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Page 67
By blue Patapsco's billowy dash
The tyrant's war-shout comes,
Along with the cymbal's fitful clash
And the growl of his sullen drums;
We hear it, we heed it, with vengeful thrills,
And we shall not forgive or forget--
There's faith in the streams, there's hope in the hills,
"There's life in the Old Land yet!"
Minions! we sleep, but we are not dead,
We are crushed, we are scourged, we are scarred--
We crouch--'tis to welcome the triumph-tread
Of the peerless Beauregard.
Then woe to your vile, polluting horde,
When the Southern braves are met;
There's faith in the victor's stainless sword,
"There's life in the Old Land yet!"
Bigots! ye quell not the valiant mind
With the clank of an iron chain;
The spirit of Freedom sings in the wind
O'er Merryman, Thomas, and Kane;
And we--though we smite not--are not thralls,
We are piling a gory debt;
While down by McHenry's dungeon walls
"There's life in the Old Land yet!"
Our women, have hung their harps away
And they scowl on your brutal bands,
While the nimble poignard dares the day
In their dear defiant hands;
They will strip their tresses to string our bows
Ere the Northern sun is set--
There's faith in their unrelenting woes--
"There's life in the Old Land yet!"
There's life, though it throbbeth in silent veins,
'Tis vocal without noise;
It gushed o'er Manassas' solemn plains
From the blood of the Maryland boys.
That blood shall cry aloud and rise
With an everlasting threat--
By the death of the brave, by the God in the skies,
"There's life in the Old Land yet!"
Tell the Boys the War Is Ended.
By Emily J. Moore.
While in the first ward of the Quintard Hospital, Rome, Georgia, a young
soldier from the Eighth Arkansas Begiment, who had been wounded at
Murfreesboro', called me to his bedside. As I approached I saw that he was
dying, and when I bent over him he was just able to whisper, "Tell the
boys the war is ended."
"Tell the boys the war is ended,"
These were all the words he said;
"Tell the boys the war is ended,"
In an instant more was dead.
Strangely bright, serene, and cheerful
Was the smile upon his face,
While the pain, of late so fearful,
Had not left the slightest trace.
"Tell the boys the war is ended,"
And with heavenly visions bright
Thoughts of comrades loved were blended,
As his spirit took its flight.
"Tell the boys the war is ended,"
"Grant, 0 God, it may be so,"
Was the prayer which then ascended,
In a whisper deep, though low.
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