to the skies ! Chorus — Lo ! the sacrificial flame Gilds the starry dome of night ! Nations ! read the mute acclaim — 'Tis for liberty we fight ! Home ! Religion ! Right I Never such a golden light Lit the vaulted sky ; Never sacrifice as bright, Rose to God on high ; Thousands oxen, what were they To the offering we pay? And the brilliant' holocaust — When the revolution's past — In the nation's songs will last ! Chorus — Lo ! the sacrificial flame, etc. Though the night be dark above, Broken though the shield — Those who love us, those we love. Bid us never yield ; 186 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Never I though our bravest bleed, And the vultures on them feed. Never I though the serpents' race — Hissing hate and vile disgrace — By the million should menace ! Chorus — Lo ! the sacrificial flame, etc. Pile the cotton to the skies ; Lo I the Northmen gaze ; England I see our sacrifice — See the cotton blaze 1 God of nations ! now to Thee, Southrons bend th' imploring knee ; 'Tis our country's hour of need — Hear the mothers intercede — Hear the little children plead ! Chorus — Lo ! the sacrificial flame, etc. ASHES OF GLORY. By a. J. Requier. "pOLD up the gorgeous silken sun. By bleeding martyrs blest. And heap the laurels it has won Above its place of rest. No trumpet's note need harshly blare- No drum funereal roll — Nor trailing sables drape the bier That frees a dauntless soul I It lived with Lee, and decked his brow From Fate's empyreal Palm ; It sleeps the sleep of Jackson now — As spotless and as calm. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDER.-iCY 187 It was outnumbered — not outdone. And they shall shuddering tell. Who struck the blow, its latest gun Flashed ruin as it fell. Sleep, shrouded Ensign ! not the breeze That smote the victor tar, With death across the heaving seas Of fiery Trafalgar ; Not Arthur's knights, amid the gloom Their knightly deeds have starred ; ' Nor Gallic Henry's matchless plume, Nor peerless-born Bayard ; Not all that antique fables feign. And Orient dreams disgorge ; Nor yet the Silver Cross of Spain, And Lion of St. George, Can bid thee pale ! Proud emblem, still Thy crimson glory shines Beyond the lengthened shades that fill Their proudest kingly lines. Sleep ! in thine own historic night, — And by thy blazoned scroll, A ¦warrior's Banner takes its flight, To greet tlie ¦warrior's soul ! 188 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY SOMEBODY'S DARLING. By Marie La Coste, of Georgia. NTO a ward of the whitewashed halls, Where the dead and the dying lay — Wounded by bayonets, shells and balls. Somebody's darling was borne one day — Somebody's darling, so young and so brave I Wearing yet on his sweet, pale face — Soon to be hid in the dust of the grave — The lingering light of his boyhood's grace 1 I Matted and damp are the curls of gold Kissing the snow of that fair young brow. Pale are the lips of delicate mould — Somebody's darling is dying now. Back from his beautiful blue-veined brow Brush his wandering waves of gold ; Cross his hands on his bosom now — Somebody's darling is still and cold. Kiss him once for somebody's sake. Murmur a prayer soft and Iom' — • One bright curl from its fair mates take — They were somebody's pride you know, Somebody's hand hath rested there ; Was it a mother's, soft and white ? Qr have the lips of a sister fair Been baptized in their waves of light ? God knows best ! He has somebody's love ; Somebody's heart enshrined him there — Somebody wafted his name above, Night and morn, on the wings of prayer. Somebody wept when he marched away. Looking so handsome, brave and grand I Somebody's kiss on his forehead lay — Somebody clung to his parting hand. STATUE TO HENRY CLAY This beautiful marble statue to Henry Clay was erected in the Capitol Square, Richmond, Virginia, by the Ladies' Clay Association, and dedicated on Clay's Kighty-third Anniversary, April 12, 1S60. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 189 Somebody's watching and waiting for him, Yearning to hold him again to her heart ; And there he lies vith his blue eyes dim, And the smiling, child-like lips apart. Tenderly bury the fair young dead — Pausing to drop on his grave a tear ; Carve on the wooden slab o'er his head — " Somebody's darling slumbers here." AWAKE— ARISE I By G. W. Archer, U. D. QoNs of the South — awake — arise I ^^ A million foes sweep doMU amain, Fierce hatred gleaming in their eyes, And fire and rapine in their train. Like savage Hun and merciless Dane ! " We come as brothers I " Trust them not ! By all that's dear in heaven and earth. By every tie that hath its birth Within your homes — around your hearth ; Believe me, 'tis a tyrant's plot. Worse for the fair and sleek disguise — A traitor in a patriot's cloak ! " Your country's good Demands your blood I " Was it a fiend from hell that spoke? They point us to the Stripes and Stars ; (Our banner erst — the despot's now !) But let not thoughts of by-gone wars, When beat Me back the common foe. And felled them fast and shamed them so. Divided us at this fearful hour ; But think- of dungeons and of chains — Think of your violated fane.s — Of your loved homestead's gory stains — 190 WAR SONGS OE THE CONFEDERACY Eternal thraldom for your dower I No love of country fires their breasts^ The fell fanatics fain would free A groveling race. And in their place Would fetter us with fiendish glee I Sons of the South — awake — awake I And strike for rights full dear as those For which our struggling sires did shake Earth's proudest throne — while freedom rose. Baptized in blood of braggart foes. Awake — that hour hath come again I Strike I as ye look to Heaven's high throne — Strike ! for the Christian patriot's crown — Strike I in the name of ^Vashington, Who taught you once to rend the chain. Smiles now from Heaven upon our cause, So like his own. His spirit moves Through every fight. And lends its might To every heart that freedom loves. Ye beauteous of the sunny land I Unmatched your charms in all the earth, 'Neath freedom's banner take your stand ; And, though you strike not, prove your worth, As wont in days of joy and mirth ; Lavish your praises on the brave — Pray when the battle fiercely lowers — Smile when the victory is ours — Frown on the wretch who basely cowers — Mourn o'er each fallen hero's grave I Lend thus your favors whilst we smile ; Full soon we'll crush this vandal host I — With woman's charms To nerve their arms. Oh ! when have men their freedom lost I W-iR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 19 J THE TEXAN MARSEILLAISE. By Jamhs Haines, of Texas. Q0N8 of the South, arouse to battle I Gird on your armor for the fight ! The Northern Thugs with dread " War's rattie." Pour on each vale, and glen, and height - Meet them as ocean meets in madness The frail bark on the rocky shore. When crested billows foam and roar. And the wrecked crew go down in sadness. Arm ! Arm ! ye Southern braves ! Scatter yon Vandal hordes 1 Despots and bandits, fitting food For vultures and your swords. Shall dastard tyrants march their legions To crush the land of Jackson — Lee ? Shall freedom fly to other regions, And sons of Yorktown bend the knee ? Or shall their " footprints ' base pollution " Of Southem soil, in blood be purged. And every flying slave be scourged Back to his snows in wild confusion ? Arm ! Arm ! &c. Vile despots, with their minions knavish. Would drag us back to their embrace ; Will freemen brook a chain .so slavish ? Will brave men take so low a place ? O, Heaven ! for words — the loathing, scorning We feel for such a Union's bands ; To paint with more than mortal hands. And sound our loudest notes of warning. Arm I Arm ! &c. 192 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY What I union with a race ignoring The charter of our nation's birth I Union with bastard slaves adoring The fiend that chains them to the earth I No I we reply in tones of thunder — No ! our staunch hills fling back the sound- No I our hoarse canon echo round — No ! evermore remain asunder I Arm ! Arm I f spur that had never been " won "' by him. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 206 In the flank of his steed. To accomplish a deed, Such as never before had been done by him ; And the battery called Sherman's Was wheeled into line. While the beer-drinking Germans Fi-om Neckar and Rhine, With minie and yager. Came on with a swagger. Full of fuiy and lager, (The day and the pageant were equally fine.) Oh ! the fields were so green and the sky was so blue, Indeed 'twas a spectacle pleasant to view. As the column pushed onward to Richmond. Ere the march was begun. In a spirit of fun. General Scott in a speech Said this army should teach The Southrons the lesson the laws to obey. And just before dusk of the third or fourth day. Should joyfully march into Richmond. He spoke of their drill A-nd their courage and skill. And declared that the ladies of Richmond would rave O'er such matchless perfection, and gracefully wave In rapture their delicate kerchiefs in air At their morning parades on the Capitol Square. But alack ! and alas ! Mark what soon came to pass. When this army, in spite of its flatteries. Amid war's loudest thunder Must stupidly blunder Upon those accursed " masked batteries." 206 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Then Beauregard came. Like a tempest of fiame. To consume them in wrath On their perilous path ; And Johnston bore down in whirlwind to sweep Their ranks from the field Where their doom had been sealed, As the storm rushes over the face of the deep I While swift on the centre our President passed. And the foe might descry In the glance of his eye The light that once blazed upon Diomed's crest. McDowell ! McDowell 1 weep, weep for the day When the Southrons you meet in their battle array ; To 3'our confident hosts with its bullet and steel 'Twas worse than Culloden to luckless Lochiel. Oh ! the generals were green and old Scott is now blue, And a terrible business, McDowell, to you. Was that pleasant excursion to Richmond. T TURNER ASHBY. By John R. Thompson, of Virginia. o THE brave all homage render, Weep, ye skies of June I With a radiance pure and tender, Shine, oh saddened moon ! " Dead upon the field of glory," Hero fit for song and story. Lies our bold dragoon I Well they learned, whose hands have slain him. Braver, knightlier foe Never fought with Moor nor Paynim — WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 207 Rode at Templestowe ; With a mien how high and joyous, 'Gainst the hordes that would destroy us, Went he forth we know. Never more, alas ! shall sabre Glean around his crest ; Fought his fight, fulfilled his labor. Stilled his manly breast ; All unheard sweet nature's cadence. Trump of fame and voice of maidens — Now he takes his rest. Earth that all too soon hath bound him. Gently wrap his clay ; Linger lovingly around him. Light of dying day ; Softly fall the summer showers. Birds and bees among the flowers Make the gloom seem gay. There, throughout the coming ages, When his sword is rust. And his deeds in classic pages ; Mindful of her trust, Shall Virginia, bending lowly, Still a ceaseless vigil holy Keep above his dust. 208 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY THE MEN. By Maurice Bell. Tn the dusk of the forest shade A sallow and dusty group reclined ; Gallops a horseman up the glade — " Where will I your leader flnd ? Tidings I bring from the morning's scout — I've borne them o'er mound, and moor, and fen." " Well, sir, stay not hereabout. Here are only a few of ' the men.' " Here no collar has bar or star. No rich lacing adorns a sleeve ; Further on our officers are, Let them your report receive. Higher up, on the hill up there, Overlooking this shady glen. There are their quarters — don't stop here. We are only some of ' the men.' " Yet stay, courier, if you bear Tidings that the fight is near ; Tell them we're ready, and that where They wish us to be we'll soon appear ; Tell them only to let us know Where to form our ranks, and when ; And w^e'U teach the vaunting foe That they've met a few of ' the men.' " We're the men, though our clothes are worn — We're the men, though we Avear no lace— We're the men, who the foe hath torn, And scattered their ranks in dire disgrace ; We're the men who ha\'e triumphed before — We're the men who will triumph again ; For the dust, and the smoke, and the cannon's roar, And the clashing bayonets — ' we're the men. ' " WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 209 " Ye who sneer at the battle-scars, Of garments faded, and soiled and bare, Yet who have for the ' stai-s and bars ' Praise and homage and dainty fare ; Mock the wearers and pass them on. Refuse them kindly word — and then Know, if your freedom is ever won By human agents — these are the men I " A REBEL SOLDIER KILLED IN THE TRENCHES BEFORE PETERSBURG, VA., APRIL 15, 1865." By a Kentucky Girl. TT^iLLED in the trenches ! How cold and bare The inscription graved on the white card there. 'Tis a photograph, taken last Spring, they say, Ere the smoke of battle had cleared away — Of a rebel soldier — just as he fell. When his heart was pierced by a Union shell ; And his image was stamped by the sunbeam's ray. As he lay in the trenches that April day. Oh God ! Oh God ! How my woman's heart Thrills with a quick, convulsive pain. As I view, unrolled by the magic of Art, One dreadful scene from the battle-plain : — White as the foam of the storm-tossed wave. Lone as the rocks those billows lave — Gray sky above — cold clay beneath — A gallant form lies stretched in death I With his calm face fresh on the trampled clay. And the brave hands clasped o'er the manly breast : Save the sanguine stains on his jacket gray. We might deem him taking a soldier's rest. Ah no ! Too red is that crimson tide — Too deeply pierced that wounded side; Youth, hope, love, glory — manhood's pride — Have all in vain Death's bolt defied. 14 210 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY His faithful carbine lies useless there. As it dropped from its master's nerveless ward ; And the sunbeams glance on his waving hair Which the fallen cap has ceased to guard — Oh Heaven I spread o'er it thy merciful shield, No more to my sight be the battle revealed I Oh fiercer than tempest — grim Hades as dread — On woman's eye flashes the field of the dead I The scene is changed : In a quiet room. Far from the spot where the lone corpse lies, A mother kneels in the evening gloom To offer her nightly sacrifice. The noon is past, and the day is done. She knows that the battle is lost or won — Who lives ? Who died ? Hush I be thou still ! The boy lies dead on the trench-barred hill. BATTLE OF HAMPTON ROADS. By Ossian D. Gorman. "VTe'er had a scene of beauty smiled On placid waters 'neath the sun, Like that on Hampton's watery plain. The fatal morn the fight begun. Far toward the silvery Sewell shores. Below the guns of Craney Isle, Were seen our fleet advancing fast. Beneath the sun's auspicious smile. Oh, fatal night I the hostile hordes Of Newport camp spread dire alarms ; The Cumberland for fight prepares — The fierce marines now rush to arms. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 211 The Merrimac, strong cladded o'er. In quarters close begins her fire, Nor fears the rushing bail of shot. And deadly missiles swift and dire. But, rushing on 'mid smoke and fiame. And belching thunder long and loud, Salutes the ship with bow austere, And then withdraws in wreaths of cloud. The work is done. The frigate turns In agonizing, doubtful poise — She sinks ! she sinks ! along the deck I heard a shrieking, wailing noise. Engulfed beneath those placid waves Disturbed by battle's onward surge. The crew is gone ; the vessel sleeps. And whistling bombshells sing her dirge. The battle still is raging fierce ; The Congress, " high and dry " aground. Maintains in vain her boasted power, For now the gunboats flock around. With " stars and bars " at mainmast reared, And pour their lightning on the main, While Merrimac, approaching fast Sends forth her shell and hot-shot rain. Meantime the Jamestown, gallant boat. Engages strong redoubts at land — While Patrick Henry glides along, To board the Congress, still astrand. This done, we turn intently on The Minnesota, which replies. With whizzing shell to Teaser's gun, Whose booming cleaves the distant skies. 212 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY The naval combat sounds anew ; The hostile fleets are not withdrawn. Though night is closing earth and sea In twilight's pale and mystic dawn. Strange whistling noises fill the air ; The powdered smoke looks dark as night. And deadly, lurid flames pour forth Their radiance on the missiles' flight ; Grand picture on the noisy waves ! The breezy zephyrs onward roam. And echoing volleys float afar, Disturbing Neptune's coral home. The victory's ours, and let the world Record Buchanan's name with pride ; The crew is brave, the banner bright. That ruled the day when Hutter died. KATY WELLS. "VTou ask what makes this darky sad, Why he like others am not gaj^. What makes the tear flow down his cheek From early morn till close of day ? My story, darkies, you shall hear For in my memory fresh it dwells, 'Twill cause you all to drop a tear On the grave of my sweet Katy Wells. Chorus : When the birds were singing in the morning. And the myrtle and the ivy were in bloom When the sun o'er the hills was dawning ; 'Twas then we laid her in the tomb. WAR SONGS OF 'THE CONFEDERACY Oh, I remember well the day When we together roamed the dells, I kissed her cheek and named the day When I should marry Katy Wells, But death came in my cabin door. And stole from me my joy and pride, And when I found she was no more, I laid my banjo down and cried. The springtime has no charms for me, The flowers that bloom around the dells There's a form I long to see ; The form of my sweet Katy Wells. Chorus — I've sometimes wished that I was dead, And laid beside her in the tomb, For sorrow now bows down my head In silence to the midnight gloom, I'm longing for the day to come When I shall clasp her to my heart. While in the heavenly fields we roam And never, never more to part. Chorus- ELLA REE. A ND Ella Ree so kind and true, In the little church yard lies, Her grave is bright with drops of dew. But brighter were her eyes. Chorus : Then carry me back to Tennessee, There let me live and die Among the fields of yellow corn. In the land where Ella lies. 214 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY The summer moon may rise and set And the night birds thrill their lay. And the possum and coon will softly step Around the grave of Ella Ree. Chorus — THE BOY-SOLDIER. TTe is acting o'er the battle, With his cap and feather gay. Singing out his soldier-prattle. In a mockish, manly way — With the boldest, bravest footstep, Treading firmly up and down. And his banner waving softly. O'er his boyish locks of brown. And I sit beside him sewing, With a busy heart and hand. For the gallant soldiers going To the far-off battle land — And I gaze upon my jewel, In his baby spirit bold. My little blue-eyed soldier. Just a second summer old. Still a deep, deep well of feeling. In my mother's heart is stirred, And the tears come softly stealing At each imitative work ! There's a struggle in my bosom For I love my darling boy — He's the gladness of my spirit. He's the sunlight of my joy I WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 215 Yet I think upon my country. And my spirit groweth bold — Oh ! I wish my blue-eyed soldier Were but twenty summers old ! I would speed him to the battle — I would arm him for the fight ; I would give him to his country. For his country's wrong and right ! I would nerve his hand with blessing From the " God of battles " won— With His helmet and His armor. I would cover o'er my son. Oh I I know there'd be a struggle. For I love my darling boy ; He's the gladness of my spirit. He's the sunlight of my joy I Yet in thinking of my country, Oh I my spirit groweth bold. And I wish my blue-eyed soldier Were but twenty summers old I THE TWO ARMIES. By Henry Timrod. 'npAVO armies stand enrolled beneath The banner with the starry wreath ; One, facing battle, blight and blast. Through twice a hundred fields has passed ; Its deeds against a ruffian foe, Stream, valley, hill, and mountain know. Till every wind that sweeps the land Goes, glory-laden, from the strand. 218 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY The other, with a narrower scope. Yet led by not less grand a hope. Hath won, perhaps, as proud a place, And wears its fame with meeker grace. Wives march beneath its glittering sign. Fond mothers swell the lovely line ; And many a sweetheart hides her blush In the young patriot's generous flush. No breeze of battle ever fanned The colors of that tender band ; Its office is beside the bed, Where throbs some sick or wounded head. It does not court the soldier's tomb. But plies the needle and the loom ; And, by a thousand peaceful deeds. Supplies a struggling nation's needs. Nor is that army's gentle night Unfelt amid the deadly fight ; It nerves the son's, the husband's hand. It points the lover's fearless brand ; It thrills the languid, warms the cold. Gives even new courage to the bold. And sometimes lifts the veriest clod To its own lofty trust in God. When Heaven shall blow the trump of peace. And bid this weary warfare cease, Their several missions nobly done, The triumph grasped, and freedom won' Both armies, from their toils at rest. Alike may claim tlie victor's crest, But each shall see its dearest prize Gleam softly from the other's eyes. THE BATTLE OF MALVERN HILL, JULY 1, 1862 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 217 SONNET. On Reading a Proclamation for Public Prayer. By a South Carolinian. /^H ! terrible, this prayer in the market-place. These advertised humilities — decreed By proclamation that we may be freed, And mercy find for once, and saving grace, Even while we forfeit all that made the race Worthy of heavenly favor — and profess Our faith and homage only through duress, And dread of danger which we dare not face. All working that's done worthily is prayer — And honest thought in prayer — the wish, the will To mend our ways, maintain our virtues still. And, losing life, still keep our bosoms fair In sight of God — with whom humility And patient working can alone make free. BATTLE OF BELMONT. By j. Augustine Signaigo. nVTow glory to our Southern cause, and praises be to God, -^^ That He hath met the Southron's foe, and scourged him with His rod ; On the tented plains of Belmont, in their might the Vandals came, And they gave unto destruction all they found, with sword and flame ; But they met a stout resistance from a little band that day. Who swore nobly they would conquer, or return to mother clay. 218 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY But the Vandals with presumption — for they came in all their might — Gave free vent unto their feelings, for they thought to win the fight; And they forced our little cohorts to the very river's brink. With a breath between destruction and of life's remaining link : When the cannon of McCown, belching fire from out its. mouth. Brought destruction to the Vandals and protection to the South. There was Pillow, Polk and Cheatham, who had sworn that day on high That field should see them conquer, or that field should see them die ; And amid the groan of dying, and amid the battle's din. Came the echo back from Heaven, that they should that battle win ; And amid the .boom of cannon, and amid the clash of swords, Came destruction to the foeman — and the vengeance was the Lord's. When the fight was raging hottest, came the wild and cheering cry. That brought terror to tiie foeman, and that raised our spirits high! It was " Cheatham I " " Cheatham I " " Cheatham ! " that the Vandals' ears did sting. And our boys caught up the echo till it made the welkin ring; And the moment that the Hessians thought the fight was surely won. From the crackling of our rifles— bravely then they had to run 1 WAR SOA'GS OF THE CONFEDERACY 219 Then they ran unto their transports in deep terror and dismay, And their great grandchildren's children will be shamed to name that day ; For the woe they came to bring to the people of the South Was returned tenfold to them at the cannon's booming mouth; And the proud old Mississippi ran that day a horrid flood, For its banks were deeply crimsoned with the hireling Northman's blood. Let us think of those who fell there, fighting foremost with the foe. And who nobly struck for Freedom, dealing Tyranny a blow : Like the ocean beating wildly 'gainst a prow of adamant. Or the storm that keeps on bursting, but cannot destroy the plant ; Brave Lieutenant Walker, wounded, still fought on the bloody field, Cheering on his noble comrades, ne'er unto the foe to yield ! None e'er knew him but to love him, the brave martyr to his clime — Now his name belongs to Freedom, to the very end of Time : And the last words that he uttered will forgotten be by few : " I have bravely fought them, mother — I have bravely fought for you ! " Let his memory be green in the hearts who love the South, And his noble deeds the theme that shall dwell in every mouth. In the hottest of the battle stood a Vandal bunting rag. Proudly to the breeze 'twas floating in defiance to our fiag ; And our Southem boys knew well that, to bring that bunting down. They would meet the angel death in his sternest, maddest frown ; ¦2-M WAR SOuVCS OF THE CONFEDERACY But it could not gallant Armstrong, dauntless VoUmer, or brave Lynch, Though ten thousand deaths confronted, from the task of honor flinch I And they charged upon that bunting, guarded by grim- visaged Death, Who had withered all around it with the blister of his breath; But they jilucked it from his grasp, and brave Vollmer -n^aved it high, On the gory field of battle, where the three were doomed to die ; But before their spirits fled came the death-shout of the three. Cheering for the sunny South and beloved old Tennessee I Let the horrors of this day to the foe a warning be. That the Lord is with the South, that His arm is with the free ; That her soil is pure and spotless, as her clear and sunny sky, And that he who dare pollute it on her soil shall surely die ; For His fiat hath gone forth, e'en among the Hessian horde. That the South has got His blessing, for the South is of the Lord. Then glory to our Southern cause, and praises give to God, That He hath met the Southron's foe and scourged him with His rod ; That He hath been upon our side, with all His strength aud might. And battled for the Southern cause in every bloody fight ; Let us in meek humility, to all the worid proclaim, We bless and glorify the Lord, and battle in His name GENERAL JOHN H. MORGAN GENERAL JOHN G. BREGENRIDGE WAR SONCS OF THE CONFEDER.ICY 221 THE LEGION OF HONOR By H. L. Flash. '\^7'hy are we forever speaking Of the warriors of old ? Men are fighting all around us. Full as noble, fiill as bold. Ever working, ever striving. Mind and muscle, heart and soul. With the reins of judgment keeping Passions under full control. Noble hearts are beating boldly As they ever did on earth ; Swordless heroes are around us. Striving ever from their birth. Tearing down the old abuses, Building up the purer laws. Scattering the dust of ages. Searching out the hidden flaws. Acknowledging no "right divine" In kings and princes from the rest; In their creed he is the noblest Who has worked and striven best. Decorations do not tempt them — Diamond stars they laugh to scorn- Each will wear a " Cross of Honor " On the Resurrection morn. Warriors they in fields of wisdom — Like the noble Hebrew youth, Striking down Goliath's error, With the God-blessed stone of truth. 222 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Marshalled 'neath the Right's broad banner. Forward rush these volunteers, Beating olden wrong away From the fast advancing years. Contemporaries do not see them But the coming times will say (Speaking of the slandered present), " There were heroes in that day." Why are we then idly lying On the roses of our life, While the noble-hearted struggle In the world-redeeming strife. Let us rise and join the legion. Ever foremost in the fray — Battling in the name of Progress For the nobler, purer day. CLOUDS IN THE WEST. By a. j. Requier, of Alabama, XT ARK ! on the wind that whistles from the West A manly shout for instant succor comes. From men who fight, outnumbered, breast to breast, With rage-indented drums ! Who dare for child, wife, country — stream and strand. Though but a fraction to the swarming foe. There — at the flooded gateways of the land, To stem a torrent's flow. To arms 1 brave sons of each embattled State, Whose queenly standard is a Southern star ; Who would be free must ride the lists of Fate On Freedom's victor-car I WAR SONGS OF THE CO.XFEDERACY 2l'3 Forsake the field, the shop, the mart, the hum Of craven traffic for the mustering clan ; The dead themselves are pledged that you shall come And prove yourself — a man. That sacred turf where first a thrilling grief Was felt which taught you Heaven alone disposes— God I can you live to see a foreign thief Contaminate its roses ? Blow, summoning trumpets, a compulsive stave. Through all the bounds, from Beersheba to Dan ; Come out ! come out ! who scorns to be a slave. Or claims to be a man ! Hark ! on the breezes whistling from the West A manly shout for instant succor comes, From men who fight, outnumbered, breast to breast. With rage-indented drums! Who charge and cheer amid the murderous din. Where still your battle-flags unbended wave. Dying for what your fathers died to win And you must fight to save. Ho ! shrilly fifes that stir the vales from sleep, Ho ! brazen thunders from the mountains hoar ; The very waves are marshaling on the deep, While tempests tread the shore. Arise and swear, your palm-engirdled land Shall burial only yield a bandit foe ; Then spring upon the caitiff's, steel in hand, And strike the fated blow. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY THE OATH OF FREEDOM. By James Barron Hope. TJoRN free, thus we resolve to live ; By Heaven we will be free ! By all the stars which burn on high — By the green earth — the mighty sea — By God's unshaken majesty. We will be free or die ! Then let the drums all roll I Let all the trumpets blow I Mind, heart, and soul, We spurn control Attempted by a foe ! Born free, thus we resolve to live ; By Heaven we will be free ! And vainly now the Northmen try To beat us down — in arms we stand To strike for this our native land ! We will be free or die ! Theu let the drums all roll ! etc., etc. Born free, thus we resolve to live: By Heaven we will be free! Our wives and children look on high. Pray God to smile upon the right ! And bid us in the deadly fight As freemen live or die ! Theu let the drums all roll ! etc., etc. Born free, thus we resolve to live : By Heaven we will be free ! And ere we cease this battle-cry. Be all our blood, our kindred's spilt. On bayonet or sabre hilt ! We will be free or die ! Then let the drums all roll ! etc. etc. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 225 Born free, thus we resolve to live : By Heaven we will be free ! Defiant let the banners fly. Shake out their glories to the air. And, kneeling, brothers, let us swear We will be free or die I Then let the drums all roll, etc., etc. Born free, thus we resolve to live : By Heaven we will be free 1 And to this oath the dead reply — Our valiant fathers' sacred ghosts — These with us, and the God of hosts, We will be free or die I Then let the drums all roll 1 etc., etc. ENLISTED TO-DAY. Tknow the sun shines, and the lilacs are blowing. And summer sends kisses by beautiful May — Oh I to see all the treasures the spring is bestowing, And think — my boy Willie enlisted to-day. It seems but a day since at twilight, low humming, I rocked him to sleep with his cheek upon mine. While Robby, the four-year old, watched for the coming Of father, adown the street's indistinct line. It is many a year since my Harry departed, To come back no more in the twilight or dawn : And Robby grew weary of watching, and started Alone on the joumey his father had gone. 15 236 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY It is many a year — and this aftemoon sitting At Robby's old window, I heard the band play, And suddenly ceased dreaming over my knitting. To recollect Willie is twenty to-day. And that, standing beside him this soft May-day morning, And the sun making gold of his wreathed cigar smoke, I saw in his sweet eyes and lips a faint warning. And choked down the tears when he eagerly spoke : " Dear mother, you know how these Northmen are crowing. They would trample the rights of the South in the dust, The boys are all fire ; and they wish I were going — " He stopped, but his eyes said, " Oh, aay if I must ! " I smiled on the boy, though my heart it seemed breaking, My eyes filled with tears, so I tumed them away, And answered him, " Willie, 'tis well you are waking — Go, act as your father would bid you, to-day ! " I sit in the window, and see the flags flying, And drearily list to the roll of the drum. And smother the pain in my heart that is lying. And bid all the fears in my bosom be dumb. I shall sit in the window when summer is lying Out over the flelds, and the honey-bee's hum Lulls the rose at the porch from her tremulous sighing. And watch for the face of my darling to come. And if ho should fall — his young life he has given For freedom's sweet sake ; and for me, I will pray Once more with my Harry and Robby in Heaven To meet the dear boy that enlisted to-day. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 227 •WOULDST THOU HAVE ME LOVE THEE?" By Alex. B. Meek. T^7 OULDST thou have me love thee, deareid ! With a woman's proudest heart. Which shall ever hold thee nearest. Shrined in its inmost part ? Listen, then I My country's calling On her sons to meet the foe I Leave these groves of rose and myrtle ; Drop thy dreamy harp of love I Like young Korner — scorn the turtle. When the eagle screams above I Dost thou pause ? — Let dastards dally — Do thou for thy country fight 1 'Neath her noble emblem rally — " God, our country, and our right I " Listen I now her trumpet's calling^ On her sons to meet the foe ! Woman's heart is soft and tender. But 'tis proud and faithful, too ; Shall she be her land's defender? Lover ! Soldier I up and do I Seize thy father's ancient falchion. Which once flashed as freedom's star J Till sweet peace — the bow and halcyon. Stilled the stormy strife of war. Listen ! now thy country's calling On her sons to meet her foe I Sweet is love in moonlight bowers 1 Sweet the altar and the flame I Sweet the spring-time with her flowers I Sweeter far the patriot's name I 228 WAR SONGS OF 'TH£ CONFEDERACY Should the God who smiles above thee. Doom thee to a soldier's grave. Hearts will break, but fame will love thee. Canonized among tbe brave I Listen , then I thy country's calling On her sons to meet the foe I Rather would I view thee lying On the last red field of strife, 'Mid thy country's heroes dving. Than become a dastard's wife I THE WAR-CHRISTIAN'S THANKSGIVING. By George H. Miles, of Baltimore. /^H, God of battles ! once again. With banner, trump, and drum. And garments in the wine-press dyed, To give Thee thanks we come. No goats or bullocks garlanded. Unto Thine altars go ; With brothers' blood, by brothers shed. Our glad libations flow. From pest-house and from dungeon foul, Where, maimed and torn, they die. From gory trench and charnel-house. Where, heap on heap, they lie. In every groan that yields a soul, Each shriek a heart that rends. With every breath of tainted air. Our homage, Lord, ascends. GENERAL JOHN B. HOOD GENERAL N. B- FORREST WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 229 We thank Thee for the sabre's gash, The cannon's havoc wild ; i We bless Thee for the widow's tears. The want that starves her child I We give Thee praise that Thou hast lit The torch, and fanned the flame ; That lust and rapine hunt their prey. Kind Father, in Thy name ! That, for the songs of idle joy False angels sang of yore. Thou sendest War on earth — ill-will To men for evermore ! We know that wisdom, truth and right To us and ours are given ; That Thou hast clothed us with the wrath, To do the work of Heaven. We know that plains and cities waste Are pleasant in Thine eyes — Thou lov'st a hearthstone desolate. Thou lov'st a mourner's cries. Let not our weakness fall below The measure of Thy will. And while the press hath wine to bleed. Oh, tread it with us still ! Teach us to hate — as Jesus taught Fond fools, of yore, to love ; Give us Thy vengeance as our own — Thy pity, hide above I Teach us to turn, with reeking hands, The pages of Thy Word, And learn the blessed curses there. On them that sheathe the sword. 230 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Where'er we tread may deserts spring, 'Till none are left to slay ; And when the last red drop is shed. We'll kneel again — and pray I THE GOOD OLD CAUSE. By John D. Phelan. XJuzzA I huzza ! for the Good Old Cause, 'Tis a stirring sound to hear. For it tells of rights and liberties, Our fathers bought so dear ; It brings up the Jersey prison-ship, The spot where Warren fell. And the scaffold which echoes the dying words Of murdered Hayne's farewell. The Good Old Cause ! It is still the same Though age upon age may roll ; 'Tis the cause of the right against the wrong. Burning bright in each generous soul ; 'Tis the cause of all who claim to live As freemen on Freedom's sod ; Of the widow, who wails her husband and sons, By Tyranny's heel down-trod. And whoever burns with a liol}'^ zeal. To behold his country free. And would sooner see her baptized in blood. Than to bend the suppliant knee ; Must agree to follow her White-Cross flag, Where the storms of battle roll, A soldier — a soldier ! — with arms in his hands, And the love of the South in his soul I WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 281 Come one, come all, at your country's call, Let none remain behind. But those too young, and those too old, The feeble, the halt, the blind; Let every man, whether rich or poor, Who can carry a knapsack and gun, Repair to the ranks of our Southern host, ^ 'Till the cause of the South is won. But the son of the South, if such there be, Who will shrink from the contest now. From a love of ease, or the lust of gain. Or through fear of the Yankee foe ; May his neighbors shrink from his proffered hand, As though it was soiled for aye. And may every woman turn her cheek From his craven lips away ; May his country's curse be on his head, And may no man ever see, A gentle bride oy the traitor's side, Or children about hia knee. Huzza I huzza ! for the Good Old Cause, 'Tis a stirring sound to hear ; For it tells of rights and liberties. Our fathers bought so dear ; It summons our braves from their bloody graves, To receive our fond applause. And bids us tread in the steps of those Who died for the Good Old Cause. 232 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY YOU CAN NEVER WIN THEM BACK. By Catherine M. Warfield. "XTou can never win them back, never I never I Though they perish on the track of your endeavor ; Though their corpses strew the earth That smiled upon their birth. And blood pollutes each hearth stone forever I They have risen to a man, stern and fearless ; Of your curses and your ban they are careless. Every hand is on its knife ; Every gun is primed for strife ; Every palm contains a life, high and peerless. You have no such blood as theirs for the shedding. In the veins of Cavaliers was its heading. You have no such stately men In your abolition den, To march through foe and fen, nothiag dreading. They may fall before the fire of your legions. Paid in gold for murd'rous hire — bought allegiance I WAR SONGS OF THE CO.VFEDERACY 233 But for every drop you shed You shall leave a mound of dead ; And the vultures shall be fed in our regions. But the battle to the strong is not given, While the Judge of right and wrong sits in Heaven I And the God of David still Guides each pebble by His will ; There are giants yet to kill — wrongs unshriven. CHARLESTON. By Henry Timrod. /'^ALM as that second summer which precedes The first fall of the snow. In the broad sunlight of heroic deeds The city hides the foe. As yet, behind their ramparts, stern and proud, Her bolted thunders sleep — Dark Sumter, like a battlemented cloud. Looms o'er the solemn deep, No Calpe frowns from lofty cliff or scaur To guard the holy strand ; But Moultrie holds in leash her dogs of war, Above the level sand. And down the dunes a thousand guns lie crouched. Unseen, beside the flood — Like tigers in some Orient jungle crouched, That wait and watch for blood. 234 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Meanwhile, through streets still eclioing with trade. Walk grave and thoughtful men, Whose hands may one day wield the patriot's blade As lightly as the pen. And maidens, with such eyes as would grow dim Over a bleeding hound. Seem, each one, to have caught the strength of him, Whose sword she sadly bound. Thus girt without and garrisoned at home. Day patient following day. Old Charleston looks from roof, and spire, and dome. Across her tranquil bay. Ships, through a hundred foes, from Saxon lands And spicy Indian ports. Bring Saxon steel and iron to her hands, And summer to her courts. But still along yon dim Atlantic line, The only hostile smoke Creeps like a harmless mist above the brine. From some frail, fioating oak. Shall the spring dawn, and she still clad in smiles. And with an unscathed brow. Rest in the strong arms of her palm-crowned isles, As fair and free as now ? We know not; in the temple of the Fates God has inscribed her doom ; And, all untroubled in her faith, she waits The triumph or the tomb. JVAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 235 THE COTTON BOLL. By Henry Timrod. \^7hile I recline At ease beneath This immemorial pine Small sphere I — By dusky fingers brought this morning here, And shown with boastful smiles, — I tum thy cloven sheath. Through which the soft white fibres peer. That, with their gossamer bands. Unite, like love, the sea-divided lands. And slowly, thread by thread. Draw forth the folded strands, Than which the trembling line, By whose frail help yon startled spider fled Down the tall spear-grass from his swinging bed. Is scarce more fine ; And as the tangled skein Unravels in my hands. Betwixt me and the noonday light, A veil seems lifted, and for miles and miles The landscape broadens on my sight, As, in the little boll, there lurked a spell Like that which, in the ocean shell, With mystic sound, Breaks down the narrow walls that hem us round. And turns some city lane Into the restless main, With all his capes and isles ! Yonder bird, — Which floats, as if at rest. In those blue tracts above the thunder, where 236 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY No vapors cloud the stainless air. And never sound is heard. Unless at such rare time When, from the City of the Blest Rings down some golden chime, — Sees not from his high place So vast a cirque of summer space As widens round me in one mighty field. Which, rimmed by seas and sands, Doth hail its earliest daylight in the beams Of gray Atlantic dawns ; And, broad as realms made up of many lands. Is lost afar Behind the crimson hills and purple lawns Of sunset, among plains which roll their streams Against the Evening Star I And lo ! To the remotest point of sight, Although I gaze upon no waste of snow, The endless field is white ; And the whole landscape glows, For many a shining league away. With such accumulated light As Polar lands would flash beneath a tropic day I Nor lack there (for the vision grows. And the small charm within my hands — More potent even than the fabled one. Which oped whatever golden mystery Lay hid in fairy wood or magic vale. The curious ointment of the Arabian tale — Beyond all mortal sense Doth stretch my sight's horizon, and I see Beneath its simple influence, As if, with Uriel's crown, I stood in some great temple of the Sun, GENERAL G. T. BEAUREGARD GENERAL JOSEPH E.JOHNSTON WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 2;!7 And looked, as Uriel, down) — Nor lack there pastures rich and fields all green With all the common gifts of God, With temperate airs and torrid sheen Weave Edens of the sod ; Through lands which look one sea of billowy gold Broad rivers wind their devious ways ; A hundred isles in their embraces fold A hundred luminous bays ; And through yon purple haze Vast mountains lift their plumed peaks cloud-crowned ; And, save where up their sides the ploughman creeps. An unknown forest girds them grandly round. In whose dark shades a future navy sleeps ! Ye stars, which though unseen, yet with me gaze Upon this loveliest fragment of the earth ! Thou Sun, that kindlest all thy gentlest rays Above it, as to light a favorite hearth I Ye coulds, that in your temples in the West See nothing brighter than its humblest fiowers 1 And, you, ye Winds, that on the ocean's breast Are kissed to coolness ere ye reach its bowers ! Bear witness with me in my song of praise, And tell the world that, since the world began. No fairer land hath fired a poet's lays. Or given a home to man 1 But these are charms already widely blown I His be the meed whose pencil's trace Hath touched our very swamps with grace, And round whose tuneful way All Southern laurels bloom ; The Poet of " The Woodlands," unto whom Alike are known The flute's low breathing and the trumpet's tone, 238 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY And the soft west-wind's sighs : But who shall utter all the debt, O Land I wherein all powers are met That bind a people's heart. The world doth owe thee at this day, And which it never can repay. Yet scarcely deigns to own ! Where sleeps the poet who shall fitly sing The source wherefrom doth spring That mighty commerce which, confined To the mean channels of no selfish mart. Goes out to every shore Of this broad earth, and throngs the sea with ships That bear no thunders ; hushes hungry lips In alien lands ; Joins with a delicate web remotest strands ; And gladdening rich and poor. Doth gild Parisian domes. Or feed the cottage-smoke of English homes. And only bounds its blessings by mankind I In offices like these, thy mission lies. My Country I and it shall not end As long as rain shall fall and Heaven bend In blue above thee ; though thy foes be hard And cruel as their weapons, it shall guard Thy hearthstones as a bulwark ; make thee great In white and bloodless state ; And, haply, as the years increase — Still working through its humbler reach With that large wisdom which the ages teach — Revive the half-dead dream of universal peace I As men who labor in that, mine Of Cornwall, hollowed out beneath the bed Of ocean, when a storm rolls overhead, WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 239 Hear the dull booming of the world of brine Above them, and a mighty muffled roar Of winds and waters, and yet toil calmly on. And split the rock, and pile the massive ore, Or carve a niche, or shape the arched roof ; So I, as calmly, weave my woof Of song, chanting the days to come, Unsilenced, though the quiet summer air Stirs with the bruit of battles, and each dawn Wakes from its starry silence to the hum Of many gathering armies. Still, In that we sometimes hear, Upon the Northern winds the voice of woe Not wholly drowned in triumph, though I kno-w The end must crown us, and a few brief years Dry all our tears, I may sing too gladly. To Thy will Resigned, O Lord I we cannot all forget That there is much even Victory must regret. And, therefore, not too long From the great burden of our country's wrong Delay our just release ! And, if it may be, save These sacred fields of peace From stain of patriot or of hostile blood I Oh, help us. Lord ! to roll the crimson flood Back on its course, and, while our banners wing Northward, strike with us 1 till the Goth shall cling To his own blasted altar stones, and crave Mercy ; and we shall grant it, and dictate The lenient future of his fate There, where some rotting ships and trembling quays Shall one day mark the Port which ruled the Western seas. 240 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY THE BATTLE OF CHARLESTON HARBOR. April 7th, 1863. By Paul H. Hayne. npwo hours, or more, beyond the prime of a blithe April day. The Northman's mailed " Invincibles " steamed up fair Charleston Bay ; They came in sullen file, and slow, low-breasted on the wave, Black as a midnight front of storm, and silent as the grave. A thousand warrior-hearts beat high as those dread monsters drew More closely to the game of death across the breezeless blue, And twice ten thousand hearts of those who watched the scene afar, Thrill in the awful hush that bides the battle's broadening Star I Each gunner, moveless by his gun, with rigid aspect stands. The ready linstocks firmly grasped in bold, untrembling hands, So moveless in their marbled calm, their stern heroic guise, They looked like forms of statued stone with burning human eyes I Our banners on the outmost walls, with stately rustling fold. Flash back from arch aud parapet the sunlight's ruddy gold They mount to the deep roll of drums, aud widely-echoing cheers, And then — once more, dark, breathless, hushed, wait the grim cannoneers. Onward — in sullen file, and slow, low glooming on the wave Near, nearer still, the haughty fleet glides silent as the grave, When sudden, shivering up the calm, o'er startled flood and shore. Burst from the sacred Island Fort the thunder-wrath of yore I WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 241 Ha ! brutal Corsairs I tho' ye come thrice-cased in iron mail. Beware the storm that's opening now, God's vengeance guides the hail ! Ye strive the ruffian types of might 'gainst law, and truth, and right. Now quail beneath a sturdier power, and own a mightier might I No empty boast ! for while we speak, more furious, wilder, higher. Dart from the circling batteries a hundred tongues of fire. The waves gleam red, the lurid vault of heaven seems rent above. Fight on ! oh ! knightly gentlemen ! for faith, and home, and love ! There's not in all that line of flame, one soul that would not rise. To seize the Victor's wreath of blood, tho' Death must give the prize — There's not in all this anxious crowd that throngs the ancient town, A maid who does not yearn for power to strike one despot 'own. The strife grows fiercer I ship by ship the proud Armada sweeps, Where hot from Sumter's raging breast the volleyed lightning leaps ; And ship by ship, raked, overborne, 'ere burned the sunset bloom. Crawls seaward, like a hangman's hearse bound to his felon tomb ! 16 242 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Oh ! glorious Empress of the Main I from out thy storied spires. Thou well may'st peal thy bells of joy, and light thy festal fires — Since Heaven this day hath striven for thee, hath nerved thy dauntless sons. And thou, in clear-eyed faith hast seen God's angels near the guns ! SUMTER IN RUINS. By W. Gilmore Simms. "SJ'ts. batter down the lion's den, But yet the lordly beast goes free ; And ye shall hear his roar again. From mountain height, from lowland glen. From sandy shore and reedy fen — Where'er a band of freeborn men Bears sacred shrines to liberty. The serpent scales the eagle's nest. And yet the royal bird in air. Triumphant wins the mountain's crest. And sworn for strife, yet takes his rest, And plumes, to calm, his ruflled breast. Till, like a storm -bolt from the West, He strikes the invader in his lair. What's loss of den, or nest, or home. If, like the lion, free to go ', — If, like the eagle, wing'd to roam. We span the rock and breast the foam. Still watchful for the hour of doom, When, with the knell of thunder-boom. We bound upon the serpent foe I WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 243 Oh I noble sons of lion heart I Oh ! gallant hearts of eagle wing I What though your battor'd bulwarks part. Your nest be spoiled by reptile art — Your souls, on wings of hate, shall start For vengeance, and with lightning-dart. Rend the foul serpent ere he sting ! Your battered den, your shattered nest. Was but the lion's crouching place ; — It heard his roar, and bore his crest. His, or the eagle's place of rest ; — But not the soul in either breast ! This arms the twain, by freedom bless'd. To save and to avenge their race 1 FORT WAGNER. By W. Gilmore Simms. r^ LORY unto the gallant boys who stood ^^ At Wagner, ind, unflinching, sought the van ; Dealing fierce blows, and shedding precious blood, For homes as precious, and dear rights of man ! They've won the meed, and they shall have the glory ; Song, with melodious memories, shall repeat The legend, which shall grow to themes for story. Told through long ages, and forever sweet 1 High honor to our youth — our sons and brothers, Georgians and Carolinians, where they stand I They will not shame their birthrights, or their mothers. But keep, through storm, the bulwarks of the land I They feel that they must conquer I Not to do it, Were worse than death — perdition ! Should they fail. The innocent races yet unborn shall rue it. The whole world feel the wound, and nations wail I 244 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY No ! They must conquer in the breach or perish ! Assured in the last consciousness of breath. That love shall deck their graves, and memory cherish Their deeds, with honors that shall sweeten death I They shall have trophies in long future hours. And loving recollections, which shall be Green as the summer leaves, and fresh as flowers, That, through all seasons, bloom eternally I Their memories shall be monuments, to rise Next those of mightiest martyrs of the past ; Beacons, when angry tempests sweep the skies. And feeble souls bend crouching to the blast I A shrine for thee, young Cheves, well devoted. Most worthy of a great, illustrious sire ; — A niche for thee, young Haskell, nobly noted. When skies and seas around thee shook with fire f And others as well chronicled shall be I What though they fell with unrecorded name — They live among the archives of the free, With proudest title to undying fame ! Thoi unchisell'd marble under which they sleep. Shall tell of heroes, fearless still of fate ; Not asking if tbeir memories shall keep. But if they nobly served, and saved the State I For thee, young Fortress Wagner— thou shalt wear Green laurels, worthy of the names that now. Thy sister forts of Moultrie, Sumter, bear I See that thou lift'st, for aye, as proud a brow I And thou shalt be, to future generations, A trophied monument, whither men shall come In homage, and report to distant nations, A shrine, which foes shall never make a fojni / WAR SO.VGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 245 MORRIS ISLAND. By W. Gilmore Simms. /~^H ! from the deeds well done, the blood well shed In a good cause springs up to crown the land With ever-during verdure, memory fed, A^Tierever freedom rears one fearless baud, The genius which makes sacred time and place, Shaping the grand memorials of a race ! The barren rock becomes a monument, The sea-shore sands a shrine ; And each brave life, in desperate conflict spent. Grows to a memory which prolongs a line ! Oh I barren isle — oh I fruitless shore, Oh I realm devoid of beauty — how the light From glory's sun streams down for evermore. Hallowing your ancient barrenness with bright f Brief dates, your lowly forts ; but full of glory, Worthy a life-long story ; Remembered to be chronicled and read. When all your gallant garrisons are dead ; And to be sung While liberty and letters find a tongue 1 Taught by the grandsires at the ingle-blaze, Through the long winter night ; Pored over, memoried well, in winter days. While youthful admiration, with delight, Hangs, breathless, o'er the tale, with silent praise ; Seasoning delight with wonder, as he reads Of stubborn conflict and audacious deeds ; Watching the endurance of the free and brav©. Through the protracted struggle and close flghtt 246 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Contending for the lands they may not save. Against the felon and innumerous foe ; Still struggling, though each rampart proves a grave. For home, and all that's dear to man below ! Earth reels and ocean rocks at every blow ; But still undaunted, with a martyr's might. They make for man a new Thermopylae ; And perishing for freedom, still go free ! Let but each humble islet of our coast Thus join the terrible issue to the last ; And never shall the invader make his boast Of triumph, though with mightiest panoply He seeks to rend and rive, to blight and blast f SACRIFICE. A NOTHER victim for the sacrifice ! Oh ! my own mother South, How terrible this wail above thy youth, Dying at the cannon's mouth, — And for no crime — no vice — No scheme of selfish greed — no avarice. Or insolent ambition, seeking power ; — But that, with resolute soul and will sublime, They made their proud election to be free, — To leave a grand inheritance to time, And to their sons and race, of liberty ! Oh I widow'd woman, sitting iu thy weeds. With thy young brood around thee, sad and lone— Thy fancy sees thy hero where he bleeds, And still thou hear'st his moan I Dying, he calls on thee — again — again I With blessing and fond memories. Be of cheer ; WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 247 He haa not died — he did not bless — in vain ; For, in the eternal rounds of God, He squares The account with sorrowing hearts ; and soothes the fears. And leads the orphans home, and dries the widow's tears. CAROLINA. By Anna Peyre Dinnibs. Tn the hour of thy glory, When thy name was far renowned, When Sumter's glowing story Thy bright escutcheon crowned ; Oh, noble Carolina ! how proud a claim was mine, That through homage and through duty, and birthright, I was thine. Exulting as I heard thee. Of every lip the theme, Prophetic visions stirred me, In a hope-illumined dream ; A dream of dauntless valor, of battles fought and won, Where each field was but a triumph — a hero every son. And now, when clouds arise. And shadows round thee fall ; I lift to Heaven my eyes, Those visions to recall ; For I cannot dream that darkness will rest upon thee long. Oh, lordly Carolina 1 with thine arms and hearts so strong. Thy serried ranks of pine. Thy live oaks spreading wide, Beneath the sunbeams shine, In fadeless robes of pride ; Thus marshalled on their native soil their gallant sons stand forth, As ohan^^eless as thy forests green, defiant of the North. 248 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY The deeds of other days. Enacted by their sires. Themes long of love and praise, Have wakened high desires In every heart that beats within thy proud domain, To cherish their remembrance, and live those scenes again. Each heart the home of daring. Each hand the foe of wrong. They'll meet with haughty bearing. The warship's thunder song ; And though the base invader pollute thy sacred shore. They'll greet him in their prowess as their fathers did of yore. His feet may press their soil. Or his numbers bear them down, In his vandal raid for spoil, His sordid soul to crown ; But his triumph will be fleeting, for the hour is drawing near. When the war-cry of thy cavaliers shall strike his startled ear. A fearful time shall come, When thy gathering bands unite. And the larum-sounding drum Calls to struggle for the Right ; " Pro aris etprofocis," from rank to rank shall fly, As they meet the cruel foeman, to conquer or to die. Oh, then a tale of glory Shall yet again be thine. And the record of thy story The Laurel shall entwine ; Oh, noble Carolina, of proud and lordly State I Heroic deeds shall crown thee, and the Nations own thee great. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 249 "THE ANGEL OF THE CHURCH." By W. Gilmore Simms. The folloT\"ing poem, with its introduction, is given as it came to me. It reminds one of the old story of " God's Pi-ovideuce House " in Chester, England. At the time of a great plague in that ancient city, a prayer was made in a particular house, and the promise was pleaded, " Neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling." The family in the house was saved from the plague, and to this day the old habitation stands as a testimony of answered prayer. Sueh a conviction must have been upon the mind of the author of this poem, who wrote the Preface and the Introduction. He says: " The enemy, from his camp on Morris Island, has, in frequent letters in the Northern papers, avowed the object at which they aim their shells in Charleston, to be the spire of St. JSlichael's church. Theii practice shows that these avowals are true. Thus far, they have not succeeded in their aim. Angels of the Churche-s, is a phrase apphed by St. John, in reference to the Seven Churches of Asia. The Hebrews recognized an Angel of the Church, in their language, 'Sheliack-Zibbor,' whose office may be described as that of a watcher or guardian of the church. Daniel says, iv, 13 : 'Behold, a watcher and a Holy one came down from Heaven.' The prac tice of naming churches after tutelary saints, originated, no doubt, in the conviction that, where the church was pure, and the faith true, and the congregation pious, these guardian angels, so chosen, would accept the office assigned them. They were generally chosen from the Seraphim and Cherubim — those who, according to St. Paul (I Colossians, xvi), represented thrones, dominions, principalities and powers. According to the Hebrew traditions, St. Michael was the head of the fi.-st order ; Gabriel, of the second ; Urial, of the third ; and Raphael, of the fourth. St. Michael is the warrior-angel who led the hosts of the ,sky against the powers of the princes of the air; who overthrew the dragon, and trampled him under foot. The destruction of the Anaconda, in his hands, would be a smaller undertaking. Assuming for our people a hope not less rational than that of the people of Nineveh, we may reasonably build upon the guardianship and protection of God, through his angels, ' a great city of sixty thousand souls, which has been for so long a season the subject of His care. These notes will supply the adequate illustrations for the ode which follows." A YE, strike with sacrilegious aim "^^ The temple of the living God ; Hurl iron bolt and seething flame Through aisles which holiest feet have trod ; 250 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Tear up the altar, spoil the tomb. And, raging with demoniac ire. Send down, in sudden crash of doom. That grand, old, sky-sustaining spire. That spire, for full a hundred years. Hath been a people's point of sight ; That shrine hath warmed their souls to tears. With strains well worthy Salem's height ; The sweet, clear music of its bells. Made liquid soft in Southem air, Still through the heart of memory swells. And wakes the hopeful soul to prayer. Along the shores for many a mile. Long ere they owned a beacon-mark. It caught and kept the Day-God's smile, The guide for every wandering bark ; Averting from our homes the scaith Of fiery bolt, in storm-cloud driven, The Pharos to the wandering faith. It pointed every prayer to Heaven ! Well may ye, felons of the time. Still loathing all that's pure and free. Add this to many a thousand crime 'Gainst peace and sweet humanitj' : Ye, who have wrapped our towns in flame. Defiled our shrines, befouled our homes, But fitly turn your murderous aim Against Jehovah's ancient domes. Yet, though the grand old temple falls. And downward sinks the lofty spire. Our faith is stronger than our walls, And soars above the storm and fire. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 251 Ye shake no faith in souls made free To tread the paths their fathers trod ; To fight and die for liberty. Believing in the avenging God ! Think not, though long his anger stays. His justice sleeps — His -vs'rath is spent; The arm of vengeance but delays, To make more dread the punishment ! Each impious hand that lights the torch Shall wither ere the bolt shall fall; And the bright Angel of the Church, With seraph shield avert the ball I For still we deem, as taught of old, That where the faith the alter builds, Grod sends an angel from His fold, Whose sleepless watch the temple shields. And to His flock, with sweet accord. Yields their fond choice, from thrones and powers; Thus Michael, with his fiery sword And golden shield, still champions ours! And he who smote the dragon down, And chained him thousand years of time, Need never fear the boa's frown. Though loathsome in his spite and slime. He, from the topmost height, surveys And guards the shrines our fathers gave ; And we who sleep beneath his gaze. May well believe his power to save I Yet, if it be that for our sin Our angel's term of watch is o'er, With proper prayer, true faith must win The guardian watcher back once more I 252 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Faith, brethren of the Church, and prayer- In blood and sackcloth, if it need ; And still our spire shall rise in air. Our temple, though our people bleed I THE CAMEO BRACELET. By James R. Randall, of Maryland. TI^vA sits on the ottoman there, '^ Sits by a Psyche carved in stone. With just such a face, and just such an air. As Esther upon her throne. She's sifting lint for tbe brave who bled, And I watch her fingers float and flow Over the linen, as, thread by thread. It flakes to her lap like snow. A bracelet clinks on her delicate wrist. Wrought, as Cellini's were at Rome, Out of the tears of the amethyst, And the wan Vesuvian foam. And full on the bauble-crest alway — A cameo image keen and fine — Glares thy impetuous knife, Corday, And the lava-locks are thine ! I thought of the war- wolves on our trail, Their gaunt fangs sluiced with gouts of blood : Till the Past, in a dead, mesmeric veil, Drooped with a wizard flood. Till the surly blaze through the iron bars Shot to the hearth with a pang and cry — And a lank howl plunged from the Champ de Mars To the Column of July — GENERAL STERLING PRICE GENERAL JOHN B.GORDON Vioiii I'hotogrnpli takt-u during (lie War. WAR SONCS OF THE CONFEDERACY 253 Till Corday sprang from the gem, I swear. And the dove-eyed damsel I knew had flown — For Eva was not on the ottoman there. By the Psyche carved in stone. She grew like a Pythoness flushed with fate. With the incantation in her gaze, A lip of scorn — an arm of hate — And a dirge of the " Marseillaise ! " , Eva, the vision was not wild. When wreaked on the tyrants of the land — For you were transfigured to Nemesis, child. With the dagger in your hand I F ZOLLICOFFER. By H. L. Flash, of Alabama. lEST in the fight, and first in the arms Of the white- winged angels of glory, With the heart of the South at the feet of God, And his wounds to tell the story : And the blood that flowed from his hero heart. On the spot where he nobly perished, Was drunk by the earth as a sacrament In the holy cayse he cherished. In Heaven a home with the brave and blessed. And, for his soul's sustaining, The apocalyptic eyes of Christ — And nothing on earth remaining. But a handful of dust in the land of his choice, A name in song and story, And Fame to shout with her brazen voice, " Died on the Field of Glory ! " 254 WAR SONGS OE THE CONFEDERACY BEAUREGARD. By Miss Warfield, of Mississippi. T ET the trumpet shout once more, Beauregard ! Let the battle-thunders roar, Beauregard I And again by yonder sea. Let the swords of all the free Leap forth to fight with thee, Beauregard ! Old Sumter loves thy name, Beauregard 1 Grim Moultrie guards thy fame, Beauregard ! Oh ! first in Freedom's fight ! Oh ! steadfast in the right ! Oh ! brave and Christian Knight ! Beauregard ! St. Michael, with his host, Beauregard ! Encamps by yonder coast, Beauregard ! And the Demon's might shall quail And the Dragon's terrors fail, Were he trebly clad in mail, Beauregard ! Not a leaf shall fall away, Beauregard ! From the laurel won to-day, Beauregard ! While the ocean breezes blow. While the billows lapso and fiow O'er the Northman's bones below, Beauregard I WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 265 Let the trumpet shout once more, Beauregard I Let the battle-thunders roar, Beauregard [ From the centre to the shore. From the sea to the land's core Thrills the echo, evermore, Beauregard t THE FIEND UNBOUND. "VTo more, with glad and happy cheer. And smiling face, doth Christmas come, But usher'd in with sword and spear. And beat of the barbarian drum ! No more, with ivy-circled brow. And mossy beard all snowy white. He comes to glad the children now, With sweet and innocent delight. The merry dance, the lavish feast. The cheery welcome, all are o'er; The music of the viol ceased. The gleesome ring around the floor. No glad communion greets the hour. That welcomes in a Saviour's birth, And Christmas, to a hostile power. Yields all the sway that made its mirth. The Church, like some deserted bride, In trembling, at the Altar waits, While raging fierce on every side. The foe is thundering at her gates. No ivy green, nor glittering leaves, Nor crimson berries deck her walls ; But blood, red dripping from her eaves. Along the sacred pavement falls. 256 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Her silver bells no longer chime. In summons to her sacred home ; Nor holy song at matin prime, Proclaims the God within the dome. Nor do the fireside's happy bands Assemble fond, with greetings dear. While Patriarch Christmas spreads his hands To glad with gifts and crown with cheer. In place of that beloved form. Benignant, bland and blessing all. Comes one begirt with fire and storm, The raging shell, the hissing ball I Type of the Prince of Peace, no more. Evoked by those who bear His name. The Fiend, in place of Saint of yore. Now hurls around Satanic fiame. In hate, — evoked by kindred lands. But late beslavering with caress, Lo, Moloch, dripping crimson, stands. And curses where he cannot bless. He wings the bolt and hurls the spear, A demon loosed, that rends in rage, Sends havoc through the homes most dear. And butchers youth and tramples age I With face of Fox — with glee that grins. And apish arms, with fingers claw'd. To snatch at all his brother wins, And straight secrete, with stealth and fraud ;- Lo I Mammon, kindred Demon, comes. And lurks, as dreading ill, in rear ; He blows the trumpet, beats the drums, Infiames the torch, and sharps the spear I WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY And furious, following in their train. What hosts of lesser Demons rise ; Lust, Slalice, Hunger, Greed and Gain, Each raging for its special prize. Too base for freedom, mean for toil. And reckless all of just and right, They rage in peaceful homes for spoil, And where they cannot butcher, blight. A Serpen-t lie from every mouth. Coils outward ever, — sworn to bless ; Yet, through the gardens of the South, While spreading evils numberless. By locust swarms the fields are swept, By frenzied hands the dwelling flames. And virgin beds, where Beauty slept. Polluted blush, from worst of shames. The Dragon, chain'd for thousand years. Hath burst his bonds and rages free ; — Yet, patience, brethren, stay your fears ; — Loosed for " a little season," he Will soon, beneath th' Ithuriel sword. Of heavenly judgment, crush'd and driven. Yield to the vengeance of the Lord, And crouch beneath the wrath of Heaven I " A little season," and the Peace, That now is foremost in your prayers. Shall crown your harvest with increase. And bless with smiles the home of tears ; Your wounds be healed ; your noble sons. Unhurt, unmutilated — free — Shall limber up their conquering guns. In triumph grand of Liberty ! 17 258 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY A few more hours of mortal strife, — Of faith and patience, working still. In struggle for the immortal life, With all their soul, and strength, and will ; And, in the favor of the Lord, And powerful grown by heavenly aid. Your roof trees all shall be restored. And ye shall triumph in their shade. "DEAR MOTHER I'VE COME HOME TO DIE." By E. Bowers. The following beautiful lines are based upon facts, and -wiU call forth the sympathy of every mother's heart. Many a boy wounded, or sick, and changed in health, came home to die, and many, alas, were not per mitted to look into the faces of their loved ones again. I attended the funeral of a young fellow, whose last words were : "Give my love to mother, and tell her I will meet her in Heaven. ' ' As the years wear on the reunions are occurring in a better land, and many a boy has been restored to the circle which was broken by the rude red hand of war. T^EAR MOTHER, I remember well The parting kiss you gave me. When merry rang the village bell — My heart was full of joy and glee ; I did not dream that one short year Would crush the hopes that soared so high I Oh, mother dear, draw near to me ; Dear mother, I've come home to die. Chorus : Call sister, brother, to my side, And take your soldier's last good-by. Oh, mother dear, draw near to me I Dear mother, I've come home to die. WAR SONGS OF THE CO.VFEDERACV 26U Hark ! mother, 'tis the village bell ; I can no longer with thee stay ; My country calls, to arms I to arms f The foe advances in fierce array I The vision's past — I feel that now For country I can only sigh. Oh, mother dear, draw near to me 1 Dear mother I I've come home to die. Dear mother, sister, brother, all. One parting kiss — to all good-by : Weep not, but clasp your hand in mine. And let me like a soldier die ! I've met the foe upon the field, Where hosts contending scorned to fly ; I fought for right — God bless you all ! — Dear mother, I've come home to die. NO LAND LIKE OURS. By j. R. Barrick, of Kentucky. 'THOUGH other lands may boast of skies Far deeper in their blue. Where flowers in Eden's pristine dyes. Bloom with a richer hue ; And other nations pride in kings, And worship lordly powers ; Yet every voice of nature sings. There is no land like ours. Though other scenes than such as grace Our forests, fields, and plains, May lend the earth a sweeter face Where peace incessant reigns ; 200 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY But dearest still to me the land Where sunshine cheers the hours. For God hath shown, with His own hand, There is ho land like ours ! Though other streams may softer flow In vales of classic bloom. And rivers clear as crystal glow. That wear no tinge of gloom ; Though other mountains lofty look. And grand seem olden towers, We see, as in an open book. There is no land like ours 1 Though other nations boast of deeds That live in old renown. And other peoples cling to creeds That coldly on us frown ; On pure religion, love, and law Are based our ruling powers — The world but feels, with wondering awe. There is no land like ours ! Though other lands may boast their brave. Whose deeds are writ in fame. Their heroes ne'er such glory gave As gilds our country's name ; Though others rush to daring deeds, Where the darkening war-cloud lowers. Here, each alike for freedom bleeds — ' There is no land like ours I Though other lands Napoleon And Wellington adorn, America, her Washington, And later heroes born ; Yet Johnston, Jackson, Price, and Lee, Bragg, Buckner, Morgan towers. With Beauregard, and Hood, and Bee — There is no land like ours ! MUTE MEMENTOES OF THE RAVAGES OF WAR Two Silver Goblets rescued from tin ir hi(lin^(-i)Uir ' nfii r Hit- wiir. 'lln- our nl (lie U-ll linfl encrftved upon it the home ofWashington at Mount Vernon; the cue at the right Tliurnas Jcflcison's lioiii'. at Moiiticcllo, riic CaiidlcHlick \viis louua Oil the held of Fr? ' • ¦ • redericksburg. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 801 READING THE LIST. Anonymous. " Ts THERE any news of the war? " she eaid. " Only a list of the wounded and dead," Was the man's reply Without lifting his eye To the face of the woman standing by. " 'Tis the very thing I want," she said ; " Read me a list of the wounded and dead." He read the list ; 'twas a sad array Of the wounded and killed in the fatal fray. In the very midst was a pause to tell Of a gallant youth who fought so well That his comrades asked : " Who is he, pray ? " " The only son of the Widow Gray," Was the proud reply Of his captain nigh .... What ails the woman standing near ? Her face has the ashen hue of fear ; " Well, well, read on ; is he wounded ? Quick 1 O God I but my heart is sorrow-sick I Is he wounded ? " " No ; he fell, they say. Killed outright on that fatal day I " But see, the woman has swooned away I Sadly she opened her eyes to the light ; Slowly recalled the events of the fight ; Faintly, she murmured : " Killed outright I It has cost me the life of my only son ; But the battle is fought, and the victory won. The will of the Lord, let it be done I " God pity the cheerless Widow Gray, And send from the halls of eternal day The light of His peace to illumine her way. 282 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY O, TEMPORA I O, MORES f By John Dickson Bruns, M. D. " f~^ REAT Pan is dead I " so cried an airy tongue To one who, drifting down Calabria's shore, Heard the last knell, in starry midnight rung. Of the old Oracles, dumb for evermore. A low wail ran along the shuddering deep. And as, far off, its flaming accents died, The awe-struck sailors, startled from their sleep. Gazed, called aloud : no answering voice replied ; Nor ever will — the angry Gods have fled. Closed are the temples, mute are all the shrines. The fires are quenched, Dodona's growth is dead. The Sibyl's leaves are scattered to the winds. No mystic sentence will they bear again, Which, sagely spelled, might ward a nation's doom ; But we have left us still some god-like men. And some great voices pleading from the tomb. If we would heed them, they might save us yet, Call up some gleams of manhood in our breasts, Truth, valor, justice, teach us to forget In a grand cause our selfish interests. But we have fallen on evil times indeed, When public faith is but the common shame, And private morals held an idiot's creed, And old-world honesty an empty name. And lust, and greed, and gain are all our arts J The simple lessons which our fathers taught Are scorned and jeered at ; in our sordid marts Wfl sell the IWth for whidb they toiled and fought. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 263 Each jostling each in the mad strife for gold. The weaker trampled by the reckless throng Friends, honor, country lost, betrayed, or sold. And lying blasphemies on every tongue. Cant for religion, sounding words for truth, Fraud leads to fortune, gelt for guilt atones. No care for hoary age or tender youth. For widows' tears or helpless orphans' groans. The people rage, and work their own wild will, They stone the prophets, drag their highest down. And as they smite, with savage folly still Smile at their work, those dead eyes wear no frown. The sage of " Drainfield" tills a barren soil, And reaps no harvest where he sowed the seed. He has but exile for long years of toil ; Nor voice in council, though his children bleed. And never more shall " Redcliff's " oaks rejoice. Now bowed with grief above their master's bier ; Faction and party stilled that mighty voice. Which yet could teach us wisdom, could we hear. And "Woodland's" harp is mute; the gray, old man Broods by his lonely hearth and weaves no song ; Or, if he sing, the note is sad and wan. Like the pale face of one who's sufiered long. So aU earth's teachers have been overborne By the coarse crowd, and fainting droop or die ; They bear the cross, their bleeding brows the thom, And ever hear the clamor — " Crucify I " Oh, for a man with godlike heart and brain ! A god in stature, with a god's great will, And fitted to the time, that not in vain Be all the blood we've spilt and yet must spill. 264 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Oh, brothers I friends ! shake off the Circean spell I Rouse to the dangers of impending fate ! Grasp your keen swords, and all may yet be well — More gain, more pelf, and it will be, too late I -Charleston Mercury, 1864. OUR MARTYRS. By Paul E. Hayne. T am sitting lone and weary On the hearth of my darkened room. And the low wind's miserere Makes sadder the midnight gloom ; There's a terror that's nameless nigh me — There's a phantom spell in the air. And methinks that the dead glide by me. And the breath of the grave's in my hair I 'Tis a vision of ghastly faces. All pallid and worn with pain. Where the splendor of manhood's graces Give place to a gory stain ; In a wild and weird procession They sweep by my startled eyes. And stern with their fate's fruition. Seem melting in blood-red skies. Havp they come from the shores supernal. Have they passed from the spirit's goal, 'Neath the veil of the life eternal, To dawn on my shrinking soul ? Have they turned from the choiring angels, Aghast at the woe and dearth That war, with his dark evangels. Have wrought in the loved of earth ? GENERAL A. P HILL GENF.RAL KIRBY SMITH WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 265 Vain dream I 'mid the far-off mountains They lie where the dew-mists weep, And the murmur of mournful fountains Breaks over their painful sleep ; On the breast of the lonely meadows. Safe, safe from the despot's will. They rest in the star-lit shadows. And their brows are white and still I Alas 1 for the martyred heroes Cut down at their golden prime, In a strife with the brutal Neroes, Who blacken the path of Time ? For them is the voice of wailing. And the sweet blush-rose departs From the cheeks of the maidens, paling O'er the wreck of their broken hearts ! And alas ! for the vanished glory Of a thousand household spells I And alas I for the tearful story Of the spirit's fond farewells I By the flood, on the field, in the forest. Our bravest have yielded breath. But the shafts that have smitten sorest. Were launched by a viewless death I Oh, Thou that hast charms of healing, Descend on a widowed land. And bind o'er the wounds of feeling The balms of Thy mystic hand I Till the hearts that lament and languish, Renewed by the touch divine. From the depths of a mortal anguish. May rise to the calm of Time I 266 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY OUR DEPARTED COMRADES. By j. Marion Shirer. T AM sitting alone by a fire That glimmers on Sugar Loafs-height, But before I to rest shall retire And put out the fast-fading light — While the lanterns of heaven are ling'ring In silence all o'er the deep sea. And loved ones at home are yet mingling Their voices in converse of me — While yet the lone seabird is fiying So swiftly far o'er the rough wave. And many fond mothers are sighing For the noble, the true, and the brave ; Let me muse o'er the many departed Who slumber on mountain and vale ; With the sadness which shrouds the lone-hearted, Let me tell of my comrades a tale. Far away in the green, lonely mountains. Where the eagle makes bloody his beak. In the mist, and by Gettysburg's fountains. Our fallen companions now sleep 1 Near Charleston, where Sumter still rises In grandeur above the still wave. And always at evening discloses The fact that her inmates yet live — On islands, and fronting Savannah, Where dark oaks o'ershadow the ground. Round Macon and smoking Atlanta, How many dead heroes are found I And out on the dark swelling ocean, Where vessels go, riding the waves, How many, for love and devotion. Now slumber in warriors' graves I WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 267 No memorials have yet been erected To mark where these warriors lie, All alone, save by angels protected. They sleep 'neath the sea and the sky I But think not that they are forgotten, By those who the carnage survive : When their headboards will all have grown rotten, And the night-winds have levelled their graves. Then hundreds of sisters and mothers, Whose freedom they perished to save, And fathers, and empty-sleeved brothers. Who surmounted the battle's red wave ; Will crowd from their homes in the Southward, In search of the loved and the blest. And, rejoicing, will soon return homeward And lay our dear martyrs to rest. THE BROKEN MUG. By John Esten Cooke. Many are the relics of those days that are gone, and everyone with a history. Elsewhere in this book may be found a picture of two silver gob lets, which was given to us by Mrs. James T. Halsey, the daughter of Gen eral D. H. Maury, of Virginia. As will be seen in her account of them they axe solid silver communion goblets, which were found in a desolate church, the goblets all mashed out of recogmtion under the ruins of the house which Gfeneral Sherman's men had destroyed. But the day will come when those who drank thts communion wine from that cup, and for whom was ponred out the bitter cup of sorrow, will sit down with joy at the mar- ria.ge supper of the Lamb, at perfect peace with all the world, and they shall greet, as their friends, those who once were enemies, and the days of difference, and of antagonism, and of war, will be remembered no more 1 A/Ty mug is broken, my heart is sad ! What woes can fate still hold in store The friend I cherished a thousand days Is smashed to pieces on the floor I Is shattered and to Limbo gone, I'll see my Mug no more ! 268 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Relic it was of joyous hours Whose golden memories still allure — When coffee made of rye we drank. And gray was all the dress we wore ! When we were paid some cents a month. But never asked for more ! In marches long, by day and night. In raids, hot charges, shocks of war. Strapped on the saddle at my back This faithful comrade still I bore — This old companion, true and tried, I'll never carry more 1 From the Rapidan to Gettysburg — " Hard bread " behind, " sour krout " before — This friend went with the cavalry And heard the jarring cannon roar In front of Cemetery Hill — Good heavens I how they did roar I Then back again, the foe behind, Back to the " Old Virginia shore " — Some dead and wounded left — some holes In flags, the sullen graybacks bore ; This mug had made the great campaign, And we'd have gone once more ! Alas I we never went again ! The red cross banner, slow but sure . " Fell back " — we bade to sour krout (Like the lover of Lenore) A long, sad, lingering farewell — To taste its joys no more. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 2(i9 But still we fought, aud ate hard bread. Or starved — good friend, our woes deplore And still this faithful friend remained — Riding behind me as before — The friend on march, in bivouac. When othere were no more. How oft we drove the horsemen blue In Summer bright, or Winter frore ! How oft before the Southern charge Through field and wood the blue-birds tore ! I'm " harmonized," but long to hear The bugles ring once more. Oh yes ! we're all " fraternal " now, Purged of our sins, we're clean and pure. Congress will " reconstruct " us soon — But no gray people on that floor I I'm harmonized — " so-called " — but long To see those times once more ! Gay days 1 the sun was brighter then. And we were happy, though so poor I That past comes back as I behold My shattered friend upon the floor, My splintered, useless, ruined mug. From which I'll drink no more. How many lips I'll love for aye, While heart and memory endure. Have touched this broken cup and laughed — How they did laugh I — in days of yore I Those days we'd call " a beauteous dream," If they had been no more ! 270 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Dear comrades, dead this many a day, I saw you weltering in your gore. After those days amid the pines On the Rappahannock shore I When the joy of life was much to me But your warm hearts were more I Yours was the grand heroic nerve That laughs amid the storm of war — Souls that " loved much " your native land, Who fought and died therefor ! You gave your youth, your brains, your arms. Your blood — you had no more I You lived and died true to your flag I And now your wounds are healed — but sore Are many hearts that think of you Where you have " gone before." Peace, comrade I God bound up those forms, They are " whole " forevermore I Those lips this broken vessel touched, His, too ! — the man's we all adore — That cavalier of cavaliers, Whose voice will ring no more — Whose plume will float amid the storm Of battle never more ! Not on this, idle page I write That name of names, shrined in the core Of every heart I — peace I foolish pen. Hush I words so coW and poor I His sword is rust ; the blue ey* dust. His bugle sounds no more 1 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 271 Never was cavalier like ours I Not Rupert in the years before ! And when his stern, hard work was done. His griefs, joys, battles o'er — His mighty spirit rode the storm, And led his men once morel He lies beneath his native sod. Where violets spring, or frost is hoar ; He recks not — charging squadrons watch His raven plume no more I That smile we'll see, that voice we'll hear. That hand we'll touch no more I My foolish mirth is quenched in tears : Poor fragments strewed upon the floor. Ye are the types of nobler things That find their use no more — Things glorious once, now trodden down — That makes us smile no more ! Of courage, pride, high hopes, stout hearts- Hard, stubborn nerve, devotion pure. Beating his wings against the bars, The prisoned eagle tried to soar ; Outmatched, o'erwhelmed, we struggled still — Bread failed — we fought no more I Lies in the dust the shattered staff That bore aloft on sea and shore. That blazing flag, amid the storm I And none are now so poor. So poor to do it reverence. Now when it flames no more I 272 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY But it is glorious in the dust. Sacred till Time shall be no more ; Spare it, fierce editors ! your scorn — The dread " Rebellion's " o'er ! Furl the great fiag — hide cross and star. Thrust into darkness star and bar, But look ! across the ages far It fiames for evermore 1 MELT THE BELLS. By F. V. Rockett. The following lines were written on General Beauregard's appeal to the people to contribute their bells, that they may be melted into cannon : "JV/Telt the bells, melt the bells, Still the tinkling on the plains. And transmute the evening chimes Into war's resounding rhymes. That the invaders may be slain By the bells. Melt the bells, melt the bells. That for years have called to prayer, And, instead, the cannon's roar Shall resound the valleys o'er, That the foe may catch despair From the bells. Melt the bells, melt the bells. Though it cost a tear to part With the music they have made. Where the friends we love are laid. With pale cheek and silent heart, 'Neath the bells. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 273 Melt the bells, melt the bells. Into cannon, vast and grim, And the foe shall feel the ire From each heaving lungs of fire, And we'll put our trust in Him And the bells. Melt the bells, melt the bells. And when foes no more attack. And the lightning cloud of war Shall roll thunderless and far. We will melt the cannon back Into bells. Melt the bells, melt the bells, And they'll peal a sweeter chime, And remind of all the brave Who have sunk to glory's grave. And will sleep thro' coming time 'Neath the bells. — Memphis Appeal. SEA-WEEDS. By Annie Chambers Ketchum. T^BiBND of the thoughtful mind and gentle heart ! Beneath the citron-tree — Deep calling to my soul's profounder deep — I hear the Mexique Sea. While through the night rides in the spectral surf Along the spectral sands, And all the air vibrates, as if from harps Touched by phantasmal hands. Bright in the moon the red pomegranate flowers Lean to the Yucca's bells. While with her chrism of dew, sad Midnight fills The milk-white asphodels. 18 274 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Watching all night — as I have done before — I count the stars that set. Each writing on my soul some memory deep Of Pleasure or Regret; Till, wild with heart-break, toward the East I tum, Waiting for dawn of day ; — And chanting sea, and asphodel and star Are faded, all, away. Only within my trembling, trembling hands- Brought unto me by thee — I clasp these beautiful and fragile things. Bright sea- weeds from the sea. Fair bloom the flowers beneath these Northern skies. Pure shine the stars by night, And grandly sing the grand Atlantic waves In thunder-throated might ; But, as the sea-shell in her chambers keeps The murmur of the sea, So the deep-echoing memories of my home Will not depart from me. Prone on the page they lie, these gentle things I As I have seen them cast Like a drowned woman's hair, along the beach, When storms were over-past ; Prone, like mine own affections, cast ashore In Battle's storm and blight ; Would they had died, like sea-weeds I Pray forgive me, But I must weep to-night. Tell me again, of Summer fields made fair By Spring's precursing plough ; Of joyful reapers, gathering tear--sown harvests — Talk to me, — will you — now 1 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 276 THE MOUNTAIN PARTISAN. (Anonymous.) Ayf Y rifle, pouch, and knife 1 My steed I And then we part I One loving kiss, dear wife. One press of heart to heart I Cling to me yet awhile. But stay the sob, the tear t Smile — only try to smile — And I go without a fear. Our little cradled boy. He sleeps — and in his sleep. Smiles, with an angel joy. Which tells thee not to weep I'll kneel beside, and kiss — He will not wake the while. Thus dreaming of the bliss. That bids thee, too, to smile. Think not, dear wife, I go. With a light thought at my heart : 'Tis a pang akin to woe. That fills me as we part ; But when the wolf was heard To howl around our lot. Thou know'st, dear mother-bird, I slew him on the spot I Aye, panther, wolf, and bear. Hath perish'd 'neath my knife ; Why tremble, then, with fear. When now I go, my wife ? Shall I not keep the peace. That made our cottage dear ; And 'till these wolf-curs cease Shall I be housing here ? 276 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY One loving kiss, dear wife. One press of heart to heart ; Then for the deadliest strife. For freedom I depart I I were of little worth, Were these Yankee wolves left free To ravage 'round the hearth, And bring one grief to thee I God's blessing on thee, wife, God's blessing on the young : Pray for me through the strife. And teach our infant's tongue. Whatever haps in fight, I shall be true to thee — To the home of our delight — To my people of the free. JOHN PELHAM. By James R. Randall. JUST as the spring came laughing through the strife With all its gorgeous cheer ; In the bright April of historic life Fell the great cannoneer. The wondrous lulling of a hero's breath His bleeding country weeps — Hushed in the alabaster arms of death, Our young Marcellus sleeps. Nobler and grander than the Child of Rome, Curbing his chariot steeds ; The knightly scion of a Southem home Dazzled the land with deeds. WAR SONGS OF 'THE CONFEDERACY 277 Gentlest and bravest in the battle brunt, The champion of the truth. He bore his banner to the very front Of our immortal youth. A clang of sabres 'mid Virginian snow. The fiery pang of shells — And there's a wail of immemorial woe In Alabama dells. The pennon drops that led the sacred band Along the crimson field ! The meteor blade sinks from the nerveless hand Over the spotless shield. We gazed and gazed upon that beauteous face, ^\'hile 'round the lips and eyes. Couched in the marble slumber, flashed the grace Of a divine surprise. Oh, mother of a blessed soul on high ! Thy tears may soon be shed — Think of thy boy with princes of the sky. Among the Southern dead. How must he smile on this dull world beneath, Fevered with swift renown — He — with the martyr's amaranthine wreath Twining the victor's crown ! 278 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY "YE BATTERIES OF BEAUREGARD." By j. R. Barrick, of Kentucky. C ' "^l7^E batteries of Beauregard ! " Pour your hail from Moultrie's wall ; Bid the shock of your deep thunder On their fleet in terror fall ; Rain your storm of leaden fury On the black invading host — Teach them that their step shall never Press on Carolina's coast. " Ye batteries of Beauregard I " Sound the story of our wrong ; Let your tocsin wake the spirit Of a people brave and strong ; Her proud names of old remember — Marion, Sumter, Pinckney, Greene ; Swell the roll whose deeds of glory Side by side with theirs are seen, " Ye batteries of Beauregard I " From Savannah on them frown ; By the majesty of Heaven Strike their " grand armada " down ; By the blood of many a freeman. By each dear-bought battle-field, By the hopes we fondly cherish. Never ye the victory yield. " Ye batteries of Beauregard f " All along our Southern coast, Let. in after-time, vonr trinmnVis WAR SONGS OF 'THE CONFEDERACY 279 Send each missile with a greeting To the vile, ungodly crew ; Make them feel they ne'er can conquer People to themselves so true. " Ye batteries of Beauregard ! " By the glories of the past, By the memory of Old Sumter, Whose renown will ever last, Speed upon their vaunted legions Volleys thick of shot and shell, Bid them welcome, in your glory, To their own appointed hell. VIRGINIA. By Catherine M. Warfield. r^ LORious Virginia ! Freedom sprang Light to her feet at thy trumpet's clang At the first sound of that clarion blast, Foes like the chaff from the whirlwind passed — Passed to their doom ; from that hour no more Triumphs their cause by sea or shore. Glorious Virginia I noble the blood That hath bathed thy fields in a crimson flood ; On many a wide-spread and sunny plain. Like leaves of autumn they dead have lain ; The Southron heart is their funeral urn I The Southron slogan their requiem stem I Glorious Virginia I to thee, to thee We lean, as the shoots to the parent tree ; Bending in awe at thy glance of might ; — First in the council, first in the fight I While our flag is fanned by the breath of fame, Glorious Virginia ! we'll bless thy name. 280 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY "WHEN PEACE RETURNS." By Olivia Tully ThomAs \J^BES " war has smoothed his wrinkled front," And meek-eyed peace returning. Has brightened hearts that long were wont To sigh in grief and mourning — How blissful then will be the day When, from the wars returning. The weary soldier wends his way To dear ones that are yearning. To clasp in true love's fond embrace. To gaze with looks so tender Upon the war-worn form and face Of Liberty's defender ; To count with pride each cruel scar. That mars the manly beauty, Of him who proved so brave in war. So beautiful in duty. When peace returns, throughout our land. Glad shouts of welcome render The gallant few of Freedom's band Whose cry was " no surrender " Who battled bravely to be free From tyranny's oppressions, And won, for Southern chivalry. The homage of all nations I And when again, in Southern bowers The ray of peace is shining. Her maidens gather fairest flowers. And honor's wreaths are twining. GENERAL "STONEWALL" JACKSON GENERAL CLEMENT A. EVANS iccfSKor lo (¦.(.¦iK-ral "Sloiuwall" Jackson in Coiniiiand ¦ iMvisiun ,\imy uf \\'c,stciii X'ir^inia, C. S. .¦V., iSi.i4-i865. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 281 To bind the brows victorious On many a field so gory, Whose names renowned and glorious, Shall live in song and story, Then will affection's tear be shed, And pity, joy restraining, For those, the lost, lamented dead, Are all beyond our plaining ; They fell in manhood's prime and might ; And we should not weep the story That tells of Fame, a sacred light. Above each grave of glory I GOD SAVE THE SOUTH. By George H. Miles, of Baltimore. r^ OD save the South I ^^ Grod save the South I Her altars and firesides — Grod save the South I Now that the war is nigh — Now that we arm to die — Chanting our battle-cry. Freedom or death ! God be our shield ! At home or a-field, Stretch Thine arm over us. Strengthen and save I What though they're five to one. Forward each sire and son. Strike till the war is done. Strike to the grave. 282 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY God make the right Stronger than might I Millions would trample us Down in their pride. Lay, Thou, their legions low ; Roll back the ruthless foe; Let the proud spoiler know God's on our side ! Hark ! honor's call, Summoning all — Summoning all of us Up to the strife. Sons of the South, awake I Strike till the brand shall break ! Strike for dear honor's sake. Freedom and Life ! Rebels before Were our fathers of yore ; Rebel, the glorious name Washington bore. Why, then, be ours the same Title be snatched from shame ; Making it first in fame. Odious no more. War to the hilt 1 Their's be the guilt. Who fetter the freeman To ransom the slave. Up, then, and undismayed, Sheathe not the battle-blade. Till the last foe is laid I.1OW in the grave. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 283 God save the South I God save the South I Dry the dim eyes that now Follow our path. Still let the light feet rove Safe through the orange grove ; Still keep the land we love Safe from all wrath. God save the South I God save the South I Her altars and firesides — God save the South ! For the rude war is nigh. And we must win or die ; Chanting our battle-cry Freedom or Death ! THE SOUTHERN CROSS. By E. K. Blunt. Tn the name of God ! Amen ! Stand for our Southem rights ; On our side. Southern men. The God of battles fights : Fling the invaders far — Hurl back their work of woe — Thy voice is the voice of a brother, But the hands are the hands of a foe. They come with a trampling army, Invading our native sod — Stand, Southrons ! fight and conquer In the name of the mighty God 284 WAR SONGS OF 'THE CONFEDERACY They are singing our song of triumph. Which proclaimed us proud and free — While breaking away the heartstrings Of our nation's harmony. Sadly it floateth from us, Sighing o'er land and wave ; Till, mute on the lips of the poet. It sleeps in its Southern grave. Spirit and song departed ! Minstrel and minstrelsy ! We mourn ye, heavy hearted, — But we will — we will be free I They are waving our flag above us, With the despot's tyrant will ; With our blood they have stained its colors, And they call it holy still. With tearful eyes, but steady hand, We'll tear its stripes apart. And fling them, like broken fetters. That may not bind the heart. But we'll save our stars of glory. In the might of the sacred sign Of Him who has fixed forever One " Southern Cross " to shine. Stand, Southrons ! fight and conquer I Solemn, and strong, and sure I The fight shall not be longer Than God shall bid endure. By the life that but yesterday Waked with the infant's breath! By the feet which, ere morning, may Tread to the soldier's death I By the blood which cries to heaven — Crimson upon our sod ! Stand, Southrons I fight and conquer, In the name of the mighty God I A MEMORIAL OF MARYLAND VALOR and iuscrip- Coufederate States of America. 1861-1865, WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 285 THE NEW STAR. By B. M. Anderson. A NOTHER star arisen ; another flag unfurled ; Another name inscribed among the nations of the world ; Another mighty struggle 'gainst a tyrant's fell decree. And again a burdened people have uprisen, and are free. The spirit of the fathers in the children liveth yet ; Liveth still the olden blood which dimmed the foreign bayonet ; And the fathers fought for freedom, and the sons for freedom fight; Their God was with the fathers — and is still the God of right ! Behold ! the skies are darkened ! A gloomy cloud hath lowered ! Shall it break before the sun of peace, or spread in rage impowered? Shall we have the smile of friendship, or shall it be the blow? Shall it be the right hand to the friend, or the red hand to the fo^? In peacefulness we wish to live, but not in slavish fear ; In peacefulness we dare not die, dishonored on our bier. To our allies of the northern land we offer heart and hand, But if they scorn our friendship — then the banner and the brand ! Honor to the new-born nation ! and honor to the brave ! A country freed from thraldom, or a soldier's honored grave. Every step shall be contested ; every rivulet run red. And the invader, should he conquer, find the conquered in the dead. But victory shall follow where the sons of freedom go, And the signal for the onset be the death-knell of the foe ; And hallowed shall the spot be where he was so bravely met. And the star which yonder rises, rises never more to set. 286 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY GIVE BACK THY SWORD. Virginia to Winfield Scott. A VOICE is heard in Ramah ! High sounds are on the gale I Notes to wake buried patriots I Notes to strike traitors pale ! Wild notes of outraged feeling Cry aloud and spare him not ! 'Tis Virginia's strong appealing. And she calls to Winfield Scott ! Oh I chief among ten thousand 1 Thou whom I loved so well. Star that has set, as never yet Since son of morning fell I I call not in reviling, Nor to speak thee what thou art ; I leave thee to thy death-bed, And I leave thee to thy heart I But by every mortal hope, And by every mortal fear ; By all that man deems sacred. And that woman holds most dear; Yea I by thy mother's honor. And by thy father's grave. By hell beneath, and heaven above. Give back the sword I gave 1 Not since God's sword was planted To guard life's heavenly tree. Has ever blade been granted, Like that bestowed on thee I WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 287 To pierce me with the steel I gave To guard mine honor's shrine, Not since Iscariot lived and died, Was treason like to thine I Give back the sword and sever Our strong and mighty tie I We part, and part forever, To conquer or to die I In sorrow, not in anger, I speak the word, " We part I " For I leave thee to thy death-bed. And I leave thee to thy heart ! SEVENTY-SIX AND SIXTY-ONE. By John W. Overall, of Louisiana. "VT^E spirits of the glorious dead I Ye watchers in the sky I Who sought the patriot's crimson bed. With holy trust and high — Come, lend your inspiration now. Come, &te each Southern son. Who nobly fights for freemen's rights. And shouts for sixty-one. Come, teach them how, on hill, on glade, Quick leaping from your side. The lightning flash of sabres made A red and flowing tide — How well ye fought, how bravely fell, Beneath our burning sun ; And let the lyre, in strains of fire. So speak of sixty-one. 288 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY There's many a grave in all the land. And many a crucifix. Which tells how that heroic band Stood firm in seventy-six-— Ye heroes of the deathless past. Your glorious race is run. But from your dust springs freemen's trust, And blows for sixty-one. We build our altars where you lie. On many a verdant sod. With sabres pointing to the sky. And sanctified of God ; The smoke shall rise from every pile. Till freedom's cause is won. And every mouth throughout the South, Shall shout for sixty-one. FROM THE RAPIDAN— 1863. A low wind in the pines ! And a dull pain in the breast 1 And oh 1 for the sigh of hei lips and eyes — One touch of the hand I pressed I The slow, sad lowland wind. It sighs through the livelong day. While the splendid mountain breezes blow. And the autumn is burning away. Here the pines sigh ever above. And the broomstraw sighs below ; And far from the bare, bleak, wintry fields Comes the note of the drowsy crow. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 289 There the trees are crimson and gold, Like the tints of a magical dawn. And the slender form, in the dreamy days. By the slow stream rambles on. Oh, day that weighs on the heart I Oh, wind in the dreary pines 1 Does she think on me 'mid the golden hours, Past the mountain's long blue lines ? The old house, lonely and still, By the sad Shenandoah's waves. Must be touched to-day by the sunshine's gleam, As the spring flowers bloom on graves. Oh, sunshine, flitting and sad, Oh, wind, that forever sighs I The hall may be bright, but my life is dark For the sunshine of her eyes ! "IS THERE, THEN, NO HOPE FOR THE NATIONS?" Ts THERE, then, no hope for the nations ? Must the record of Time be the same? And shall History, in all her narrations. Still close each last chapter in shame ? Shall the valor which grew to be glorious. Prove the shame, as the pride of a race : And a people, for ages victorious, Through the arts of the chapman, grow base ? Greek, Hebrew, Assyrian and Roman, Each strides o'er the scene and departs f How valiant their deeds 'gainst the foeman, How wondrous their virtues and arts I 19 290 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Rude valor, at first, when beginning. The nation through blood took its name ; Theu the wisdom, which hourly winning New heights in its march, rose to Fame I How noble the tale for long ages. Blending Beauty with courage and might! What Heroes, what Poets, and Sages, Made eminent stars for each height ! While their people, with reverence ample, Brought tribute of praise to the Great, Whose wisdom and virtuous example. Made virtue the pride of the State I Ours, too, was as noble a dawning, With hopes of the Future as high ; Great men, each a star of the morning, Taught us bravely to live and to die I We fought the long fight with our foeman. And through trial — well-borne — won a name. Not less glorious than Grecian or Roman, And worthy as lasting a fame f Shut the Book I We must open another I O Southron I if taught by the Past, Beware, when thou choosest a brother. With what ally thy fortunes are cast f Beware of all foreign alliance. Of their pleadings and pleasings beware, Better meet the old snake with defiance, Than find in his charming a snare 1 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 291 HYMN TO THE NATIONAL FLAG. By Mrs. M. J. Preston. TpLOAT aloft, thou stainless banner I Azure cross and field of light ; Be thy brilliant stars the symbol Of the pure and true and right. Shelter freedom's holy cause — Liberty and sacred laws ; Guard the youngest of the nations — Keep her virgin honor bright. From Virginia's storied border, Down to Tampa's furthest shore — From the blue Atlantic's clashings To the Rio Grande's roar — Over many a crimson plain. Where our martyred ones lie slain — Fling abroad thy blessed shelter, Stream and mount and valley o'er. In thy cross of heavenly azure Has our faith its emblem high ; In thy field of white, the hallow'd Truth for which we'll dare and die ; In thy red, the patriot blood — Ah ! the consecrated flood. Lift thyself, resistless banner! Ever fill our Southern sky I Flash with living, lightning motion In the sight of all the brave ! Tell the price at which we purchased Room and right for thee to wave 892 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Freely in our God's free air. Pure and proud and stainless fair. Banner of the youngest nation — Banner we would die to save 1 Strike thou for us I King of armies I Grant us room in thy broad world I Loosen all the despot's fetters. Back be all his legions hurled I Give us peace and liberty. Let the land we love be free — Then, oh 1 bright and stainless banner I Never shall thy folds be furled I AT FORT PILLOW. By James R. Randall. ~\7^ou shudder as you think upon The carnage of the grim report. The desolation when we won The inner trenches of the fort. But there are deeds you may not know, That scourge the pulses into strife; Dark memories of deathless woe Pointing the bayonet and knife. The house is ashes where I dwelt, Beyond the mighty inland sea; The tombstones shattered where I knelt. By that old church at Pointe Coupee. The Yankee fiends that came with fiie, Camped on the consecrated sod. And trampled in the dust and mire The Holy Eucharist of God I 'STONEWALL" JACKSON MONUMENT IN THE CAPITOL SQUARE, RICHMOND, VIRGINIA From photograph raade for this work by Edyth Carter Beveridge. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 293 The spot A\here darling mother sleeps. Beneath the glimpse of yon sad moon, Is crushed, with splintered marble heaps. To stall the horse of some dragoon. God ! when I ponder that black day It makes my frantic spirit wince; I marched — with Longstreet — far away. But have beheld the ravage since. The tears are hot upon my face. When thinking what bleak fate befell The only sister of our race — A thing too horrible to tell. They say that, ere her senses fied, She rescue of her brothers cried ; Then feebly bowed her stricken head. Too pure to live thus — so she died. Two of those brothers heard no plea ; With their proud hearts forever still — John shrouded by the Tennessee, And Arthur there at Malvern Hill. But I have heard it everywhere. Vibrating like a passing knell ; 'Tis as perpetual as the air. And solemn as a funeral bell. By scorched lagoon and murky swamp My wrath was never in the lurch ; I've killed the picket in his camp. And many a pilot on his perch. 294 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY With steady rifle, sharpened brand, A week ago, upon my steed. With Forrest and his warrior band, I made the hell-hounds writhe and bleed. You should have seen our leader go Upon the battle's burning marge, Swooping like falcon, on the foe, Heading the gray line's iron charge I All outcasts from our ruined marts. We heard th' undying serpent hiss. And in the desert of our hearts The fatal spell of Nemesis. The Southern yell rang loud and high The moment that we thundered in, Smiting the demons hip and thigh, Cleaving them to the very chin. My right arm bared for fiercer play, The left one held the rein in slack ; In all the fury of the fray I sought the white man, not the black. The dabbled clots of brain and gore Across the swirling sabres ran ; To me each brutal visage bore The front of one accursed man. Throbbing along the frenzied vein, My blood seemed kindled into song — The death-dirge of the sacred slain. The slogan of immortal wrong. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 295 It glared athwart the dripping glaves, It blazed in each avenging eye^ The thought of desecrated graves, And some lone sister's desperate cry I JACKSON, THE ALEXANDRIA MARTYR. By Wm. H. Holcombe, M. D., of Virginia. When Colonel Ellsworth with his forces entered the city of Alexandria, Virginia, there was a hotel known as the Marshall House, kept by one Jackson. Over the house a Confederate flag was floating. Colonel Ells worth ordered it down, but Jackson refused to remove it. Colonel Ells worth then proceeded to take it down himself, when Jackson shot him dead. Of course, he in turn was immediately shot to death by Ellsworth's Boldiers. "T^AS not the private insult galled him most, But public outrage of his country's flag, To which his patriotic heart had pledged Its faith as to a bride. The bold, proud chief, Th' avenging host, and the swift-coming death Appalled him not. Nor life with all its charms, Nor home, nor wife, nor children could weigh down The fierce, heroic instincts to destroy The insolent invader. Ellsworth fell And Jackson perished 'mid the pack of wolves, Befriended only by his own great heart And God approving. More than Roman soul ! O type of our impetuous chivalry I v May this young nation ever boast her sons A vast and inconceivable multitude, Standing like thee in her extremest van. Self-poised and ready, in defence of rights Or in revenge of wrongs, to dare and die ! 296 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY SONG OF OUR GLORIOUS SOUTHLAND. By Mrs. Mary Ware. /^H, sing of our glorious Southland, ^""^ The pride of the golden sun ! 'Tis the fairest land of flowers The eye e'er looked upon. Sing of her orange and myrtle That glitter like gems above ; Sing of her dark-eyed maidens As fair as a dream of love. Sing of her flowing rivers — How musical their sound I Sing of her daik green forests, The Indian hunting-ground. Sing of the noble nation Fierce struggling to be free; Sing of the brave who barter Their lives for liberty ! Weep for the maid and matron Who mourn their loved ones slain ; Sigh for the light departed, Never to shine again : 'Tis the voice of Rachel weeping, That never will comfort know ; 'Tis the wail of desolation. The breaking of hearts in woe 1 Ab ! the blood of Abel crieth For vengeance from the sod 1 'Tis a brother's hand that's lifted In the face of an angry God I WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 297 Oh I brother of the Northland, We plead from our father's grave ; We strike for our homes and altars. He fought to build and save 1 A smouldering fire is burning, The Southern heart is steeled — Perhaps 'twill break in dying. But never will it yield. HOSPITAL DUTIES. T^OLD away all your bright-tinted dresses, Tum the key on your jewels to-day, And the wealth of your tendril-like tresses Braid back in a serious way ; No more delicate gloves, no more laces. No more trifling in boudoir or bower. But come with your souls in your faces To meet the stern wants of the hour. Look around ! By the torchlight unsteady The dead and the dying seem one — What I trembling and paling already. Before your dear mission's begun ? These wounds are more precious than ghastly- Time presses her lips to each scar, While she chants of that glory which vastly Transcends all the horrors of war. Pause here by this bedside. How mellow The light showers down on that brow ! Such a brave, brawny visage, poor fellow I Some homestead is missing him now. 298 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Some wife shades her eyes in the clearing, Some mother sits moaning distressed. While the loved one lies faint but unfearing. With the enemy's ball in his breast. Here's another — a lad — a mere stripling, Picked up in the field almost dead, With the blood through his sunny hair rippling From the horrible gash in the head. They say he was first in the action ; Gay-hearted, quick-headed, and witty : He fought till he dropped with exhaustion At the gates of our fair Southern city. Fought and fell 'neath the guns of that city, With a spirit transcending his years — Lift him up in your large-hearted pity, And wet his pale lips with your tears. Touch him gently ; most sacred the duty Of dressing that poor shattered hand 1 God spare him to rise in his beauty, And battle once more for his land ! Pass on I it is useless to linger While others are calling your care ; There is need for your delicate finger. For your womanly sympathy there. There are sick ones athirst for caressing, There are dying ones raving at home. There are wounds to be bound with a blessing, And shrouds to make ready for some. They have gathered about you the harvest Of death in its ghastliest view ; The nearest as well as the furthest Is there with the traitor and true. WAR SONCS OF THE CONFEDERACY 299 And crowned with your beautiful patience, Made sunny with love at the heart, You must balsam the wounds of the nations, Nor falter nor shrink from your part. And the lips of the mother will bless you, And angels, sweet-visaged and pale, And the little ones run to caress you, And the wives and the sisters cry hail ! But e'en if you drop down unheeded, "NATiat matter? God's ways are the best ; You have poured out your life where 'twas needed, And He will take care of the rest. THEY CRY, " PEACE, PEACE," WHEN THERE IS NO PEACE. ^ I ^HEY are ringing peace on my heavy ear — No peace to my heavy heart I They are ringing peace, I hear ! I hear ! 0 God ! how my hopes depart I They are ringing peace from the mountain side ; With a hollow voice it comes — They are ringing peace o'er the foaming tide And its echoes fill our homes. They are ringing peace, and the spring-time blooms Like a garden fresh and fair ; But our martyrs sleep in their silent tombs — Do they hear that sound — do they hear ? They are ringing peace, and the battle cry And the bayonet's work are done, And the armor bright they are laying by. From the brave sire to the son. 300 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY And the musket's clang, and the soldier's drill, And the tattoo's nightly sound ; We shall hear no more with a joyous thrill. Peace ! Peace ! they are ringing round ! There are women, still as the stifled air On the burning desert's track, Not a cry of joy, not a welcome cheer — And the brave ones coming back 1 There are fair young heads in their morning pride. Like the lilies pale they bow ; Just a memory left to the soldier's bride — Ah, God ! sustain her now ! There are martial steps that we may not hear I There are forms we may not see I Death's muster roll they have answered clear. They are free I thank God, they are free ! Not a fetter fast, nor a prisoner's chain For the noble army gone — No conqueror comes o'er the heavenly plain — Peace ! Peace ! to the dead alone ! They are ringing peace, but strangers tread O'er the land where our fatbei-s trod. And our birthright joys, like a dream have fled. And Thou! where art Thou, O God? They are ringing peace I not here, not here, Where the victor's mark is set. Roll back to the North its mocking cheer — No peace to the Southland yet ! GENERAL BRAXTON BHAGG GENERAL WADE HAMPTON WAR SOA^GS OF THE CONFEDERACY 301 We may sheathe the sword, and the rifle-gun We may hang on the cottage ^\•all, And the bayonet brave, sharp duty done. From the soldier's arm it may fall. But peace I No peace I till the same good sword. Drawn out from its scabbard be, And the wide world list to my country's word, And the South I Oh, the South, be free ! BALLAD—" WHAT HAVE YE THOUGHT ? " ^^^T^HAT ! have ye thought to pluck Victory from chance and luck. Triumph from clamorous shout, without a will ? Without the heart to brave All peril to the grave. And battle on its brink, unshrinking still ? And did ye dream success Would still unvarying bless Your arms, nor meet reverse in some dread fleld? And shall an adverse hour Make ye mistrust the power Of virtue, in your souls, to make your enemy yield ? Oh I from this dreary sleep Arise, and upward leap. Nor let your hearts grow palsied with dismay I Fling out your banner high, Still challenging the sky, While thousand strong arms bear it on its way. 302 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Forth, as a sacred band, Sworn saviours of the land. Chosen by God, the champions of the right I And never doubt that He Wlio made will keep you free, If thus your souls resolve to triumph in the fight I The felon foe, no more Trampling the sacred shore. Shall leave defiling footprint on the sod ; Where, desperate in the strife, Reckless of wounds and life, Ye brave your myriad foes beneath the eye of God ! On brothers, comrades, men, Rush to the field again ; Home, peace, love, safety — freedom — are the price ! Strike ! while the arm can bear Weapon — and do not spare — Ye break a felon bond in every foe that dies I N' JACKSON. ^OT midst the lightning of the stormy fight. Nor in the rush upon the vandal foe. Did kingly death, with his resistless might, Lay the great leader low. His warrior soul its earthly shackles broke, In the full sunshine of a peaceful town : When all the storm was hushed, the trusty oak That propped our cause went down. Though his alone the blood that fiocks the ground, Recalling all his grand heroic deeds Freedom herself is writhing with the wound, And all the country bleeds. WAR SONGS OF 'THE CONFEDERACY 303 He -entered not the nation's promised land. At the rod belching of the cannon's mouth : But broke the house of bondage with his hand — The Moses of the South I O gracious God 1 not gainless in the loss ; A glorious sunbeam gilds the sternest frown ; And while his country staggers with the cross. He rise with the crown I MISSING. Tn the cool, sweet hush of a wooded nook. Where the May buds sprinkle the green old mound. And the winds and the birds and the limpid brook. Murmur their dreams with a drowsy sound ; Who lies so still in the plushy moss. With his pale cheek pressed on a breezy pillow. Couched where the light and the shadows cross Through the flickering fringe of the willow ? Who lies, alas ! So still, so chill, in the whispering grass? A soldier clad in the Zouave dress, A bright-haired man, with his lips apart. One hand thrown up o'er his frank, dead face. And the other clutching his pulseless heart. Lies here in the shadows, cool and dim, His musket swept by a trailing bough. With a careless grace in each quiet limb. And a wound on his manly brow A wound, alas ! Whenee the warm blood drips on the quiet grass. 304 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY The violets peer from their dusky beds. With a tearful dew in their great, pure eyes ; The lilies quiver their shining heads. Their pale lips full of a sad surprise ; And the lizard darts through the glistening fern — And the squirrel rustles the branches hoary ; Strange birds fly out, with a cry, to bathe Their wings in the sunset glory ; While the shadows pass O'er the quiet face and the dewy grass. God pity the bride who waits at home. With her lily cheeks and her violet eyes. Dreaming the sweet old dreams of love, While her lover is walking in Paradise ; God strengthen her heart as the days go by, And the long, drear nights of her vigil follow. Nor bird, nor moon, nor whispering wind, May breathe the tale of the hollow ; Alas I alas ! The secret is safe with the woodland grass. SONNET. ^iSE from your gory ashes stern and pale. Ye martyred thousands 1 and with dreadful ire, A voice of doom, a front of gloomy fire. Rebuke those faithless souls, whose querulous wail Disturbs your sacred sloep !— " The withering hail Of battle, hunger, pestilence, despair. Whatever of mortal anguish man may bear, We bore unmurmuring ! strengthened by the mail Of a most holy purpose ! then we died 1 Vex not our rest by cries of selfish pain. But to the noblest measure of your powers Endure the appointed trial ! Griefe defied. But launch their threatening thunderbolts in vain. And angry storms pass by in gentlest showers 1" WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 305 ODE— "SOULS OF HEROES." OouLS of heroes, ascended from fields ve have won. Still smile on the conflict so greatly begun ; Bring succor to comrade, to brother, to son Now breasting the battle in ranks of the brave ; And the dastard that loiters, the conflict to shun, Pursue him with scorn to the grave I Pursue him with furies that goad to despair. Hunt him out, where he crouches in crevice and lair, Drive him forth, while the wife of his bosom cries — " There Goes the coward that skulks, though his sister and wife Tremble nightly in sleep, overshadowed by fear Of a sacrifice dearer than life." There are thousands that loiter, of historied claim. Who boast of the heritage shrined in each name — Sting their souls to the quick, till they shrink from the shame Which dishonors the names and the past of their boast ; Even now they may win the best guerdon of fame. And retrieve the bright honors they've lost I Even now, while their country is torn in the toils. While the wild boar is raging to raven the spoils. While the boa is spreading around us the coils Which would strangle the freedom our ancestors gave ; But each soul must be quickened until it o'er-boils. Every muscle be corded to save ! Still the cause is the same which, in long ages gone. Roused up your great sires, so gallantly known. When, braving the tyrant, the sceptre and throne. They rushed to the conflict, despising the odds ; Armed with bow, spear, and scythe, and with sling and with stone, For their homes and their family goods I 30 306 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Shall we be less worthy the sacriflce grand, The heritage noble we took at their hand, The peace and the comfort, the fruits of the land ; And, sunk in a torpor as hopeless as base. Recoil from the shock of the Sodomite band. That would ruin the realm and the race ? Souls of heroes, ascended from flelds ye have won. Your toils are not closed in the deeds ye have done ; Touch the souls of each laggard and profligate son, The greed and the sloth, and the cowardice shame ; Till we rise to complete the great work ye've begun. And with freedom make conquest of fame I THE OLD RIFLEMAN. By Frank Ticknor, of Georgia. "VTow bring me out my buckskin suit ! My pouch and powder, too ! We'll see if seventy-six can shoot As sixteen used to do. Old Bess ! we've kept our barrels bright I Our trigger quick and true ! As far, if not as flue a sight, As long ago we drew ! And pick me out a trusty flint I A real white and blue, Perhaps 'twill win the other tint Before the hunt is through ! WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 307 Give boys your brass percussion caps ! Old " shut-pan " suits as well ! There's something in the sparks : perhaps There's something iu the smell ! We've seen the red-coat Briton bleed I The red-skin Indian, too ! We've never thought to draw a bead On Y"ankee-doodle-doo ! But, Bessie ! bless your dear old heart I Those days are mostly done ; And now we must revive the art Of shooting on the run 1 If Doodle must be meddling, why, There's only this to do — Select the black spot in his eye. And let the daylight through I And if he doesn't like the way That Bess presents the view. He'll maybe change his mind, and stay Where the good Doodles do I We'll teach these shot-gun boys the tricks By which a war is won ; Especially how Seventy-six Took Tories on the run. 308 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY SONNET— THE SHIP OF STATE. XJere lie the peril and necessity That need a race of giants — a great realm, With not one noble leader at the helm ; And the great Ship of State still driving high, 'Midst breakers, on a lee shore — to the rocks. With ever and anon most terrible shocks — The crew aghast, and fear in every eye. Yet in the gracious Providence still nigh ; And, if our cause be just, our hearts be true. We shall save goodly ship and gallant crew, Nor suff'er shipwreck of our liberty ! It needs that as a people we arise, With solemn purpose that even fate defies, And brave all perils with unblenching eye 1 "IN HIS BLANKET ON THE GROUND." By Caroline H. Gervais, Charleston. "\^7"eary ? weary lies the soldier. In his blanket on the ground With no sweet " Good-night " to cheer him. And no tender voice's sound. Making music in the darkness. Making light his toilsome hours. Like a sunbeam in the forest, Or a tomb wrestled o'er with flowers. Thoughtful, hushed, he lies, and tearful, As his memories sadly roam To the " cozy little parlor " And the loved ones of his home ; ¦A f .5^ ^ '^B yk., ¦ ^^^^uP^S^i k ^^^H N-l_ GENERAL FITZHUGH LEE The Hero o' Two Wars. GENERAL STEPHEN D. LEE WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 309 And his waking and his dreaming Softly braid themselves in one, As the twilight is the mingling Of the starlight and the sun. And when sleep descends upon him. Still his thought within his dream Is of home, and friends, and loved ones. And his busy fancies seem To be real, as they wander To his mother's cherished form. As she gently said, in parting, " Thine in sunshine and in storm : Thine in helpless childhood's morning. And in boyhood's joyous time. Thou must leave me now — God watch thee In thy manhood's ripened prime." Or, mayhap, amid the phantoms Teeming thick within his brain. His dear father's locks, o'er-silvered. Come to greet his view again ; And he hears his trembling accents, Like a clarion ringing high, " Since not mine are youth and strength, boy, Thou must victor prove, or die." Or perchance he hears a whisper Of the faintest, faintest sigh, Something deeper than word-spoken. Something breathing of a tie Near his soul as bounding heart-blood : It is hers, that patient wife — And again that parting seemeth Like the taking leave of life : 310 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY And her last kiss he remembers. And the agonizing thrill, And the " Must you go ? " and answer, " I but know my Country's will." Or the little children gather, Half in wonder, round his knees; And the faithful dog, mute, watchful. In the mystic glass he sees ; And the voice of song, and pictures. And the simplest homestead flowers, Unforgotten, crowd before him In the solemn midnight hours. Then his thoughts in Dreamland wander To a sister's sweet caress. And he feels her dear lips quiver As his own they fondly press ; And he hears her proudly saying, (Though sad tears are in her eyes), '' Brave men fall, but live in story. For the Hero never dies ! " Or, perhaps, his brown cheek flushes. And his heart beats quicker now. As he thinks of one who gave him Him, the loved one, love's sweet vow And, ah, fondly he remembers He is still her dearest care. Even in his star-watched slumber That she pleads for him in prayer. Oh, the soldier will be dreaming, Dreaming often of us all, (When the damp earth is his pillow, And the snow and cold sleet fall). WAR SONGS OF TIIE CONFEDERACY 311 Of the dear, familiar faces. Of the cozy, curtained room. Of the flitting of the shadows In the twilight's pensive gloom. Or when summer suns burn o'er him. Bringing drought and dread disease, And the throes of wasting fever Come his weary frame to seize — In the restless sleep of sickness, Doomed, perchance, to martyr death. Hear him whisper " Home " sweet cadence. With his quickened, labored breath. Then God bless him, bless the soldier. And Grod nerve him for the flght ; May He lend his arm new prowess To do battle for the right. Let him feel that while he's dreaming In his fitful slumber bound, That we're praying — God watch o'er him In his blanket on the ground. THE UNKNOWN DEAD. By Henry Timrod. ' I ^HE rain is plashing on my sill, But all the winds of heaven are still ; And so, it falls with that dull sound Which thrills us in the churchyard ground, When the first spadeful drops like lead Upon the coffin of the dead. Beyond my streaming window-pane, I cannot see the neighboring vane, Yet from its old familiar tower The bell comes, muffled, through the shower. What strange and unsuspected link 312 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Of feeling touched has made me think — While with a vacant soul and eye I watch that gray and stony sky — Of nameless graves on battle plains. Washed by a single winter's rains. Where, some beneath Virginian hills. And some by green Atlantic rills. Some by the waters of the West, A myriad unknown heroes rest. Ah ! not the chiefs who, dying, see Their flags in front of victory, Or, at their life-blood's noblest cost Pay for a battle nobly lost, Claim from their monumental beds The bitterest tears a nation sheds. Beneath yon lonely mound — the spot, By all save some fond few forgot — Lie the true martyrs of the fight, Which strikes for freedom and for right. Of them, their patriot zeal and pride. The lofty faith that with them died, No grateful page shall further tell Than that so many bravely fell ; And we can only dimly guess What worlds of all this world's distress. What utter woe, despair, and dearth. Their fate has brought to many a hearth. Just such a sky as this should weep Above them, always, where they sleep ; Yet, haply, at this very hour. Their graves are like a lover's bower; And Nature's self, with eyes unwet Oblivious of the crimson debt To which she owes her April grace. Laughs gayly o'er their burial place. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 313 ENGLAND'S NEUTRALITY. a Parliamentary Debate. By John R. Thompson, of Richmond, Virginia. A LL ye who with credulity the whispers hear of fancy. Or yet pursue with eagerness hope's wild extravagancy, Who dream that England soon will drop her long miscalled neutrality. And give us, with a hearty shake, the hand of nationality. Read, as we give, with little fault of statement or omission. The next debate in Parliament on Southern Recognition ; They're all so much alike, indeed, that one can write it oS, I see. As truly as the Times' report, without the gift of prophecy. Not yet, not yet to interfere does England see occasion. But treats our good commissioner with coolness and evasion ; Such coolness in the premises, that really 'tis refrigerant To think that two long years ago she called us a belligerent. But, further, Downing Street is dumb, the Premier deaf to reason, As deaf as is the Morning Post, both in and out of season ; The working men of Lancashire are all reduced to beggary, And yet they will not listen unto Roebuck or to Gregory. " Or any other man," to-day, who counsels interfering. While all who speak on t'other side obtain a ready hearing — As, per exemple, Mr. Bright, that pink of all propriety, That meek and mild disciple of the blessed Peace Society. " Why, let 'em fight," says Mr. Bright, " those Southerners, I hate 'em. And hope the Black Republicans will soon exterminate 'em ; If freedom can't rebellion crush, pray tell me what's the use of her?" And so he chuckles o'er the fray as gleefully as Lucifer. 314 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Enough of him — an abler man demands our close attention — ^ The Maximus Apollo of strict non-intervention — With pitiless severity, though decorous and calm his tone, Thus spake the " old man eloquent," the puissant Earl of Palmerston : " What though the land run red with blood, what though the lurid flashes Of cannon light, at dead of night, a mournful heap of ashes Where many an ancient mansion stood — what though the robber pillages The sacred home, the house of God, in twice a hundred villages. " What though a fiendish, nameless wrong, that makes revenge a duty, Is daily done" (O Lord, how long?) "to tenderness and beauty!" (And who shall tell this deed of hell, how deadlier far a curse it is Than even pulling temples down and burning universities)? " Let arts decay, let millions fall, aye, let freedom perish. With all that in the Western world men fain would love and cherish ; Let universal ruin there become a sad reality ; We cannot swerve, we must preserve our rigorous ueutralitj'," Oh, Pam ! oh, Pam ! hast ever read what's writ in holy pages, How blessed the peace-makers are, God's children of the ages? Perhaps you think the promise sweet was nothing but a platitude ; 'Tis clear that you have no concern iu that divine beatitude. But " hear ! hear ! hear I " another Peer, that mighty man of muscle. Is on his legs, what slender pegs ! "Ye noble Earl " of Russell ; Thus might he speak, did not of speech his shrewd reserve tbe folly see, And thus unfold the subtle plan of England's secret policy. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 315 " John Bright was right, yes, let 'em fight, these fools across the water, 'Tis no affair at all of ours, their carnival of slaughter ; The Christian world, indeed, may say we ought not to allow it, sirs. But still, " 'tis music in our ears, this roar of Yankee howitzers. " A word or two of sympathy, that costs us not a penny, We give the gallant Southerners, the few against the many ; We say their noble fortitude of final triumph presages, And praise in ' Blackwood's Magazine,' Jeff. Davis and his messages. " Of course, we claim the shining fame of glorious Stonewall Jackson, Who typifies the English race, a sterling Anglo-Saxon ; To bravest song his deeds belong, to Clio and Melpomene " — (And why not for a British stream demand the Chicka hominy ?) " But for the cause in which we fell we cannot lift a finger, 'Tis idle on the question any longer here to linger ; 'Tis true the South has freely bled, her sorrows are Homeric, oh ! Her case is like to his of old who journeyed unto Jericho. "The thieves have stripped and bruised, although as yet they have not bound her. We'd like to see her slay 'em all to right and left around her ; We shouldn't cry in parliament if Lee should cross the Raritan, But England never yet was known to play the Good Samaritan, " And so we pass the other side, and leave them to their glory. To give new proofs of manliness, new scenes for song and story ; These honeyed words of compliment may possibly bam boozle 'em, But ere we intervene, you know, we'll see 'em iu — Jerusalem. 316 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY " Yes, let 'em fight, till both are brought to hopeless deso lation. Till wolves troop round the cottage door in one and t'other nation, Till, worn and broken down, the South shall prove no more refractory. And rust eats up the silent looms in every Yankee factory. " Till bursts no more the cotton boll o'er fields of Carolina, And fills with snowy flosses the dusky hands of Dinah ; Till war has dealt its final blow, and Mr. Seward's knavery Has put an end in all the land to freedom and to slavery. " The grim Bastile, the rack, the wheel, without remorse of pity, May flourish with the guillotine in every Yankee city ; No matter should old Abe revive the brazen bull of Phalaris, ' Tis no concern at all of ours ' (sensation in the galleries.). " So shall our ' merry England ' thrive on trans- Atlantic troubles, While India, on her distant plains, her crop of cotton doubles ; And just so long as North or South shall show the least vitality, We cannot swerve, we must preserve our rigorous neutrality." Your speech, my lord, might well become a Saxon legislator, When the " fine old English gentlemen " lived in a state of natur', When Vikings quaffed from human skulls their fiery draughts of honey mead. Long, long before the barons bold met tyrant John at Runny- miede. But 'tis a speech so plain, my lord, that all may understand it, And so we quickly turn again to fight the Yankee bandit. Convinced that we shall fairly win at last our nationality. Without the help of Britain's arm, in spite of her neutrality. '^^^ /^€> j^^^-Alu (?.ru^A,^_ - ^^-.f-r , -" <7V,^ \ / FIRST PAGE OF THE PERMANENT CONSTITUTION OF THE CONFEDERATE STATES AS REPORTED BY THE COMMITTEE This is the handwritin.8; of General Thomn.s R. B. Cobb, who was a member of the Committee. Taken from Ihe oriRinal which is in possession of Mr. A. 1. Hull Athene, Georgia, and used by permission. ' " * WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 317 THE SEA-KINGS OF THE SOUTH. Bv Edward C. Bruce, of Winchester, Va. T^ULL many have sung of the victories our warriors have won. From Bethel, by the eastern tide, to sunny Galveston, On fair Potomac's classic shore, by sweeping Tennessee, Hill, rock, and river shall tell forever the vengeance of the free. The air still rings with the cannon-shot, with battle's breath is warm ; Still on the hills their swords have saved our legions wheel and form ; And Johnston, Beauregard, and Lee, with all their gallant train. Wait yet at their head, in silence dread, the hour to charge again. But a ruggeder field than the mountain-side — a broader field than the plain. Is spread for the fight in the stormy wave and the globe- embracing main. 'Tis there the keel of the goodly ship must trace the fate of the land, For the name ye write in the sea-foam white shall first and longest stand. For centuries on centuries, since first the hallowed tree Was launched by the lone mariner on some primeval sea, No stouter stuff than the heart of oak, or tough elastic pine. Had floated beyond the shallow shoal to pass the burning Line. The Naiad and the Dryad met in billow and in spar ; The forest fought at Salamis, the grove at Trafalgar. Old Tubalcain had sweated amain to forge the brand and ball ; But failed to frame the mighty hull that held enfortressed all. 318 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Six thousand years had waited for our gallant tars to show That iron was to ride the wave and timber sink below. The waters bland that welcomed first the white man to our shore, Columbus, of an iron world, the brave Buchanan bore. Not gun for gun, but thirty to one, the odds he had to meet ! One craft, untried of wind or tide, to beard a haughty fleet ! Above her shattered relics now the billow break and pour ; But the glory of that wondrous day shall be hers fore ever more. See yonder speck on the mist afar, as dim as in a dream I Anear it speeds, there are masts like reeds and a tossing plume of steam ! Fleet, fierce, and gaunt, with bows aslant, she dashes proudly on, Whence and whither, her prey to gather, the foe shall learn anon. Oh, broad and green is her hunting-park, and plentiful the game ! From the restless bay of old Biscay to the Carib' sea she came. The catchers of the whale she caught ; swift Ariel OA^erhauled ; And made Hatteras know the hardest blow that ever a tar appalled. She bears the name of a noble State, and sooth she bears it well. To us she hath made it a word of pride, to the Northern ear a knell. To the Puritan in the busy mart, the Puritan on his deck, With "Alabama " visions start of ruin, woe, and wreck. WAR SONl.S OF THE CONFEDERACY 319 In vain his lubberly squadrons round her magic pathway swoop — Admiral, captain, commodore, iu gunboat, frigate, sloop. Save to snatch a prize, or a foe chastise, as their feeble art she foils. She will scorn a point from her course to veer, to baffle all their toils. And bravely doth her sister-ship begin her young career. Already hath her gentle name become a name of fear ; The name that breathes of the orange-bloom, of soft lagoons that roll Round the home of the Roman of the West- -the unconquered Seminole. Like the albatross and the tropic-bird, forever on the wing, For them nor night nor breaking morn may peace nor shelter bring. All dripping from the weary cruise or shattered from the fight, No dear home-haven opes to them its arms of welcome bright. Then side by side, in our love and pride, be our men of the land and sea; The fewer these, the sterner task, the greater their guerdon be ! The fairest wreaths of amaranth the fairest hands shall twine For ithe brows of our preux chevaliers, the Bayards of the brine ! The " stars and bars " of our ulurdy tars as gallantly shall wave As long shall live in the storied page, or the spirit-stirring stave. As hath the red cross of St. George or the raven-flag of Thor, Or flag of the sea, whate'er it be, that ever unfurled to war. 320 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Then flout full high to their parent sky those circled stars of ours. Where'er the dark-hulled foeman floats, where'er his emblem towers ! Speak for the right, for the truth and light, from the gun's unmuzzled mouth. And the fame of the Dane revive again, ye Vikings of the South! CLOSE THE RANKS. By John L. O'Sullivan. 'npHE fell invader is before ! Close the ranks ! Close up the ranks I We'll hunt his legions from our shore. Close the ranks I Close up the ranks f Our wives, our children are behind. Our mothers, sisters, dear and kind. Their voices reach us on the wind. Close the ranks ! Close up the ranks I Are we to bend to slavish yoke ? Close the ranks ! Close up the ranks ! We'll bend when bends our Southern oak. Close the ranks ! Close up the ranks ! On with the line of serried steel. We all can die, we none can kneel To crouch beneath the Northern heel. Close the ranks 1 Close up the ranks I We kneel to God, and God alone. Close the ranks ! Close up the ranks 1 One heart in all — all hearts as one. Close the ranks I Close up the ranks I For home, for country, truth and right, We stand or fall in freedom's fight : In such a cause the right is might. Close the ranks 1 Close up the ranks 1 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 321 We're here from every Southern home. Close the ranks ! Close up the ranks I Fond, weeping voices bade us come. Close the ranks I Close up the ranks I The husband, brother, boy, and sire, All burning with one holy fire — Our country's love our only hire. Close the ranks ! Close up the ranks t We cannot fail, we will not yield ! Close the ranks I Close up the ranks ! Our bosoms are our country's shield. Close the ranks ! Close up the ranks ! By Washington's immortal name. By Stonewall Jackson's kindred fame, Their souls, their deeds, their cause the same. Close the ranks I Close up the ranks ! By all we hope, by all we love. Close the ranks ! Close up the ranks I By home on earth, by heaven above, Close the ranks ! Close up the ranks I By all the tears, and heart's blood shed. By all our hosts of martyred dead. We'll conquer, or we'll share their bed. Close the ranks ! Close up the ranks I The front may fall, the rear succeed. Close the ranks ! Close up the ranks I We smile in triumph as we bleed. Close the ranks ! Close up the ranks I Our Southern Cross above us waves. Long shall it bless the sacred graves. Of those who died, but were not slaves. Close the ranks 1 Close up the ranks t 21 322 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY THE EETURN. npHREB years ! I wonder if she'll know me ? I limp a little, and I left one arm At Petersburg ; and I am grown as brown As the plump chestnuts on my little farm : And I'm as shaggy as the chestnut burrs — But ripe and sweet within, and wholly hers. The darling ! how I long to see her ! My heart outruns this feeble soldier pace. For I remember, after I had left, A little Charlie came to take my place. Ah I how the laughing, three-year-old, brown eyes — His mother's eyes — will stare with pleased surprise ! Surely, they will be at the corner watching ! I sent them word that I should come to-night : The birds all know it, for they crowd around, Twittering their welcome with a wild delight ; And that old robin, with a halting wing — I saved her life, three years ago last spring. Three years ! perhaps I am but dreaming I For, like the pilgrim of the long ago, I've tugged, a weary burden at my back. Through summer's heat and winter's blinding snow ; Till now, I reach my home, my darling's breast. There I can roll my burden off', and rest. ***** When morning came, the early rising sun Laid his light fingers on a soldier sleeping — Where a soft covering of bright green grass Over two mounds was lightly creeping ; But waked him not : his was the rest eternal. Where the brown eyes reflected love supernal. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 323 OUR CHRISTMAS HYMN. By John Diiksox Bruns, M. D., of Charleston, S. C. 4 4 /~^ ooD-wiLL and peace ! peace and good- will ! " The burden of the Advent song. What time the love-charmed waves grew still To hearken to the shining throng ; The wondering shepherds heard the strain Who watched by night the slumbering fleece. The deep skies echoed the refrain, " Peace and good-will, good-will and peace I " And wise men hailed the promised sign. And brought their birth-gifts from the East, Dear to that Mother as the wine That hallowed Cana's bridal feast ; But what to these are myrrh or gold, And what Arabia's costliest gem. Whose eyes the Child divine behold. The blessed Babe of Bethlehem. " Peace and good-will, good-will and peace ! " They sing, the bright ones overhead ; And scarce the jubilant anthems cease Ere Judah wails her first-bom dead ; And Rama's wild, despairing cry Fills with great dread the shuddering coast, And Rachel hath but one reply, "Bring back, bring back my loved and lost." So, down two thousand years of doom That cry is borne on wailing winds. But never star breaks through the gloom No cradled peace the watcher finds ; 324 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY And still the Herodian steel is driven. And breaking hearts make ceaseless moan. And still the mute appeal to Heaven Man answers back with groan for groan. How shall we keep our Christmas tide ? With that dread past, its wounds agape, Forever walking by our side, A fearful shade, an awful shape ; Can any promise of the spring Make green the faded autumn leaf? Or who shall say that time will bring Fair fruit to him who sows but grief? Wild bells ! that shake the midnight air With those dear tones that custom loves. You wake no sounds of laughter here. Nor mirth in all our silent groves ; On one broad waste, by hill or flood, Of ravaged lands your music falls. And where the happy homestead stood The stars look down on roofless halls. At every board a vacant chair Fills with quick tears some tender eye, And at our maddest sports appear Those well-loved forms that will not die. We lift the glass, our hand is stayed — We jest, a spectre rises up — And weeping, though no word is said. We kiss and pass the silent cup. And pledge the gallant friend who keeps His Christmas-eve on Malvern's height. And him, our fair-haired boy, who sleeps Beneath Virginian snows to-night ; .»l,?'^».. .'^^ '-¦» ; W'0. WINNIE DAVIS MONUMENT IN "HOLLVWOOD," RICHMOND, VIRGINIA Erected by the "Daughters of the Confederacy." From photograph made for this work by Edyth Carter Beveridge. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 325 While, by the fire, she, musing, broods On all that was and might have been, If Shiloh's dank and oozing woods Had never drunk that crimson stain. O happy Y^ules of buried years 1 Could ye but come in wonted guise, Sweet as love's earliest kiss appears. When looking back through wistful eyes. Would seem those chimes whose voices tell His birth-night with melodious burst, Who, sitting by Samaria's well, Quenched the lorn widow's life-long thirst. Ah I yet I trust that all who weep, Somewhere, at last, will surely find His rest, if through dark ways they keep The child-like faith, the prayerful mind : And some far Christmas morn shall bring From human ills a sweet release To loving hearts, while angels sing " Peace and good-will, good-will and peace 1 " CHRISTMAS. By Hbnry Timrod, of South Carolina. TJow grace this hallowed day ? Shall happy bells, from yonder ancient spire. Send their glad greetings to each Christmas fire Round which the children play ? Alas ! for mainy a moon. That tongueless tower hat cleaved the Sabbath air, Mute as an obelisk of ice aglare Beneath an Arctic noon. 32a WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Shame to the foes that drown Our psalms of worship with their impious drum, The sweetest chimes in all the land lie dumb In some far rustic town. There, let us think, they keep. Of the dead Yules which here beside the sea They've ushered in with old-world English glee. Some echoes in their sleep. How shall we grace the day ? With feast and song, and dance, and antique sports, And shout of happy children in the courts. And tales of ghost and fay ? Is there indeed a door Where the old pastimes, with their lawful noise, And all the merry wound of Christmas joys. Could enter as of yore. Would not some pallid face Look in upon the banquet, calling up Dread shapes of battle in the wassail cup, And trouble all the place ? How could we bear the mirth, While some loved reveller of a year ago Keeps his mute Christmas now beneath the snow, In cold Virginian earth ? How shall we grace the day ? Ah I let the thought that on this holy morn The Prince of Peace — the Prince of Peace was bom, Employ us, while we pray ! Pray for the peace which long Hath left this tortured land, and haply now Holds its white court on some far mountain's brow, There hardly safe from wrong. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 327 Let every sacred fane Call its sad votaries to the shrine of God, And, with the cloister and the tented sod. Join in one solemn strain ! With pomp of Roman form. With the grave ritual brought from England's shore. And with the simple faith which asks no more Than that the heart be warm. He, who till time shall cease. Shall watch that earth, where once, not all in vain. He died to give us peace, will not disdain A prayer whose theme is — peace. Perhaps, ere yet the spring Hath died into the summer, over all The land, the peace of His vast love shall fall Like some protecting wing. Oh, ponder what it means ! Oh, tum the rapturous thought in every way ! Oh, give the vision and the fancy play. And shape the coming scenes I Peace in the quiet dales, Made rankly fertile by the blood of men ; Peace in the woodland, and the lonely glen. Peace in the peopled vales ! Peace in the crowded town, Peace in a thousand fields of waving grain, Peace in the highway and the fiowery lane. Peace on the wind-swept down ! Peace on the furthest seas, Peace in our sheltered bays and ample streams. Peace wheresoe'er our starry garland gleams, And peace in every breeze I 328 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Peace on the whirring marts, Peace where the scholar thinks, the hunter roams, Peace, God of Peace I peace, peace in all our homes, And peace in all our hearts ! CHARLESTON. By Miss E. B. Cheeseborough. "Droudly she stands by ^he crystal sea, With the fires of hate around her. But a cordon of love as strong as fate, With adamant links surround her. Let them hurl their bolts through the azure sky. And death-bearing missiles send her. She finds in our God a mighty shield. And in Heaven a sure defender. Her past is a page of glory bright, Her present a blaze of splendor. You may turn o'er the leaves of the jewell'd 4ome, You'll not find the word surrender ; For sooner than lay down her trusty arms. She'd build her own funeral pyre. And the flames that give her a martyr's fate Will kindle her glory higher. How the demons glare as they see her stand In majestic pride serenely. And gnash with the impotent rage of hate, Creeping up slowly, meanly ; While she cries, " Come forth from your covered dens. All your hireling legions send me, I'll bare my breast to a million swords. Whilst God and my sons defend me." THE WHITE HOUSE OF THE CONFEDERACY, RICHMOND, VIRGINIA President Jefferson Davis lived in this imposing building during the war. The large grounds attached to the bQUse were beautifully laid out and adorned with statuary, flowers and fountains. (See dfiscriptiou elsewhere.) WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Oh, brave old town, o'er thy sacred form Whilst the fiery rain is sweeping, May He whose love is an armor strong Embrace thee in tender keeping ; And when the red war-cloud has rolled away. Anoint thee with holy chrism, And sanctified, chastened, regenerate, true. Thou surviv'st this fierce baptism. GATHERING SONG. AiK — " Bonnie Blue Flag." By Annie Chambers Ketchum. r^OME, brothers ! rally for the right ! The bravest of the brave Sends forth her ringing battle-cry Beside the Atlantic wave I She leads the way in honor's path ! Come, brothers, near and far, Come, rally 'round the Bonnie Blue Flag That bears a single star ! We've borne the Yankee trickery, The Yankee gibe and sneer. Till Yankee insolence and pride Know neither shame nor fear ; But ready now with shot and steel Their brazen front to mar. We hoist aloft the Bonnie Blue Flag That bears a single star! Now Georgia marches to the front, And close beside her come Her sisters by the Mexique Sea, With pealing trump and drum I 330 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Till, answering back from hill and glen The rallying cry afar, A Nation hoists the Bonnie Blue Flag That bears a single star ! By every stone in Charleston Bay, By each beleaguered town, We swear to rest not, night nor day. But hunt the tyrants down I Till, bathed in valor's holy blood The gazing world afar Shall greet with shouts the Bonnie Blue Flag That bears the cross and star I THE BAND IN THE PINES. (Heard after Pelham Died.) By John Esten Cooke. /^H, band in the pine- wood, cease ! ^"^ Cease with your splendid call ; The living are brave and noble. But the dead were bravest of all ! They throng to the martial summons. To the loud, triumphant strain ; And the dear bright eyes of long dead friends Come to the heart again I They come with the ringing bugle. And the deep drum's mellow roar ; Till the soul is faint with longing For the hands we clasp no more ! Oh, band in the pine-wood cease ! Or the heart will melt in tears, For the gallant eyes and the smiling lips, And the voices of old years 1 WAR SOA^GS OF THE CONFEDERACY 331 CAPTAIN MAFFIT'S BALLAD OF THE SEA. 'T^HOUGH winds are high and skies are dark, And the stai-s scarce show us a meteor spark ; Y"et buoyantly bounds our gallant barque, Through billows that flash in a sea of blue ; We are coursing free, like the Viking shark, And our prey, like him, pursue ! At each plunge of our prow we bare the graves. Where, heedless of roar among winds and waves, The dead have slept in their ocean caves, Never once dreaming — as if no more They hear, though the Storm-God ramps and raves From the deeps to the rock-bound shore. Brave sailors were they in the ancient times, Heroes or pirates — men of all climes. That had never an ear for the Sabbath chimes. Never once called on the priest to be shriven ; They died with the courage that still sublimes. And, haply, may fit for Heaven. Never once asking the when or why, But ready, all hours, to battle and die. They went into fight with a terrible cry. Counting no odds, and, victors or slain. Meeting fortune or fate with an equal eye, Defiant of death and pain. Dread are the tales of the wondrous deep, And well do the billows their secrets keep, And sound should those savage old sailors sleep. If sleep they may after such a life ; Where every dark passion, alert and aleap, Made slumber itself a strife- 332 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY What voices of horror, through storm and surge. Sang in the perishing ear its dirge. As, raging and reading, o'er Hell's black verge, Each howling soul sank to its doom ; And what thunder-tones from the deeps emerge, As yawns for its prey the tomb I We plough the same seas which the rovers trod, But with better faith in the saving God, And bear aloft and carry abroad The starry cross, our sacred sign. Which, never yet sullied by crime or fraud, Makes light o'er the midnight brine. And we rove not now on a lawless quest, With passions foul in the hero's breast. Moved by no greed at the fiend's behest, Gloating in lust o'er a bloody prey ; But from tyrant robber the spoil to wrest, And tear down his despot sway ! 'Gainst the spawn of Europe, and all the lands, British and German — Norway's sands, Dutchland and Irish — the hireling bands Bought for butchery — recking no rede. But, flocking like vultures, with felon hands, To fatten the rage of greed. With scath they traverse both land and sea. And with sacred wrath we must make them flee ; Making the path of the nations free. And planting peace in the heart of strife ; In the star of the cross, our liberty Brings light to the world, and life I WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 833 Let Christendom cower 'neath Stripes and Stars Cloaking her shame under legal bars, Not too moral for traffic, but shirking wars. While the Southern cross, floating topmast high, Though torn, perchance, by a thousand scars, Shall light up the midnight sky I THE PRIDE OF BATTERY B. Q^ouTH Mountain towering on our right, Far off the river lay. And over on the wooded height We held their lines at bay. At last the muttering guns were still, The day died slow and wan ; At last the gunners' pipes did fill. The sergeant's yams began. When, as the wind a moment blew Aside the fragrant flood Our brierwoods raised, within our view A little maiden stood. A tiny tot of six or seven. From fireside fresh she seemed (Of such a little one in heaven One soldier often dreamed). And as we stared, her little hand Went to her curly head In grave salute. " And who are you? " At length the sergeant said. 334 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY " And where's your home ? " He growled again, She lisped out, " Who is me ? Why, don't you know ? I'm little Jane, The pride of Battery B. " My home ? Why, that was burned away, And Pa and Ma are dead. And so I ride the guns all day, Along with Sergeant Ned. " And I've a drum that's not a toy, A cap with feathers, too. And I march beside the drummer boy On Sundays at review. " But now, our 'bacca's all give out. The men can't have their smoke. And so they're cross. Why, even Ned Won't play with me and joke I " And the big colonel said to-day — I hate to hear him swear — He'd give a leg for a good pipe Like the Yank had over there. " And so I thought, when beat the drum, And the big guns were still, I'd creep beneath the tent and come Down here across the hill, " And beg, good Master Yankee men, You give me some Lone Jack, Please do ; when we get some again I'll surely bring it back. " Indeed I I will, for Ned, says he. If I do what I say I'll be a general yet, maybe, And ride a prancing bay.' WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 336 We brimmed her tiny apron o'er; You should have heard her laugh And each man from his scanty store Shook out a generous half ! To kiss the little mouth, stooped down A score of grimy men. Until the sergeant's husky voice Said, "'Tention, squad I " and theni We gave her escort, till good-night The pretty waif we bid. And watched her toddle out ot sight Or else 'twas tears that hid Her tiny form — nor tumed about A man, not spoke a word. Till after awhile a far, hoarse shout Upon the wind we heard. We sent it back, then cast sad eyes Upon the scene around ; A baby's hand had touched the ties That brothers once had bound. That's all — save when the dawn awoke Again the work of he!!, And through the sullen clouds of snioke The screaming missiles fell. Our general often rubbed his glass And marveled much to see Not a single shell that whole day fell In the camp of Battery B. S36 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY THE DEAD MAN THAT LAY AT MY DOOR. BY A. L. Moore. In June, 1863, a Kentucky brigade was encamped at Jackson, Miss. While there the writer of the following lines was confined with fever in what was formerly the Dixon House, then temporarily converted into a hospital under the charge of the Sisters of Mercy. The place being desti tute of the necessary equipments, those who died over night were left in the hallway to await the morning for burial. A T last through the casement is streaming The soft mellow light of the dawn. And night, with its visions and dreaming, Thank Heaven 1 forever is flown. Ah I fearful the night was to me As, noiseless, I crept o'er the floor. With my eyes closed fast, lest I see The dead man that lay at my door. The wind o'er the chimney top sighing. Wailed fltfuUy out on the night, Like the wail of some lost spirit flying Amid the dread regions of fright. It seemed that all nature, in sorrow, Did the fate of my comrade deplore. And with bowlings of pity awaited the morrow. For the dead man that lay at my door. The lamp on the mantel was burning. And fitfully lighted the room ; The shadows were dancing and turning Like spectres that peopled the gloom. In vain did I strive to forget me In events that had passed long before. But the demon of dread would not let me — The dead man that lay at my door. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 337 The rats, in the wainscot at work. Their stores were moving about. Whose rattling noise seemed the knock Of some wandering spirit without. It was in vain I strove to withstand The dread impression it bore — That it came from the cold, withered hand Of the dead man that lay at my door. Naught but the deep breathing around Betrayed that the living was near, And they in their slumbers profound. Like the dead lay quietly there. 'Twas fruitless to try to awake them — Their names did I call o'er and o'er : As well might I strive to awaken The dead man that lay at my door. I can bear it no longer ! To see This sentinel grim at my door, A feeling too potent for me To withstand led me out on the floor. And there, on his lone, little bed. So still, so calm and so hoar. Lay the stark, frozen form of the dead — This dead man that lay at my door. A hand on my shoulder was laid, A voice in my ear, low and kind. In tones of sweet sympathy said : " Come, get thee to bed, my poor friend I pointed my finger, and she. The direction her eyes glancing o'er. Started and screamed, there to see This dead man that lay at my door. 22 338 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY On my couch again am I lain. And in whispers they bade me forget The visions so freighted with pain, That my mind in its weakness beset. But their voices were husky and drear. And wild was the look that they wore ; They, too, felt a dread and a fear ; Of the dead man that lay at my door. But the sun in my window shines warm. And with night have my tears passed away. And broken's the spell and alarm. For none fear the dead during day. I have heard them ! They've nailed down the lid. And slowly and sadly they bore Away — off! forever away — The dead man that lay at my door. I MOONSTRUCK. By Morton Bryan Wharton, D. D. looked and the stars like diamonds shone, Till the moon's pale mantle was over them thrown, And she then appeared as the queen of the night, Though every one knew that she borrowed her light. And thus in the lower human sphere, I have seen great galaxies disappear, The geniuses of the land decline, And fools with reflected glory shine. The Senate was once a shaft of light And it gilded the land with effulgence bright. But its Websters, Clays, Calhouns are gone, And political hucksters mount the throne. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 339 The Church once gleamed a luminous band. Obedient all, to the Lord's command, But the good and pure to the rear repair, And the vile her holy vestments wear. The Pulpit once o'er the nations flamed. And God's pure gospel alone proclaimed. But the clown and jester entered in. And it lost its power o'er the world of sin. Society, too, was refined and pure. And woman her modest garments wore. But cards, and wine, and dances gay. Have banished the light of home away. The nation itself begins to fail, The stars on its banner are dead and pale. The dream of the fathers has faded soon. And all for the light of the glittering moon I O what is this moon that with baleful light Obscureth the great and pure from sight. That draweth the tides of life awry, And crazeth the souls that are struck thereby ? The answer from out the sky is rolled In thunder tones — " it is gold, gold, gold I " A deceptive orb, and of sordid worth. But the stars all fade when it blazes forth I O moon, withdraw thy arrogant face, O stars, come forth from your hiding place, Shine on till the glorious god of day. Shall banish the mists of the land away 1 840 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY THE RIGHT ABOVE THE WRONG. By John W. Overall. Tn other days our fathers' love was loyal, full, and free, For those they left behind them in the Island of the Sea ; They fought the battles of King George, and toasted him in song, For then the Right kept proudly down the tyranny of the Wrong. But when the King's weak, willing slaves laid tax upon the tea. The Western men rose up and braved the Island of the Sea ; And swore a fearful oath to God, those men of iron might, That in the end the Wrong should die, and up should go the Right. The King sent over hireling hosts — the Briton, Hessian, Scot — And swore in turn those Western men, when captured, should be shot ; While Chatham spoke with earnest tongue against the hireling throng. And mournfully saw the Right go down, and place given to the Wrong. But God was on the righteous side, and Gideon's sword was out, With clash of steel, and rattling drum, and freeman's thunder- shout ; And crimson torrents drenched the land through that long, stormy fight. But in the end, hurrah ! the Wrong was beaten by the Right ! And when again the foeman came from out the Northern Sea, To desolate our smiling land and subjugate the free. Our fathers rushed to drive them back, with rifles keen and long, And swore a mighty oath, the Right should subjugate the Wrong. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 341 And while the world was looking on, the strife uncertain grew, But soon aloft arose our stars amid a field of blue ; For Jackson fought on red Chalmette, and won the glorious fight, And then the Wrong went down, hurrah ! and triumph crowned the Right I The day has come again, when men who love the beauteous South, To speak, if needs be, for the Right, though by the cannon's mouth ; For foes accursed of God and man, with lying speech and song. Would bind, imprison, hang the Right, and defy the Wrong. V But canting knave of pen and sword, nor sanctimonious fool. Shall never win this Southern land, to cripple, bind, and rule ; We'll muster on each bloody plain, thick as the stars of night, And, through the help of God, the Wrong shall perish by the Right. CARMEN TRIUMPHALE. By Henry Timrod. r^ o forth and bid the land rejoice, ^^ Yet not too gladly, oh my song ! Breathe softly, as if mirth would wrong The solemn rapture of thy voice. Be nothing lightly done or said This happy day ! Our joy should flow Accordant with the lofty woe That wails above the noble dead. Let him whose brow and breast were calm While yet the battle lay with God, Look down upon the crimson sod And gravely wear his mournful palm ; 342 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY And him, whose heart still weak from fear Beats all too gayly for the time, Know that intemperate glee is crime While one dead hero claims a tear. Yet go thou forth, my song I and thrill, With sober joy, the troubled days ; A nation's hymn of grateful praise May not be hushed for private ill. Our foes are fallen ! Flash, ye wires ! The mighty tidings far and nigh ! Ye cities I write them on the sky In purple and in emerald fires I They came with many a haughty boast ; Their threats were heard on every breeze ; They darkened half the neighboring seas, And swooped like vultures on the coast. False recreants on all knightly strife, Their way was wet with woman's tears ; Behind them fiamed the toil of years, And bloodshed stained the sheaves of life. They fought as tyrants fought, or slaves ; God gave the dastards to our hands ; Their bones are bleaching on the sands. Or smouldering slow in shallow graves. What though we hear about our path The heavens with howls of vengeance rent ; The venom of their hate is spent ; We need not heed their fangless wrath. Meantime the stream we strove to chain Now drinks a thousand springs, and sweeps. With broadening breast, and mightier deeps. And rushes onward to the main ; WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 343 While down the swelling current glides Our ship of state before the blast, With streamers poured from every mast, Her thunders roaring from her sides. Lord ! bid the frenzied tempest cease, Hang out thy rainbow on the sea I Laugh round her, waves I in silver glee, And speed her to the ports of peace ! ODE— "OUR CITY BY THE SEA." By W. Gilmore Simms. Charleston, South CaroUna, might well be called the Eome of the Early Confederacy, for from that little dty went forth the first influences that startled our great Government and shocked the world. She has ever been noted for her splendid harbor, and is the Queen City of the Palmetto State. /^UR city by the sea. As the rebel city known. With a soul and spirit free As the waves that make her zone. Stands in wait for the fate From the angry arm of hate ; But she nothing fears the terror of his blow ; She hath garrisoned her walls, And for every son that falls. She will spread a thousand palls For the foe ! Lo I rising at his side. As if emulous to share His old historic pride. The vast form of Sumter there I Girt by waves, which Do ye quail, as on yon little islet They have planted the feet that defile it ? 344 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Make its sands pure of taint, by the stroke of the sword, And by torrents of blood in red sacrifice pour'd ! Doubts are traitors, if once they persuade you to fear. That the foe, in his foothold, is safe from your spear ! When the foot of pollution is set on your shores. What sinew and soul should be stronger than yours ? By the fame — by the same — of your sires. Set on, though each freeman expires ; Better fall, grappling fast with the foe, to their graves. Than groan in your fetters, the slaves of your slaves. The voice of your loud exultation Hath rung, like a trump, through the nation, How loudly, how proudly, of deeds to be done, The blood of the sire in the veins of the son ! Old Moultrie and Sumter still keep at your gates. And the foe in his foothold as patiently waits. He asks, with a taunt, by your patience made bold, If the hot spur of Percy grows suddenly cold — Makes merry with boasts of your city his own. And the Chivalry fied, ere his trumpet is blown ; Upon them, 0 sons of the mighty of yore, And fatten the sands with their Sodomite gore ! Where's the dastard that cowers and falters In the sight of his hearthstones and altars ? With the faith of the free in the God of the brave. Go forth ; ye are mighty to conquer and save ! By the blue Heaven shining above ye. By the pure-hearted thousands that love ye, Ye are armed with a might to prevail in the fight. And an aegis to shield and a weapon to smite I Then fail not, and quail not ; the foe shall prevail not : With the faith and the will, ye shall conquer him still. To the knife — with the knife, Carolinians, For your homes, and your sacred dominions. LAST MEETING OF GENERALS LEE AND 'STONEWALL" JACKSON AT THE BATTLE OF CHANCELLORSVILLE, VA. From the original and celebrated paiutiug by Julio iu the Arsenal of the Washiugtou Artillery, New Orleans, lya. Size, lo x 12 feet. Value, $5,000. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 346 THE COAT OF FADED GRAY. By G. W. Harris. A LOW hut rests in Lookout's shade. As rots its moss-grown roof away, While sundown's glories softly fade, Closing another weary day. The battle's din is heard no more. No more the hunted stand at bay, The breezes through the lowly door Swing mute a coat of faded gray, A tattered relic of the fray, A threadbare coat of faded gray. 'Tis hanging on the rough log wall. Near to the foot of a widow's bed, By a white plume and well-worn shawl — His gift the happy morn they wed ; By the wee slip their dead child wore — The one they gave the name of May : By her rag doll and pinafore — By right 'tis here that coat of gray A red-fleck'd relic of the fray. An armless coat of faded gray. Her all of life now drapes that wall ; But poor and patient, still she waits On God's good time to gently call Her, too, within the jewell'd gates; And all she craves is here to die — To part from these and pass away, To join her love eternally That wore that — the coat of gray. The shell-torn relic of the fray Her soldier's coat of faded gray. 346 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY " 'TWAS JUST LIKE JIM." By L. W. Canady. ''T^wAS just like Jim, in his schoolboy days, To protect the lad who threw The paper wad at the big blackboard, On the wall, with aim so true ; 'Twas just like Jim to say, " 'Twas I," And the master's wrath defy — To shift the blame from a weaker lad, Jim faltered not at a lie. 'Twas just like Jim, when, in sixty-one. There came the appeal to arms. And the pleading voice of Peace was hushed By War and his rude alarms ; 'Twas just like Jim to march away — Tap of drum and music gay — Looking so handsome, so brave and true, In his suit of homespun gray. 'Twas just like Jim, that April day,* When the broken and sullen lines of gray Tumed anon like a stag at bay. Rallied and fought, then filed away ; 'Twas just like Jim, I say ; To be the last On guard at the bridge where his comrades passed. Firm and motionless, gaunt and grim, " No surrender for me ! " said Jim. Alone he stood, close by the bridge, When Sheridan's troops rode over the ridge. * The day befora tha turrradv of La« WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 347 A " Yankee shout" a " Rebel yell " Three troopers from their saddles fell. Fewer the living moments grew For Jim, but his aim was never more true ; And when the foe the bridge had gained Not a ball in his cartridge box remained ; But never a sabre that squadron drew — They rode him down, those lines of blue I At Appomattox they called the roll. But Jim answered not. His wayward soul Had gone to God, to be judged by Him, No surrender ! Ah ! that was like Jim. THE DYING SOLDIER BOY. By a. B. Cunningham, of Louisiana. Aie — "Maid of Monterey." T Tpon Manassa's bloody plain a soldier boy lay dying ! The gentle winds above his form, in softest tones were sighing; The god of day had slowly sunk beneath the verge of day. And the silver moon was gliding above the Milky Way. The stars were shining brightly, and the sky was calm and blue; Oh ! what a beautiful scene was this for human eyes to view; The river rolled in splendor, and the wavelets danc'd around But the banks were strewed with dead men, and gory was the ground. 348 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY But the hero boy was dying, and his thoughts were very deep. For the death- wound in his young side was wafting him to sleep. He thought of home and kindred away on a distant shore, All of whom he must relinquish, and never see them more. And as the breeze passed by, in whispers o'er the dead. Sweet memories of olden days came rushing to his head ; But his mind was weak and deaden'd, so he turned over where he lay, As the Death Angel flitted by, and called his soul away I FIBST CONFEDERATE FLAG. The first flag raised as an emblem of confederacy by South Carolina, the mother State in the afterVard named ' ' Confederate States of America," during the Civil War, was eight feet long by six feet broad. The body of it was turkey red, and the immense star and crescent in the upper left-hand corner were of white. It was sewed together by the ladies of Charleston, S. C, on the eve of that State's declaration of secession, December, 1860. and was hoisted the next morning over the Charleston custom house; Shortly afterward, the "Dixie," a small privateer and blockade runner, started on its depredations, and as the young confederacy had as yet adopted no oflicial banner, the Charleston custom house flag was presented as Its colors. In the spring of 1863 the " Dixie " was captured by the United States steamer " Keystone State."— 7"Atf Co»/(?rf(?ra^* Veteran. ¦•"•]\Tr r-STT- C^' /Wr ft n/rt/fHifr ^^.^'^^.s^^ '^^^^tf(^/g^s. CONFEDERATE NOTE WITH SOLDIER'S ENDORSEMENT (See Poem.) WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 349 " THE ENEMY SHALL NEVER REACH YOUR CITY." Andrew Jackson's Address to the People of New Orleans. In the engagement of Fort Sumter with the enemy's fleet, April 7, 1861, the spray thrown above the walls by their enormous missiles was formed into a beautiful sunbow, seeing which, General Ripley, with the piety of Constantine, exclaimed : " In hoc signo vinces ! " "M^EVER, while such as ye are in the breach. Oh ! brothers, sons, and Southrons — never ! never ! Shall the foul enemy your city reach ! For souls and hearts are eager with endeavor ; And God's own sanction on your cause, makes holy Each arm that strikes for home, however lowly ! — And ye shall conquer by the rolling deep ! And ye shall conquer on the embattled steep ! — And ye shall see Leviathan go down A hundred fathoms, with a horrible cry Of drowning wretches, in their agony — • While Slaughter wades in gore along the sands, And Terror flies with pleading, outstretched hands, All speechless, but with glassy-staring eyes — Flying to Fate — and fated as he flies ; That gives him, when the shark has fed, a grave i Thus saith the Lord of Battles : " Shall it be, That this great city, planted by the sea. With threescore thousand souls — with fanes and spires Reared by a race of unexampled sires — That I have watched, now twice a hundred years. Nursed through long infancy of hopes and fears, Baptized in blood at seasons, oft in tears; Purged with the storm and fire, and bade to grow To greatness, with a progress firm but slow — That being the grand condition of duration — Until it spreads into the mighty nation I 350 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY And shall the usurper, insolent of power, O'erwhelm it with swift ruin in an hour ! And hurl his bolts, and with a dominant will. Say to its mighty heart — " Crouch, and be still ! My foot is on your neck ! I am your Fate I Can speak your doom, and make you desolate I " No ! He shall know — I am the Lord of war ; And all his mighty hosts but pigmies are ! His hellish engines, wrought for human Woe, His arts and vile inventions, and his power, My arm shall bring to ruin, swift and low ! Even now my bolts are aimed, my storm-clouds lower. And I will arm my people with a faith, Shall make them free of fear, and free of scaith ; And they shall bear from me a smiting sword. Edged with keen lightning, at whose stroke is poured A torrent of destruction and swift wrath. Sweeping the insolent legions from their path I The usurper shall be taught that none shall take The right to punish and avenge from me ; And I will guard my City by the Sea, And save its people for their fathers' sake I " Selah ! — Oh ! brothers, sons, and Southrons, rise ; To prayer : and lo ! the wonder in the skies I The sunbow spans your towers, even while the foe Hurls his fell bolt, and rains his iron blow. Toss'd by his shafts, the spray above yon height God's smile hath turned into a golden light ; Orange and purple-golden ! In that sign Find ye fit promise for that voice divine I Hark ! 'tis the thunder ! Through the murky air. The solemn roll goes echoing far and near ! Go forth, and unafraid 1 His shield is yours ! And the great spirits of your earlier day — WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 351 Your fathers, hovering round your sacred shores — Will guard your bosoms through the unequal fray ! Hark to their voices, issuing through the gloom : " The cruel hosts that haunt you, march to doom : Give them the vulture's rites — a naked tomb ! And, while ye bravely smite, with fierce endeavor. The fije shall reach your city — never I never I " A FAREWELL TO POPE. By John R. Thompson, of Virginia. In the " Reminiscences " introducing this volume I have said that some of these poems would be found a little rugged in character, so to speak. The foUowing is a case in point. Let it be remembered that it was in the midst of the strife when harsh things were not only being said, but were being shot from musket and cannon at the very hearts of the two opposing sections. It is all over now. Let us read it, and sympathize with the wUd spirit of those times. 1 1 XT ATS off" in the crowd, " Present arms " in the linel Let the standards all bow, and the sabres incline — Roll, drums, the Rogue's March, while the conqueror goes, Whose eyes have seen only " the backs of his foes " Through a thicket of laurel, a whirlwind of cheers. His vanishing form from our gaze disappears ; Henceforth with the savage Dacotahs to cope, AbiM, evasnt, erupU — John Pope. He came out of the West, like the young Lochinvar, Compeller of fate and controller of war, Videre et vincere, simply to see. And straightway to conquer Hill, Jackson and Lee ; And old Abe at the White House, like Kilmansegg pere, With a monkeyish grin and beatified air, " Seemed washing his hands with invisible poap," As with eager attention he listened to Pope. 452 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY He came, and the poultry was swept by his sword. Spoons, liquors, and furniture went by the board ; He saw — at a distance, the rebels appear. Pest, pilferer, puppy, pretender, poltroon ; And " rode to the front," which strangely the rear; He conquered — truth, decency, honor full soon. And ^as fain from the scene of his triumphs to slope, Sure there never was fortunate hero like Pope. He has left us his shining example to note, And Stuart has captured his uniform coat ; But 'tis puzzling enough, as his deeds we recall. To tell on whose shoulders his mantle should fall ; While many may claim to deserve it, at least. From Hunter, the Hound, down to Butler, the Beast, None else, we can say, without risking the trope. But himself can be parallel ever to Pope. Like his namesake, the poet, of genius and fire. He gives new expression and force to the lyre ; But in one little matter they differ, the two. And differ, indeed, very widely, 'tis true — While his verses gave great Alexander his fame, 'Tis our hero's reverses accomplish the same ; And fate may decree that the end of a rope Shall award yet his highest position to Pope. Motto and Emblem ot U. I>. C. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 353 WAR-WAVES. By Catherine Gendron Poyas, of Charleston. A^7hat are the war-waves saying. As they compass us around ? The dark, ensanguined billows. With their deep and dirge-like sound ? Do they murmur of submission ; Do they call on us to bow Our necks to the foe triumphant Who is riding o'er us now ? Never ! No sound submissive Comes from those waves sublime. Or the low, mysterious voices Attuned to their solemn chime ! For the hearts of our noble martyrs Are the springs of its rich supply ; And those deeply mystic murmurs Echo their dying cry [ They bid us uplift our banner Once more in the name of God ; And press to the goal of Freedom By the paths our Fathers trod : Th^ passed o'er their dying brothers ; From their pale lips caught the sigh — The flame of their hearts heroic. From the flash of each closing eye I Up ! Up I for the time is pressing, The red waves close around ; — They will lift us on their billows If our hearts are faithful found I 354 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY They will lift us high — exultant, And the craven world shall see The Ark of a ransomed people Afloat on the crimson sea ! Afloat, with her glorious banner — The cross on its field of red. Its stars and its white folds waving In triumph at her head ; Emblem of all that's sacred Heralding Faith to view ; Type of unblemished honor; Symbol of all that's true I Then what can those waves be singing But an anthem grand, sublime. As they bear for our martyred heroes A wail to the coast of Time ? What else as they roll majestic To the far-off shadowy shore, To join the eternal chorus When Time shall be no more I TO A DEJECTED FRIEND. By Morton Bryan Wharton, D.D. "\X7'hat though thy way is often dark. And billows loudly round thee roar, Be firm, droop not ; thy gallant bark Unharmed shall reach the destined shore. There's much in life that's left thee still ; The good outweighs the evil here ; The less thou dwell'st upon the ill The more will happiness appear. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 355 For all there gleams a promise sure ; Who thinks his lot in misery cast Should patient wait, in faith endure, The blessing rich will come at last. And be not overmuch concerned When passions wild thy peace annoy ; I've long ago this lesson learned, " No gold's without its base alloy." Should Slander's voice around thee ring. Pass on, stoop not to make reply ; Thus pluck the venom from the sting, And leave the crawling worm to die. Thy virtues, like the rock-bound coast That guards us from the treacherous main. Will dash the waves by Envy tossed Back on the powerless flood again. ODE— "SHELL THE OLD CITY! SHELL!" By W. Gilmore Simms. Ohell the old city ! shell ! Ye myrmidons of Hell, To serve your master well. With hellish arts ! Hurl down, with bolt and fire. The grand old shrines, the spire ; But know, your demon ire Subdues no hearts ! There, we defy ye still. With sworn and resolute will ; Courage ye cannot kill While we have breath ! 356 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Stone walls your bolts may break. But, ere our souls ye shake. Of the whole land we'll make One realm of death I Dear are our homes I our eyes Weep at their sacrifice ; And, with each bolt that flies. Each roof that falls, The pang extorts the tear. That things so precious, dear To memory, love, and care. Sink with our walls. Trophies of ancient time. When, with great souls, sublime, Opposing force and crime, Our fathers fought ; Relics of golden hours, When, for our shrines and bowers, Gtenius, with magic powers, Her triumphs wrought ! Each Sabbath-hallowed dome, Each ancient family home, The dear old southwest room. All trellised round ; Where gay, bright summer vines, Linked in fantastic twines With the sun's blazing lines. Rubied the ground I Homes, sacred to the past. Which bore the hostile blast. Though Spain, France, Britain cast Their shot and shell I MONUMENT TO THE CONFEDERATE DEAD, ATLANTA, GEORGIA WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 357 Tombs of the mighty dead, That in our battles bled. When on our infant head Those furies fell I Halls which the foreign guest Found of each charm possessed, With cheer unstinted blessed, And noblest grace ; Where, drawing to her side The stranger, far and wide, Frank courtesy took pride To give him place 1 The shaded walks — the bowers Where, through long summer hours, Young Love first proved his powers To win the prize ; Where every tree has heard Some vows of love preferred. And, with his leaves unstirred, Watch'd lips and eyes. Gardens of tropic blooms. That, through the shaded rooms. Sent Orient- winged perfumes With dusk and dawn ; The grand old laurel, tall. As sovereign over all. And, from the porch and hall, The verdant lawn. Oh 1 when we think of these Old homes, ancestral trees ; Where, in the sun and breeze, At morn and even, 358 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Was to enjoy the play Of hearts at holiday. And find, in blooms of May, Foretaste ot Heaven I Where, as we cast our eyes On things of precious prize. Trophies of good and wise, Grand, noble, brave ; And think of these, so late Sacred to soul and state, Doomed, as the wreck of fate, By fiend and slave I The inevitable pain. Coursing through blood and brain, Drives forth like winter rain, The bitter tear I We cannot help but weep, - From depth of hearts that keep The memories, dread and deep, To vengeance dear ! Aye, for each tear we shed. There shall be torrents red. Not from the eye-founts fed. But from the veins 1 Bloody shall be the sweat, Fiends, felons, that shall yet Pay retribution's debt. In torture's pains I Oar tears shall naught abate, Of what we owe to hate — To the avenging fate — To earth and Heaven \ WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 369 And, soon or late, the hour Shall bring th' atoning power. When, through the clouds that lower, The storm-bolt's driven I Shell the old city— shell ! But, with each roof-tree's knell, Vows deep of vengeance fell, Fire soul and eye ! With every tear that falls Above our stricken walls Each heart more fiercely calls, " Avenge, or die I " THE LINES AROUND PETERSBURG. By Samuel Davis, of North Carolina. ' ' Such a sleep they sleep, The men I loved 1 " — ^Tennyson. /^H, silence, silence I now, when night is near, And I am left alone, Thou art so strange, so sad reposing here — And all so changed hath grown, Where all was once exuberant with life Through day and night, in deep and deadly strife. If I must weep, oh, tell me, is there not Some plaintive story breathed into mine ear By spirit-whispers from the voiceless sphere, Haunting this awful spot ? To my sad soul, more mutely eloquent Than words of fame on sculptured monument Outspeaks yon crumbling parapet, where lies 360 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY The broken gun, the idly rusting ball, Mute tokens of an ill-starred enterprise ! Rude altars reared for costly sacrifice ! Vast work of hero-hands left in thy fall ! Where are they now, that fearless brotherhood. Who marshalled here. That fearful year. In pain and peril, yet undaunted stood, — Though Death rode fiercest on the battle-storm And earth lay strewn with many a glorious form ? Where are they now, who, when the strife was done. With kindly greeting 'round the camp-fire met, — And made an hour of mirth, from triumphs won, Repay the day's stern toil, where the slow sun had set ? Where are they ? — Let the nameless grave declare, — In strange unwonted hillocks — frequent seen ! Alas ! who knows how much lies buried there ! — What worlds of love, and all that might have been I The rest are scattered now ; we know not where ; And Life to each a new employment brings ; But still they seem to gather round me here. To whom these places were familiar things I Wide sundered now, by mountain and by stream. Once brothers — still a brotherhood they seem ; — More firm united, since a common woe Hath brought to common hopes their overthrow ! Brave souls and true ; — in toil and danger tried, — I see them still as in those glorious years. When strong, and battling bravely side by side. All crowned their deeds with praise, — and some with tears! WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 361 'Tis done I the sword is sheathed ; the banner furled, No sound where late the crashing missile whirled — The dead alone possess the battle-plain ; The living turn them to life's cares again. Oh, Silence I blessed dreams upon thee wait ; Here Thought and Feeling ope their precious store, And Memory, gathering from the spoils of Fate Love's scattered treasures, brings them back once more ! So let me often dream. As up the bright'ning stream Of olden Time, thought gently leads me on, Seeking those better days, lost, lost, alas ! and gone ! "ALL IS GONE." Fadette. OiSTER, hark I Atween the trees cometh naught but summer breeze ? All is gone — Summer breezes come and go. Hope doth never wander so — No, nor evermore doth Woe. Sister, look I Adown the lane treadeth only April rain ? All is gone — Through the tangled hedge-rows green glimmer thus the sun beam's sheen. Dropping from cloud-rifts between. Sister, hark ! the very air heavy on my heart doth bear — All is gone ! E'en the birds that chirped erewhile for the frowning sun to smile. Hush at that drum near the stile. 362 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Sister, pray ! — it is the foe I On thy knees — aye, very low — All is gone. And the proud South on her knees to a mongrel race like these — But the dead sleep 'neath the trees. See — they come — their banners flare gayly in our gloomy air — All is gone — Flashed our Southern Cross all night — naught but a meteoric light In a moment lost to sight ? Aye, so gay — the brave array — marching from no battle fray — ¦ All is gone, — Yet who vaunteth, of your host, maketh he but little boast If he thinks on battles most. On they wind, behind the wood. Dost remember once we stood — All is gone — All but memory, of those days — ^but we've stood here while the haze Of the battle met the blaze Of the sun adown yon hill. Charge on charge — I hear them still- All is gone I Yet I hear the echoing crash — see the sabres gleam and flash — See one gallant headlong dash. One, amid the battle-wreck, restive plunged his charger black — All is gone — Whirrs the patridge there — didst see where he rode so reck lessly ? Once he turned and waved to me. " Ah," thou saidst, " the smoke is dark, scarce can I our banner mark " — All is gone — All but memory ; yet I see, darksome howsoe'er it be, How to death — to death — rode he. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 363 Not a star he proudly bore, but a sword all dripping gore — All is gone — Dashes on our little band like yon billow on the strand — Like yon strand unmoved they stand. For their serried ranks are strong : thousands upon thousands throng — All is gone. And the handful, true and brave, spent, like yonder dying wave, Fall back slowly from that grave. Low our baimer drooped — and fell. Back he spurs, mid shot and shell — All loas gone. But he waves it high — and then, on — we sweep them from the glen— But he ne'er rode back again. Ah, I smiled to see him go. How my cheek with pride did glow ! All is gone — All, of pride or hope, for me — but that evening, hopefully Stood I at the gate with thee, Sister, when at twilight gray marched our soldiers back this way — All is gone — In the woods rang many a cheer — how we smiled ! I did not fear Till — at last was bome a bier. Sweetest sister, dost thou weep ? Hush ! he only fell asleep- All is gone — And 'twere better he had died — free, whatever us betide — Our galling chains untried. 364 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY We were leaning on the gate. Dost remember, it grew late — All is gone — Yet I see the stars so pale — see the shadows down the vale — Hear the whip-poor-will's far wail, As if all were in a dream. Through yon pines the moon did gleam — All is gone — On that banner-pall of death — on that red sword without sheath — And I knew who lay beneath. Did I speak ? I thought I said, let me look upon your dead — All is gone — Was I cold ? I did not weep. Tears are spray from founts not deep — My heart lies in frozen sleep. Sister, pray for me. Thine eyes gleam like God's own mid night skies — All is gone — Tuneless are my spirit's chords. I but look up, like the birds, Anld trust Christ to say the words. THE FOE AT THE GATES— CHARLESTON. By j. Dickson Bruns, M. D. "D inq round her I children of her glorious skies. Whom she hath nursed to stature proud and great ; Catch one last glance from her imploring eyes. Then close your ranks and face the threat'ning fate. Ring round her! with a wall of horrent steel Confront the foe, nor mercy ask nor give ; And in her hour of anguish let her feel That ye can die whom she has taught to live. PRESIDENT JEFFERSON DAVIS From portrait taken during War Time. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 365 Ring round her I swear, by every lifted blade, To shield from wrong the mother who gave you birth, That never villain hand on her be laid. Nor base foot desecrate her hallowed hearth. See how she thrills all o'er with noble shame, As through deep sobs she draws the laboring breath, Her generous brow and bosom all aflame At the bare thought of insult, worse than death. And stained and rent her snowy garments are ; The big drops gather on her pallid face. Gashed with great wounds by cowards who strove to mar The beauteous form that spurned their foul embrace. And still she pleads, oh I how she pleads, with prayers And bitter tears, to every loving child To stand between her and the doom she fears. To keep her fame untarnished, undefiled ! Curs'd be the dastard who shall halt or doubt ! And doubly damned who casts one look behind ! Ye who are men ! with unsheathed sword, and shout, Up with her banner ! give it to the wind. Peal your wild slogan, echoing far and wide. Till every ringing avenue repeat The gathering cry, and Ashley's angry tide Calls to the sea-waves beating round her feet. Sons, to the rescue ! spurred and belted, come ! Kneeling, with clasp'd hands, she invokes you now By the sweet memories of your childhood's home. By every manly hope and filial vow, To save her proud soul from that loathed thrall Which yet her spirit cannot brook to name ; Or, if her fate be near, and she must fall. Spare her — she sues — the agony and the shame. 366 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY From all her fanes let solemn bells be tolled. Heap with kind hands her costly funeral pyre. And thus, with psean sung and anthem rolled. Give her, unspotted, to the God of Fire. Gather around her sacred ashes then. Sprinkle the cherished dust with crimson rain. Die ! as becomes a race of free-born men, Who will not crouch to wear the bondman's chain So, dying, ye shall win a high renown. If not in life, at least by death, set free — And send her fame, through endless ages down. The last grand holocaust of liberty. BOWING HER HEAD. H= ER head is bowed downwards ; so pensive her air. As she looks on the ground with her pale solemn face, It were hard to decide whether faith or despair, Whether anguish or trust, in her heart holds a place. Her hair was all gold in the sun's joyous light. Her brow was as smooth as the soft, placid sea ; Bnt the furrows of care came with shadows of night. And the gold silvered pale when the light left the lea. Her lips slightly parted, deep thought in her eye. While sorrow cut seams in her forehead so fair : Her bosom heaves gently, she stifles a sigh. And just moistens her lid with the dews of a tear. Why droops she thus earthward — why bends she ? Oh, see ! There are gyves on her limbs ! see her manacled hand ! She is loaded with chains ; but her spirit is free — Free to love and to mourn for her desolate land. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 367 Her jailer, though cunning, lacks wit to devise How to fetter her thoughts, as her limbs he has done ; The eagle that's snatched from his flight to the skies. From the bare of his cage may still gaze at the sun. No sound does she utter ; all voiceless her pains ; The wounds of her spirit with pride she conceals ; She is dumb to her shearers ; the clank of her chains And the throbs of her heart only tell what she feels. She looks sadly around her ; how sombre the scene I How thick the deep shadows that darken her view I The black embers of homes where the earth was so green. And the smokes of her wreck where the heavens shone blue. Her daughters bereaved of all succor but God, Her bravest sons perished — the light of her eyes ; But oppression's sharp heel does not cut 'neath the sod. And she knows that the chains cannot bind in the skies. She thinks of the vessel she aided to build. Of all argosies richest that floated the seas ; Compacted so strong, framed by architects skilled Or to dare the wild storm, or to sail to the breeze To balmi^ winds blowing soft where she steers. The favor of Heaven illuming her path — She might sail as she pleased in the mild summer airs, And avoid the dread regions of tempest and wrath. But the crew quarreled soon o'er the cargo she bore ; 'Twas adjusted unfairly, the cavillers said ; And the anger of men marred the peace that of yore Spread a broad path of glory and sunshine ahead. 368 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY There were seams in her planks — there were spots on her flag— So the fanatics said, as they seized on her helm ; And from soft summer seas, turned her prow where the crag And the wild breakers rose the good ship to o'erwhelm. Then the South, though true love to the vessel she bore, Since she flrst laid its keel in the days that were gone — Saw it plunge madly on to the wild billows' roar. And rush to destruction and ruin forlorn. So she passed from the decks, in the faith of her heart That Justice and God her protectors would be ; Not dashed like a frail, fragile spar, without chart, In the fury and foam of the wild raging sea. The life-boat that hung by the stout vessel's side She seized and embarked on the wide, trackless main. In the faith that she'd reach, making virtue her guide. The haven the mother-ship failed to attain. But the crew rose in wrath, and they swore by their might They would sink the brave boat that did buffet the sea. For daring to seek, by her honor and right, A new port from the storms, a new home for the free. So they crushed the brave boat; all forbearance they lost; They littered with ruins the ocean so wild — Till the hulk of the parent ship, beaten and tossed. Drifted prone on the flood by the wreck of the child. And the bold rower, loaded with fetters and chains. In the gloom of her heart sings the proud vessel's dirge ; Half forgets, in its wreck, all the pangs of her pains, As she sees its stout parts floating loose in the surge. '—Savannah Broadside. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 369 "IN THE LAND WHERE WE WERE DREAMING." By D. B. Lucas, Esq., of Jefferson, Virginia. ^AiR M-ere our visions ! Oh, they were as grand F As ever floated out of Faerie land ; Children were we in single faith. But God-like children, whom, nor death, Nor threat, nor danger drove from Honor's path. In the land where we were dreaming. Proud were our men, as pride of birth could render ; As violets, our women pure and tender ; And when they spoke, their voice did thrill Until at eve, the whip-poor-will. At morn the mocking-bird, were mute and still In the land where we were dreaming. And we had graves that covered more of glory Than ever tracked tradition's ancient story ; And in our dream we wove the thread Of principles for which had bled And suffered long our own immortal dead In the land where we were dreaming. Though in our land we had both bond and free, Both were content ; and so God let them be ; 'Till envy coveted our land And those fair fields our valor won : But little recked we, for we still slept on, In the land where we were dreaming. Our sleep grew troubled and our dreams grew wild- Red meteors flashed across our heaven's field ; Crimson the moon ; between the Twins Barbed arrows fly, and then begins Such strife as when disorder's Chaos reigns^ In the land where we were dreaming. 24 370 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Down from her sun-lit heights smiled Liberty And waved her cap in sign of Victory — The world approved, and everywhere Except where growled the Russian bear, The good, the brave, the just gave us their prayer In the land where we were dreaming. We fancied that a Govemment was ours — We challenged place among the world's great powers ; We talked in sleep of Rank, Commission, Until so life-like grew our vision, That he who dared to doubt met derision In the land where we were dreaming. We looked on high : a banner there was seen, Whose field was blanched and spotless in its sheen — Chivalry's cross its Union bears. And vet'rans swearing by their scars Vowed they would bear it through a hundred wars In the land where we were dreaming. A hero came amongst us as we slept ; At first he lowly knelt — then rose and wept; Then gathering up a thousand spears He swept across the field of Mars ; Then bowed farewell and walked beyond the stars — In the land where we were dreaming. We looked again : another figure still Gave hope, and nerved each individual will — Full of grandeur, clothed with power. Self-poised, erect, he ruled the hour With stern, majestic sway — of strength a tower In the land where we were dreaming. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 371 As, while great Jove, in bronze, a warder God, Gazed eastward from the Forum where he stood, Rome felt herself secure and free. So, " Richmond's safe," we said, while we Beheld a bronzed Hero — God-like Lee, In the land where we were dreaming. As wakes the soldier when the alarum calls — As wakes the mother when the infant falls — As starts the traveler when around His sleeping couch the fire-bells sound — So woke our nation with a single bound In the land where we were dreaming. Woe I woe is me ! the startled mother cried — While we have slept our noble sons have died 1 Woe ! woe is me ! how strange and sad. That all our glorious vision's fled And left us nothing real but the dead In the land where we were dreaming. And are they really dead, our martyred slain ? No ! dreamers ! morn shall bid them rise again From every vale — from every height On which they seemed to die for right — Their gallant spirits shall renew the fight In the land where we were dreaming. 372 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY SAVANNAH FALLEN. By Alethea S. Burroughs, of Georgia owing her head to the dust of the earth, B Smitten and stricken is she, Light after light gone out from her hearth. Son after son from her knee. Bowing her head to the dust at her feet. Weeping her beautiful slain. Silence ! keep silence, for aye in the street. See I they are coming again. Coming again, oh, glorious ones ! Wrapped in the flag of the free ! Queen of the South ! bright crowns for the sons. Only the cypress for thee ! Laurel, and banner, and music, and drum, Marches and requiems sweet ; Silence ! keep silence ! alas, how they come, Oh ! how they move through the street ! Slowly, ah ! mournfully, slowly they go, Bearing the young and the brave, Fair as the summer, but white as the snow Bearing them down to the grave. Some in the morning, and some in the noon. Some in the hey-day of life ; Bower nor blossom, nor summer, nor June, Wooing them back to the strife. Some in the billow, afar, oh ! afar, Staining the waves with their blood ; One on the vessel's high deck, like a star. Sinking in glory's bright flood.* • Captain Tbomai Pelot, C. S. N., killed al the capture of the ffattr- Witch. THE CAPITOL AT RICHMOND, VIRGINIA The Congress of the Confederate States of Ani<_i i. n came lure iu i-''.^ iVoiii MoiilKoni the day iu April, 1865, when Lee was turne*! back at ivtcrsbnrj; and " all wa.s lost .-^a' ly , .\labain.i, and .sat until WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 373 Bowing her head to the dust of the earth, Humbled but honored is she. Lighting the skies with the stars from her hearth. Who shall her comforter be ? Bring her, oh ! bring her the garments of woe. Sackcloth and ashes for aye ; Winds of the South ! oh, a requiem blow. Sighing and sorrow to-day. Sprinkle the showers from heaven's blue eyes Wide o'er the green summer lea, Rachel is weeping, oh ! Lord of the skies Thou shalt her comforter be ! BALLAD—" YES, BUILD YOUR WALLS." XT^ES, build your walls of stone or sand. But know, when all is builded — then, The proper breastworks of the land Are in a race of freeborn men I The sons of sires, who knew, in life. That, of all virtues, manhood first. Still nursing peace, yet arms for strife. And braves, for liberty, the worst I What grand examples have been ours I Oh ! sons of Moultrie, Marion, — call From mansions of the past, the powers. That plucked ye from the despot's thrall I Do Sumter, Rutledge, Gadsden, live ? Oh I for your City by the Sea, They gladly gave, what men could give. Blood, life, and toil, and made it free I 374 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY The grand inheritance, in trust For children of your loins, must know No taint of shame, no loss by lust. Your own, or of the usurping foe 1 Let not your sons, in future days. The children now that bear your name. Exulting in a grandsire's praise, Droop o'er a father's grave in shame ! o- DOFFING THE GRAY. By Lieutenant Falligant, of Savannah, Georgia. |FF with your gray suits, boys — Off with your rebel gear — They smack too much of the cannon's peal, The lightning flash of your deadly steel. The terror of your spear. Their color is like the smoke That curled o'er your battle-line ; They call to mind the yell that woke When the dastard columns before you broke. And their dead were your fatal sign. Off with the starry wreath. Ye who have led our van. To you 'twas the pledge of glorious death, When we followed you o'er the gory heath, Where we whipped them man to man. Down with the cross of stars — Too long hath it waved on high ; 'Tis covered all over with battle scars. But its gleam the Northern banner mars — 'Tis time to lay it by. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 375 Down with the vows we've made, Down with each memory — Down with the thoughts of our noble dead — Down, down to the dust, where their forms are laid And down with Liberty. BULL RUN.— A PARODY. It is said that in the hasty retreat from Bull Run an Irishman out stripped the rest on his way to Washington. Being met by an officer, he inquired of him why he ran. He answered: "Them as didn't run are there yet." A t Bull Run when the sun was low. Each Southern face grew pale as snow, While loud as jackdaws rose the crow Of Yankees boasting terribly ! But Bull Run saw another sight, When at the deepening shades of night, Towards Fairfax Court-House rose the flight Of Yankees running rapidly. Then broke each corps with terror riven. Then rushed the steeds to battle driven, The men of battery Number Seven Forsook their red artillery ! Still on McDowell's farthest left. The roar of cannon strikes one deaf. Where furious Abe and fiery Jeff Contend for death or victory. The panic thickens — off, ye brave I Throw down your arms I your bacon save ! Waive, Washington, all scruples waive. And fly, with all your chivalry I 376 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY TO MY CREWEL WIFE. By Morton Bryan Wharton, D. D. [These lines were written when among ladies crocheting was all the rage. It has been supplanted by silk embroidery, in both of which my wife greatly excels.] — M. B. W. T^IND to my virtues you have been. And to my follies blinded. But though you've not a cruel heart, Yet are you crewel-minded. For better or for worse, I said. When for your charms I thirsted ; The better part you've ever proved. But still have 1 got worsted. No crotchets in your heart exist ; Excuse me, though, for saying. That ne'er was woman's head more filled With fanciful crocheting. Your ears are deaf to all that's false. You ne'er would truth embellish. But others' yarns, howe'er retailed. You welcome with a relish. 'Tis said the west wind can't be chained, That in it blows forever. But well I know your fingers trained Have caught and trained the zephyr. A consolation 'tis to feel, As down life's road we travel, That all the tangled webs I weave Your fingers can unravel. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 377 The rainbow's splendid hues that glow When o'er the heavens bended, Can ne'er in radiant beauty match The colors you have blended, — Yes, blended in your eyes and hair. And in your fair complexion, Your teeth of pearl, your pure white soul, That won my heart's affection. " WHEN THIS CRUEL WAR IS OVER." T^earest one, do you remember When we last did meet; When you told me how you loved me Kneeling at my feet ? Oh ! how proud you stood before me In your suit of gray, When you vowed for me and country Ne'er to go astray. Chorus : Weeping sad and lonely Sighs and tears how vain. When this cruel war is over, Pray that we meet again. When the summer breeze is sighing Mournfully along, Or when autumn leaves are falling. Sadly breathes the song. Oft in dreams I see you lying On the battle plain. Lonely, wounded, even dying. Calling, but in vain. — Oumu. 878 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY If amid the din of battle Nobly you should fall. Far away from those who love you — None to hear your call — Who would whisper words of comfort ? Who would soothe your pain ? Ah, the many cruel fancies Ever in my brain I — Owrus. But our country called you, loved one — Angels guide your way ; While our " Southern boys " are fighting. We can only pray. When you strike for God and freedom, Let all nations see How you love our Southern banner — Emblem of the free. — Owrus. FAREWELL TO THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER. T ET tyrants and slaves submissively tremble And bow down their necks 'neath the Juggernaut car ; But brave men will rise in the strength of a nation And cry " Give me freedom, or else give me war." Chorus : Farewell, forever I The Star-Spangled Banner, No longer shall wave o'er the land of the free ! But we'll unfurl to the broad breeze of heaven Thirteen bright stars around the Palmetto Tree. We honor, yes, honor, bold South Carolina 1 Though small she may be, she's as brave as the best. With flagship of States, she's out on the ocean Buffeting the waves of a dark billow's crest. — Chorus. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 379 We honor, yes, honor, our seceding sisters. Who launched this brave bark alone on the sea ; Though storms may howl, and thunder distraction We'll hurl to the blast the proud Palmetto tree. — Clwrus. And when to the conflict the others cry " Onward I " Virginia will be first to rush to the fight. She'll break down the iceberg of Northern coercion And rise in her glory of freedom and right. — Chorus. When the thirteen sisters in bright constellation Shall dazzling shine in a nation's emblem sky. With no hands to oppose nor foes to oppress them. They will shine there forever, a light to every eye. — Chorus. "LET ME KISS HIM FOR HIS MOTHER." T ET me kiss him for his mother, "^ Let me kiss his dear, youthful brow; I will love him for his mother. And seek her blessing now. Kind friends have soothed his pillow, Have watched his every care, Beneath the weeping willow, O lay him gently there. Chorus: Sleep, dearest, sleep ; I loved you as a brother. Kind friends around you weep ; I've kissed you for your mother. Let me kiss him for his mother ; What though left a lone stranger here ; She has loved him as none other ; 1 feel her blessing near. 380 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Though cold that form lies sleeping. Sweet angels watch around. Dear friends are near thee weeping ; O, lay him gently down. — Owrus. Let me kiss him for his mother ; Or, perchance, fond sister dear. If a father or a brother, I know their blessing's here. Then kiss him for his mother; 'Twill soothe her after yeais. Farewell, dear stranger, brother ; Our requiem, our tears. — Owrus. 1 "I GIVE MY SOLDIER BOY A BLADE." By H. M. L GIVE my soldier boy a blade. In fair Damascus fashioned well : Who first the glittering falchion swayed, Who first beneath its fury fell, I know not ; but I hope to know, That, for no mean or hireling trade, To guard no feeling base or low — I give my soldier boy the blade 1 Cool, calm and clear — the lucid flood In which its tempering work was done ; — As calm, as clear, in wind and wood. Be thou where'er it sees the sun I For country's claim, at honor's call, For outraged friend, insulted maid, At mercy's voice to bid it fall — I give my soldier boy the blade I 'lion of lucerne," ATLANTA, GEORGIA WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 381 The eye which marked its peerless edge, The hand that weighed its balanced poise, Anvil and pincers, forge and wedge. Are gone, with all their flame and noise ; Yet still the gleaming sword remains 1 So, when in dust I low am laid. Remember, by these heart-felt strains, I give my soldier boy the blade I ^tyt TO HON. JEFFERSON DAVIS. By M. B. Wharton. In answer to the following letter. fit" /3Eo c*:^ ^ >^t,»*c-<>.,,^***^ «-0 *-Z^ Xa,*^ ^c*u~ *o«J5 eU^^ f^-<^z:^:^'^ --Swi.*. Ouch was the joy thy greeting gave, High leap'd my heart beyond control ; Thy kindly wish, like ocean's wave Singing amid the storms that rave, Bright o'er my flood of years shall roll, And waft soft music to my soul. 382 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Fair leaf from the majestic tree From whence our Southland glory springs. Thy letter e'er shall treasured be, — Pressed in the book of memory. And shrined among the sacred things. More prized than autographs of kings. He who the world's applause has won. Whose fame shall gild remotest days^ Is thankful for my service done. Oh, 'tis as if the lustrous sun. That floods our fields with kindly rays. Had thanked some plant that drank his rays And to thy quiet seaside home. Where tall magnolias wave their crowns. And skies cerulean lift their dome. With generous quest thou bidst me come. Oh, sweet to tread those flowery downs, And catch the inspiring ocean sounds I But sweeter far to see again The noble form that first I viewed Careering to Manassa's plain, 'Mid wilder sounds than sweep the main, — Where threes stood bare and bullet-hewed. And skies wept o'er the battle-strewed. I saw thee oft with rank and file. Gazed on thee in thy chair of state, Thy great Inaugural heard, the while. Thou stood'st upon the sacred pile Upreared to Washington the Great, And deemed thee linked with him in Fate» Shone, through the dark and bitter gale, Thy martial form, thy eagle eye. One hand sure guiding at the wheel WAR SOA'GS OF THE CONFEDERACY 383 And one directed to the steel That flashed above the battle's cry And nerved thy hosts to do or die. But Fate thy dauntless spirit mocks, The hopes of millions quick are fled ; Our ship succumbs to ruthless shocks And sinks dismantled on the rocks, While grim Monroe with menace dread Frowns o'er our prisoned chieftain's head. Brave victors e'er must generous be Unto a brave and fallen foe ; The hand that plucked the sword from Lee Is raised to set the captive free, Who ne'er recoiled from martial blow Nor triumph'd in a brother's woe. Nor can the spangled flag disdain The star that flamed at Monterey ; Its crimson stripe must speak the vein That streamed on Buena Vista's plain, — Those memories bright can ne'er decay While breezes round that banner play. The world, full conscious of thy worth. Rejoiced then at thy just release. Untrammeled by a cruel oath. Thou from thy cell didst wander forth. To seek in quiet walks of peace From patriot woes a calm surcease. Majestic silence sat enthroned Upon thy great and lofty brow, And while the past was sore bemoaned, The conquering Power was loyal owned ; The bright peace Angel sealed the vow — Defeat grander than victory now I 384 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY But stars are never long concealed ; The darksome clouds that hang before, Soon drifting from the nightly fleld. Unwonted splendors are revealed. Lo ! thus our days of darkness o'er. Thou loom'st thy country's cynosure I THE LITTLE SOLDIER. By j, L. Molloy. ""\7[7'hen I'm big I'll be a soldier — ^^ That's what I'll be; Fight for father, flght for mother. Over land and sea ! " And before him on the table Stood in bright array All his little wooden soldiers. Ready for the fray. Then he charged his little cannon. Singing out in glee, " When I'm big I'll be a soldier — That's what I will be I " By the firelight sat the mother ; Tears were in her heart, Thinking of the swift time coming When they two must part. Soon the shadow fell between them- Soon the years flew by ; He has left his little mother — Left her, perhaps to die. WAR SONGS OF 'THE CONFEDERACY 385 All the laughter gone forever, All the sunshine fled ; Only little mother praying By his empty bed. Then there came a dreadful battle, And upon the plain Crept the little mother, seeking Some one 'mid the slain ; But she never found her darling In the white moon gleam. For the little cannon firing Woke her from her dream. All a dream ! He stood beside her. Singing out with glee, " When I'm big I'll be a soldier — That's what I will be I " THE COUNTERSIGN. A LAS ! the rolling hours pass slow — The night is very dark and still — And in the marshes far below Is heard the lonely whippoorwill ; I scarce can see a foot ahead — My ears are strained to catch each sound, I feel the dead leaves beneath me spread And the springs bubbling thro' the ground. Along the beaten path I pace, Where white rays mark my sentry's track ; In formless things I seem to trace ; The foeman's form, with bended back. 386 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY I think I see him crouching low I I stop and list — I stop and peer — Until the neighboring hillocks grow To groups of soldiers, far and near. With ready piece I wait and watch Until my eyes familiar grown — Detect each harmless earthen notch. And turn "guerrillas " into stone ; And then amid the lonely gloom. Beneath tall magnolia trees. My silent marches I resume And think of other times than these. " Halt ! who goes there ? " my challenge cry — It rings along the watchful line — " Relief!" I hear a voice reply. " Advance and give the countersign ! " With bayonet at the charge I wait — The corporal gives the mystic spell — With " arms aport " I charge my mate Then onward pass, and all is well ! But in my tent, that night awake, I ask, " if in the fray I fall. Can I the mystic answer make When the angelic sentries call ? " And pray that Heaven so ordain. Where'er I go, what fate be mine. Whether in pleasure or in pain I still may have the " countersign 1 " WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 387 « POP GOES THE WEASEL." T/"iNG Abraham is very sick, Old Scott has got the measles, Manassas we have now at last — Pop goes the weasel 1 All around the cobbler's house The monkey chased the people, And after them in double haste Pop goes the weasel I When the night walks in as black as a sheep. And the hen on her eggs was fast asleep. When into her nest with a serpent's creep Pop goes the weasel ! Of all the dance that ever was planned To galvanize the heel and the hand. There's none that moves so gay and grand As pop goes the weasel 1 TO MY SOLDIER BROTHER. By Sallie M. Baxlard, of Texas. T^Then softly gathering shades of ev'n Creep o'er the prairies broad and green, And countless stars bespangle heav'n, And fringe the clouds with silv'ry sheen. My fondest sigh to thee is giv'n. My lonely wand'ring soldier boy ; And thoughts of thee Steal over me Like ev'ning shade, my soldier boy. 388 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY My brother, though thou'rt far away, And dangers hurtle round thy path, And battle lightning's o'er thee play. And thunders peal in awful wrath, Think, whilst thou'rt in the hot affray, Thy sister prays for thee, my boy. If fondest prayer Can shield thee there Sweet angels guard my soldier boy. Thy proud young heart is beating high To clash of arms and cannon's roar ; That firm-set lip and flashing eye Tell how thy heart is brimming o'er. Be free and live, be free or die ; Be that thy motto now, my boy ; And though thy name's Unknown to fame, 'Tis graven on my heart, my boy. THE SOLDIER'S AMEN. Asa couple of good soldiers were walking one day. Said one to the other : " Let's kneel down and pray ; I'll pray for the war, and good of all men, And whatever I pray for, do you say — " Amen ! " " We'll pray for the generals and all of their crew. Likewise for the captains and lieutenants, too ; May good luck and good fortune them always attend; And return safely home ! " Said the soldier — " Amen I " " We'll pray for the privates, the noblest of all ; They do all the work and get no glory at all ; May good luck and good fortune them always attend. And return crowned with laurels I" Said the soldier — "Amen !' WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 389 " We'll pray for the pretty boys who want themselves wives. And have not the courage to strike for their lives ; May bad luck and bad fortune them always attend ; And go down to Old Harry ;"' Said the soldier — "AmenI " " We'll pray for the pretty girls, who make us good wives, And always look at a soldier with tears in their eyes ; May good luck and good fortune them always attend. And brave gallants for sweethearts I " Said the soldier — " Amen I " " We'll pray for the conscript, with frown on his brow, To fight for his country he won't take the vow : May bad luck and bad fortune him always attend. And die with dishonor I " Said the soldier — " Amen I '* MY WARRIOR BOY. ' I Scou hast gone forth, my darling one. To battle with the brave. To strike in Freedom's sacred cause. Or win an early grave ; With vet'rans grim, and stalwart men. Thy pathway lieth now. Though fifteen summers scarce have shed Their blossoms on thy brow. My babe in years, my warrior boy f Oh, if a mother's tears Could call thee back to be my joy And still these anxious fears, I'd dash the traitor drops away. That would unnerve thy hand. Now raised to strike in Freedom's cause For thy dear native land. 390 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY God speed thee on thy course, my boy. Where'er thy pathway lie. And guard thee when the leaden hail Shall thick around thee fiy ; But when our sacred cause is won. And peace again shall reign. Come back to me, my darling son, And light my life again. THE SOUTHERN DEAD. By Morton Bryan Wharton, D. D. "\^7^here are the men who at the call Of duty battled for the right, Who to their country gave their all And bore our banner in the fight ? Ye winged winds that round them play, Where are these noble men to-day ? " Each one a soldier's coflin fills," The answer comes in plaintive moan ; " They rest upon a hundred hills Unmarked, unhonored and unknown," Or else their bones uncoffined lie Beneath Virginia's weeping sky. The fiower of old Virginia's pride With bounding heart sped to the foe, And grappling bravely hand to hand, For Southern honor struck the blow. Resolved to free their homes opprest Or on their broken shields to rest. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 391 And there they fell, perchance 'twas meet (They knew not*then their country's fall), The stai-s and bars their winding-sheet. The blood-laved earth their funeral pall, While trysting nature o'er their graves In vernal beauty blooms and waves. And shall they unremembered lie Save by the flowers and grasses wild ? What says the State ? Does she reply, I care not for my soldier child ? Avaunt the thought ! Oh, mother, turn. And deck the son's neglected urn. Who doubts that had our guardian star Rained fortune on our struggling band. The bright memorials of the war Had crowned each hill-top in the land. And angels waked from Parian bed Their white wings o'er the sleepers spread ? Oh, who can paint the pageant bright When (five-and-twenty years sped by) Thou pressed again the historic site On yonder Capitolian height, Where Dixie's flag first leap'd on high. Amid the new-born nation's cry ! Sun never graced a scene more grand ! Nor wilder shouts could mortals raise. When Pettus stood with veteran band And scar-marked Gordon took the stand, Flashing the light of other days, — Speaking the Southern leader's praise I 392 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY And thus t'will be till time shall end, — The world shall with thy plaudits ring, Great hist'ry shall thy name defend. Sculpture its guardian graces lend. And future bards shall joy to sing The glories of our uncrowned king. " Peace hath its victories great as war," Oh, bright example here we find ! While England boasts her Trafalgar, We point with pleasure to Beauvoir, Where stainless Honor sits enshrined Within a true and constant mind. Enjoy then, sire, thy cherished rest From care and strife and sorrow free ; And when thy sun shall seek the west. Thy Mother take thee to her breast. The music of the sounding sea Shall thy perpetual requiem be ! Till then, bloom on, ye roses sweet. Ye forests waft your fragrant gales. Sweet birds your loveliest lays repeat. Join in, O sea, with chorus meet, — Oh, Thou, whose mercy never fails, Spare him who treads these smiling vales I Yet not in old Westminster's aisle. Where sculptured glory lifts its charms. Can there be viewed a holier pile Than that we build to Southern arms ? Could heroes serve a cause more just. Or crypts enshrine more sacred dust ? WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 393 We've waited long the shaft to rear, 'Tis well our braves unconscious sleep. Or eyes that cannot know a tear O'er man's ingratitude would weep. Ah! but for woman, brave and pure. How long would Southern fame endure ? Then let our column pierce the sky, Rise tall and graceful from the square, And then should glorious Freedom die. Her spirit still may linger there, And sweet communion hold with those Who never quailed before their foes. Y "IF YOU LOVE ME." By Augustine Signaigo. ou have told me that you love me. That you worship at my shrine ; That no purity above me Can on earth be more divine. Though the kind words you have spoken, Sound to me most sweetly strange. Will your pledges ne'er be broken ? Will there be in you no change ? If you love me half so wildly — Half so madly as you say. Listen to me, darling, mildly — Would you do aught I would pray ? If you would, then hear the thunder Of our country's cannon speak ! While by war she's rent asunder. Do not come my love to seek. 394 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY If you love me, do not ponder. Do not breathe what you would say. Do not look at me with wonder. Join your countrv in the fray. Go ! your aid and right hand lend her Breast the tyrant's angry blast ; Be her own and my defender — Strike for freedom to the last. Then I'll vow to love none other. While you nobly dare and do ; As you're faithful to our mother. So I'll faithful prove to you. But return not while the thunder Lives in one invading sword ; Strike the despot's hirelings under — Own no master but the Lord. "THE CONTRABAND." (A song of Mississippi negroes in the Vicksburg campaign.) Among the most faithful of all the Southerners we must not forget the negro slaves. They were true to their masters, and to their families, and oftentimes our unprotected women found in them perfect safety. When the war closed, my father called up his slaves, and said to them, " You are free now ; you can go wherever you please, and do whatever you wish to do." Old Uncle Alec, the foreman of the plantation, turned to myfather, and said, " Marster, you have always been good to me, and I don't care what the others do, I am going to stay with you." He returned to his cabin, and so did the others to theirs. For years they remained with my father, and only drifted away by marriage, and with changes that followed in our family. I cannot express the tender love that ia in my heart for those dear, true-hearted friends who never knew what want was, and were as happy as children under my father's care. Oay, darkies, has you seed my massa, Wid de mustache on his face ? He came along some time dis morning As dough he'd leave de place. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 395 He seed de smoke away up de river, Where de Lincum gunboats lay; He took his hat and lef bery sudden, I speck he's runned away. Chorus : Massa run away. Darkle stay at home ; It must be now dat de kingdom's comin' In de year of Jubilum ! He's six feet one way, four feet t'other, And weighs three hundred pounds ; His coat's so big he can't pay the tailor, And it won't go half around. He drills so much dey call him cap'n. And he am so very tan, Speck he'll to fool dem Yankees And pass for a contraban' — Chorus. Dis darky gets so very lonesome. In de cabin on de lawn. He moves his things to massa's parlor To keep 'em while he's gone. There's wine and cider in de cellar. And de darkies dey'll have some ; I speck it will be confiscated When de Lincum soldiers come. — Chorus. De overseer will give us trouble, And run us round a spell ; We'll lock him up in de smokehouse cellar, Wid de key thrown in de well. - De whip is lost and de handcuffs broken. And massa'U lose his ; ay. He's big enough and old enough Dan to gone and runned away. — Chorus. 396 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY IS THIS A TIME TO DANCE? 'TpHB breath of evening sweeps the plain, And sheds its perfume in the dell, But on its wings are sounds of pain. Sad tones that drown the echo's swell ; And yet we hear a mirthful call, Fair pleasure smiles with beaming glance. Gay music sounds in the joyous hall ; Oh, God ! is this a time to dance ? Sad notes, as if a spirit sighed, Float from the crimson battle-plain, As if a mighty spirit cried In awful agony and pain ; Our friends we know there suffering lay. Our brothers, too, perchance, And in reproachful accents say, Loved ones, is this a time to dance? Oh, lift your festal robes on high ! The human gore that flows around Will stain their hues with crimson dye ; And louder let your music sound To drown the dying warrior's cry ! Let sparkling wine your joy enhance. Forget that blood has tinged its dye. And quicker urge the maniac dance. But stop! the floor beneath j'our feet Gives back a coffin's hollow moan. And every strain of music sweet, Wafts forth a dying soldier's groan. Oh, sisters ! who have brothers dear Exposed to every battle's chance, Brings dark remorse no forms of fear. To fright you from the heartless dance? WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 397 Go, fling your festal robes away 1 Go, don the mourner's sable veil ! Go, bow before your God, and pray ! If yet your prayers may aught avail. Go, face the fearful form of Death ! And trembling meet his chilling glance. And then, for once, with truthful breath. Answer, Is this a time to dance? ONLY A PRIVATE. By F. W. D. /^Ni.Y' a private ! his jacket of gray ^^^ Is stained by the smoke and the dust ; As Bayard he's brave, as Rupert he's gay. Reckless as Murat in heat of the fray. But in God is his only trust ! Only a private I to march and to fight, Suffers and starve and be strong ; With knowledge enough to know that the might Of justice and truth, and freedom and right In the end must crush out the wrong ! Only a private ! no ribbon or star Shall gild with false glory his name ! No honors for him in braid or in bar, His Legion of Honor is only a scar, And his wounds are his roll of fame ! Only a private ! one more hero slain On the field lies silent and chill ! And in the far South a wife prays iu vain — One clasp of the hands she may ne'er clasp again. One kiss from the lips that are still I 398 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Only a private I there let him sleep. He will need no tablet nor stone ; For the mosses and vines o'er his grave will creep. And at tiight the stars through the clouds will peep And watch him who lies there alone I Only a martyr I who fought and who fell. Unknown and unmarked in the strife; But still as he liea in his lonely cell. Angel and seraph the legend shall tell — Such a death is eternal life ODE—" DO YE QUAIL ? " By W. Gilmore Simm. T^o ye quail but to hear, Carolinians, The first foot-tramp of Tyranny's minions ? Have ye buckled on armor, and brandished the spear. But to shrink with the trumpet's first peal on the ear ? Why your forts now embattled on headland and height, Your sons all in armor, unless for the fight ? Did ye think the mere show of your guns on the wall. And your shouts, would the souls of the heathen appall ? That his lusts and his appetites, greedy as Hell, Led by Mammon and Moloch, would sink at a spell ; — Nor strive, with the tiger's own thirst, lest the flesh Should be torn from his jaws, while yet bleeding afresh. For shame ! To the breech, Carolinians !— To the death for your sacred dominions ! Homes, shrines, and your cities all reeking in flame, Cry aloud to your souls, in their sorrow and shame; Your graybeards, with necks in the halter — Your virgins, defiled at the altar, — In the loathsome embrace of the felon and slave, Touch loathsomer far than the worm of the grave 1 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 399 Ah ! God ! if you fail in this moment of gloom ! How base were the weakness, how horrid the doom ! With the fiends in your streets howling paeans. And the Beast o'er another Orleans ! Do you quail, as on yon little islet They have planted the feet that defile it ? Make ita sands pure of taint, by the stroke of the sword. And by torrents of blood in red sacrifice pour'd ! Doubts are traitors, if once they persuade you to fear, That the foe, in his foothold, is safe from your spear I When the foot of pollution is set on your shores, What sinew and soul should be stronger than yours ? By the fame — by the shame — of your sires. Set on, though each freeman expires ; Better fall, grappling fast with the foe, to their graves. Than groan in your fetters, the slaves of your slaves. The voice of your loud exultation Hath rung, like a trump, through the nation, How loudly, how proudly, of deeds to be done. The blood of the sire in the veins of the son ! Old Moultrie and Sumter still keep at your gates. And the foe in his foothold as patiently waits. He asks, with a taunt, by your patience made bold. If the hot spur of Percy grows suddenly cold — Makes merry with boasts of your city his own, And the Chivalry fled, ere his trumpet is blown ; Upon them, O sons of the mighty of yore, And fatten the sands with their Sodomite gore I Where's the dastard that cowers and falters In the sight of his hearthstones and altars ? With the faith of the free in the God of the brave. Go forth ; ye are mighty to conquer and save ! By the blue heaven shining above ye, By the pure-hearted thousands that love ye. 400 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY Ye are armed with a might to prevail in the fight. And an aegis to shield and a weapon to smite ! Then fail not, and quail not ; the foe shall prevail not ; With the faith and the will, ye shall conquer him still. To the knife — with the knife, Carolinians, For your homes, and your sacred dominions ! GENERAL DABNEY H. MAURY. By Rosewell Page. TITe sleeps, the " little general " sleeps, ^ With all the great before him ; A-nother son Virginia weeps. Proud that 'twas she who bore him. Away from home, far, far away. He crossed life's utmost barrier ; Subdued, but still without dismay He comes, our gentle warrior. He fell not, 'twas his cause that fell, Upon the field of glory. He lived, that living he might tell His country's gallant story. With heroes he was wont to share The trial and the peril ; With them to do, with them to dare, With them shall be his burial. He rests, the tired soldier rests. Upon the field of battle, Recalling deeds of dauntles breasts And scenes of boyish prattle. He sleeps, the " little general" sleeps. With all the great before him ; Virginia now her vigil keeps, Proud that 'twas she who bore him WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 401 THE SOUTHERN SOLDIER BOY. By Father Ryan. "VT^ODNQ as the youngest who donned the gray, True as the truest who wore it. Brave as the bravest he marched away, (Hot tears on the cheeks of his mother lay) ; Triumphant waved our flag one day. He fell in front before it. Chorus. A grave in the wood with the grass o'er grown, A grave in the heart of his mother. His clay in the one lifeless and lone. But his memory lives in the other. Firm as the firmest where duty led. He hurried without a falter ; Bold as the boldest he fought and bled. And the day was won but the field was red ; And the blood of his fresh young heart was shed, On his country's hallowed altar. — Owrus. On the trampled breast of the battle plain. Where the foremost ranks had wrestled, The fairest form 'mid all the slain Like a child asleep he nestled. In the solemn of the woods that swept The field where his comrades found him, They buried him there, and strong men wept. As in silence they gathered 'round him. — Owrus, 26 402 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY THE CONQUERED BANNER. By Father Abram J. Ryan, the Poet Priest of the South. Perhaps the most gifted of all the Southern poets daring the War of the Confederacy was Father Abram J. Ryan: of New Orleans, and one of his very best poems is "The Conquered Banner." It not only does credit to the author, but is a splendid tribute to the Flag which went down at last all covered with glory. "OuRL that banner \ for 'tis weary, -*- Round its staff 'tis drooping dreary; Furl it, fold it, it is best : For there's not a man to wave it. And there's not a sword to save it, And there's not one left to lave it. In the blood which heroes gave it. And its foes now scorn and brave it, Furl it, hide it, let it rest. Take that banner down 1 'tis tattered. Broken is its staff and shattered. And the valiant hosts are scattered Over whom it floated high. Oh I 'tis hard for us to fold it. Hard to think there's none to hold it. Hard that those who once unrolled it Now must furl it with a sigh. Furl that banner I Furl it sadly — Once ten thousands hailed it gladly. And ten thousands wildly, madly. Swore it should forever wave ; Swore that foeman's sword could never Hearts like theirs entwined dissever Till that flag would float forever O'er their freedom or their grave. WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY 403 Furl it I for the hands that grasped itf And the hearts that fondly clasped it, Cold and dead are lying low. And the banner, it is trailing. While around it sounds the wailing Of its people in their woe. For, though conquered, they adore it. Love the cold, dead hands that bore it. Weep for those who fell before it. Pardon those who trailed and tore it. And — oh I wildly they deplore it— - Now to furl and fold it so. Furl that banner 1 true, 'tis gory, Yet 'tis wreathed around with glory. And 'twill live in song and story. Though its folds are in the dust ; For its fame on brightest pages. Penned by poets and by sages. Shall go sounding down the ages, Furl its folds though now we must. Furl that banner I softly, slowly, Treat it gently — it is holy — For it droops above the dead ; Touch it not, unfold it never. Let it drape there, furled forever, For its people's hopes are dead. 404 WAR SONGS OF THE CONFEDERACY A REPLY TO THE CONQUERED BANNER. By Sir Henry Houghton, Bart., England. It will be seen by this that the sympathy of people of other lands, and especially our Mother Country, was not altogether on one side. To this day great respect is shown those who fought on the Southern side, and far more of consideration expressed now that we have gone so far away from the prejudice and passion of those days. Recently, while in London, I had the privilege of being the guest of Lord Einnaird, a man as well dis tinguished for his Christianity as for his splendid success in business life. Another gentleman present, speaking of the war, turned to me and said, " Give me the history of that war ; " to which I replied that it might be done in one sentence : " The people of New England brought slaves from Africa, and traded them to us in the South for molasses, and sugar and cotton, and then came and fought us and took them away from us." This seemed to satisfy my questioner, and I hope it will not be denied or severely criticised by my reader. Amen. r^ allant nation, foiled by numbers I Say not that your hopes are fled ; Keep that glorious flag which slumbers. One day to avenge your dead. Keep it, widowed, sonless mothers I Keep it, sisters, mourning brothers I Furl it with an iron will ; Furl it now but keep it still — Think not that its work is done. Keep it till your children take it. Once again to hall and make it. All their sires have bled and fought for ; All their noble hearts have sought for — Bled and fought for all alone. All alone I ay, shame the story I Millions here deplore the stain ; Shame, alas I for England's glory, Freedom called, and called in vain I Furl that banner sadly, slowly, Treat it gently, for 'tis holy ; Till that day — yes, furl it sadly ; Then once more unfurl it gladly — . Conquered banner 1 keep it still ! THE ROLL OF CONFEDERATE STATES THE DISTINGUISHED MEN AND EVENTS OF FOUR YEARS SOUTH CAROLINA. Seeeded December 20, 1860 Bombardment of Fort Sumter, April 12-14, 1861. En gagement between United States Monitors and Sullivan's Island Batteries, November 16, 1863. Battle of Port Royal, November 7, 1861. Repulse of the Federal Iron-Clad Squad ron in Charleston Harbor, April 7, 1863. Capture and Burn ing of Columbia, February 15, 1865. MISSISSIPPL Seceded January 9, 1861. Siege of Corinth, April 29 to June 10, 1862. Siege of Vicksburg, May 18 to July 4, 1863. Surrender of Vicks burg, July 4, 1863. Attack on Union gunboats near Green wood, May 27, 1863. Engagement of the Confederate Ram, " Arkansas," June, 1862, one of the most brilliant naval fights on record. FLORIDA. Seoeded January 10, 1861. February 20, 1865, Battle of Fort Myers. Battle of Fort Taylor, August 21, 1864. General E. Kirby Smith, born in St. Augustine, May 16, 1824. Total number of engage ments during the war, 32. General James Mcintosh, killed at Battle of Pen Ridge, Arkansas, March 7, 1862. November 10, 1876, Florida redeemed from carpet-bag rule. Florida, the first State to make Mr. Davis' birthday a legal holiday, June 3, 1893. 406 406 THE ROLL OF CONFEDERATE STATES ALABAMA. Seceded January 11, 1861. The election of President Jefferson Davis and Vice- President A. H. Stephens, February 9, and their inauguration, February 18, 1861. Forrest's pursuit and capture of Colonel A. D. Streight, May 3, 1863. Evacuation of Mobile, by General D. H. Maury, April 12, 1865. Battle of Mobile Bay, August 5, 1864. GEORGIA. Seceded January 19, 1861. Lieutenant-General Leonidas Polk, killed at Battle of Pine Mountain, June 14, 1864. Battle of Chickamauga, Sep tember 19-20, 1863. Siege of Atlanta, July 28 to September 2, 1864. May 10, 1865, Jefferson Davis captured. Naval Attack on Forts Rosedew and Beaulieu, Vernon River, Decem ber 14-21, 1864. LOUISIANA. Seceded January 26, 1861. Siege of Port Hudson, May 12 to July 9, 1863. New Orleans Captured, April 25, 1862. General Beauregard bom near New Orleans, May 28, 1818. Total number of engage ments during the war, 118. Bombardment of Fort Barrancas, January 1, 1862. TEXAS. Seceded February 1, 1861. United States Senators expelled from the Senate, July 11, 1861. Capture of Steamer " Harriet Lane," January 1, 1863. Last action of war at Palmetto Ranch, near Brownsville, May 13, 1865. Repulse of Franklin's expedition, Sabine Pass, September 7, 1863. General Albert Sidney Johnston, of Texas, killed April 6, 1862, at Battle of Shiloh, Tenn. THE ROLL OF CONFEDERATE STATES 407 VIRGINIA. Seceded April 17, 1861 Capitol moved from Montgomery, Alabama, to Richmond, May 6, 1861. General J. E. B. Stuart wounded at Yellow Tavern, May 12, 1864. General R. E. Lee, born January 19, 1807. General R. E. Lee, died October 12, 1870, at Lexing ton, Va. April 9, 1865, Lee surrenders at Appomattox Courthouse. " Stonewall " Jackson died May 10, 1863. ARKANSAS. Seceded May 6, 1861. United States Senators expelled from the Senate, July 11, 1861. Engagement with United States Steamer " Curlew," May 25, 1 864. General James Mcintosh killed at the Battle of Pea Ridge, March 7, 1862. General Benjamin McCulloch killed at Pea Ridge, March 7, 1862. Engagement at St. Charles, between the Confederate forces and Federal gunboats, June 17, 1862. Engagement at Helena, August 11-14, 1862. NORTH CAROLINA. Seceded May 20, 1861. General Leonidas Polk, born in Raleigh, April 10, 1806. Bombardment by naval fleet off Fort Fisher, December 25, 1864. Battle of New Berne, March 14, 18(52. Siege of Fort Macon, March 23 to April 26, 1862. Surrender of the Con federate army in North Carolina, at Bennett's House, near Durham Station, April 26, 1865. TENNESSEE. Seceded June 24, 1861. General Albert Sidney Johnston, killed April 6, 1862, at Battle of Shiloh. February 14-15, 1862, Fort Donelson taken. Naval engagement at Memphis, June 6, 1862 ; the city was then occupied by the Federals. Battle of Missionary 408 THE ROLL OF CONFEDERATE STATES Ridge, November 23-25, 1863. Second Battle of Fort Donel son, February 3, 1863. Forrest's Raid into Memphis, August 20. 1864. Battle of Lookout Mountain, November 24, 1863. Battle of Murfreeshoro, December 31, 1862, General N. B. Forrest, bom July 13, 1821, in Bedford County. General N. B. Forrest, died October 29, 1877, in Memphis. Total Number of engagements in State, 298. Sam Davis, noted Confederate scout, hanged by United States troops, November 27, 1863. MISSOURI Seceded October 31, 1861. Meeting of the State Convention, February 28, 1861. Surrender of Camp Jackson, May 10, 1861. Battle of Boon- ville, June 16, 1861. Battle of Carthage, July 5, 1861. Bat tle of Lexington, September 13-20, 1861. Battle of Franklin, November 30, 1864. KENTUCKY. Seceded Ncvember 20, 1861. . General Albert Sidney Johnston, born February 3, 1803. Jefferson Davis, President of the Confederacy, born in Chris tian County, June 3, 1808. General John C. Breckinridge, born January 21, 1821, at Lexington. Battles of Lebanon, July 12, 1862, July 5, 1863, and July 30, 1864. Battles of Lexington, October 17, 1862, July 28, 1863, and June 10, 1864. General John Bell Hood, born at Owingsville, June 20, 1831. GENERAL ALBERT SIDNEY JOHNSTON MAJOR-GENERAL DABNEY H. MAURY NOTES ON THE ILLUSTRATIONS. "JEFFERSON DAVIS AND HIS CABINET" This rare picture is reproduced in this work from an engrav ing in the possession of Mrs. James T. Halsey, the President of the Philadelphia Branch of the " Daughters of the Confederacy," tlirough whose courtesy the use of the picture is permitted. In speaking of it she says : " It is believed that the engraving in my possession, 'Jefferson Davis and His Cabinet,' is the only one in existence, the plate from which this picture was taken having been ordered to be destroyed by the Northem Govemment during the war. Some months ago I talked with Mrs. Jefferson Davis regarding the picture. She told me that when Mr. Davis was captured and taken a prisoner to Forties Monroe, she took from its frame this picture, carefully rolled it, and placed it in her trunk. Some time afterwards, when allowed access to her trunks, she found that the picture had been stolen. This picture, now in my possession, Mrs. Davis believes, in all probability, is hers, and the appearance of the picture, both in creases and evident age, bears out this story." "MUTE MEMENTOES OF THE RAVAGES OF WAR" These Goblets, and Candlestick, are the property of Mrs. James T. Halsey, President of the Philadelphia Branch of the " Daughters of the Confederacy." Through her courtesy to the author, the photograph was taken, and has been reproduced for this work. Speaking of the objects in the picture, she says : " During Sherman's march, in one of the many churches burned, or desecrated, by his soldiers, was a church in Georgia. After the soldiers had left, an old negro and his wife found these Goblets battered and broken. They buried them, and feared to reveal their hiding place. Some years ago, they came to Phila delphia to live, and brought their treasures and sold them to a Collector of Antiques, from whom I bought them. On one is a picture of Mount Vernon and Washington's Tomb ; on the other, 409 410 NOTES ON THE ILLUSTRATIONS Monticello and Jefferson's Old Mill. The Brass Candlestick was given me by a Confederate Soldier. It was picked up on the battlefield near the "Bloody Angle" not far from Fredericksburg, Virginia, where it had been used in looking for the dead and caring for the wounded." "THE BURIAL OF LATANE" This beautiful picture is a reproduction of an engraving now in the possession of Mrs. James T. Halsey, of Philadelphia, through whose courtesy it has been reproduced for this work. The picture is not a common one, but presents, in a most vivid way, the pathetic story of the soldier boy who was buried by stranger hands. The interesting poem describing this scene will be found in another part of this work. "A mEMOKLNL OF MARYLAND VALOR" The monument in Baltimore to Maryland soldiers and sailors who fought for the Confederacy was unveiled May 2, 1903, with impressive ceremonies. This memorial of Confederate valor is the tribute of the Maryland Daughters of the Confederacy to the brave men from this State who, from a sense of patriotic duty, as they understood their duty, upheld the cause of the South in the war between the States. Thirty-eight years have passed since the end of that mighty conflict. The issues which were submitted to the arbitrament of the sword have been settled finally. The South has loyally accepted the verdict, and sectional bitterness is now almost entirely a thing of the past. The Maryland soldiers and sailors in the Confederate service distinguished themselves by courage and devotion. They upheld the best traditions of the State, and were worthy in every way of the beautiful memorial which the Daughters of the Confederacy have reared in their honor. The sculptor embodies in this memorial an admirable idea, namely, that " the South had as good a right as the North to be proud of the valor, fidelity and patience of its soldiers, and that the day would come when the nation as a whole would re gard the heroic deeds done by both the Blue and the Gray as a national heritage. " That day has already come, as far as broad- minded-men are concerned. — 714* Baltimore Sun. NOTES ON THE ILLUSTRATIONS 411 "THE CAPITOL AT RICHMOND, VIRGINIA" No point in Richmond is more interesting than the beautiful Capitol Square, on whose grounds are the State Capitol, new State Library Building, Governor's Mansion, Old Bell Tower, the eques trian statue of Washington, and the statues of Clay and " Stone wall ' ' Jackson. Tame squirrels frolic in the trees and on the grass in this Square, and come to the visitor in perfect fearless ness. The railing enclosing the Square is of wrought iron, repre senting Roman spears. Mr. Jefferson chose the model for the new Capitol when in Paris, iu 1785, selecting an ancient Roman temple, the Maison Caree, at Nismes, France. Its cornerstone was laid August 18, 1785, and the Legislature met in it October 19, 1789, the anniver sary of Comwallis' surrender at Yorktown, eight years previously. This grand old edifice is filled with memories and relics of the past. Here met the Convention of 1788, and the resolutions of 1798-99, by James Madison, truly interpreted the Federal com pact. The Convention of 1829-30, including Madison, Monroe, Marshall, and John Randolph, of Roanoke, sat here, and tbe Universal Suffrage Convention of 1851, and the Secession Con vention of 1 86 1 also met here. The Congress of the Confederate States came here in 1862 from Montgomery, Alabama, and sat until the day in April, 1865, when Lee was turned back at Petersburg, and ' ' all was lost save honor." "THE VHITE HOUSE OF THE CONFEDERACY" President Jefferson Davis, of the late Confederate States of America, lived in the imposing building at Clay and Twelfth Streets daring the war. The large grounds attached to the house were beautifully laid out and adorned with statuary, flowers and fountains. Mr. Davis, to whom it had been presented by the city of Rich mond on the removal of the seat of government here from Mont gomery, Alabama, would only occupy it on the condition of its re- mainingthe property of the city. Afler Richmond's evacuation, it was taken by the Federal troops for use as a residence and headquar ters for the military commanders of Virginia until the army was 412 NOTES ON THE ILLUSTRATIONS withdrawn, and the State's representation in the Union restored ; the city then received it back, and it was used a long time as a public school. Lately it has been renovated and restored to its former condition, to be henceforth devoted to the purposes of a Confederate Museum, without any material change from its appearance during its occupancy by President Davis. "MONUMENT TO THE CONFEDERATE DEAD IN HOLLYWOOD CEMETERY, RICHMOND, VIRGINIA" A beautiful spot naturally, and made more beautiful by care ful attention, is Hollywood Cemetery, in the western part of the city. "Hollywood," as it is generally called, was laid off in 1848, and dedicated June 26, 1849, the first interment, however, being made in July, 1848. More than one hundred acres in extent, it is shaded with trees of original forest growth ; and by the hills and valleys, with the streams that ripple through them, we are brought to feel that here, indeed, nature makes beautiful even the sad surroundings of the dead. In the Soldiers' Section there lie 20,000 of Confederate dead waiting the last trump, and to their memory there has been erected by the efforts of Virginia's noble women, a monument of rough Virginia granite, nearly one hundred feet tall, in the shape of a pyramid, covered with Virginia creeper and ivy. There are appropriate inscriptions on it, and once a year, in May, on " Memorial Day," the graves of the soldiers are covered with flowers by loving hands. "ALABAMA STATE CAPITOL, MONTGOMERY" Montgomery is rightly called the ' ' Cradle of the Con federacy." Here was enacted the stirring scenes which cul minated in the formation of the Southern Confederacy. In the Capitol assembled the Convention, January 7, 1 861, of which Mr. Yancey was Chairman, when the ordinance of secession was passed by a vote of 61 to 39. In this building Jefferson Davis was inaugurated as the President of the Southem Confederacy, February 8, 1861, when Mr. Yancey uttered the famous words, "The Man and the Hour Have Met." SoTB.— Tlkere are96piigM gtveo to lUustratlona iu this volume wbioh are sot iacluded in tMs fnlln nuw'n". TV«y make a total of 608 pages. 1kin^ TKlorb0 ot Approval anb lenborecment Selecte^ from tbe tmanp "Rcceiveb trom Comrades anb yrienDa L*tt«r from GENERAL STEPHEN D. LEE Comnnander-ln-Chlef of United Confodorate Votorans. COMMANDTNG GBNBRAL'S OFFICB, COLCMBUS, Miss., Rbv. H. M. Wharton, D.D., My Dear Comrade : I desire to commend your effort of saving to us, and to generations yet to come, those old poems and war songs of the Confederacy, and that you will bring out a handsome book, pub lished in the best style, for the sons and daughters of the South, and also of the North. I wish you God speed and success in yotir effort. With kind wishes, From H. H. CABANIS8, The Well-known Editor of The Augusta Chronicle. Augusta, Ga., Dear Doctor : Yours of the 27th of Feb. at hand. I congratulate you on the practical completion of your patriotic work, and trust that it will meet with a generous reception, not only in the South, but in the (late) " enemy's country." You are to be highly commended for your labor of love in reproducing enduringly the dear old songs of the Confederacy, some of which may otherwise have perished. It was noble in the men and women who wrote them, but not less is the man who preserves them entitled to honor. I remain, Your sincere friend. Letter from GENERAL CLEMENT A. EVANS, Tho Distinguished Commander who Succeeded the Lamented Stonewall Jackson. General Evans Is Himself an Author of DIstinotlon. Atlanta, Ga., M'y Dear Doctor : Your efforts to give to our Countrymen now living, and to those hereafter bom, a permanent book of War Songs and Poems of the Confederacy excites my own interest in a high degree, and not mine only but that of all who have taken thought of the immense value for all time such a collection will be. Productions of that kind brought into being during an era of intense feeling, and during the period following the last Confederate throes, will illustrate the times of the great struggle. I earnestly trust you will have all the assistance you require to enable you to compile your work in a completeness not hereto fore attained. I will gladly comply with your request, and wish you abundant success. ih Letter from GENERAL FITZHUGH LEE In which he says I am glad to leam from your letter that you contemplate, and are preparing, a work on Confederate War Songs. The trials and troubles, the sorrows and sufferings of the Southern soldier from 1861 to 1865 were great, and so was his splendid courage on many hard-fought fields. It is well to recall those heroic days in song and story, " lest we forget, lest we forget." ^>'^y',' -W'% 1 ? ;iii ^J t-li^ - .1. , • '.1. •if ' I ' , !' : ,1',, . ,,, (1 , lite' ^i ' 'i«:' iE^rl.'j '.-. *.' 1^1' • '!!' •ii; ti'' ' '' I 'I'l, ftr lsmI'" i ,., ¦i,.;i|)iii4''" ¦!! /"; ' 'I'lv 1'' 'i!' '!''l' ' i,l . illi iv ' < Ml I'lljl 1 1" 1 1 i' ' H t(lt 1 111* ., *"«8a« l!iiitiSl!i!!lllikl!5« I < I,., t . ! If, ¦i '< IJiiH j li'-'S'i Y } ' 'It '' ..I I H ,1 il' 'HdlfliiL * ...:';"'¦• :;.5ii 'M: p' 'i ! ,»!' •Ml ", 'Ml jM^lwli ij Sl ¦l.i.j, •fill " ,('! :;¦ iSi«;sF