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Page 89
"Ye batteries of Beauregard!"
From Savannah on them frown;
By the majesty of Heaven
Strike their "grand armada" down;
By the blood of many a freeman,
By each dear-bought battle-field,
By the hopes we fondly cherish,
Never ye the victory yield.
"Ye batteries of Beauregard!"
All along our Southern coast,
Let, in after-time, your triumphs,
Be a nation's pride and boast;
Send each missile with a greeting
To the vile, ungodly crew;
Make them feel they ne'er can conquer
People to themselves so true.
"Ye batteries of Beauregard!"
By the glories of the past,
By the memory of old Sumter,
Whose renown will ever last,
Speed upon their vaunted legions
Volleys thick of shot and shell,
Bid them welcome, in your glory,
To their own appointed hell.
"When Peace Returns."
Published in the Granada Picket.
By Olivia Tully Thomas.
When "war has smoothed his wrinkled front,"
And meek-eyed peace returning,
Has brightened hearts that long were wont
To sigh in grief and mourning--
How blissful then will be the day
When, from the wars returning,
The weary soldier wends his way
To dear ones that are yearning,
To clasp in true love's fond embrace,
To gaze with looks so tender
Upon the war-worn form and face
Of Liberty's defender;
To count with pride each cruel scar,
That mars the manly beauty,
Of him who proved so brave in war,
So beautiful in duty.
When peace returns, throughout our land,
Glad shouts of welcome render
The gallant few of Freedom's band
Whose cry was "no surrender;"
Who battled bravely to be free
From tyranny's oppressions,
And won, for Southern chivalry,
The homage of all nations!
And when, again, in Southern bowers
The ray of peace is shining,
Her maidens gather fairest flowers,
And honor's wreaths are twining,
To bind the brows victorious
On many a field so gory,
Whose names, renowned and glorious,
Shall live in song and story,
Then will affection's tear be shed,
And pity, joy restraining,
For those, the lost, lamented dead,
Are all beyond our plaining;
They fell in manhood's prime and might;
And we should not weep the story
That tells of Fame, a sacred light,
Above each grave of glory!
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