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Browsing named entities in a specific section of Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 1. (ed. Frank Moore). Search the whole document.

Found 8 total hits in 4 results.

Yorktown (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 268
, deaf as the adder itself to the cries, When Wisdom, Humanity, Justice implore, You would have our proud eagle to feed on the eyes Of those who have taught him so grandly to soar; If there be to your malice no limit imposed, And you purpose hereafter to rule with the rod The men upon whom you have already closed Our goodly domain, and the temples of God;-- To the breeze, then, your banner dishonored unfold, And at once let the tocsin be sounded afar; We greet you, as greeted the Swiss, Charles the Bold, With a farewell to peace and a welcome to war! For the courage that clings to our soil, ever bright, Shall catch inspirations from turf and from tide; Our sons unappalled shall go forth to the fight, With the smile of the fair, the pure kiss of the bride; And the bugle its echoes shall send through the past, In the trenches of Yorktown to waken the slain; While the sods of King's Mountain shall heave at the blast, And give up its heroes to glory again. --Charleston Mercury, May 7.
Venice (Italy) (search for this): chapter 268
slink away; From the crypt in which Error lies buried in chains, This foul apparition stalks forth to the day, And would ravage the land which his presence profanes. Could you conquer us, men of the North--could you bring Desolation and death on our homes as a flood-- Can you hope the pure lily, Affection, will spring From ashes all reeking and sodden with blood? Could you brand us as villains and serfs, know ye not What fierce, sullen hatred, lurks under the scar? How loyal to Hapsburg is Venice, I wot; How dearly the Pole loves his father, the Czar! But 'twere well to remember, this land of the sun Is a nutrix leonum, and suckles a race Strong-armed, lion-hearted, and banded as one, Who brook not oppression, and know not disgrace. And well may the schemers in office beware The swift retribution that waits upon crime, When the lion, resistance, shall leap from his lair With a fury that renders his vengeance sublime. Once, men of the North, we were brothers, and still, Though brot
John B. Thompson (search for this): chapter 268
87. a poem for the Times. by John B. Thompson. Who talks of Coercion? Who dares to deny A resolute people their right to be free? Let him blot out forever one star from the sky, Or curb with his fetter one wave of the sea. Who prates of Coercion? Can love be restored To bosoms where only resentment may dwell?-- Can peace upon earth be proclaimed by the sword, Or good — will among men be established by shell? Shame! shame, that the statesman and trickster for-sooth Should have for a crisis no other recourse, Beneath the fair day-spring of Light and of Truth, Than the old brutem fulmen of tyranny — Force. From the holes where Fraud, Falsehood, and Hate slink away; From the crypt in which Error lies buried in chains, This foul apparition stalks forth to the day, And would ravage the land which his presence profanes. Could you conquer us, men of the North--could you bring Desolation and death on our homes as a flood-- Can you hope the pure lily, Affection, will spring From ashe
May 7th (search for this): chapter 268
deaf as the adder itself to the cries, When Wisdom, Humanity, Justice implore, You would have our proud eagle to feed on the eyes Of those who have taught him so grandly to soar; If there be to your malice no limit imposed, And you purpose hereafter to rule with the rod The men upon whom you have already closed Our goodly domain, and the temples of God;-- To the breeze, then, your banner dishonored unfold, And at once let the tocsin be sounded afar; We greet you, as greeted the Swiss, Charles the Bold, With a farewell to peace and a welcome to war! For the courage that clings to our soil, ever bright, Shall catch inspirations from turf and from tide; Our sons unappalled shall go forth to the fight, With the smile of the fair, the pure kiss of the bride; And the bugle its echoes shall send through the past, In the trenches of Yorktown to waken the slain; While the sods of King's Mountain shall heave at the blast, And give up its heroes to glory again. --Charleston Mercury, May 7.