 | War poets of the South and Confederate camp-fire songs. |  |
JAMES R. BARRICK.
Born in Barren County, Kentucky, in 1829. He was at one
time a member of the Kentucky Legislature. In 1864 he lived
in Macon, Ga., and in association with Harry Flash edited the
Macon Telegraph. After the close of the war he resided in
Atlanta, engaged in literary work. He was the author of several
stirring war poems. His remains are buried in Oakland Cemetery,
Atlanta, Georgia.
YE BATTERIES OF BEAUREGARD.
Ye batteries of Beauregard!
Pour hail from Moultrie's wall;
Bid the shock of your deep thunder
On their fleet in terror fall;
Rain your storm of leaden fury
On the black invading host—
Teach them that their step shall never
Press on Carolina's coast.
Pour hail from Moultrie's wall;
Bid the shock of your deep thunder
On their fleet in terror fall;
Rain your storm of leaden fury
On the black invading host—
Teach them that their step shall never
Press on Carolina's coast.
Ye batteries of Beauregard!
Sound the story of our wrong;
Let your tocsin wake the spirit
Of a people brave and strong;
The proud names of old remember—
Marion, Sumter, Pinckney, Greene;
Swell the roll whose deeds of glory,
Side by side with theirs are seen.
Sound the story of our wrong;
Let your tocsin wake the spirit
Of a people brave and strong;
The proud names of old remember—
Marion, Sumter, Pinckney, Greene;
Swell the roll whose deeds of glory,
Side by side with theirs are seen.
27
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 battlefield,
By the hopes we fondly cherish,
Never ye the victory yield!
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 battlefield,
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.
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.
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.
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NO LAND LIKE OURS.
Though other lands may boast of skies
Far deeper in their blue,
Where flowers, in Eden's pristine dyes,
Bloom with a richer hue;
And other nations pride in kings,
And worship lordly powers,
Yet every voice of nature sings,
There is no land like ours!
Far deeper in their blue,
Where flowers, in Eden's pristine dyes,
Bloom with a richer hue;
And other nations pride in kings,
And worship lordly powers,
Yet every voice of nature sings,
There is no land like ours!
Though other scenes than such as grace
Our forests, fields and plain,
May lend the earth a sweeter face,
Where peace incessant reigns,
But dearest still to me the land
Where sunshine cheers the hours,
For God hath shown, with His own hand,
There is no land like ours!
Our forests, fields and plain,
May lend the earth a sweeter face,
Where peace incessant reigns,
But dearest still to me the land
Where sunshine cheers the hours,
For God hath shown, with His own hand,
There is no land like ours!
Though other streams may softer flow
In vales of classic bloom,
And rivers clear as crystal glow,
That wear no tinge of gloom;
Though other mountains lofty look,
And grand seem olden towers,
We see, as in an open book,
There is no land like ours!
In vales of classic bloom,
And rivers clear as crystal glow,
That wear no tinge of gloom;
Though other mountains lofty look,
And grand seem olden towers,
We see, as in an open book,
There is no land like ours!
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Though other nations boast of deeds
That live in old renown,
And other peoples cling to creeds
That coldly on us frown,
On pure religion, love and law,
Are based our ruling powers—
The world but feels, with wondering awe,
There is no land like ours!
That live in old renown,
And other peoples cling to creeds
That coldly on us frown,
On pure religion, love and law,
Are based our ruling powers—
The world but feels, with wondering awe,
There is no land like ours!
Though other lands may boast their brave,
Whose deeds are writ in fame,
Their heroes ne'er such glory gave
As gilds our country's name;
Though others rush to daring deeds,
Where the darkening war-cloud lowers,
Here, each alike for freedom bleeds—
There is no land like ours!
Whose deeds are writ in fame,
Their heroes ne'er such glory gave
As gilds our country's name;
Though others rush to daring deeds,
Where the darkening war-cloud lowers,
Here, each alike for freedom bleeds—
There is no land like ours!
Though other lands Napoleon
And Wellington adorn,
America her Washington,
And later heroes born;
Yet Johnston, Jackson, Price and Lee,
Bragg, Buckner, Morgan, towers,
With Beauregard, and Hood, and Bee—
There is no land like ours!
And Wellington adorn,
America her Washington,
And later heroes born;
Yet Johnston, Jackson, Price and Lee,
Bragg, Buckner, Morgan, towers,
With Beauregard, and Hood, and Bee—
There is no land like ours!
| War poets of the South and Confederate camp-fire songs. | |