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Page 27
IV.
Come one, come all, at your country's call,
Let none remain behind,
But those too young, and those too old,
The feeble, the halt, the blind;
Let _every man_, whether rich or poor,
Who can carry a knapsack and gun,
Repair to the ranks of our Southern host,
'Till the cause of the South is won.
V.
But the son of the South, if such there be,
Who will shrink from the contest now,
From a love of ease, or the lust of gain,
Or through fear of the Yankee foe;
May his neighbors shrink from his proffered hand,
As though it was soiled for aye,
And may every woman turn her cheek
From his craven lips away;
May his country's curse be on his head,
And may no man ever see,
A gentle bride by the traitor's side,
Or children about his knee.
VI.
Huzza! huzza! for the Good Old Cause,
'Tis a stirring sound to hear;
For it tells of rights and liberties,
Our fathers bought so dear;
It summons our braves from their bloody graves.
To receive our fond applause,
And bids us tread in the steps of those
Who _died_ for the _Good Old Cause_.
Manassas.
By Catherine M. Warfield.
They have met at last--as storm-clouds
meet in heaven;
And the Northmen, back and bleeding,
have been driven:
And their thunders have been stilled,
And their leaders crushed or killed,
And their ranks, with terror thrilled,
rent and riven!
Like the leaves of Vallambrosa
they are lying;
In the moonlight, in the midnight,
dead and dying:
Like those leaves before the gale,
Swept their legions, wild and pale;
While the host that made them quail
stood, defying.
When aloft in morning sunlight
flags were flaunted,
And "swift vengeance on the rebel"
proudly vaunted:
Little did they think that night
Should close upon their shameful flight,
And rebels, victors in the fight,
stand undaunted.
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