 | War poets of the South and Confederate camp-fire songs. |  |
33
MARY E. BRYAN.
Mrs. Bryan is a Floridian by birth, and has devoted her life
and her brilliant natural gifts to literary work of the very highest
grade. All of her work bears the unmistakable stamp of
genius. For a number of years, as the editor of the Sunny
South, a noted literary journal, Mrs. Bryan did faithful and successful
work in behalf of Southern literature, and North and
South, as well as in Europe, she is recognized as one of the
most brilliant of our native American writers. As a novelist
and as a poet she has achieved permanent fame. A volume of
her collected poems is now in press and will soon be published.
WAR NEWS ON THE BORDER.
Scene: The Texas bank of the Rio Grande; two travelers
meeting.
"Hooray! Well done! Right glad am I to see you
safely land,
'Tis no child's play for man or horse to swim the Rio Grande,
My horse is stouter, but I'll try ferry or bridge to find,
To breast that dark and swirling tide is not much to my mind;
Take a pull at this flask. Aha! my talk you understand.
You are no greaser then, although you hail from Mexic land,
'Tis no child's play for man or horse to swim the Rio Grande,
My horse is stouter, but I'll try ferry or bridge to find,
To breast that dark and swirling tide is not much to my mind;
Take a pull at this flask. Aha! my talk you understand.
You are no greaser then, although you hail from Mexic land,
34
You're from the States, I'd swear. The sun gave
you that Spaniard's hue,
For brown is this thick beard of yours, and your keen eyes are blue;
They stare at me with such a queer, bewildering sort of gleam,
Why, man, you look as wild as one just wakened from a dream."
For brown is this thick beard of yours, and your keen eyes are blue;
They stare at me with such a queer, bewildering sort of gleam,
Why, man, you look as wild as one just wakened from a dream."
"And well I may; I have not seen a white face until
now,
Since the muscadines two summers back swung from this cypress bough;
'Tis twice twelve months and more, since last I heard my native tongue,
It seems a sweeter music now than Seraph ever sung.
In yonder wild Sierras, I've led a savage life
Of hardship, hunter's lonely joys, perils and deadly strife;
I'd sworn never to turn my steps to my own land again,
But this home-sickness, comrade, 'tis the meanest kind of pain,
I fought it manfully; but who can overcome the Fates?
So here I've crossed the border to the old United States."
Since the muscadines two summers back swung from this cypress bough;
'Tis twice twelve months and more, since last I heard my native tongue,
It seems a sweeter music now than Seraph ever sung.
In yonder wild Sierras, I've led a savage life
Of hardship, hunter's lonely joys, perils and deadly strife;
I'd sworn never to turn my steps to my own land again,
But this home-sickness, comrade, 'tis the meanest kind of pain,
I fought it manfully; but who can overcome the Fates?
So here I've crossed the border to the old United States."
35
"United States! Take back the words! United
States no more,
We blush to think our Southern land so long the title bore;
A storm whose fierceness shakes the world that former bond has riven,
And now our Southern banner floats beneath approving Heaven."
We blush to think our Southern land so long the title bore;
A storm whose fierceness shakes the world that former bond has riven,
And now our Southern banner floats beneath approving Heaven."
"The Union severed! Gracious Powers! I never
dreamed of this,
Though—like the serpent of the wilds that shrills its warning hiss
Before it gives the fatal spring, I knew the South had long
Warned that she would no more endure the North's tyrannic wrong,
But this! Who dreamed so bold a deed had been so quickly done?
The South a separate power, her flag unfurled beneath the sun!
'Tis like a dream! And has she strength to stand free of the yoke?
Will she not falter and take back the allegiance she broke?"
Though—like the serpent of the wilds that shrills its warning hiss
Before it gives the fatal spring, I knew the South had long
Warned that she would no more endure the North's tyrannic wrong,
But this! Who dreamed so bold a deed had been so quickly done?
The South a separate power, her flag unfurled beneath the sun!
'Tis like a dream! And has she strength to stand free of the yoke?
Will she not falter and take back the allegiance she broke?"
36
"Never, until those rooted hills rise and dissolve like
smoke,
Never, till Mississippi's tide shall turn and northward flow,
Never till Alleghany's peaks like yonder pine shall bow,
I tell you blood flows in the chasm that yawns between us now,
The Rubicon's already crossed; the battle is begun."
"Where?" "In that loveliest spot that smiles beneath the Southern sun,
The State that holds the honored bones of Southern Washington."
Never, till Mississippi's tide shall turn and northward flow,
Never till Alleghany's peaks like yonder pine shall bow,
I tell you blood flows in the chasm that yawns between us now,
The Rubicon's already crossed; the battle is begun."
"Where?" "In that loveliest spot that smiles beneath the Southern sun,
The State that holds the honored bones of Southern Washington."
"But how we are outnumbered, man! The North
can bring to field
A ten-fold strength in men and arms; must this not make us yield?"
A ten-fold strength in men and arms; must this not make us yield?"
"Yield! yield! you stand on Texas soil and dare
speak words like these?
Texas finds place for traitors, but upon her hickory trees,
And you—ah, but I catch your smile, tell me how do you stand?"
Texas finds place for traitors, but upon her hickory trees,
And you—ah, but I catch your smile, tell me how do you stand?"
37
"Ready to give my heart's last drop to help my
Southern Land!"
"Hooray! That's the right ring; and here, my brother, is my hand,
We'll meet, I trust, upon the field, if I come back alive,
I'm on a secret mission sent, I pray to Heaven may thrive,
To Mexic's capital I go; if God shall spare my life,
And you go—where—?" "Right on, right on, straight for the scene of strife."
"Hooray! That's the right ring; and here, my brother, is my hand,
We'll meet, I trust, upon the field, if I come back alive,
I'm on a secret mission sent, I pray to Heaven may thrive,
To Mexic's capital I go; if God shall spare my life,
And you go—where—?" "Right on, right on, straight for the scene of strife."
"A woman's treachery drove me here, half maddened
with despair,
Like a wild, wounded beast to make in loneliness my lair;
I shunned my kind and sought to find in trackless solitude,
In savage sport and perils wild, cure for my bitter mood.
But this is better; this is rare! Hail glorious news of war!
Hail, rattling challenge of the guns! Sweeter your music far
Than the betraying song of love. I'll drown in battle's roar
Like a wild, wounded beast to make in loneliness my lair;
I shunned my kind and sought to find in trackless solitude,
In savage sport and perils wild, cure for my bitter mood.
But this is better; this is rare! Hail glorious news of war!
Hail, rattling challenge of the guns! Sweeter your music far
Than the betraying song of love. I'll drown in battle's roar
38
All memory of the siren voice that I shall hear no
more.
And life and death are one to me, for not an eye would weep,
If in my soldier's blanket wrapped, I slept a bloody sleep.
And life and death are one to me, for not an eye would weep,
If in my soldier's blanket wrapped, I slept a bloody sleep.
Welcome the tidings of the war! My wild blood
bounds apace!
Come, tried and trusty rifle-friend, give us a foremost place;
Here's better game for you and me than buffalo or deer,
We'll laugh at death we've faced before and mock at coward fear;
Our land has all at stake; we'll fight like wounded bears at bay,
And, by the God above, we'll die before we yield the day!"
Come, tried and trusty rifle-friend, give us a foremost place;
Here's better game for you and me than buffalo or deer,
We'll laugh at death we've faced before and mock at coward fear;
Our land has all at stake; we'll fight like wounded bears at bay,
And, by the God above, we'll die before we yield the day!"
| War poets of the South and Confederate camp-fire songs. | |