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Browsing named entities in Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 7. (ed. Frank Moore).

Found 3,859 total hits in 1,477 results.

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Stars Flouted by the three broad bars, And cold-blooded feel! There the rebel banner floats! Tyrants, vanquished by your votes, Spring, like bloodhounds, at your throats; Let them bite your steel! With no traitor at their head; By no braggart coward led, By no hero caught abed, While he dreams of flight; By no “Young Napoleons,” Kept at bay by wooden guns, Shall our brothers and our sons, Be held back from fight! Like a whirlwind in its course, Shall again a rebel force, Jackson's foot or Stuart's horse, Pass our sleepy posts; Roam, like Satan, “to and fro,” And our Laggard let them go? No! in thunder answer, “No! By the Lord of Hosts!” With the Lord of Hosts we fight, For his Freedom, Law, and Right-- Strike for these, and his all-might Shall with victory crown Loyal brows, alive or dead, Crush each crawling Copperhead, And, in bloody battle, tread This rebellion down! Talk of “Peace” in hours like this! 'Tis Iscariot's traitor kiss! 'Tis the Old Serpent's latest hiss!
John Pierpont (search for this): chapter 1
Our country's call. by John Pierpont. air--Scots wha Hae. Men who plough your granite peaks, O'er whose head the Eagle shrieks, And for aye of Freedom speaks, Hear your Country's call! Swear, each loyal mother's son, Swear “Our Country shall be one!” Seize your sword, or bring your gun, Bayonet and ball! For the land that bore you — Arm! Shield the State you love from harm! Catch, and round you spread the alarm; Hear, and hold your breath! Hark! the hostile horde is nigh I See! the storm comes roaring by! Hear and heed our battle-cry: “victory or death!” Sturdy landsmen, hearty tars, Can you see your Stripes and Stars Flouted by the three broad bars, And cold-blooded feel! There the rebel banner floats! Tyrants, vanquished by your votes, Spring, like bloodhounds, at your throats; Let them bite your steel! With no traitor at their head; By no braggart coward led, By no hero caught abed, While he dreams of flight; By no “Young Napoleons,” Kept at bay by wooden gun
Jackson (Mississippi, United States) (search for this): chapter 1
your Stripes and Stars Flouted by the three broad bars, And cold-blooded feel! There the rebel banner floats! Tyrants, vanquished by your votes, Spring, like bloodhounds, at your throats; Let them bite your steel! With no traitor at their head; By no braggart coward led, By no hero caught abed, While he dreams of flight; By no “Young Napoleons,” Kept at bay by wooden guns, Shall our brothers and our sons, Be held back from fight! Like a whirlwind in its course, Shall again a rebel force, Jackson's foot or Stuart's horse, Pass our sleepy posts; Roam, like Satan, “to and fro,” And our Laggard let them go? No! in thunder answer, “No! By the Lord of Hosts!” With the Lord of Hosts we fight, For his Freedom, Law, and Right-- Strike for these, and his all-might Shall with victory crown Loyal brows, alive or dead, Crush each crawling Copperhead, And, in bloody battle, tread This rebellion down! Talk of “Peace” in hours like this! 'Tis Iscariot's traitor kiss! 'Tis the Old Serpe
Alice Key Pendleton (search for this): chapter 2
Liberty not dead. Written in reply to a poem, Liberty — dead, which appeared in the Cincinnati Enquirer, by Mrs. Alice Key Pendleton, daughter of the author of The Star-Spangled Banner. What though the daughter of a sire Who gave the noblest song To grace a nation's poetry That echo shall prolong, Whose matchless words and trumpet tones Make dying soldiers strong; What though she sing in cadenced verse That Liberty is dead, And softly chides the gathered crowd By whom no tears are shed, Though powerless seems the snowy hand, And marble-like the head-- She wrongs the men who, fearless, stood By dark Antietam's side, And those whose patriot-blood, outpoured, The plain of Shiloh dyed, And those who braved the iron hail On Mississippi's tide. She wrongs the fathers, mothers, who Their children send to war; For them great Liberty still lives-- Still shineth as a star, Which passing clouds a moment hide, Without the power to mar. What though a moment pallid now, And lustreless her
Mississippi (Mississippi, United States) (search for this): chapter 2
lest song To grace a nation's poetry That echo shall prolong, Whose matchless words and trumpet tones Make dying soldiers strong; What though she sing in cadenced verse That Liberty is dead, And softly chides the gathered crowd By whom no tears are shed, Though powerless seems the snowy hand, And marble-like the head-- She wrongs the men who, fearless, stood By dark Antietam's side, And those whose patriot-blood, outpoured, The plain of Shiloh dyed, And those who braved the iron hail On Mississippi's tide. She wrongs the fathers, mothers, who Their children send to war; For them great Liberty still lives-- Still shineth as a star, Which passing clouds a moment hide, Without the power to mar. What though a moment pallid now, And lustreless her eye, The people's will her mighty breath, She cannot, dare not die; In homes like ours, her glorious lot Is Immortality. Thus living, and to live for aye, On mountain or in hall, In vain will rhythmic verse essay To spread her funeral pall,
Kenton (Kentucky, United States) (search for this): chapter 2
the snowy hand, And marble-like the head-- She wrongs the men who, fearless, stood By dark Antietam's side, And those whose patriot-blood, outpoured, The plain of Shiloh dyed, And those who braved the iron hail On Mississippi's tide. She wrongs the fathers, mothers, who Their children send to war; For them great Liberty still lives-- Still shineth as a star, Which passing clouds a moment hide, Without the power to mar. What though a moment pallid now, And lustreless her eye, The people's will her mighty breath, She cannot, dare not die; In homes like ours, her glorious lot Is Immortality. Thus living, and to live for aye, On mountain or in hall, In vain will rhythmic verse essay To spread her funeral pall, And tell her children Liberty, Alas! is dead to all Ah! no, her march o'er mountain-tops Shall be from sea to sea, Her music as she sweeps along, The glorious song of Key! The patriot statesman's stirring song, The Anthem of the Free! L. A. C. Gatewood Farm, Kenton Co., Ky.
Shiloh, Tenn. (Tennessee, United States) (search for this): chapter 2
What though the daughter of a sire Who gave the noblest song To grace a nation's poetry That echo shall prolong, Whose matchless words and trumpet tones Make dying soldiers strong; What though she sing in cadenced verse That Liberty is dead, And softly chides the gathered crowd By whom no tears are shed, Though powerless seems the snowy hand, And marble-like the head-- She wrongs the men who, fearless, stood By dark Antietam's side, And those whose patriot-blood, outpoured, The plain of Shiloh dyed, And those who braved the iron hail On Mississippi's tide. She wrongs the fathers, mothers, who Their children send to war; For them great Liberty still lives-- Still shineth as a star, Which passing clouds a moment hide, Without the power to mar. What though a moment pallid now, And lustreless her eye, The people's will her mighty breath, She cannot, dare not die; In homes like ours, her glorious lot Is Immortality. Thus living, and to live for aye, On mountain or in hall, In vain w
Minnie Fry (search for this): chapter 3
One voice. by Minnie Fry. One who sat at home in silence Saw the army hurrying by, And her thoughts gave echo faintly To their eager battle-cry. “Ah!” she sang, “some wrong is hidden Under all our high endeavor; We shall fail, and fail forever, Till we work as we are bidden; Till the last red chain we sever, Linking us to sin and wrong. What although the tie be strong? Yet the spirit sword is stronger, Keen to sever good from ill; Ready, when we doubt no longer, All God's purpose to fulfil, Ready, waiting for our hand; Shall our hands hang slack beside us, Idle till some good betide us While the war-cloud glooms the land?” “Rise, O youth, in strength and glory, Age with wisdom deep and calm; Minstrel tune for lofty story; Women pour the healing balm. Let the earth feel your upstarting; Shame on those who careless stand, While the glory is departing From the threshold of our land; Come with freedom for the nation, Freedom for each man therein; Spread the glorious proclamatio
Ridge (Ohio, United States) (search for this): chapter 3
“Rise, O youth, in strength and glory, Age with wisdom deep and calm; Minstrel tune for lofty story; Women pour the healing balm. Let the earth feel your upstarting; Shame on those who careless stand, While the glory is departing From the threshold of our land; Come with freedom for the nation, Freedom for each man therein; Spread the glorious proclamation, Though it be accounted sin; Though upon the lofty places, Where ambition spreads her lure, There be pallid, fear-struck faces-- Make the glorious end secure.” “Ah!” she sang, “so few are dreaming Of the perfect end of peace; Ah!” she sang, “so many scheming How the strife may soonest cease; Ah! so many name and station And the watchword of the nation To ignoble purpose lend; Here and there a lofty spirit Shall the hight of love inherit Faithful found unto the end.” But the end looks through the distance, Faint and far off, like a star; Never, save through upward climbing, Reach we where its glories are. pleasant R
David Barker (search for this): chapter 4
The old Ship of State. by David Barker, of Exeter) me. O'er the dark and gloomy horizon that bounds her, Through the storm and the night and the hell that surrounds her, I can see, with a faith which immortals have given, Burning words, blazing out o'er the portals of Heaven-- “She will live!” But a part of the freight which our forefathers gave her We must cast to the deep yawning waters to save her-- 'Tis the chain of the slave we must fling out to light her, 'Tis the brand and the whip we must yield up to right her. She will live! Clear the decks of the curse! If opposed by the owner, Hurl the wretch to the wave, as they hurled over Jonah; With a “Freedom to all!” gleaming forth from our banner, Let the tyrant yet learn we have freemen to man her. She will live! She will live while a billow lies swelling before her, She will live while the blue arch of heaven bends o'er her, While the name of a Christ to the fallen we cherish, Till the hopes in the breast of humanity per
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