All grief and fears be o'er!
The chiefest from perdition's well
Lies on a Southern shore.
On South-Carolina's beach he lies,
His majesty ashore!
Ah! well we know that devil dies
Who enters at that door.
His name and hue, and shape and size,
Identify the beast;
'Tis he — the father of all lies,
Of devils not the least.
Scow-like, across the deep he came,
Blood-red his iron sides;
With beak, and claws, and fins of flame
To plough the vernal tides.
Like serpents which Minerva sent
To crush the Trojan sire,
So northern devils come to vent
On Charleston blood and fire.
But Neptune ne'er decreed the fate
Of Laocoon's dear sons,
To gratify the Yankees' hate
On Charleston's dearer ones.
They'll never bear one fatal hour,
The Northern serpent's coil,
Nor feel the Yankee devil's power
Who come to crush and spoil.
The “Nondescript,” name chosen well;
The “Northern devil,” aye!
A fiend, a ghoul, a spirit fell!
Who may describe it — say!
Foul, artful, bloody, false, insane,
This Northern ghote1 of sin;
The heathen hells could ne'er contain
A darker power within.
But now, hurrah, the devil's dead!
High, dry upon the shore!
Rebellion still may rear its head,
The war will soon be o'er.
Hold, not so fast, abate your cheer,
The battle is not won;
Another devil comes, we hear,
Before the work is done.
Alas! when will this warfare end?
Not till all Yankee foes are dead;
For nondescript is each — or fiend--
His soul with murder red.
Cave Spring, Ga., April 11, 1863.