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[written for the Richmond Dispatch.]
by States of Richmond.

What is the sounds of martial music. The thunder of the cannon, and the steady treat.

Of med men through our once peaceful streets?

Why upon almost every hid may be seen the where on a of car sold glessing in the sunshine?

Is it a dream a frightful dream, through which we are passing.

Conjured up by a diseased imagination, and taking shape.

In horrid nightmare; or is it true that on thy

Dear old Virginia, bellowed by the blood of our forefathers, which flowed to purchase Liberty for their.

Children, that now the invader's foot is prewed

With the intent of resting from us the precious jogger

Of freedom. purchased at so dear a price?

no dream! We may now shut our eyes upon

The painful truth. Our men in armor-clad,

Mean to drive from this blood-washed soil those Pierre invaders. And who are they that, in the

Of justice and of Heaven, dare attempt the sacrilege?

They who are pleased to call us brethren--

Who have been warmed at our county fires,

Who have with us broken bread around the hospitable board.

Who have worshipped at our altars, and been admitted.

Into on with our household gods.

They are they who seek to crush thee, dear old Dominion

Tho' 'till late they claimed thee as ‘"their mother,"’

And kindred with thy mighty dead.

They who have fattened by thy trade, and have been busy

In heaping up riches from commerce with

Thy daughters of the ‘"sunny South."’ They are they

Who would make thy valleys run red with the blood

Of thy valiant sons — who would make thy daughters widows.

And to thy little ones assign the lot of helpless orphanage.

Who would lay waste thy fertile fields, and with the

Blazing torch applied to our dwellings, leave only

The bare chimneys to mark the spots of our once Happy homesteads.

And why this maddened thirst for vengeance?

Because we dare assert the sacred right bequeathed us.

And refuse a Union with those we hate and scorn

To submit to the rule of the despot, who now is invested

With the power once wielded by thy Washington!

But there is one, Virginia, who claims thee as his mother

Whose eyes opened first upon the light within thy fair domains,

Who ee now to lead thy enemies to the slaughter of thy loyal sons.

The ravishing of thy daughters, thy utter waste.

So within the little band who waited upon our savior's footsteps.

And listened to the gracious words which fell.

Like honey dew, from his hallowed line, was found a Judas Iscariot.

Him would we leave to Heaven's vengeance, and the

Fierce lashings of the monitor within.

And even amid the spotless throng which surround

The Throne of the Eternal, was found a disaffected one,

Who for he ‘"mutiny he bred,"’ was hurled over the

Shining battlements which encircle the celestial sphere.

And sinking down into the darkness of the lowest deep,

Holds court with friends.

Fit prototype of he grey-haired traitor Scott!

Whom once ‘"It was thy delight to honor."’ May thy children,

Forget he lives; may his name and ‘"deeds"’ be buried in,

Oblivion, and leaving him to the justice of an avenging God.

Emn the example of thy illustrious dead, and with.

The battle-cry of ‘"Give me liberty or give me death,"’ Bid thy foes come on — for

From the rude western border, to thy ocean laved shore,

The warriors is heard, to be hushed nevermore.

The word is unsheathed, and unsheathed must remain.

Till the foes all are conquered, or thy sons all are slain.

Yes, be them come on — we fear not their might--

Tho their numbers be legions, we'll meet them in fight

With our banner unfurled, not a step will we yield,

Till the victory is ours, or we're left on the field.

And looking o God for strength from on high,

Thy son are determined to conquer or die.

Then leaving behind them no blot on their name,

Look proudly to Heaven from the death-bed of fame!

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