Part 5

Call out your stalwart men, Workers in brass and steel, Bid the swart artisans come forth At sound of the trumpet's peal; Give them your war-cry, Erskine, _Fight_ to the cannon's mouth-- Bid the men _forward_, Douglas, forward! Yeomanry of the South!

Brave hunters, ye have met The fierce black bear in the fray, Ye have trailed the panther night by night, Ye have chased the fox by day; Your prancing chargers pant To dash at the gray wolf's mouth, Your arms are sure of their quarry--forward! Gentlemen of the South!

Fight! that the lowly serf And the high-born lady, still May bide in their proud dependency, Free subjects of your will; Teach the base North how ill-- At the belching cannon's mouth-- He fares who touches your household gods, Gentlemen of the South!

From mother, and wife, and child, From faithful and happy slave, Prayers for your sake ascend to Him Whose arm is strong to save. We check the gathering tears, Though ye go to the cannon's mouth; _Dominus providebit!_ Onward! Gentlemen of the South!

DUNROBIN COTTAGE.

THE BONNIE BLUE FLAG.

BY HARRY MACARTHY.

We are a band of brothers, and natives to the soil, Fighting for the property we gained by honest toil, And when our rights were threatened, the cry rose near and far: Hurrah for the bonnie Blue Flag that bears a single star! _Chorus_--Hurrah! hurrah! for the bonnie Blue Flag That bears a single star.

As long as the Union was faithful to her trust, Like friends and like brothers, kind were we and just; But now when Northern treachery attempts our rights to mar, We hoist on high the bonnie Blue Flag that bears a single star.

First, gallant South Carolina nobly made the stand; Then came Alabama, who took her by the hand; Next, quickly, Mississippi, Georgia, and Florida-- All raised the flag, the bonnie Blue Flag that bears a single star.

Ye men of valor, gather round the banner of the right; Texas and fair Louisiana join us in the fight. Davis, our loved President, and Stephens, statesmen are; Now rally round the bonnie Blue Flag that bears a single star.

And here's to brave Virginia! the Old Dominion State With the young Confederacy at length has linked her fate. Impelled by her example, now other States prepare To hoist on high the bonnie Blue Flag that bears a single star.

Then here's to our Confederacy; strong we are and brave, Like patriots of old we'll fight, our heritage to save; And rather than submit to shame, to die we would prefer; So cheer for the bonnie Blue Flag that bears a single star.

Then cheer, boys, cheer, raise the joyous shout, For Arkansas and North Carolina now have both gone out; And let another rousing cheer for Tennessee be given, The single star of the bonnie Blue Flag has grown to be eleven!

THE BATTLE AT BULL RUN.

BY RUTH.

Forward, my brave columns, forward! No other word was spoken; But in the quick and mighty rustling of their feet, And in the flashing of their eyes, 'twas proved _This was enough_. Men, whose _every_ bosom had a _noble_ heart, And who had left their homes, their sacred _rights_ To gain: To _these_ this was no trying hour, No time to waver, and to doubt. But one, For which they'd hoped and prayed-- One (as they felt) they'd brought not on Themselves, but which they knew _must come_-- And _nobly_, _O most nobly_, did their Bravery, their _sense_ of _right_, sustain them.

And Lincoln's hordes-- _They_ knew _not_ with what natures they contended, Seemed not to feel their _motives_ differed, as Does heaven from earth. _They_, the poor, miserable, _hired_ outcasts, whose Principles were bought, And men, whose courage, bravery, and noble aims, Had come to be, throughout the land, A proverb.

And _what_ the end? What _could_, what _should it be_, than what it _was_? A _brilliant, glorious_ VICTORY.

The South weeps o'er her slain: And well she may; for they were jewels From her diadem. She weeps; sheds tears of grief, of sorrow, And of PRIDE.

LOUISVILLE, KY., _July 24, 1861_.

THE SOUTHRON MOTHER'S CHARGE.

BY THOMAS B. HOOD.

You go, my son, to the battle-field, To repel the invading foe; Mid its fiercest conflicts _never_ yield Till death shall lay you low.

Our God, who smiles upon the Right And frowns upon the Wrong, Will nerve you for our holy fight, And make your courage strong.

Our cause is just, for it we pray At morning, noon, and night, Upon our banners we inscribe, God, Liberty, and Right.

I love you as I love my life, You are my only son; Your country calls, go forth and fight Till Freedom's cause is won.

It may be that you fall in death, Contending for your home, Yet your aged mother will not be Forsaken though alone.

A thousand generous hearts there are Throughout this sunny land, Whose ample fortunes will be spent With an unsparing hand.

Now go, my son, a mother's prayers Will ever follow thee; And in the thickest of the fight Strike home for liberty!

On every hill, in every glen, We'll fight till we are free; We'll fight till every limpid brook Runs crimson to the sea.

No truce we know, till every foe Shall leave our hallowed sod, And we regain that heaven-born boon, "Freedom to worship God."

NEW ORLEANS, LA.

OUR BOYS ARE GONE.

BY COL. HAMILTON WASHINGTON.

Our boys are gone 'till the war is o'er, In the ranks of death you'll find them; With duty's path of blood before, And with all they love behind them: They bear our hearts to the tented field-- Each danger makes them dearer-- Their faithful hearts our only shield From the foe still drawing nearer.

With pride we hear of the perils braved And the wreaths they win of glory; With joy we hear of lov'd ones saved From each field of battle gory; And joy is mix'd with fleeting pain As we look to Heaven o'er us, And think that there we'll meet again, With the brave who've gone before us.

THE SOUTHERN PLEIADES.

BY LAURA LORRIMER.

When first our Southern flag arose, Beside the heaving sea, It bore upon its silken folds A green Palmetto tree. All honor to that banner brave, It roused the blood of yore, And nerved the arm of Southern men For valiant deeds once more.

When storm clouds darkened o'er our sky, That star, the first of seven, Shone out amid the mist and gloom, To light our country's heaven. The glorious seven! long may their flag Wave proudly on the breeze; Long may they burn on fame's broad sky-- The Southern Pleiades!

_Nashville Patriot._

THE STARS AND BARS.

BY A. J. REQUIER.

Fling wide the dauntless banner To every Southern breeze, Baptized in flame, with Sumter's name-- A patriot and a hero's fame-- From Moultrie to the seas! That it may cleave the morning sun And, streaming, sweep the night, The emblem of a battle won With Yankee ships in sight.

Come, hucksters, from your markets, Come, bigots, from your caves, Come, venal spies, with brazen lies Bewildering your deluded eyes, That we may dig your graves; Come, creatures of a sordid clown And driveling traitor's breath, A single blast shall blow you down Upon the fields of Death.

The very flag you carry Caught its reflected grace, In fierce alarms, from Southern arms, When foemen threatened all your farms, And never saw your face; Ho! braggarts of New England's shore, Back to your hills and delve The soil whose craven sons foreswore The flag in eighteen-twelve!

We wreathed around the roses It wears before the world, And made it bright with storied light, In every scene of bloody fight Where it has been unfurled; And think ye, now, the dastard hands That never yet could hold Its staff, shall wave it o'er our lands, To glut the greed of gold?

No! by the truth of Heaven And its eternal Sun, By every sire whose altar fire Burns on to beckon and inspire, It never shall be done; Before that day the kites shall wheel Hail-thick on Northern heights, And there our bared, aggressive steel Shall countersign our rights!

Then spread the flaming banner O'er mountain, lake, and plain, Before its bars, degraded Mars Has kissed the dust with all his stars, And will be struck again; For could its triumph now be stayed By Hell's prevailing gates, A sceptred Union would be made The grave of sovereign States.

THE MARCH.

BY JOHN W. OVERALL.

Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp! Go the Southern braves to battle, How they shine, each gleaming line! Flashing sabers! how they rattle! Every lip is now compressed, Every heart now yearns for glory, Every eye with patriot fire Burns for battle fierce and gory!

Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp! Death is in each hidden saber, Reaper of the fields of Time, Look ye for a giant's labor! How sublime! when patriots feel All the strength of self-reliance, Marching on to meet the foe, With a stern and grim defiance!

See how proudly floats our flag! White! our cause is pure and grand, man! Red! a living flood shall flow From every foe now in the land, man! Blue! aye, heaven's stars are there! Sparkling in their azure beauty! Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp! Go the messengers of duty!

SOUTHERN WAR SONG.

BY N. P. W.

To horse! to horse! our standard flies, The bugles sound the call; An alien navy stems our seas-- The voice of battle's on the breeze, Arouse ye, one and all!

From beauteous Southern homes we come, A band of brothers true-- Resolved to fight for liberty, And live or perish with our flag-- The noble Red and Blue.

Though tamely crouch to Northern frown Kentucky's tardy train; Though invaded soil Maryland mourns, Though brave Missouri vainly spurns, And foaming gnaws the chain;

Oh! had they marked the avenging call Their brethren's insults gave, Disunion ne'er their ranks had mown, Nor patriot valor, desperate grown, Sought freedom in the grave;

Shall we, too, bend the stubborn head, In Freedom's temple born-- Dress our pale cheek in timid smiles, To hail a master in our house, Or brook a victor's scorn?

No! though destruction o'er the land Come pouring as a flood, The sun that sees our falling day, Shall mark our saber's deadly sway, And set that night in blood!

For gold let Northern legions fight, Or plunder's bloody gain; Unbribed, unbought, our swords we draw, To guard our homes, to fence our law, Nor shall their edge be vain.

And now that breath of Northern gale Has fanned the Stars and Bars, And footstep of invader rude, With rapine foul, and red with blood, Us rights and liberty debars.

Then farewell home, and farewell friends, Adieu each tender tie, Resolved we mingle in the tide, Where charging squadrons furious ride, To conquer or to die.

To horse, to horse! the sabers gleam, High sounds our bugle-call, Combined by honor's sacred tie, Our word is, Rights and Liberty! March forward, one and all!

_Louisville Courier._

WE'LL BE FREE IN MARYLAND.

BY ROBERT E. HOLTZ.

AIR--"_Gideon's Band_."

The boys down South in Dixie's land, The boys down South in Dixie's land, The boys down South in Dixie's land, Will come and rescue Maryland. _Chorus_--If you will join the Dixie band, Here's my heart and here's my hand, If you will join the Dixie band; We're fighting for a home.

The Northern foes have trod us down, The Northern foes have trod us down, The Northern foes have trod us down, But we will rise with true renown. If you will join the Dixie band, etc.

The tyrants they must leave our door, The tyrants they must leave our door, The tyrants they must leave our door, Then we'll be free in Baltimore. If you will join the Dixie band, etc.

These hirelings they'll never stand, These hirelings they'll never stand, These hirelings they'll never stand, Whenever they see the Southern band. If you will join the Dixie band, etc.

Old Abe has got into a trap, Old Abe has got into a trap, Old Abe has got into a trap, And he can't get out with his Scotch cap. If you will join the Dixie band, etc.

Nobody's hurt is easy spun, Nobody's hurt is easy spun, Nobody's hurt is easy spun, But the Yankees caught it at Bull Run. If you will join the Dixie band, etc.

We rally to Jeff. Davis true, Beauregard and Johnston, too, Magruder, Price, and General Bragg, And give three cheers for the Southern flag. If you will join the Dixie band, etc.

We'll drink this toast to one and all, Keep cocked and primed for the Southern call; The day will come, we'll make the stand, Then we'll be free in Maryland. If you will join the Dixie band, etc.

_January 30, 1862._

WAR SONG.

BY J. H. WOODCOCK.

TUNE--"_Bonnie Blue Flag_."

Huzza! huzza! let's raise the battle-cry, And whip the Yankees from our land, Or with them fall and die. Rush on our Southron columns, And make the brigands feel That all the booty they will get, Will be our Southron steel. Huzza! huzza! let's raise (the) our banner high, And nobly drive the Yankees out, Or with them fall and die.

Rush on the columns--let every Southron brave Nobly charge the accursed foe, Or find a soldier's grave. With bowie and with pike, We'll rally to the field, And bravely to the last we'll strike, Resolved we'll never yield. Huzza! huzza! etc.

We are fighting for our mothers, our sisters, and our wives; For these, and our country's rights, We'll sacrifice our lives. Then, trusting still to Heaven, We'll charge the invading host, Till liberty and independence Shall be the nation's boast. Huzza! huzza! etc.

Then on with our columns--slay the vandal foe-- Beat them from our sunny soil, And lay their colors low. To the great God of nations Our sacred cause confide, For we are fighting for our liberty, And He is on our side. Huzza! huzza! etc.

A NEW RED, WHITE, AND BLUE.

WRITTEN FOR A LADY, BY JEFF. THOMPSON.

Missouri is the pride of the nation, The hope of the brave and the free; The Confederacy will furnish the rations, But the fighting is trusted to thee; For, brave boys, your soil has been noted, And your flag has been trusted to you; For freedom you have not yet voted, But you fight for the Red, White, and Blue. _Chorus_--Three cheers, etc.

The Stars shall shine bright in the heaven, But the Stripes should be trailed in the dust, For they are no longer the sign of the haven Of the brave, of the free, or the just; The Bars now in triumph shall wave O'er the land of the faithful and true; O'er the home of the Southern brave Shall float the new Red, White, and Blue. _Chorus_--Three cheers, etc.

O JOHNNY BULL, MY JO JOHN.

AIR--"_John Anderson, my Jo_."

It was stated in the Richmond "Dispatch" during the last days of December, 1861, that a gentleman, just from the West Indies, had said that there were eighty-seven British ships-of-war lying in those waters. This statement gave rise to the following imitation of an old song:

O Johnny Bull, my Jo John! I wonder what you mean, By sending all these frigates out, commissioned by the Queen; You'll frighten off the Yankees, John, and why should you do so? Best catch and sink, or burn them all, O Johnny Bull, my Jo!

O Johnny Bull, my Jo John! when Yankee hands profane, Were laid in wanton insult upon the lion's mane, He roared so loud and long, John, they quickly let him go, And sank upon their trembling knees, O Johnny Bull, my Jo!

O Johnny Bull, my Jo John! when Lincoln first began To try his hand at war, John, you were a peaceful man; But now your blood is up, John, and well the Yankees know, You play the ---- when you start, O Johnny Bull, my Jo!

O Johnny Bull, my Jo John, let's take the field together, And hunt the Yankee Doodles home, in spite of wind and weather, And ere a twelvemonth roll around, to Boston we will go, And eat our Christmas dinner there, O Johnny Bull, my Jo!

"SOUTHRONS."

BY CATHERINE M. WARFIELD.

You can never win them back-- Never! never! Though they perish on the track Of your endeavor; Though their corses strew the earth, That SMILED upon their birth, And blood pollutes each hearth- Stone forever!

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, Nothing dreading!

They may fall before the fire Of your legions, Paid with gold for murderous hire-- _Bought allegiance_; But for every drop you shed, You shall have a mound of dead, So that vultures may be fed In our regions!

But the battle to the strong Is not given, When the Judge of Right and Wrong Sits in heaven; And the God of David still Guides the pebble with _His will_; There are giants yet to kill-- Wrongs unshriven!

"NIL DESPERANDUM."

_Inscribed to our Soldier-boys_,

BY ADA ROSE.

The Yankee hosts are coming, With their glittering rows of steel, And sharp, from many a skirmish, Comes the rifle's ringing peal, Warning you how very near The Northern "Hessians" are, With their overwhelming forces; But ne'er must you despair.

For though they come on, surging Like a mighty rolling sea, They're _hired_ by their master, "Abe"-- _You_ fight for _Liberty_. So bravely you must meet them, And face the cannon's blare; Your watchword, "Victory or Death," And never you despair.

True, the cloud is dark and lowering, But behind a cheerful ray, And the night is always darkest Just before the break of day. Have faith; the cloud will soon disperse, For the light is surely there; The day will soon be dawning, So never you despair.

Go, emulate brave Washington, Who led a little band, To drive the proud oppressors From off their happy land. The enemy outnumbered, By far, the "rebels" there; But bravely they encountered them, Nor yielded to despair.

'Tis said that "rebel" chieftain, Ere they sought the battle's fray, Would ask our Heavenly Father To be their shield and stay; And then they'd march with confidence, Well knowing He'd be there; And that must be the reason why They never did despair.

Likewise, if you will ask Him, He'll meet you on the field, To be a guard about you, And your support and shield; The foe shall fly before you, As you shout your victory there; Then don't forget to plead with Him, And never to despair.

PINE BLUFF, ARK.

ADDRESS OF THE WOMEN TO THE SOUTHERN TROOPS.

BY MRS. J. T. H. CROSS.

AIR--"_Bruce's Address_."

Southern men, unsheathe the sword, Inland and along the board; Backward drive the Northern horde-- Rush to Victory!

Let your banners kiss the sky, Be "The Right" your battle cry! Be the God of Battles nigh-- Crown you in the fight!

Pressing back the tears that start, We behold your hosts depart, Saying, with heroic heart, Clothe your arms with might!

Lower the proud oppressor's crest! Or, if he should prove the best, Dead, not dishonored, rest On the field of blood!

We--may God so give us grace!-- Sons will rear, to take your place; Strong the foemen's steel to face-- Strong in heart and hand!

Death your serried ranks may sweep, Proud shall be the tears we weep-- Sacredly our hearts shall keep Memory of your deeds!

Though our land be left forlorn, Spirit of the Southron-born Northern rage shall laugh to scorn-- Northern hosts defy.

He that last is doomed to die Shall, with his expiring sigh, Send aloft the battle-cry, "God defend the Right!"

THE CAVALIERS OF DIXIE.

BY BENJAMIN F. PORTER.

Ye Cavaliers of Dixie! Who guard the Southern shores, Whose standards brave the battle storm Which o'er our border roars; Your glorious sabers draw once more, And charge the Northern foe; And reap their columns deep, Where the raging tempests blow, And the iron hail in floods descends, And the bloody torrents flow.

Ye Cavaliers of Dixie! Though dark the tempest lower, What arms will wear the tyrants chains, What dastard heart will cower? Bright o'er the night a sign shall rise To lead to victory! And your swords reap their hordes, Where the battle tempests blow; Where the iron hail in floods descends, And the bloody torrents flow.

The South! she needs no ramparts, No lofty towers to shield; Your bosoms are her bulwarks strong, Breastworks that never yield! The thunders of your battle blades Shall sweep the servile foe; While their gore stains the shore, Where the battle tempests blow; Where the iron hail in floods descends And the bloody torrents flow.

The battle-flag of Dixie! With crimson field shall flame, Her azure cross and silver stars Shall light her sons to fame! When peace with olive-branch returns, That flag's white folds shall glow Still bright on every height, When storm has ceased to blow, And the battle tempests roar no more; Nor the bloody torrents flow.

Oh! battle-flag of Dixie! Long, long, triumphant wave! Where'er the storms of battle roar, Or victory crowns the brave! The Cavaliers of Dixie! In woman's song 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.[10]

LAND OF KING COTTON.

BY JO. AUGUSTINE SIGNAIGO.

AIR--"_Red, White, and Blue_."

Oh! Dixie, the 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. _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!

When Liberty sounds her war-rattle, Demanding her right and her due, The first land who 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 strike, until each vandal comer Lies dead on the soil he would stain. Three cheers for our army, 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 champions of freedom e'er be; May they flourish, Confed'rate forever, The boast of the brave and the free. Three cheers for our army, etc.[11]

THE GUERILLAS.

BY S. TEACKLE WALLIS.

Awake and to horse, my brothers! For the dawn is glimmering gray, And hark! in the 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!

"From the 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.