War Poetry of the South | Page 6

resounding shore,
With voice above th' Atlantic roar,

Her sons proclaim her free once more!
Oh, land of heroes! Spartan State!
In numbers few, in daring great,

Thus to affront the frowns of fate!
And while mad triumph rules the hour,
And thickening clouds of
menace lower,
Bear back the tide of tyrant power.

With steadfast courage, faltering never,
Sternly resolved, her bonds
we sever:
Hail, Carolina! free forever!
[1] The flag showed a star within a crescent or new moon.
The New Star.
By B.M. Anderson.
Another 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 foe?
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.
The Irrepressible Conflict.
Tyrtæus.--_Charleston
Mercury._
Then welcome be it, if indeed it be
The Irrepressible Conflict! 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!
If those who call us brethren
strike the blow,
No common conflict shall the invader know!
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, welcome to your graves--or ours!
The brave
May perish, but ye shall not bind one slave.
The Southern Republic.
By Olivia Tully Thomas, of Mississippi.
In 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 Southern valor rear.
Though
kingdoms scorn to own her sway,
Or recognize her birth,
The land
blood-bought for Liberty
Will reign supreme on earth.
Clime of the Sun! Home of the Brave!
Thy sons are bold and free,

And pour life's crimson tide to save
Their birthright, Liberty!
Their
fertile fields and sunny plains
That yield the wealth alone,
That's
coveted for greedy gains
By despots-and a throne!

Proud country! battling, bleeding, torn,
Thy altars desolate;
Thy
lovely dark-eyed daughters mourn
At war's relentless fate;
And
widow's prayers, and orphan's tears,
Her homes will consecrate,

While more than brass or marble rears
The trophy of her great.
Oh! land that boasts each gallant name
Of JACKSON, JOHNSON,
LEE,
And hosts of valiant sons, whose fame
Extends beyond the
sea;
Far rather let thy plains become,
From gulf to mountain cave,

One honored sepulchre and tomb,
Than we the tyrant's slave!
Fair, favored land! thou mayst be free,
Redeemed by blood and war;

Through agony and gloom we see
Thy hope--a glimmering star;

Thy banner, too, may proudly float,
A herald on the seas--
Thy
deeds of daring worlds remote
Will emulate and praise!
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 stain,
Crowned with the warrior's
wreath,
From beds of fame their proud refrain
Was "Liberty or
Death!"
"Is There, Then, No Hope for the Nations?"
Charleston Courier.
Is 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!
How valiant their deeds 'gainst the foeman,
How wondrous
their virtues and arts!
Rude valor, at first, when beginning,
The
nation through blood took its name;
Then the wisdom, which hourly

winning
New heights in its march, rose to Fame!
How noble the tale for long ages,
Blending Beauty