 | War poets of the South and Confederate camp-fire songs. |  |
A PLEDGE TO LEE.
We pledge thee, Lee!
In water or wine,
In blood or in brine,
What matters the sign?
Whether brilliantly growing,
Or darkly o'erflowing,
So the cup is divine
That we fill to thee.
Vanquished—victorious,
Gloomy or glorious,
Fainting and bleeding,
Advancing, receding,
Lingering or leading,
Captive or free;
With swords raised on high,
With hearts nerved to die,
Or to grasp victory;
Hand to hand—knee to knee,
With a wild three times three,
We pledge thee, Lee!
In water or wine,
In blood or in brine,
What matters the sign?
Whether brilliantly growing,
Or darkly o'erflowing,
So the cup is divine
That we fill to thee.
Vanquished—victorious,
Gloomy or glorious,
Fainting and bleeding,
Advancing, receding,
Lingering or leading,
Captive or free;
With swords raised on high,
With hearts nerved to die,
Or to grasp victory;
Hand to hand—knee to knee,
With a wild three times three,
We pledge thee, Lee!
We pledge thee, Chief!
In the name of our nation,
Her wide devastation,
Her sore desolation,
Her grandeur and grief!
In the name of our nation,
Her wide devastation,
Her sore desolation,
Her grandeur and grief!
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Whether thou warrest
Where our need is the sorest,
Or in fortress or forest,
Bidest thy time;
Thou—Heaven elected,
Thou—Angel protected,
Thou—Brother selected,
Whate'er thy fate be,
Our trust is in thee,
And our faith is sublime.
With swords raised on high,
With hearts nerved to die,
Or to grasp victory;
Hand to hand—knee to knee,
With a wild three times three,
We pledge thee, Lee!
Where our need is the sorest,
Or in fortress or forest,
Bidest thy time;
Thou—Heaven elected,
Thou—Angel protected,
Thou—Brother selected,
Whate'er thy fate be,
Our trust is in thee,
And our faith is sublime.
With swords raised on high,
With hearts nerved to die,
Or to grasp victory;
Hand to hand—knee to knee,
With a wild three times three,
We pledge thee, Lee!
| War poets of the South and Confederate camp-fire songs. | |