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Page 165
V.
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!
Charleston Mercury.
Only a Soldier's Grave.
By S. A. Jones, of Aberdeen, Mississippi.
Only 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.
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!
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.
The Guerilla Martyrs.
I.
Ay, to the doom--the scaffold and the chain,--
To all your 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!--Theirs 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 yourselves 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!
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