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60. “Davis is dead.” 1

by F.
With his hands by the blood of slain thousands made red,
     And the signet of Hell on his brow,
The branded arch-traitor now sleeps with the dead,
     By the arm of Jehovah laid low.

He has bartered his soul for the sceptre of State,
     Which to him proved the thing of a day;
And the Union still lives for a destiny great,
     And will stand till Earth passes away;

For the great God of Hosts watches over our land,
     And protects it from every foe;
And He'll ever crush those, with omnipotent hand,
     Who would Freedom's fair fabric o'erthrow.

1 written while the report of his death was in circulation and fully credited.

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Jefferson Davis (1)
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