[written for the Richmond Dispatch.]
lines,
Dedicated to my three brothers in the Confederate Army.
‘ The foe, a hireling ruffian band, A tarnished banner in their hand,
Blind fury in their breast,
With fiendish threat and shameless boast
Rolls on, a wild, disordered host--
Unshaved, unwashed, unblest.
Yet tremble not thou gentle maid,
And thou, chaste wife, be not sired--
Childhood check not thy glee;
For stretched between a wail of fire.
Stand brother, husband, son, and sire,
To hurl them back from thee.
And quickly forming for our aid
Battalion, squadron, and brigade,
The valiant Southrons come.
Insult and wrong have fired each soul;
They spurn the tyrant's base control,
And swift to victory run.
Invincible the patriot's arm
When raised to shield his babes from harm;
Trenchant his trusty blade,
When his own blood-bought fatherland,
Where clustering his loved ones stand,
The foeman dares invade.
Yea, by the omnipotence of ire
Which my weak woman's soul doth fire,
I do both feel and know
We ne'er can mourn a conquered land,
Though weep we must our gallant band,
Thinned by the murderous foe.
And history's brightest page shall tell
Of deeds to make our fond hearts swell
With gratitude and pride;
How strong in battle Southern right,
To Northern dastard's proven might,
Has stayed their Vandal tide.
When back our toil-worn victors come,
How sweet the rest and peace of home,
Secure from war's alarm;
Where mothers, sisters, wives, thro' tears,
And cares, and grief, with many prayers,
Have kept their firesides warm.
Tears shall keep green the turf that grows
Where our dear martyred ones repose;
They shall be ne'er forgot,
Who, springing to their country's call,
For her would fight, for her must fail--
R'en their a happy lot.
For woman's heart will be the shrine
Where, cherished through all coming time,
Their memories shall be;
And towering shafts shall tell to fame
Each gallant Southron's sacred name
Whose blood has made us free,
’ Hanover County, Va., May 13th, 1861.
