Songs and Ballads of the Southern People Part 16

BATTLE-CALL.

Nec temere, nec timide.

_Dedicated to her Countrymen, the Cavaliers of the South._

BY ANNIE CHAMBERS KETCHUM.

Gentlemen of the South!

Gird on your flas.h.i.+ng swords!

Darkly along your borders fair Gather the ruffian hordes!

Ruthless and fierce they come; Even at the cannon's mouth To blast the glory of your land, Gentlemen of the South!

Ride forth in your stately pride, Each bearing on his s.h.i.+eld Ensigns your fathers won of yore On many a well-fought field.

Let this be your battle-cry, Even to the cannon's mouth, _Cor unum via una!_ Onward!

Gentlemen of the South!

Brave knights of a knightly race, Gordon and Chambers and Gray, Show to the minions of the North How valor dares the fray!

Let them read on each spotless crest, Even at the cannon's mouth, _Decori decus addit avito_, Gentlemen of the South!

Morrison, Douglas, Stuart, Erskine and Bradford and West, Your gauntlets on many a hill and plain Have stood the battle's test.

_Animo non astutia!_ March to the cannon's mouth, Heirs of the brave dead centuries, Gentlemen of the South!

Call out your stalwart men, Workers in bra.s.s 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 G.o.ds, 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 n.o.bly 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 flas.h.i.+ng of their eyes, 'twas proved _This was enough_.

Men, whose _every_ bosom had a _n.o.ble_ 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 _n.o.bly_, _O most n.o.bly_, 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 n.o.ble 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.