 | War poets of the South and Confederate camp-fire songs. |  |
THE REBEL'S REQUIEM.
The following verses were written by Col. M. V. Moore, ot
Auburn, Ala., on the morning when the battle of Chickamauga was
opening—the writer then being under the impression that he
would not survive the coming struggle, which he felt would be
a victory for the Confederates.
O give him a grave, when the victory's won,
In the dust of his own dear clime;
And lay him to rest with his comrades brave—
Dead, and dead in a cause sublime!
Heap the clay lightly o'er the upturned face,
Tearless smooth over the blood-stained sod,
And leave him to rest as the soldier dies,
Committing his cause and his all to God.
In the dust of his own dear clime;
And lay him to rest with his comrades brave—
Dead, and dead in a cause sublime!
Heap the clay lightly o'er the upturned face,
Tearless smooth over the blood-stained sod,
And leave him to rest as the soldier dies,
Committing his cause and his all to God.
Shallow ye'll dig there the burial trench,
And narrow the pillowless bed,
But straighten the limbs, and his blanket bring
And drape it gently around the dead;
And narrow the pillowless bed,
But straighten the limbs, and his blanket bring
And drape it gently around the dead;
174
The shattered breast where once had dwelt
The virtues and pride and love,
Shall reck not the clods, but the spirit flown
Shall smile on the mound above.
The virtues and pride and love,
Shall reck not the clods, but the spirit flown
Shall smile on the mound above.
Go speak of his name, as ye tell of the fight,
To the dear one who gave him her vow,
And tell her his life to his country he gave,
But his heart he sends to her now.
Perchance she may weep o'er a "rebel's" doom,
And the thought may humble her pride,
But a heart that was truer to his lady-love
And his native land never died!
To the dear one who gave him her vow,
And tell her his life to his country he gave,
But his heart he sends to her now.
Perchance she may weep o'er a "rebel's" doom,
And the thought may humble her pride,
But a heart that was truer to his lady-love
And his native land never died!
O maiden! weep for the fallen love,
O mother! strengthen your prayer,
O father! tell of thy heart's dear loss,
And stifle the agony there.
O brothers! give to your country's cause
The all of your treasure and blood—
For Heaven shall keep the record true,
And vengeance shall be with God!
O mother! strengthen your prayer,
O father! tell of thy heart's dear loss,
And stifle the agony there.
O brothers! give to your country's cause
The all of your treasure and blood—
For Heaven shall keep the record true,
And vengeance shall be with God!
We curse not the foe for the deed now done—
He has stricken a martyr down!
And though we have borne the "rebel's" cross,
Justice will give us the crown;
And Heaven alone shall judge the "crime,"
While damning the tyranny deeper
That, under the guise of "Liberty's cause,"
Was forging a chain for the sleeper!
He has stricken a martyr down!
And though we have borne the "rebel's" cross,
Justice will give us the crown;
And Heaven alone shall judge the "crime,"
While damning the tyranny deeper
That, under the guise of "Liberty's cause,"
Was forging a chain for the sleeper!
175
He sleeps! and over his stoneless grave
The shafts of his enemies rattle,
But he heeds them not, no less than he did
Their guns on the morn of battle;
O well may he rest! for the future brings
A day that shall brighten his story,
When Fame shall trumpet aright his name,
And a world shall claim his glory!
The shafts of his enemies rattle,
But he heeds them not, no less than he did
Their guns on the morn of battle;
O well may he rest! for the future brings
A day that shall brighten his story,
When Fame shall trumpet aright his name,
And a world shall claim his glory!
| War poets of the South and Confederate camp-fire songs. | |