War Poetry of the South by Various


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Page 120


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 down.



IX.


The strife grows fiercer! 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!



X.


Oh! glorious Empress of the Main! from out thy storied spires,
Thou well mayst 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!


[1] Fort Moultrie fired the first gun.




Fort Wagner.

By W. Gilmore Simms.



I.


Glory unto the gallant boys who stood
At Wagner, and, 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!



II.


High honor to our youth--our sons and brothers,
Georgians and Carolinians, where they stand!
They will not shame their birthrights, or their mothers,
But keep, through storm, the bulwarks of the land!
They feel that they _must_ conquer! 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!



III.


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!
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!


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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Fri 2nd Jan 2026, 9:19