Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Poetry and Incidents., Volume 2.
Frank Moore, Ed.

35. songs of the rebels.

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The Southron's war-song.

by J. A. Wagener.

Arise! arise! with main and might,
     Sons of the sunny clime!
Gird on the sword; the sacred fight,
     The holy hour doth chime.
Arise the craven host draws nigh,
     In thundering array;
Arise, ye brave! let cowards fly--
     The hero bides the fray.

Strike hard, strike hard, thou noble band;
     Strike hard, with arm of fire!
Strike hard, for God and fatherland,
     For mother, wife, and sire!
Let thunders roar, the lightning flash;
     Bold Southron, never fear!
The bay'net's point, the sabre's clash,
     True Southrons do and dare!

Bright flow'rs spring from the hero's grave;
     The craven knows no rest!
Thrice curs'd the traitor and the knave!
     The hero thrice is bless'd.
Then let each noble Southron stand,
     With bold and manly eye:
We'll do for God and fatherland;
     We'll do, we'll do or die!

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36. hurrah!

by A Mississippian.

Hurrah! for the Southern Confederate State,
     With her banner of white, red, and blue;
Hurrah! for her daughters, the fairest on earth,
     And her sons, ever loyal and true!

Hurrah! and hurrah! for her brave volunteers,
     Enlisted for freedom or death;
Hurrah! for Jeff. Davis, Commander-in-Chief,
     And three cheers for the Palmetto wreath!

Hurrah! for each heart that is right in the cause;
     That cause we'll protect with our lives;
Hurrah! for the first one who dies on the field,
     And hurrah! for each one who survives!

Hurrah! for the South--shout hurrah! and hurrah!
     O'er her soil shall no tyrant have sway.
In peace or in war we will ever be found
     “Invincible,” now and for aye.

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37. the Natchez military.

by Walter Stanley.

The stirring notes of the rolling drum
     Awaken the brave again;
So wave a kiss to your friends and home,
     And away to the battle-plain.

Our trade is war, and we do not care
     How quickly the summons come;
To meet the foe we will gaily go,
     To the sound of the fife and drum.

The fierce invader and all his band,
     With his grove of shining steel,
May never rule where our sires died,
     By his cannon's thundering peal.

We never knelt at the gory shrine
     Of the fierce and cruel Mars;
But we draw the sword for our firesides,
     And gaily march to the war.

And there on the field of death and doom
     Our banner shall proudly wave,
Or we, who fight for the sunny South,
     Will sleep in the honor'd grave.

Now let us be faithful, bold, and true,
     And Heaven will bless us still;
And so good-bye to our homes and friends,
     And Natchez on the Hill.

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38. “Southrons.”

The following stirring verses, which we copy from a Southern exchange, are from the patriotic pen of a lady of Kentucky, who has achieved a national reputation as a poetess and authoress. --Louisville Courier, June 22.

You can never win them back--
     Never! never!
Though they perish on the track
     Of your endeavor;
Though their corses strew the earth
     That smiled upon their birth,
And blood pollutes each hearth-
     Stone forever!

They have risen to a man,
     Stern and fearless;
Of your curses and your ban
     They are careless.
Every hand is on its knife,
     Every gun is primed for strife,
Every Palm contains a life
     High and peerless!

You have no such blood as theirs
     For the shedding:
In the veins of cavaliers
     Was its heading!
You have no such stately men
     In your “abolition den ,”
To march through foe and fen,
     Nothing dreading!

They may fall before the fire
     Of your legions,
Paid with gold for murderous hire--
     Bought allegiance:
But for every drop you shed,
     You shall have a mound of dead,
So that vultures may be fed
     In our regions!

But the battle to the strong
     Is not given,
When the Judge of right and wrong
     Sits in Heaven;
And the God of David still
     Guides the pebble with His will
There are giants yet to kill--
     Wrongs unshriven!