 | War poets of the South and Confederate camp-fire songs. |  |
60
JAMES B. HOPE.
Was born in Norfolk, Virginia, in 1827. Practiced law, entered
the Confederate Army in 1861, serving as captain and quarter.
master to the close of the war. A volume of his poems was
published in 1857. After the war he was superintendent of the
public schools of Norfolk, and editor of the Daily Landmark.
He died in 1887. He is the author of numerous excellent poems,
lyric and dramatic. A few years ago a beautiful monument,
erected in his honor by the citizens of Norfolk, was placed upon
his grave, with impressive ceremonies.
THE OATH OF FREEDOM.
"Liberty is always won where there exists the unconquerable
will to be free."
Born free, thus we resolve to live,
By Heaven we will be free!
By all the stars which burn on high—
By the green earth, the mighty sea,
By God's unshaken majesty,
We will be free or die!
By Heaven we will be free!
By all the stars which burn on high—
By the green earth, the mighty sea,
By God's unshaken majesty,
We will be free or die!
Then let the drums all roll,
Let all the trumpets blow!
Mind, heart and soul,
We spurn control
Attempted by a foe!
Let all the trumpets blow!
Mind, heart and soul,
We spurn control
Attempted by a foe!
61
Born free, thus we resolve to live,
By Heaven we will be free!
And vainly now the Northmen try
To beat us down—in arms we stand
To strike for this our native land!
We will be free or die!
Then let the drums all roll, etc.
By Heaven we will be free!
And vainly now the Northmen try
To beat us down—in arms we stand
To strike for this our native land!
We will be free or die!
Then let the drums all roll, etc.
Born free, we thus resolve to live,
By Heaven we will be free!
Our wives and children look on high,
Pray God to smile upon the right,
And bid us in the deadly fight
As freemen live or die!
Then let the drums all roll, etc.
By Heaven we will be free!
Our wives and children look on high,
Pray God to smile upon the right,
And bid us in the deadly fight
As freemen live or die!
Then let the drums all roll, etc.
Born free, thus we resolve to live,
By Heaven we will be free!
And ere we cease this battle-cry,
Be all our blood, our kindred's spilt,
On bayonet or sabre-hilt,
We will be free or die!
Then let the drums all roll, etc.
By Heaven we will be free!
And ere we cease this battle-cry,
Be all our blood, our kindred's spilt,
On bayonet or sabre-hilt,
We will be free or die!
Then let the drums all roll, etc.
62
Born free, thus we resolve to live,
By Heaven we will be free!
Defiant let the banners fly,
Shake out their glories to the air,
And, kneeling, brothers, let us swear
We will be free or die!
Then let the drums all roll, etc.
By Heaven we will be free!
Defiant let the banners fly,
Shake out their glories to the air,
And, kneeling, brothers, let us swear
We will be free or die!
Then let the drums all roll, etc.
Born free, thus we resolve to live,
By Heaven we will be free!
And to this oath the dead reply—
Our valiant fathers' sacred ghosts—
These with us, and the God of hosts,
We will be free or die!
Then let the drums all roll, etc.
By Heaven we will be free!
And to this oath the dead reply—
Our valiant fathers' sacred ghosts—
These with us, and the God of hosts,
We will be free or die!
Then let the drums all roll, etc.
"LIBERA NOS O DOMINE."
What! ye hold yourselves as freemen?
Tyrants love just such as ye!
Go! abate your lofty manner!
Write upon the State's old banner:
"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"
Tyrants love just such as ye!
Go! abate your lofty manner!
Write upon the State's old banner:
"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"
63
Sink before the Federal altar,
Each one low, on bended knee,
Pray, with lips that sob and falter,
This prayer from the coward's psalter:
"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"
Each one low, on bended knee,
Pray, with lips that sob and falter,
This prayer from the coward's psalter:
"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"
But ye hold that quick repentance
In the Northern mind will be;
This repentance comes no sooner
Than the robber's did, at Luna!
"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"
In the Northern mind will be;
This repentance comes no sooner
Than the robber's did, at Luna!
"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"
He repented him:—the Bishop
Gave him absolution free;
Poured upon him sacred chrysm,
In the pomp of his baptism;
"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"
Gave him absolution free;
Poured upon him sacred chrysm,
In the pomp of his baptism;
"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"
He repented-then he sickened!
Was he pining for the sea?
In extremis was he shriven,
The viaticum was given,
"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"
Was he pining for the sea?
In extremis was he shriven,
The viaticum was given,
"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"
64
Then the old cathedral's choir
Took the plaintive minor key;
With the Host upraised before him,
Down the marble aisles they bore him;
"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"
Took the plaintive minor key;
With the Host upraised before him,
Down the marble aisles they bore him;
"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"
While the Bishop and the Abbot—
All the monks of high degree—
Chanting praise to the Madonna,
Came to do him Christian honor!
"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"
All the monks of high degree—
Chanting praise to the Madonna,
Came to do him Christian honor!
"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"
Now the miserere's cadence
Takes the voices of the sea,
As the music-billows quiver,
See the dead freebooter shiver!
"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"
Takes the voices of the sea,
As the music-billows quiver,
See the dead freebooter shiver!
"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"
Is it that these intonations
Thrill him thus from head to knee?
Lo, his cerements burst asunder,
'Tis a sight of fear and wonder!
"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"
Thrill him thus from head to knee?
Lo, his cerements burst asunder,
'Tis a sight of fear and wonder!
"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"
65
Fierce he stands before the Bishop,
Dark as shape of Destiny;
Hark! a shriek ascends, appalling—
Down the prelate goes—dead—falling!
"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"
Dark as shape of Destiny;
Hark! a shriek ascends, appalling—
Down the prelate goes—dead—falling!
"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"
Hastings lives! He was but feigning!
What! Repentant? Never he!
Down he smites the priests and friars,
And the city lights with fires!
"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"
What! Repentant? Never he!
Down he smites the priests and friars,
And the city lights with fires!
"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"
Ah! the children and the maidens,
'Tis in vain they strive to flee!
Where the white-haired priests lie bleeding
Is no place for woman's pleading.
"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"
'Tis in vain they strive to flee!
Where the white-haired priests lie bleeding
Is no place for woman's pleading.
"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"
Louder swells the frightful tumult—
Pallid Death holds revelry!
Dies the organ's mighty clamor
By the Norseman's iron hammer!
"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"
Pallid Death holds revelry!
Dies the organ's mighty clamor
By the Norseman's iron hammer!
"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"
66
So they thought that he'd repented!
Had they nailed him to the tree,
He had not deserved their pity,
And they had not—lost their city.
"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"
Had they nailed him to the tree,
He had not deserved their pity,
And they had not—lost their city.
"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"
For the moral in this story,
Which is plain as truth can be:
If we trust the North's relenting,
We shall shriek—too late repenting.
"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"
Which is plain as truth can be:
If we trust the North's relenting,
We shall shriek—too late repenting.
"A furore Normanorum,
Libera nos, O Domine!"
| War poets of the South and Confederate camp-fire songs. | |