 | War poets of the South and Confederate camp-fire songs. |  |
CATHERINE A. WARFIELD.
Born near Natchez, Miss., in 1816, Married Elisha Warfield,
Esq., of Lexington, Ky., and resided in that state. Her first
volume of poems was published in 1843. She is best known in
the literary world as the author of two remarkably fine novels,
"The Household of Bouverie," and "The Romance of Beauseincourt."
Mrs. Warfield died in 1877.
BEAUREGARD.
Let the trumpet shout once more,
Beauregard!
Let the battle thunders roar,
Beauregard!
And again by yonder sea,
Let the swords of all the free
Leap forth to the fight with thee,
Beauregard!
Beauregard!
Let the battle thunders roar,
Beauregard!
And again by yonder sea,
Let the swords of all the free
Leap forth to the fight with thee,
Beauregard!
Old Sumter loves the name,
Beauregard!
Grim Moultrie guards thy fame,
Beauregard!
Oh! first in freedom's fight!
Oh! steadfast in the right!
Oh! brave and Christian knight!
Beauregard!
Beauregard!
Grim Moultrie guards thy fame,
Beauregard!
Oh! first in freedom's fight!
Oh! steadfast in the right!
Oh! brave and Christian knight!
Beauregard!
142
St. Michael! with his host,
Beauregard!
Encamps by yonder coast,
Beauregard!
And the Demon's might shall quail,
And the Dragon's terrors fail,
Were he triply clad in mail,
Beauregard!
Beauregard!
Encamps by yonder coast,
Beauregard!
And the Demon's might shall quail,
And the Dragon's terrors fail,
Were he triply clad in mail,
Beauregard!
Not a leaf shall fall away,
Beauregard!
From the laurels won to-day,
Beauregard!
While the ocean breezes blow,
While the billows lapse and flow
O'er the Northmen's bones below,
Beauregard!
Beauregard!
From the laurels won to-day,
Beauregard!
While the ocean breezes blow,
While the billows lapse and flow
O'er the Northmen's bones below,
Beauregard!
Let the trumpet shout once more,
Beauregard!
Let the battle-thunders roar,
Beauregard!
From the center to the shore,
From the sea to the land's core
Thrills the echo evermore,
Beauregard!
Beauregard!
Let the battle-thunders roar,
Beauregard!
From the center to the shore,
From the sea to the land's core
Thrills the echo evermore,
Beauregard!
143
VIRGINIA.
Glorious Virginia! Freedom sprang
Light to her feet at thy trumpet's clang:
At the first sounds of that clarion blast,
Foes like the chaff from the whirlwind passed—
Passed to their doom—from that hour no more
Triumphs their cause by sea or shore.
Light to her feet at thy trumpet's clang:
At the first sounds of that clarion blast,
Foes like the chaff from the whirlwind passed—
Passed to their doom—from that hour no more
Triumphs their cause by sea or shore.
Glorious Virginia! noble the blood
That hath bathed thy fields in a crimson flood;
On many a wide-spread and sunny plain,
Like leaves of autumn thy dead have lain;
The Southern heart is their funeral urn!
The Southern slogan their requiem stern!
That hath bathed thy fields in a crimson flood;
On many a wide-spread and sunny plain,
Like leaves of autumn thy dead have lain;
The Southern heart is their funeral urn!
The Southern slogan their requiem stern!
Glorious Virginia! to thee, to thee
We lean, as the shoots to the parent tree;
Bending in awe at thy glance of might;
First in the council, first in the fight!
While our flag is fanned by the breath of fame,
Glorious Virginia! we'll bless thy name.
We lean, as the shoots to the parent tree;
Bending in awe at thy glance of might;
First in the council, first in the fight!
While our flag is fanned by the breath of fame,
Glorious Virginia! we'll bless thy name.
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!
145
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. | |