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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 69681 ***

  The Southern War Poetry of
  the Civil War

  BY
  ESTHER PARKER ELLINGER

    Thesis presented to the Faculty of the Graduate School of the
    University of Pennsylvania, May 1918, in partial fulfilment of
    the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy

  PHILADELPHIA, PA.
  1918




  COPYRIGHT, 1918
  ESTHER PARKER ELLINGER

  THE HERSHEY PRESS
  HERSHEY, PA.




FOREWORD


In the assembling of material so widely scattered and so long unsought
either by students or by collectors, it has been necessary for me
to depend in some measure on the efforts of others who have been
most generous with their help and assistance. I desire to record
my gratitude especially to my Father and my Mother, without whose
unfailing sympathy and co-operation this work could not have been done:
and to Mrs. C. Francis Osborne of Philadelphia, Miss Sallie Shepherd
of Norfolk, Virginia, and Miss Florence D. Johnston of Philadelphia,
for books and individual poems. For their courtesy in allowing me free
access to the collections committed to their charge I must acknowledge
further indebtedness to Mr. Wallace H. Cathcart, Vice-President and
Director of the Western Reserve Historical Society, Cleveland, whose
splendid collection of Civil War items contains many rare and important
imprints and broadsides: and to Mr. Bunford Samuel, of the Ridgway
Branch of the Library Company of Philadelphia, to whose private
collection I am indebted for several poems which I have not found
elsewhere.

Particularly to Dr. Arthur Hobson Quinn of the University of
Pennsylvania, under whose direction this thesis was written, I wish to
acknowledge my obligation and to express my sincere appreciation for
his guidance and advice.

  E. P. E.

University of Pennsylvania, 15 April, 1918.




    “Time in its deeps swims like a monstrous whale: and like a
    whale, feeds on the littlest things--small tunes and little
    unskilled songs of the olden golden evenings--and anon turneth
    whale-like to overthrow whole ships.”

  Dunsany--“The Raft Builders.”






CONTENTS


                                                           PAGE

  FOREWORD                                                    3

  CHAPTER I. THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THE SOUTHERN
      WAR POETRY                                              7

  CHAPTER II. THE HISTORICAL DEVELOPMENT OF THE
      SOUTHERN WAR POETRY                                    17

  REFERENCE BIBLIOGRAPHY                                     49

  BIBLIOGRAPHY OF COLLECTIONS EXAMINED                       50

  BIBLIOGRAPHY OF ANTHOLOGIES AND CONFEDERATE IMPRINTS       51

  ABBREVIATIONS USED FOR ANTHOLOGIES                         56

  ABBREVIATIONS USED OF COLLECTIONS                          57

  INDEX OF SOUTHERN WAR POEMS OF THE CIVIL WAR               58




CHAPTER I

THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THE SOUTHERN WAR POETRY


“The emotional literature of a people,” wrote one of the greatest of
the Southern poets, William Gilmore Simms,[1] “is as necessary to the
philosophic historian as the mere detail of events in the progress of a
nation.... The mere facts in a history do not always or often indicate
the true _animus_ of the action. But in poetry and song the emotional
nature is apt to declare itself without reserve ... speaking out with
a passion which disdains subterfuge, and through media of imagination
and fancy, which are not only without reserve, but which are too
coercive in their own nature, too arbitrary in their own influence, to
acknowledge any restraint upon that expression which glows or weeps
with emotions that gush freshly and freely from the heart.”

Edmund Clarence Stedman[2] put the matter a little differently.
Asking what may constitute the significance of any body of rhythmical
literature, restricted to its own territory, he answered the question
thus: “Undoubtedly and first of all, the essential quality of its
material as poetry; next to this, its quality as an expression and
interpretation of the time itself. In many an era, the second factor
may afford a surer means of estimate than the first, inasmuch as the
purely literary result may be nothing rarer than the world already has
possessed, nor greatly differing from it: nevertheless it may be the
voice of a time, of a generation, of a people ... all of extraordinary
import to the world’s future.”

“Our own poetry,” he continues elsewhere,[3] “excels as a recognizable
voice in utterance of the emotions of a people. The storm and stress
of youth have been upon us, and the nation has not lacked its lyric
cry.... One who underrates the significance of our literature, prose
or verse, as both the expression and the stimulant of national feeling,
as of import in the past and to the future of America, is deficient in
that critical insight which can judge even of its own day unwarped by
personal taste or deference to public impression. He shuts his eyes to
the fact that at times, notably throughout the years resulting in the
Civil War, this literature has been a ‘force.’”

That the poetry written in the Confederate States during the days of
the Civil War was a “force” in potency second only to the army in the
field, is a fact that has been too long unnoticed by commentators on
the literature of our country. In the rare cases when its influence was
recognized, its quality has been mistaken, its character misunderstood,
its quantity and volume under-estimated. Due perhaps in part to the
intensity of feeling engendered between victors and vanquished in
the Lost Cause, the darkness of the days following the close of the
war effectively hid from view and kept from national circulation the
verses and songs which the war had produced in the South. This was the
primary cause which prevented them from attaining the universal and
critical appreciation of their value that was the right of so large
and important a movement in the history of American letters. The ruin
of the South financially and economically, prevented her from calling
attention to her own achievement: while the widespread destruction and
dispersal of property, as well as the necessarily ephemeral nature of
many of her publications, offers not the least satisfactory explanation
for the comparative restriction of Southern Civil War verse to the land
whence it sprang.

If, however, to the modern critic these poems and songs are
comparatively unknown, by the Southerner of Civil War days their value
was understood and appreciated to the full. Within a year after war
broke out, early in the days of ’62, at least two definite attempts to
assemble the fast multiplying verses and songs were being made, the
first[4] by Professor Chase and John R. Thompson of Richmond, editor of
the _Southern Field and Fireside_; the second by “Bohemian,” Mr. W. G.
Shepperson, who was a correspondent for the Richmond _Despatch_. The
latter effort resulted, in the spring of ’62, in a volume of “War Songs
of the South,” containing some one hundred and eight poems, and with
the following significant words in the Preface:

“Written contemporaneously with the achievements which they celebrate,
[these poems] possess all the vitality and force of the testimony
of eye-witnesses to a glorious combat, or even of actors in it. The
spontaneous outburst of popular feeling, they give the lie to the
assertion of our enemy that this revolution is the work of politicians
and party leaders alone.

“Through the Poets’ Corner in the newspaper, they have sped their
flight from and to the heart and mind of the people. They showed which
way the wind was blowing when the war arose ‘a little cloud like a
man’s hand,’ and black as the heavens may now appear, they bravely sing
above the storm, soaring so high that their wings are brightened by the
sun behind the clouds.

“They cannot fail to challenge the attention of the philosophic
historian by their origin, and their influence.... In every age,
martial songs have wrought wonders in struggles for national
independence.

“And surely these newspaper waifs have played no unimportant part in
the actual drama which surrounds us....

“A single volume of ordinary size cannot contain a tithe of the songs
which have already appeared, and are daily appearing. This, however,
offers enough to show that during the present eventful period, what
was said of the early Spaniard is true of the Southron: ‘He has been
unconsciously surrounding history with the light of imagination,
linking great names with great deeds, concentrating those universal
recollections in which everyone feels he has a part, and silently
building up the fabric of national poetry on the basis of national
enthusiasm.’”

Fifty years later another Southerner, William Malone Baskerville,[5]
wrote this: “A young Marylander, a stripling just from college, was
dreaming dreams from which he was awakened by the guns of Sumter. One
sleepless night in April, 1861, he wrote the poem, ‘My Maryland,’ which
may not inaptly be called the first note of the new Southern literature
... ‘new in strength, new in depth, new in the largest elements of
beauty and truth.’ He that had ears to hear might have heard in the
booming of those guns not only the signal for a gigantic contest, but
also the proclamation of the passing away of the old order, and along
with it the waxflowery, amateurish and sentimental race of Southern
writers.” The passing of this school, of course, meant the passing
of what usually has been recognized as the typical literary mode of
the South. It meant, however, much more than this: for the changing
order was made possible only by the passing of the particular type of
civilization that had fostered it, and this, in its turn indicated a
complete and thorough renaissance not only of life and letters, but
also of Southern soul and spirit.

The type of civilization that endured in the South, to the days of the
Civil War, was one of the most picturesque periods of society that can
be imagined, but not one that induced or encouraged serious literature.
In the North, on the other hand, where there were to be found many
large cities as centres of population, and the great national colleges,
literature had developed with the people. The earliest settlers of
New England had been of a religious, thoughtful, and philosophical
disposition, and their manners and mode of life had served to
strengthen these tendencies in their descendants. Even the climate
of the country had a marked influence in emphasizing New England’s
bent towards literature. Rigorous winters and inclement temperatures
led to long enforced periods of indoor life, conducive to study and
reflection. The effort and stress required to wring a living from
the stubborn soil made them an active and a vigorous people. At the
same time the comparatively small size of their territory, the number
of their towns and cities and the ease of travel over the hard and
rocky roads brought them much in contact with each other, and insured
communication of thought. Theirs was a civilization founded on civil
ties. Farms were small, cultivated usually by the family of the owners,
with a few “hired help,” and centered about the smaller villages and
townships, which in their turn were satellites of the towns. The
towns, again, clustered around the cities, which were thus as hubs in
the wheels of society. The rising individual graduated from the town
to the city, where were gathered the leading spirits and forces of
the day. From the cities back to the smaller communities returned the
great newspapers and magazines, whose spiritual and mental authority
went unchallenged, and which served the more to amalgamate into a
living thoughtful whole the inhabitants of the farthest corner of the
countryside. For everyone life was hard and plain; and there followed
the accepted corollary of high and resolute thought.

In the South, the thought unquestionably was as grave and lofty. It
was, however, neither in the hands of the people, as a whole, nor so
thoroughly co-ordinated into an entity. This lack of centralization
and unity arose from the very order of society, and was at once its
destruction, its charm, and its misfortune. In the first place, as
regards its territory in comparison with the North, there were few
large cities, and these were far apart. From Richmond to Charleston
and New Orleans as the crow flies is nearly three times the distance
from Boston to Philadelphia. In the days of postillions, and in the
later days of steamboats and railroads, a warm damp climate made travel
tedious and tiresome. Neither did the large cities occupy the positions
of importance of their Northern rivals. Because of the fertile soil,
fair climate and multiplicity of laborers the financial and political
power of the country was to be found quite as often among the owners
of the great plantations, as in the counting rooms or law offices of
the metropolis. For various reasons, there were no great and powerful
publishing houses, or influential magazines in general circulation,
the newspaper taking these places. Another factor there was also,
that was especially disintegrating for society at large. Before the
war, education in the South was not universal. For about half the
population, the women were educated at home, or in the case of the
well-to-do, at seminaries and boarding schools. The men, as in the old
Colonial days, had their private tutors, and were then sent to the
Universities at home or abroad, and to travel. But for the mass of
the poorer people, there was little to be had beyond the rudiments of
training: and for many years the University of Virginia was the only
educational institution below the line, which was the academic equal of
the Northern colleges. Education here, as everywhere in the South, was
along purely classic lines, which trained the people to find authority
in the past, and which tended to create a lack of sympathy with
problems other than those immediately concerning the public polity.
Hence it was that the intellectual relationships of the North were
exchanged in the South for social ties; which proved in times of stress
more powerful and unifying than those beyond the Line, and which made
possible, later on, the sympathetic consolidation and confederacy of
the States at the first minute of invasion. In that instant, they were
“a band of brothers,” in a common fellowship and interest: and thus it
was that the very conditions militating against their literature and
literary progress before the War, became in 1861, at once their allies
in the field, and on Parnassus.

It is undeniable that the literary history of the antebellum South
could brook no comparison with that of the North. An agricultural
people such as the Southerners were, are apt to live their lyrics
and romances, rather than write them. Her greatest novelists, Simms
and Kennedy and John Esten Cooke, had given her quiet old-fashioned
historical or pseudo-historical tales after the pattern of Sir Walter
Scott. Today these seem curiously dull and prosy, and more so when
placed in comparison with the extraordinarily ornate and grotesque
Gothic romances of her women writers. That style of fiction of which
Mrs. Hentz, Mrs. Southworth and Miss Evans were the representative
authors may only be described as unreal and utterly false in tone
and color. It is sensational to a degree, but its popularity was in
proportion to its lack of artistic conception. Further than this, what
was true of her prose, was true of her verse. Just as the fiction of
the South was an echo of earlier modes, so her chief lyrists wrote in
the manner of the cavaliers. On the whole, the Southern character had
seemed better adapted to the practice of politics and the management
of plantations, than to government in the province of literature.
Southerners wrote easily and gracefully, but without the sincerity and
beauty that arise from perfect sympathy between the craftsman and his
craft.

It was when a great emotion had thrilled the heart of the South, and
her spirit kindled to a single mighty flame in the prosecution of a
cause on which she could unite all her energies, that the artificiality
of her literature dropped away, and was replaced by strength of
color, truth of outline and power of expression. Before the terror of
civil war, the horror of invasion, and the indignity of submission to
what she deemed a false interpretation of the Constitution and the
principles of Liberty for which her fathers had fought, the literature
of the South lost its superficiality, its romantic characteristics.
From the earliest days of the war, prose in the form of history,
philosophical essays and controversial debate, became the recognized
and powerful weapon wielded by her greatest minds: while poetry, in
the hands alike of poet and peasant, became the great national organ
for emotional expression.

Fully to appreciate the themes and refrains that filled her war verse,
it is necessary to understand for just what principles, and with what
a temper, the South began the fight. Whatever had been the immediate
excuse for war, for the Southerner the conflict very quickly resolved
itself into a struggle for liberty. The principle of States’ Rights
had always been cherished in the South since the days of the Articles
of Confederation, in 1781, which declared at the very onset that
while adopting this plan that was designed to make of the various
integers a government that might be per se recognizable,--“each state
retained its sovereignty, freedom and independence.” “Submission to
any encroachment, the least as well as the greatest, on the rights of
a state means slavery,” wrote Dr. Basil Gildersleeve.[6] “The extreme
Southern States considered this right menaced by the issue of the
presidential election.” The South had always clung to the earlier
conception of national union of separate and independent units. That
the North regarded her as a rebel against the Constitution of her
fathers but goaded her the more bitterly, who felt that above all
things she battled in the right, for the freedom of which Washington
himself had dreamed, and which her own ancestors had been the greater
part of the instrument in winning and perfecting. It was therefore to
the South a holy contest. “Right or wrong, we were fully persuaded in
our own minds, and there was no lurking suspicion of any moral weakness
in our cause,” continued Dr. Gildersleeve.[7] “Nothing could be holier
than the cause, nothing more imperative than the duty of upholding it.
There were those in the South who when they saw the issue of the War,
gave up their faith in God, but not their faith in the cause.”

With Lincoln’s decision to provision Fort Sumter, on April 1, 1861,
and his call for troops, two weeks later, the question of States’
Rights was amplified by the addition of two other sentiments which
three together formed the lofty inspiration that, in the South lifted
the struggle above the commonplaces of civil strife. At once it
was dignified into a war in defence of home, of native land, and of
liberty. It was therefore with a certain nobility of purpose that the
Confederate Army went forth to battle. The North had enlisted on a
punitive expedition: the South had engaged in a crusade for her ideals.
This was the magic touch that transmuted the comparative dross of her
literature to pure gold. “When there flashed upon poetic souls not the
political issues that were at stake, but the great human situation
of the struggle, they gave voice to the pent up feelings of the new
nation.”

The poetic genius of the Southerners had always been lyric in
character, partly as the result of environment, partly that of racial
temper, partly as an inheritance from the old Cavaliers who had been
their ancestors. Nor had the lyrists of the South been of slender
numbers. Professor Manly’s “Southern Literature” credits the land
with over two hundred poets whom he considered worthy of mention.
More than fifty of these belong to Virginia alone, and Dr. Painter
wrote[8] of their work that “examination ... reveals among a good deal
that is commonplace and imitative, many a little gem that ought to be
preserved.” Their method was usually Byronic and amorous. They had,
it is true, made little or no use of local color or legend, and had
given over the narrative and the dramatic for the lyric. Their work,
however, was always melodious and of easy numbers. This was their
particular characteristic. The second, and indeed the more interesting,
was the lack of the professional touch. Before the War, there had been
few vocational poets, as there had been few professed _literateurs_.
Poetry was the possession of the many, not of a small group of favored
ones, and these wrote purely for the pleasure of the art, with so
little care for fame or reputation that many of their verses still
remain uncollected. When, therefore, the emotion of the conflict was
borne upon the South, there were poets to fight her battles--just as
there were soldiers in the field,--who were using an accustomed mode,
though with unaccustomed sincerity and felicity. Indeed, the number of
war poets is one of the amazing phenomena of the time: and as in the
North, literature was mainly in their hands. Beyond the line there were
Longfellow, Whittier, Lowell, Emerson, Holmes, Boker, Whitman and Mrs.
Stowe. In the South, Hayne, Timrod, Ticknor, Simms, John R. Thompson,
George Bagby, Dr. Holcombe, Mrs. Preston, Mrs. Charles, and Father Ryan
filled roles as lofty, and as surely inspired. There was, however,
this difference in their work. The poets of the North lived and wrote
in comparative security and remoteness from the field. Their verses
were characterized by a virtuous indignation against the rebellion, by
appeals for men, anger at constant delay and unnecessary defeat, and
deliberate exhortations in the name of the Union.

In the South, on the other hand, conditions were quite different. The
whole land was a battle field, which every man, woman and child was
bound by his principles to defend with his very life, and from which
they had pledged themselves to drive the invading hordes. Each soul
was personally involved in the conflict, and the poets, instead of
looking on the struggle from afar, and distantly applauding it, looked
out from the very centres of confusion, calling to their people words
of help and cheer and courage. Theirs was not a plea to engage in the
conflict. Theirs was the shout of “Come to the battle! Help us or we
perish, and with us the sacred fires of true and personal Freedom.” It
was the “terrible experience of a mighty conflict,[9] in which the soul
of the people was ... brought out through struggles, passion, partings,
heroism, love, death, ... all effective in the production of genuine
feeling and the development of real character. While the battles were
being fought in the homes of the Southerners, their poets sent forth
now a stirring martial lyric, now a humorous song or poem recounting
the trials and hardships of camp, hospital and prison life ... these
becoming ever more and more intermingled with dirges for Jackson, for
Albert Sidney Johnston, for Stuart, for Ashby, and finally for the
Conquered Banner. In all these there was no trace of artificiality, no
sign of the mawkish sentimentality of the old waxflowery, amateurish
and sentimental race of Southern writers.... They were surcharged
with deep, genuine, sincere feeling. They were instinct with life. In
this respect the war poetry laid the foundation of the new Southern
literature ... ‘new in strength, new in depth, new in the largest
elements of beauty and truth.’”

It was a terrible price to pay for a renaissance of art, wrung as
it was from the heart of a wounded people. It appeared still more a
vain and useless sacrifice because at first the Southern war poetry
gave rise to no literary genre. Indirectly, however, in its return to
reality, to simplicity of emotion and truth of passion, this war verse
was of inestimable value to the rising school of Southern fiction and
prose. Nevertheless, the renaissance could not come at once. It was
only when the pain and ruin of war had somewhat passed, and the South
had begun to recover from the waste which the conflict had wrought on
the land, when the bitterness of the struggle had softened with the
changing years and generations, and after the new attitude towards life
had had time to crystalize into permanency, that one of her younger
poets could write of her, with truth:[10]

  Lo! from the war cloud, dull and dense,
      Loyal and chaste and brave and strong
  Comes forth the South with frankincense,
      And vital freshness in her song.
  The weight is fallen from her wings,
  To find a purer air she springs
  Out of the night, into the morn.




CHAPTER II

THE HISTORICAL DEVELOPMENT OF THE SOUTHERN WAR POETRY


Contemporary criticism is seldom safely to be trusted, but there
are times when contemporaneous comment is as valuable as it is
enlightening. It is so with this statement by T. C. de Leon--in his
introduction to an anthology of the Southern Civil War verse.[11]
“If poems born of revolution bore no marks of the bitter need that
crushed them from the hearts of their authors, they would have no value
whatever, intrinsic or historical.”

Southern war poetry is worthy of preservation because it is an
expression of vital appeal and of sentiment wrung from the heart of
a people. For the most part, it was written under the stress of the
moment. It was indeed the spontaneous overflow of powerful emotion, but
only occasionally does it take its origin from emotion recollected in
tranquillity. Nevertheless, it speaks the language of men and women,
and in it we may read, as perhaps through no other medium, the true
story of the development of Southern character, of national spirit, and
of definite sectional consciousness.

Today the poetry remains to us in the newspapers and magazines of the
period, and in the anthologies and various collections of war verse
(the best of these appearing either during the war or shortly after).
Most interesting, but most ephemeral of them all, it remains in part in
the small printed broadsides, or single sheets in handbill form, which
usually appeared anonymously and mysteriously, at times even without
the name of the printer. Issued in varying numbers, on wretched paper,
and seldom gathered together, so many of these have perished in the
passage of the years, that in many instances a single copy may remain
in existence. Of the verses that circulated in MSS. there is now little
trace. Occasionally, as in the case of K--s “To the Memory of Stonewall
Jackson,” some old copy-book or diary will restore them to the light:
but of the various sources, less result is obtained from this field
than from the others.

Next to the appearance of the poems in the papers and journals,
publication by broadside was probably the most common usage. Especially
in the later days of the war, when newspaper publication was either
temporarily or entirely suspended, this medium insured the quickest
distribution of verse particularly applicable to the moment, a battle
ode, a dirge of a fallen leader, or a song of peculiarly inspiriting
phraseology. It was in this broadside form that “My Maryland” spread
through the South almost in a day, anonymously, and often suffering
from lines badly copied or cut. That Randall was the author was a fact
silently understood and communicated: for it was safest and wisest in
those early days, and particularly in the border states, that names
be not mentioned. Even later, and after months of war, this condition
still obtained. The appearance, in September, 1862, of “Stonewall
Jackson’s Way,” written by Dr. John Williamson Palmer, as he listened
to the guns of Sharpsburg, is a case in point. Dr. Palmer gives this
history of the poem, and its publication:[12]

“In September, 1862, I found myself ... at Oakland ... in Garrett
County, Maryland. Early on the sixteenth there was a roar of guns in
the air, and we knew that a great battle was toward ... I knew that
Stonewall was in it, whatever it might be: it was his way,--‘Stonewall
Jackson’s Way.’ I had twice put that phrase into my war letters, and
other correspondents, finding it handy, had quoted it in theirs. I
paced the piazza and whistled a song of Oregon lumbermen and loggers
that I had learned from a California adventurer in Honolulu. The two
thoughts were coupled and welded into one to make a song: and as the
words gathered to the call of the tune I wrote the ballad of ‘Stonewall
Jackson’s Way’ with the roar of these guns in my ears. On the morrow I
added the last stanza....

“In Baltimore I told the story of the song to my father, and at his
request made immediately another copy of it. This was shown cautiously
to certain members of the Maryland Club: and a trusty printer was
found who struck off a dozen slips of it, principally for private
distribution. That first printed copy of the song was headed ‘Found on
a Rebel Sergeant of the Old Stonewall Brigade, Taken at Winchester.’
The fabulous legend was for the misleading of the Federal provost
marshal, as were also the address and date, ‘Martinsburg, September 13,
1862.’”

It must not be supposed that this war verse which has survived to
our day consists merely of battle songs and popular ballads on
themes arising from the nature of the conflict. Just as the war was
far reaching and general in its effect, touching every Southerner
personally, and too often poignantly, so the poetic response was varied
and modified to meet the demand of the moment. There is description,
and narration; there are of course dialectics and polemics; there is
satire; and there is even a little humor. And because through all this
rings the personal and individual appeal, the prevailing note is lyric.
Of the dramatic there is very little, notably Hayne’s “The Substitute,”
and “The Royal Ape.” This last is a long dramatic narrative in iambic
pentameter rimed couplets that is possibly more interesting as satire
and propaganda than as pure drama. Yet neither of these is a work of
free inspiration. The Southern war poet did his best work when out of
the fulness of his heart, he either vowed allegiance to his beloved
land, and her leaders, or wrote in passion and defiance as a resolved
defender of the freedom of his Fathers.

Judged from an emotional point of view, this poetry falls into three
distinct periods, obvious enough in themselves, but interesting
in that by them we may see more clearly the issues of the war as
reflected in the hearts of the warriors. There are the first poems of
rebellion against oppression: lyrics of passionate defiance as well as
of hortatory counsel: appeals to remember the glory of the past and
the danger of the present. The second period started at the moment
of invasion after which there was no longer need for a Congress to
formulate the principles for which they fought, or to arrange for the
unifying of the various State integers. Then began the poetry of actual
conflict, taking the form of verses concerning particular battles, the
narration of some heroic deed, the lament for a great hero, as well
as camp ballads, and marching songs. As a connecting link with the
first period, there are still the poems breathing the national spirit,
and loyalty to the Southern cause. Even in the third and last period,
that of disappointment, discouragement and actual defeat, this note
continues, and is the more poignant for its unfaltering persistence in
the face of calamity.

The poetry of the first period began in the closing days of 1860. In
November of that year there had been elected by the North and West a
President whose principles of government seemed to threaten the South
with danger of extermination of her most precious interests. The
platform of Republicanism she considered in every respect inimical to
her importance as a unit in the central organization of states. Her
very identity was endangered, and that to a section where pride of
historic heritage was as dear as actual power of wealth and commerce,
aroused her as could perhaps nothing else. Therefore, on December
twentieth, 1860, South Carolina passed her order of secession,
following it with the “Declaration of Independence,” which justified
the previous action by recalling the two great principles asserted by
the early colonies, namely, “the right of a state to govern itself,
and the right of a people to abolish a government when it becomes
destructive to the ends for which it was instituted. And concurrent
with the establishment of these principles was the fact that each
colony became and was recognized by the mother country as a free,
sovereign and independent state.” It was a proud imperious challenge,
and made immediate appeal to every Southerner to whom freedom and
independence, personal or otherwise, was a precious birthright. The
proclamation fired the imagination, as it did the poetic spirit of the
land: the poetic response struck the same note. S. Henry Dickson’s
“South Carolina” was one of the first poems to appear. Its verses are
as lofty in tone as the lines of the proclamation, and equally as
sincere. They are frankly exultant.

  The deed is done! the die is cast;
  The glorious Rubicon is passed:
  Hail, Carolina! free at last.

  Strong in the right I see her stand
  Where ocean laves the shelving sand;
  Her own Palmetto decks the strand.

  She turns aloft her flashing eye;
  Radiant, her lonely star on high
  Shines clear against the darkening sky.

         *       *       *       *       *

  Fling forth her banner to the gale!
  Let all the hosts of earth assail,--
  Their fury and their force shall fail.

         *       *       *       *       *

  Oh, land of heroes! Spartan State!
  In numbers few, in daring great,
  Thus to affront the frown of fate!

  And while mad triumph rules the hour,
  And thickening clouds of menace lower,
  Bear back the tide of tyrant power.

  With steadfast courage, faltering never,
  Sternly resolved, her bonds to sever:
  Hail, Carolina! free forever!

This may be the expression of the hour, but it proved as well to be
the poetic sentiment of the next four years. Every poet of the South,
from the humblest maker of camp catches to the greatest of her lyrists,
shared this attitude of resolve, as they watched their Spartan nation
continue to wage what they consented to be a righteous war for freedom,
against a tyrant power. Naturally, expression became more sharply
crystalized with the actual invasion. None the less, even thus early,
before the end of ’60, we have a precise foreshadowing of the war
attitude of the Confederate poet.

With the passage of secession in South Carolina, at once the remaining
“Cotton States” were torn by the conflict of making a great decision.
There were those to whom the indignity of submitting their conception
of government to what they called a usurpation of authority was
inconceivable treachery to an ancient and honorable past: and there
were those to whom unquestioning obedience to the Government at
Washington was the only way of fulfilling the heritage of their
ancestors. In the end, the extremists won. The North would offer no
compromise: indeed, it would have been contrary to the Southern code
of honor to have accepted halfway measures. To them there appeared no
other course to pursue, no solution but to follow Carolina’s lordly
lead. Mississippi seceded on January ninth, Florida on the tenth,
Alabama on the eleventh, Georgia on the nineteenth, Louisiana on the
twenty-sixth.

For the South as a whole, as well as for her poets, January had been a
month of tempest. Following the secession of Carolina, the situation
that had developed over Fort Sumter was dangerous to the extreme.
As it afterwards proved, Sumter was the tinder which kindled the
flame of war; and as early as January, when Major Anderson refused to
surrender the fort the menace within the South began to show itself.
The authorities of Charleston, endangered by Federal possession of
Sumter, demanded its surrender. No decision could have been reached
until after March fourth, when Lincoln was inaugurated. Meanwhile,
on the fourth of February, the six states which had already left the
Union, and Texas, which seceded three days earlier, formally met at
convention in Charleston, and united in a Confederacy, in opposition to
the Government at Washington. It was a move which their poets, as well
as their more practically visioned men, had been frantically urging.
Two of the most interesting of the poems of this period appeared,
the one in the _Southern Literary Messenger_ for January, by William
Gilmore Simms, the other in the _Charleston Courier_, about the middle
of the month, addressed in French, by R. Thomassy, under date of
Nouvelle Orleans, 2 Janvier 1861, to “Les Enfants du Sud.” It is fiery
and eloquent of passion.

  Enfants du Sud, l’outrage et la menace
      Aux nobles coeurs ne laissent plus de choix.
  Le paix nous trompe: un serpent nous enlace
      Tranchons ses noeuds, et defendons nos droits!
  Qu’attendrons--nous pour reprendre l’epee,
      Qui triompha d’un vieux monde oppresseur?
  Le nord aussi, violant la foi juree,
      Seme a son tour discorde et deshonneur.
  Aux armes donc pour la cause sacree;
      De nos ayeux vengeons les saintes lois;
  Nous sommes Sparte, invincible, eprouvee;
      Que sa vertu preside a nos exploits!

Gilmore Simms’ poem is less a call to arms, and more a warm and
affectionate tribute to a beloved land, noteworthy because it proves
that even before the Confederacy was formed, the people of the South
were united in her love. The second stanza is better than the first.

  She is all fondness to her friends: to foes
      She glows a thing of passion, strength and pride;
  She feels no tremors when the danger’s nigh,
      But the fight over, and the victory won,
  How with strange fondness turns her loving eye
      In tearful welcome on each gallant son!

         *       *       *       *       *

  I glory that my lot with her is cast,
      And my soul flushes and exultant sings;

Already there had begun the actual war verse, taking here the form
of the invitation to arms. That war, the “irrepressible conflict,”
was inevitable, was recognized by all sensible men. “Barhamville” in
January addressed one of the first of these, “The Call,” to the editor
of the _South Carolinian_. At this time, too, there appeared the fervid
“Spirit of ’60,” in the Columbus _Times_, forerunner of a series in
which were contrasted the spirit of the present and of ’76. To the
South, both were wars for liberty, both struggles against oppression,
in both contests the South was a vital factor; and the analogy was too
good for a poetic eye to miss.

The finest single poem produced in this preliminary stage of the
contest was that by Henry Timrod, “Ethnogenesis,” written during the
meeting of the first Southern Congress, at Montgomery, in the early
days of February. To the poet the Congress meant indeed the birth of a
great nation, a nation among nations, strong in its right, and secure
in national resource,

      “marshalled by the Lord of Hosts
  And overshadowed by the mighty ghosts
  Of Moultrie and of Eutaw.”

It is a noble utterance and its dignity and melody of expression must
have added greatly to the deep impression it created. In the _Southern
Literary Messenger_ for the month there are Joseph Brennan’s “Ballad
for the Young South”--“Men of the South! our foes are up, in fierce and
grim array,”--and the defiant “The Southland Fears No Foeman,” by J. W.
M., in which is the richly suggestive line, “Her eagles yet are free;”
while “from the Georgia papers,” under date of Atlanta, February first,
there is the anonymous “Cotton States’ Farewell to Yankee Doodle.” This
latter is especially interesting because it is one of the first of a
“Farewell to Brother Jonathan” group which enjoyed considerable vogue
during the late winter and which was answered in the North by Oliver
Wendell Holmes, with the lines “Brother Jonathan’s Lament for Sister
Caroline,” under date of March 25. Of the Confederate poems on this
theme, “Farewell to Brother Jonathan” by “Caroline,” which appeared
about this time seems closely connected with Holmes’ verses. The metre
of the two poems is the same and the thought antithetic, although
it would be difficult to determine which is the reply. The last two
stanzas of “Farewell to Brother Jonathan” are particularly good.

  O Brother! beware how you seek us again,
  Lest you brand on your forehead the signet of Cain;
  That blood and that crime on your conscience must sit;
  We may fail, we may perish, but never submit!

  The pathway that leads to the Pharisee’s door
  We remember, indeed, but we tread it no more;
  Preferring to turn, with the Publican’s faith,
  To the path through the valley and shadow of death.

Three other poems, apparently of this month, should be mentioned in
passing, as exemplifying the note of personal interest of the Southern
poet in the issue of the struggle. Robert Joselyn’s “Gather! Gather!”
the anonymous war song, “Come, Brothers! You are called!” and Millie
Mayfield’s triumphant “We Come! We Come!” may not be poetry of the
first order: nevertheless these are verses written by people to whom
the threatened conflict is not a matter distant and aloof, but of
intimate and vital concern.

March was a month of little action on both sides. In the North it
witnessed the inauguration of Lincoln; in the South the completer
organizing and unification of the Confederacy, and the beginning of
negotiations by the Confederacy by which they might secure possession
of Fort Sumter. If, however, the South was marking time, her poets were
not. They continued to urge her on to fulfillment of her “destiny.”
Indeed, this month saw written some of the very best and most resolute
of her war verse. There is the indignant “Coercion,” by John C.
Thompson--

  “Who talks of Coercion? Who dares to deny
      A resolute people the right to be free?”

There is the anonymous “Prosopopeia,” also in the _Southern Literary
Messenger_, which with Timrod’s “Cry to Arms,” written a little later,
is the best of the verse of this kind which the period produced.
Another widely known poem of the month was St. George Tucker’s “The
Southern Cross,” verses patterned after Key’s “Star Spangled Banner,”
and which had enormous vogue, and was even set to music, later on. This
in so far as can be determined is the first poetic use of the Southern
Cross as the symbol of the Confederacy, a figure that was later adopted
for the design of her flag, and which finally became, not only her
ensign, but as well a symbol of the righteousness of her faith and
cause. James Barron Hope’s “Oath of Freedom,”--

  Born free, thus we resolve to live:
      By Heaven, we will be free.
  By all the stars which burn on high,
  By the green earth--the mighty sea--
  By God’s unshaken majesty
      We will be free or die!--

is of a kind with Thompson’s “Coercion,” and was widely copied during
this time. Another poem must be mentioned here, as presaging the
turmoil to follow, “Fort Sumter,” by “H.,” in the New Orleans _Delta_,
with the command of its refrain, “Carolina, _take_ the Fort.”

The most eventful months of the year 1861 were April and July, for
April inaugurated “the irrepressible conflict,” and July saw the first
great battle of the war, and a complete Confederate victory. On the
first of April, President Lincoln announced his decision to refuse
surrender of Fort Sumter to the Confederates, and added that he would
undertake to provision the garrison imprisoned there immediately. At
once the South was aflame. On the morning of the twelfth of April,
Beauregard, commander of the Southern forces at Charleston, ordered
the shelling of the Fort, which continued through the thirteenth, and
ended with the evacuation of the Fort on the fourteenth. The war had
begun, and though the opening engagement had been without loss to
either side, and had ended in a Confederate victory, a far bloodier and
disastrous conflict was inevitable. To the rejoicing South, however,
there was only the glory of the first decision to consider, and the
poets in their rapture gave utterance to a sheaf of verse, innumerable
ballads about Sumter, affectionate odes to the nation so gloriously
born and baptized by victorious fire, two great national songs, and
frantic appeals to North Carolina, Virginia and Maryland, Tennessee and
Kentucky to join fortunes of the Confederacy.

The first song published in the South after the war began, and
corresponding, in the North, to E. C. Stedman’s “The Twelfth of April”
was, fittingly enough, “God Save the South” by George H. Miles of
Frederick County, Maryland. Sung to music by C. W. A. Ellerbrock, it
was designed to be, and accepted as the national hymn. It did not
however, succeed in becoming a favorite. On the twenty-sixth of the
month, James Rider Randall, inflamed by the circumstances of the
“Baltimore Massacre” on April nineteenth, wrote his “My Maryland,” the
most famous Southern poem produced by the war, and one whose influence
was greater than a hundred battles. Circulated at first by broadsides
it swept through the South like wildfire, and if any force could have
drawn Maryland to the side of the Confederacy, it would have been that
exerted by this poem. Her Union Governor, however, aided by Federal
troops and tactful advice from Washington, succeeded in holding the
State to the Union, although many Marylanders were ardent Southern
sympathizers. Virginia, on the other hand, who, like Maryland, had been
hesitating over her decision, hesitated no longer, after the episode
of Sumter, implying as it did, Federal coercion. On the seventeenth
of April she seceded from the Union. Her “pausing” had long been
considered a shame and a reproach by Southern poets. Now, they burst
forth in delight. “Virginia, Late But Sure!” was the triumphant shout
of Dr. Holcombe, and Virginia’s answer was expressed in poems such as
“Virginia to the Rescue,” “Virginia’s Rallying Call,” or “Virginia’s
Message to the Southern States.”

The poetry produced or published in May chiefly concerns the decision
of Virginia, and the assembling of the Southern armies, those “Ordered
Away” to the field. Virginia’s entrance into the Confederacy had burnt
all the bridges leading back--though remotely--to peace. At once the
South proceeded to rally her forces to the standard of her cause,
and gradually during May and June, flung out her battle line across
Virginia, West Virginia and Kentucky to the Mississippi. Down the
river it stretched through Forts Henry and Donelson to New Orleans. At
one time, in ’63, the Confederate line surged forward through Western
Virginia and Maryland so far into Pennsylvania that Harrisburg was
directly menaced. It was the four years’ uncertain task of the Union
forces to control this line, to break through it, turn it back and
in upon itself, and finally to starve its scattered remnants into
submission. As this was accomplished the first lyric outburst of the
War--Timrod’s “Cry to Arms,” for example--was gradually exchanged for
a slenderer volume of song. At first her poets encouraged the people
to faith and labor; then they sang of hope and courage, attempting to
relieve the despair of a nation whose cause was lost, and whose ruin
seemed irretrievable.

In the spring of ’61, however, there was only exultation, while in the
North the cry of “On to Richmond” welled and grew fiercer during May,
June and the summer months. Especially did it grow imperative after
July twentieth, when the Confederate Capital was transferred there from
Montgomery. On the next day, July twenty-first, came the great opening
battle of the war, when the Union army under General Scott, joined
with Beauregard’s men at Manassas Junction. The result was a complete
Confederate victory, and there was unrestricted panic and flight among
the Federal troops (the source of much satiric comment among the
Southern poets) when Joseph E. Johnston’s army, which had not been
expected to arrive until too late to be of assistance to Beauregard,
appeared at the crucial moment.

It was only natural that the wave of triumphant exultation which had
thrilled the South after the fall of Sumter should again sweep the
land. Her poets responded with a sheaf of poems, in which they wrote
of the contest from every angle,--odes of thanksgiving for victory,
narratives of the course of the flight, eulogies of Beauregard and
Johnston, satires on the behavior of the Union forces, camp catches
half satiric and half comic, poems of particular incidents of the
fight, finally words of regret and sorrow for the slain, and the manner
of their slaying. This last theme is particularly interesting, for the
feeling of horror at the situation “where brother fought with brother”
was ever-present with the Southerners throughout the four years of
the War. The very best of the poems occasioned by Manassas were those
of Mrs. Warfield, “Manassas,” Susan Archer Talley’s “Battle Eve,”
Ticknor’s “Our Left,” and the lines by “Ruth,” entitled “The Battle of
Bull Run,” dated Louisville, Kentucky, July twenty-fourth, and written
in curious and effective stanzas of irregular “unrhymed rhythms.” Mrs.
Warfield’s poem was stirring and vigorous, bold in metaphor and in
expression.

  They have met at last, as storm clouds
          Meet in Heaven,
  And the Northmen, back and bleeding
          Have been driven:
  And their thunders have been stilled,
  And their leaders crushed or killed,
  And their ranks, with terror thrilled
          Rent and riven!

  Like the leaves of Vallumbroso
          They are lying;
  In the moonlight, in the midnight
          Dead and dying:
  Like those leaves before the gale
  Swept their legions wild and pale,
  While the host that made them quail
          Stood, defying.

         *       *       *       *       *

  But peace to those who perished
          In our passes!
  Light be the earth above them!
          Green the grasses!
  Long shall Northmen rue the day,
  When they met our stern array,
  And shrunk from battle’s wild affray
          At Manassas.

Miss Talley’s “Battle Eve,” with its beautiful picture of twilight
calm before the darker night of storm and death, is affecting in its
simple direct appeal, and sincerity of regret for the carnage of
conflict--and was called forth by the seriousness of the impending
meeting at Manassas. Francis Orray Ticknor’s “Our Left”--suggested
by the indomitable courage and perseverance of the Confederate left
wing before McDowell’s men, until reinforced by the timely arrival
of Johnston’s army, who brought victory with them, is a spirited,
almost exalted account of the actual battle, and was immensely
popular at the time. There are many versions of it still extant, in
broadsides and anthologies,--for the most part anonymous, since the
poem evidently was not at first acknowledged by Ticknor. This has led
to a curious connection of names. In one of the broadsides versions
in the collection of the Ridgway Library, in Philadelphia, the poem
is dated Baltimore, Maryland, October 20, 1861, and is signed by “Old
Secesh.” This signature is also given to “The Despot’s Song,” a popular
Lincoln satire of a later period of the War, which again is assigned to
Baltimore, and from circumstantial evidence seems to be the work of Dr.
N. G. Ridgely, a Baltimorean who was a popular satirist of the day, and
who signed his work variously “N. G. R.,” “Le Diable Baiteux,” “O. H.
S.,” “Cola,” and “B.” This last signature is further associated with
the name of James Ryder Randall, for in the Baltimore City Librarian’s
Office, in Ledger 1411, there is a broadside version of “Maryland, My
Maryland,” published in Baltimore, as were these other broadsides, and
signed “B,” Point Coupee (La.), April 26, 1861. It would, of course,
be impossible, so many years later, to puzzle out the interrelation of
the poems and signatures, and indeed their value would hardly warrant
the labor. It is, nevertheless, an interesting example of the chaos
which at times arose from the necessarily surreptitious publication and
circulation of the Confederate verse.

Manassas was the last great event of the year. There were several minor
engagements between the two armies, notably the fight at Ball’s Bluff,
on the twenty-first of October; and there was the “Trent Affair,”
with the capture of the Confederate emissaries to England, Mason and
Slidell, on November eighth. Nevertheless, the Southern poets did not
lack inspiring material, the continued “aloofness” of Maryland and
Kentucky being among their most vital themes. They were, of course,
never idle with their lyrics of loyalty and continued to sound the war
note or to sing of the South, with indomitable zeal. They had even by
this time, become so accustomed to the state of war, that they could
begin to work seriously with satire. The best in this genre written
in ’61 are John R. Thompson’s “On to Richmond,” satirizing Winfield
Scott’s first campaign, and “England’s Neutrality” (England had passed
a proclamation of neutrality towards the two belligerents early in May,
on the thirteenth): “O Johnny Bull, My Jo John,” an anonymous ballad
occasioned by the presence of English frigates off the coast in ’61,
and the unfortunately anonymous, but delightfully humorous “King Scare”
(prompted by the terror in the North regarding the Confederate power in
the field).

The close of the year was marked by a poem in the _Southern Field
and Fireside_--a “Requiem for 1861,” by H. C. B. It is not of any
particular excellence or poetic merit, but it is worthy of note for its
expression of sincere sorrow for the conflict that was severing a land
of brothers; and for a sense of the horror that war had brought to the
South.

  Year of terror, year of strife,
  Year with evil passions rife
  Pass, with seething angry flood,
  Pass, with garments dipped in blood,--

  Born ’mid hopes, but raised in fears,
  With thy dewdrops changed to tears,
  With thy springtime turned to blight,
  And with darkness quenching light.

         *       *       *       *       *

  War’s fierce tread upon our land
  Severing once a kindred band,
  Child and father ranged for strife,
  Brother seeking brother’s life!

         *       *       *       *       *

  Thou who doth unsheathe the sword
  By the power of Thy Word,
  And can by Thy mighty will
  To the waves say “peace, be still”

  Gather up this storm once more,
  Where “Thy judgments are in store,”
  Send Thy holy dove of Peace,
  And our fettered land release!

The same longing for peace is shown in the verses “Christmas Day, A.
D. 1861,” by M. J. H. But it must be a peace with victory. That was
the earliest conception. By the lives of her sons who had died for her
in the year just passed, the South was resolved on whatever sacrifice
it might cost her to prevail, despite the fact that she was already
weary of the struggle. No better expression of her unchecked purpose
may be found than in Mrs. War field’s lines, written in the spring
months before Manassas, “The Southern Chant of Defiance.” With Timrod’s
“Ethnogenesis,” and Randall’s “Maryland,” it stands the finest poetry
which the year produced in the Confederacy.

1862 began with the Confederacy prevailing. Nevertheless, the first
six months of the year seemed to bring to the South nothing but gloom.
In February of ’62, came news of the capture of Fort Henry on the
Tennessee River, February sixth, and on February eighth, of the fall
of Fort Donelson, on the Cumberland. There was much more importance in
these two defeats than at first appeared to the poets; for these forts
were the two most valuable gateways to the Southwestern Confederacy,
and their fall meant not only the first break in the Confederate line,
but as well, direct menace of Southern control of the Mississippi, and
New Orleans. It foreshadowed the later evacuation of Nashville, before
Grant.

In January, the month before, the chief theme of the Southern poets
had been the meditated burning of the cotton crop, by the Southern
planters, and this cry of “Burn the Cotton!” had brought forth at
least one finely phrased poem. In February, the themes concerned the
siege and evacuation of Donelson, and there began the days of wretched
anxiety that were to possess the Confederacy until the end of July,
when the land was to know that the Virginia part of her line still
held, and Richmond was safe. In March McClellan assumed chief control
of the Union forces, and began his Peninsula campaign, in response to
Lincoln’s reiterated cry, “On to Richmond.” On the eighth of the month,
the Confederate ram “Merrimac” out from Norfolk, succeeded in breaking
the Federal blockade of Hampton Roads, much to the consternation of the
North. The next day, however, in her encounter with the “cheesebox”
Monitor, “the turtle” Merrimac was too badly hurt to be of further
or immediate use, and the elation of the day before gave way to
depression, which was in no way relieved by the events of the next few
months. April saw the practical occupation of the Mississippi, with the
fall of Corinth, the evacuation of Fort Pillow, and on the lower river,
Farragut and Porter’s occupation of New Orleans. Of the Mississippi
line, there remained to the Confederates only Vicksburg and Port
Hudson. For the South everything depended on the defeat of McClellan’s
“On to Richmond” march, since on the sixth of the month, Albert Sidney
Johnston, attempting to retrieve the disaster to the middle line in
Tennessee, had engaged Grant at Shiloh and Pittsburgh Landing, with
tremendous carnage. The battle had proved an incomplete Confederate
defeat, but what was worse for the South, had occasioned Johnston’s
death.

To all of the many events of these opening months, the Southern poets
made continuous response. National songs inspiring faith and courage,
as for example, Hewitt’s “Lines Written During These Gloomy Times, To
Him Who Despairs,” spoken at the Richmond “Varieties” by Mr. Ogden,
Wednesday night, May 7, 1862,--occasional verses suggested by various
incidents and episodes of the war’s progress, camp catches and marching
ballads praising individual troops and regiments, the poets poured
forth in unstinting measure. However, the death of Albert Sidney
Johnston, at Shiloh, made a deeper impression on the poets than any
event of these spring months. The affection and pure love which the
Southerners lavished on their leaders is one of the several remarkable
phenomena of the war. In no other war, and in no other country do the
leaders appear to have been so beloved, so idolized. To us today, the
expression of sentiment seems extravagant and excessive. One attribute
it has, however, and one that is not to be denied. The praise of the
South for her great men is always passionately sincere. During the war,
the Southerners were, as never before, a band of brothers. There was,
therefore, in their relations with their great men, a personal contact
and appeal which in the North was not so keenly felt. Albert Sidney
Johnston, who with Beauregard, had been one of the heroes of Manassas,
was the first of Confederate heroes to fall. The South mourned him, as
she did all of her sons who fell in her defence, truly and warmly.

When “Stonewall” Jackson died, after Chancellorsville, almost a
year later, the outburst of the poets with dirges and elegies was
quite typical. S. A. Link quotes T. C. de Leon, the editor of _South
Songs_ (1866), as saying:[13] “I had in my collection no fewer than
forty-seven monodies and dirges on Stonewall Jackson, some dozen on
Ashby, and a score on Stuart.” Even today there are extant a round
dozen of poems lamenting the death of Albert Sidney Johnston.

With all the sorrow that came to the South in these first months of
depression, it is pleasant to see that she had not lost the saving
humor and satiric sense that was so to strengthen her in the evil
days which followed. On April sixteenth, for example, the Confederate
Congress, alarmed by the condition of the Southern army, passed a
measure for conscription. This was commented upon in the _Southern
Literary Messenger_ for the month, with a delightful epigram:

  Let us hail in this crisis the prosperous omen
  That our senate shows virtue higher than Roman;
  It has spurned all titles of honor, for rather
  Than claim that each member be called “Conscript Father,”
  All self-aggrandizement they lay on the shelves,
  And declare all men conscripts, excepting themselves!

During May and June of ’62 Jackson and Lee endeavored to arrest
McClellan’s progress by their counter campaign in the Shenandoah. For
the South it was a most successful move. Not only were the Southern
arms carried to victory, but, through the unfortunate wounding of
Joseph E. Johnston at Seven Pines, Lee, whose fame had grown in the
Shenandoah, was placed in supreme command of the army of Northern
Virginia. The turning point of the Southern fortunes had arrived. The
battle of the Chickahominy, Malvern Hill, and the Seven Day’s fighting
before Richmond, resulted in the defeat of McClellan’s campaign, and
Richmond, for the next two years, was saved.

The army of the Confederacy, through the hardships and reverses of the
first year of fighting, had become a seasoned and experienced (though,
thanks to the blockade, a sadly ill-equipped) machine. Its three great
leaders were Lee and Jackson and Beauregard. The Southerners at home
were beginning to be accustomed to the privations of war. They were
all as confident as ever of the righteousness of their war. Thus with
a united Confederacy behind him and after another victory at “Second
Manassas,” in ’62, Lee began his ill-starred Maryland campaign, as
a counter-stroke against the Army of the Potomac. Lee’s part of the
Confederate line, the Army of Northern Virginia, was the only part of
the original battle wall still intact. Butler and his forces were in
possession of New Orleans, the fall of Vicksburg, already in siege, was
but a matter of time, and in the West, uncertainty still prevailed.
John R. Thompson’s spirited “A Word to the West,” was written when
Joseph E. Johnston was dispatched to relieve Vicksburg. It was at the
same time an answer to A. J. Requier’s impassioned plea, “Clouds in the
West.”

Those were anxious days, indeed. September saw the desperate conflict
at Sharpsburg, the bloodiest single day’s battle of the war, which,
although it was not a conclusive defeat, left the Confederate forces
wretchedly crippled, and brought deepest anguish to the South.
The gloom, however, was relieved in December by Lee’s victory at
Fredericksburg. So the second year of war closed on a people and a
nation, whose hearts were sick of the conflict. A second Christmas came
to the Confederacy to find only the grim realities of life instead of
the plumes and pomp of circumstance with which the war had begun. Mrs.
Preston drew the picture for her countrywomen, in _Beechenbrook_:

  How saddening the change is! The season’s the same,
  And yet it is Christmas in nothing but name:
  No merry expression we utter today--
  How can we, with hearts that refuse to be gay?
  We look back a twelfthmonth on many a brow
  That graced the home hearthstone--and where are they now?
  We think of the darling ones clustering there,
  But we see, through our tears, an untenanted chair.

None the less, the South was still firm in her resolve to battle to
the end. No sacrifice could be demanded so great that it would not be
willingly offered on the altar of Liberty--

  Thank God! there is joy in the sorrow for all--
  He fell--but it surely was blessed to fall;
  For never shall murmur be heard from the mouth
  Of mother or wife, through our beautiful South,
  Or sister or maiden yield grudging her part,
  Tho’ the price that she pays, must be coined from her heart.

1863 proved another “Year of terror, year of strife.” In the far South,
Butler, in possession of New Orleans, had begun his reign of terror
that was the savage inspiration of several poems. From Hayne, in
particular, it wrung one of the most powerful lyrics of the war.[14] Up
the river, the siege of Vicksburg still continued. How spring came to
the land was most poignantly expressed by Henry Timrod, in “Spring.”

  Spring, with that nameless pathos in the air
  Which dwells in all things fair,
  Spring, with her golden suns and silver rain
  Is with us once again.

         *       *       *       *       *

  Ah! who would couple thoughts of war and crime
  With such a blessed time.
  Who in the west-wind’s aromatic breath
  Could hear the call of Death!

         *       *       *       *       *

  Oh! standing on this desecrated mould,
  Methinks that I behold,
  Lifting her bloody daisies up to God,
  Spring kneeling on the sod,

         *       *       *       *       *

  And calling with the voice of her rills
  Upon the ancient Hills,
  To fall and crush the tyrants and the slaves
  Who turn her meads to graves.

Spring brought with it another bloody engagement and Confederate
victory, the Battle of Chancellorsville, fought in the first four days
of May. In that, however, it caused the death of Stonewall Jackson it
was, next to the actual surrender of the Southern army, the worst blow
the Confederacy could have sustained. His death, some one once said,
was like the death of an army. Certainly it took from Lee, already
overburdened, his good right hand.

The outburst of mourning that followed on Jackson’s death, has already
been noted. The South and her poets loved him, not only as a leader,
but personally, as a great and good man. He represented, moreover, that
element of faith and religious fervor which was one of the essential
factors of the Southern character, and without which the faith that
sustained the Confederacy through four years of war, and the days of
ruin that followed, is inexplicable.

“Let me say,” wrote Dr. Gildersleeve,[15] “that the bearing of the
Confederates is not to be understood without taking into account
the deep religious feeling of the army and its great leaders. It is
a historical element, like any other, and is not to be passed over
in summing up the forces of the conflict.” Many are the poems, the
“Prayers for the South,” and the individual supplications which still
remain to attest the fact. For example, there is the “Battle Hymn of
the Virginia Soldier,” an anonymous lyric of striking beauty. There is
the simpler, yet equally sincere and devout “Soldier’s Battle Prayer”
from the _Southern Literary Messenger_ for April, ’62. “A Mother’s
Prayer,” is another very touching poem, in the same theme: and there
could be no more impressive evidence of the true religious strain in
Southern hearts, than the verses, terrible in their satire, and burning
in their indignant phrases, “The War Christians’ Thanksgiving,” by
S. Teackle Wallis of Maryland, occasioned by the Union proclamation
for a day of prayer in the North, and “Respectfully Dedicated to the
War-Clergy of the United States, Bishops, Priests and Deacons.”
Written as it was by a prisoner then in the dungeon of Fort Warren, it
is one of the most powerful human documents of the War. At the same
time, the South held her own days of national prayer and fasting: and
the verses which her poets wrote on these occasions, were quite in
character with the national temper.

In the dark days of the next two years, the South was to find need
for all her faith and confidence in the right. As if Jackson’s death
was not sufficient evil, July first to third brought Lee’s defeat at
Gettysburg, and on the day after this battle, the fall of Vicksburg, on
the Mississippi. This meant the complete breaking of the Confederate
line in the Southwest, and the return of the Army of Northern Virginia
to its original position in Virginia. To complete the rout of the
Confederate line, the Union forces now began to beat through the
Southern defense in Tennessee and Kentucky, while Lee, back once more
in Virginia, maneuvered to and fro against Meade. In the Southern
campaign, the Confederates were steadily forced out of Tennessee, and
Chattanooga, the objective of the Union troops. This, (which was with
Richmond, the last important strategic point left to the Confederacy)
was wrested from Bragg, and occupied by Rosecrans on the ninth. The
latter thought that the fall of the city would be sufficient warning
to the Southerner, and that he and his forces would at once withdraw.
Far from doing that, however, Bragg engaged him, ten days later,
at Chickamauga. It was a two days’ battle, on the nineteenth and
twentieth, and was, next to Sharpsburg, the bloodiest engagement of
the War. Though a Confederate victory, it was dearly bought. Yet even
after all her suffering, the South willingly paid the price. Verses in
the Richmond _Sentinel_ called the river “Chickamauga, The Stream of
Death,” where the foe--

  Learned, though long unchecked they spoil us,
      Dealing desolation round,
  Marking, with the tracks of ruin
      Many a rood of Southern ground;
  Yet, whatever course they follow,
      Somewhere in their pathway flows
  Dark and deep, a Chickamauga,
      Stream of death to vandal foes.

  They have found it darkly flowing
      By Manassas’ famous plain,
  And by rushing Shenandoah
      Met the tide of woe again;
  Chickahominy, immortal,
      By the long ensanguined fight,
  Rappahannock, glorious river,
      Twice renowned for matchless fight.

  Heed the story, dastard spoilers,
      Mark the tale these waters tell,
  Ponder well your fearful lesson,
      And the doom that there befell;
  Learn to shun the Southern vengeance,
      Sworn upon the votive sword,
  Every stream a Chickamauga
      To the vile invading horde!

None the less, in the battles that followed, the Union forces
prevailed. In the three days’ fighting before Chattanooga, culminating
in the Battle of Missionary Ridge, on November twenty-fifth, the
Confederates were set in full flight. J. Augustine Signaigo described
this fight in “The Heights of Mission Ridge.” The final catastrophe had
begun.

It had been threatening for a long time. By the end of ’63, nearly
every Southern home had suffered some loss or sorrow. “Our Christmas
Hymn” by Dr. John Dickson Bruns of Charleston, put the grief of the
land into words.

  Wild bells! that shake the midnight air
      With those dear tones that custom loves,
  You wake no sounds of laughter here
      Nor mirth in all our silent groves;
  On one broad waste, by hill or flood,
      Of ravaged lands your music falls,
  And where the happy homestead stood
      The stars look down on roofless halls.

Timrod’s “Christmas, 1863,” shows a South that is sobered, and weary of
battle: who with no idea of yielding, nevertheless, yearns for peace.

      How grace this hallowed day?
  Shall happy bells, from yonder ancient spire,
  Send their glad greetings to each Christmas fire
      Round which the children play?

      How could we bear the mirth,
  While some loved reveller of a year ago
  Keeps his mute Christmas now beneath the snow,
      In cold Virginian earth?

         *       *       *       *       *

      How shall we grace the day?
  Oh! let the thought that on this holy morn
  The Prince of Peace--the Prince of Peace was born,
      Employ us, while we pray!

         *       *       *       *       *

      He who till time shall cease,
  Shall watch that earth, where once, not all in vain
  He died to give us peace, will not disdain
      A prayer whose theme is--peace.

      Perhaps, ’ere yet the spring
  Hath died into the summer, over all
  The land, the peace of His vast love shall fall
      Like some protecting wing.

         *       *       *       *       *

      Peace on the whirring marts,
  Peace where the scholar thinks, the hunter roams,
  Peace, God of Peace! peace, peace in all our homes,
      And peace in all our hearts!

1864 was a year to be endured in stricken anguish. After a comparative
lull during the first months of the war, on the fourth of May three
Union armies moved forward, two destined for Richmond to shatter what
part of the original Confederate line there was left, and one for
Atlanta against Johnston and Hood, setting out to employ the troops
still in the far South, and keep them from the relief of Lee and
Richmond. This latter campaign was to end in the fall of Atlanta, and
“Sherman’s March to the Sea,” and caused the invention of a new word.

  Gaunt and grim like a spectre rose that word before the world,
  From a land of bloom and beauty into ruin rudely hurled,
  From a people scourged by exile, from a city ostracised
  Pallas-like it sprang to being, and that word is--Shermanized.[16]

Atlanta fell, despite Hood’s frantic efforts, on September third, ’64.
Hood’s rashness in engaging in a counter attack against Nashville,
cost him several severe defeats, and finally his army. Tennessee was
thus brought entirely under Union control, and late in December, on
the twenty-fourth, Sherman occupied Savannah. Two poems, by the same
author, Alethea S. Burroughs of Georgia, commemorate this incident most
poignantly, “Savannah,” written in encouragement when her ruin seemed
impending, and “Savannah Fallen,” written after the occupation of the
town.

On the way to Savannah, Sherman’s route had lain through Columbia,
which had been pillaged and burned, a circumstance that was the
savage inspiration of James Barron Hope’s flaming verses, “A Poem
that Needs No Dedication.” The sack of Columbia caused the evacuation
of Charleston by the Confederate forces, then directly menaced, and
before the oncoming destroyer the city was deserted. The pitiful fate
of the city which had witnessed the birth and earliest days of the
Confederacy, could not fail to stir the anguish of the Southern poets.
“The Foe at the Gates,” by Dr. Bruns, for example, reveals the still
prevailing temper of the South.

  Ring round her! children of her glorious skies,
      Whom she hath nursed to stature proud and great;
  Catch one last glance from her imploring eyes,
      Then close your ranks and face the threatening fate.

  To save her proud soul from that loathed thrall
      Which yet her spirit cannot brook to name;
  Or, if her fate be near, and she must fall,
      Spare her--she sues--the agony and shame.

  From all her fanes let solemn bells be tolled,
      Heap with kind hands her costly funeral pyre,
  And thus, with paean sung and anthem rolled,
      Give her, unspotted, to the God of Fire.

  Gather around her sacred ashes, then,
      Sprinkle the cherished dust with crimson rain
  Die! as becomes a race of freeborn men,
      Who will not crouch to wear the bondsmen’s chain.

To the poets of the South, the fate of this city was particularly
significant, for if any place may be said to have been the literary
centre of the Confederacy, it was Charleston. There, for example,
lived Simms and Timrod and Hayne, the leaders of her lyrists, who,
in the general destruction of the city, suffered the loss of their
homes and libraries. Had Charleston been spared to them and to others,
the literary history of the South in the days after the war might
have been a different tale. As it was, the disaster to each of these
particular men proved irretrievable.

Lee, during the summer months, though stoutly resisting, and adroitly
circumventing the enemy at nearly every turn, was nevertheless being
forced back against Richmond. The Battles of the Wilderness, May fifth
and sixth, the Spottsylvania fighting, on the eighth to the twentieth,
and Cold Harbor, on June third, resulted in advantage first to one
side and to the other. Then the conflict swung below Richmond to
Petersburg, and for the next month, the Union forces were halted before
that strongly fortified town. The “Battle of the Crater” was fought
on July thirtieth, over ground destroyed by Federal mines, but it was
unsuccessful for the Unionists, and their losses were so terrific that
for the next winter, at least, Richmond was safe.

The Petersburg siege is noteworthy since during it were written some of
the most attractive lyrics of the war, like “Dreaming in the Trenches,”
by Gordon McCabe, and “A Bloody Day is Dawning,” by William Munford.
It is remarkable that such freshness of phrase could be given to men
wearied by three years of disappointing struggle. One may imagine that
this is but another indication of the vitality and spirit that was an
integral part of the Southern character.

By the end of ’64, the Confederate battle wall had been crumpled and
was beaten in, everywhere except in Virginia, before Richmond. Peace
for a stricken land was the immediate concern alike of poets and
people. Beyond that they did not trust themselves to think: but peace
was the universal prayer.

  Peace! Peace! God of our fathers, grant us Peace!
  Peace in our hearts, and at Thine altars; Peace
  On the red waters and their blighted shores;
  Peace for the leaguered cities, and the hosts
  That watch and bleed, around them and within;
  Peace for the homeless and the fatherless;
  Peace for the captive on his weary way,
  And the mad crowds who jeer his helplessness.
  For them that suffer, them that do the wrong--
  Sinning and sinned against--O, God! for all--
  For a distracted, torn and bleeding land--
  Speed the glad tidings! Give us, give us Peace.[17]

The end came quickly. After a winter of preparation, determined among
the Union forces, despairing among Lee’s men, the attack on Petersburg
was resumed and carried on April second, of ’65. The next day, Richmond
fell. Lee found escape impossible, and on the twelfth the little white
farmhouse at Appomattox Court House, in the meeting of Lee and Grant,
witnessed at once the death of a young nation and the rebirth of an
older one.

Lyric as had always been the poetic genius of the South, it was but
natural that her anguished cry of despair and defeat should be put into
the mouths of her poets. For the most part, the poems on this theme are
of beautiful quality, and those still extant form the largest single
class in the war poetry of the four years.[18] Correspondingly, they
constitute a glass wherein one may see how defeat came to the South,
and how she met the challenge of the issue. There were, of course, some
spirits which cried out beneath the unendurable prick that death itself
had been preferable to defeat. There is not emotion more appalling
than despair for which one sees no relieving element of comfort. Such
poems as “Stack Arms,” by Joseph Blythe Alston, “Doffing the Gray,”
by Lieutenant Falligant, “The Price of Peace” by “Luola” or “Peace”
by Alethea Burroughs of Savannah are terrible expressions of this
attitude. At the same time, there were those who like Mrs. Preston, in
“Acceptation,” met the issue more bravely and gently:

  We do accept thee, heavenly Peace!
      Albeit thou comest in a guise
      Unlooked for--undesired, our eyes
  Welcome, thro’ tears, the kind release
  From war and woe and want--surcease
  For which we bless thee, holy Peace!

  We lift our foreheads from the dust;
      And as we meet thy brow’s clear calm,
      There falls a freshening sense of balm
  Upon our spirits. Fear--distrust--
  The hopeless present on us thrust--
  We’ll front them as we can, and must.

         *       *       *       *       *

  Then courage, brothers! Tho’ our breast
      Ache with that rankling thorn, despair,
      That failure plants so sharply there--
  No pang, no pain shall be confessed;
  We’ll work and watch the brightening west,
  And leave to God and Heaven, the rest.

There were others who accepted the inevitable gracefully, but defiantly.

  Weep, if thou wilt, with proud sad mien,
      Thy blasted hopes--thy peace undone;
      Yet brave, live on--nor seek to shun
  Thy fate, like Egypt’s conquered queen.

  Though forced a captive’s place to fill,
      In the triumphal train--yet there,
      Superbly, like Zenobia, wear
  Thy chains--_Virginia victrix_ still.[19]

There were yet others to whom the fall of the Confederacy was typified
in the furling of its banner. Poems like “The Conquered Banner,”
by Father Ryan, and J. C. M.’s “Cruci Dum Spiro, Fido,” and A. J.
Requier’s “Ashes of Glory” are typical expressions of such spirits.
Then there were those who, like D. B. Lucas, “In the Land Where We Were
Dreaming,” began to regard the struggle as the passing of a spirit
world with which had passed all chivalry and beauty.

There are many of these verses portraying the end, each slightly
differing in spirit from the one before, each repaying careful study
with the beauty of its melody, and as a class, forming the noblest
group of the war poems, whose only companions may be the earliest of
the “Cry to Arms” series. Yet these poems of defeat are infinitely the
more appealing in that the fire and dash of the earlier verses has here
given way to the dignity of sorrow. “For the people’s hopes are dead.”

Hundreds of poems written during the four years of conflict reflect
either individual reactions to war conditions, or incidents of battle.
Besides these there are the prison verses, humorous pieces, and
the southern songs, which in no way concern the historical passage
of the War. There are poems of personal feeling, for example, like
the exquisite and tender “The Confederate Soldier’s Wife Parting
From Her Husband” or Major S. Y. Levy’s “Love Letter,” or Fanny
Downing’s “Dreaming.” There are poems that picture the life of the
civilian population, like “The Homespun Dress” by Miss Sinclair, or
the anonymous “Your Mission” which is of more than passing interest
since in the South it was attributed equally to John R. Thompson,
Mrs. Preston, Paul H. Hayne, and Mrs. Browning.[20] There are poems
reflecting the ravages of the war on the families of the soldiers,
like “Heart Victories,” “Somebody’s Darling,” “Reading the List,”
“Volunteered,” and “The Unreturning.” One could continue the catalogue
indefinitely.

The prison verse, while not extensive, is for the most part, of
good quality. There are five men whose work may be considered as
representative, S. Teackle Wallis, who was imprisoned at Fort Warren,
and four at Johnson’s Island. Wallis’s “To The Exchanged Prisoners”
was written in Fort Warren in July ’62, and is one of the first of the
prison poems which we can identify as such. The others, Major A. S.
Hawkins, Colonel Beuhring H. Jones, Colonel W. W. Fontaine, and Major
George McKnight, (“Asa Hartz,”) wrote two years later, in ’64 and
’65. Hawkins was the author of many poems, all of them popular, “The
Hero Without a Name,” “To Infidelia,” “True to the Last,” “Give Up,”
“A Prisoner’s Fancy.” About the best known of Beuhring Jones’ verses
were “To a Dear Comforter,” and the rather humorous “Rat den Linden.”
Fontaine was the author of many poems, notably “The Countersign,”
“Virginia Desolate,” and “The Cliff Beside the Sea.” It remained
for “Asa Hartz” to while away his prison hours in writing lines so
delightfully humorous, so free and swift moving, that it is difficult
to believe they could have been written within prison walls. “Living or
Dying,” “Will No One Write to Me?” “To Exchange-Commissioner Ould,” and
“My Love and I” are among the best of his lighter verses: “Exchanged,”
and “Farewell to Johnson’s Island” are of more sober temper. “My Love
and I” is the best example of his work:

  My love reposes on a rosewood frame--
            A bunk have I;
  A couch of feathery down fills up the same--
            Mine’s straw, but dry;
  She sinks to sleep at night with scarce a sigh--
  With waking eyes I watch the hours creep by.

  My love her daily dinner takes in state--
            And so do I (?);
  The richest viands flank her silver plate--
            Course grub have I.
  Pure wines she sips at ease, her thirst to slake--
  I pump my drink from Erie’s limpid lake!

  My love has all the world at will to roam--
            Three acres I;
  She goes abroad, or quiet sits at home--
            So cannot I;
  Bright angels watch around her couch at night--
  A Yank, with loaded gun, keeps me in sight.

  A thousand weary miles do stretch between
            My love and I;
  To her, this wintry night, cool, calm, serene,
            I waft a sigh;
  And hope with all my earnestness of soul,
  Tomorrow’s mail may bring me my parole!

  There’s hope ahead! We’ll one day meet again--
            My love and I;
  We’ll wipe away all tears of sorrow then,
            Her lovelit eye
  Will all my many troubles then beguile,
  And keep this wayward reb. from Johnston’s Isle.

The poetry dealing with incidents of the war is varied, and touches
many subjects. There were such verses for example, as “The Silent
March,” by Walker Meriweather Bell, written on an occasion during the
war when General Lee was lying asleep by the wayside and an army of
fifteen thousand men “passed by with hushed voices and footsteps, lest
they should disturb his slumbers;” “Stonewall Jackson’s Way,” written
on the theme of the great general’s ability “always to be where needed
and in the thick of things;” “The Lone Sentry,” based on an incident,
common to all wars, of the great general relieving a weary sentry;
“The Battle Rainbow” by John R. Thompson, inspired by the rainbow
that appeared the evening before the beginning of the Seven Days of
Battle before Richmond. “The rainbow overspread the eastern sky, and
exactly defined the position of the Confederate army, as seen from the
Capitol at Richmond.” There were poems like “Music in Camp” also by
John R. Thompson, suggested by an incident that occurred just after
Chancellorsville: and “The Unknown Hero,” by W. Gordon McCabe, based on
the discovery, “after the Battle of Malvern Hill, of a [Confederate]
soldier lying dead fifty yards in advance of any man or officer, his
musket firmly grasped in the rigid fingers, name unknown, simply ‘2 La’
on his cap.”

Another interesting group of poems, closely connected with the war,
although not with the actual progress of events, is found in the
national and the army songs which were sung in camp and field and by
the fire-side. It was natural that “Dixie” should be the most popular
of airs, and while it admitted of endless variations and sentiments,
the words that were generally sung to it were those by Albert Pike.
The Marseillaise was another widely popular air, to which were sung
any number of poems. One of these “The Southern Marseillaise” by A.
E. Blackmar, written early in 1861, was sung by the troops as they
marched to their assembling points, and may very properly be called the
Rallying Song of the South.

“The Bonnie Blue Flag,” by Harry Macarthy was the favorite of the
popular national songs. It was first sung by him on the stage of the
Academy of Music in New Orleans, in September, 1861, and caused such
excitement that the event precipitated a riot. When General Butler
was in command of the city, two years later, he threatened to impose
a fine of twenty-five dollars on any man, woman or child who sang it.
In addition he arrested the publisher, A. E. Blackmar, destroyed the
sheet music, and fined him five hundred dollars. After the tune became
established as a favorite, Mrs. Annie Chambers Ketchum of Kentucky
wrote other words to the air, which were frequently used.[21] In
addition to the national songs, the various states used particular
anthems. Maryland had Randall’s song, “Maryland, My Maryland.” For
South Carolina there were Timrod’s noble lines in the same strain,
“Carolina.” “Georgia, My Georgia” was written by Carrie Bell Sinclair,
and the “Song of the Texas Rangers” by Mrs. J. D. Young. These are but
a few among a longer list.

It has been said[22] that while the Confederate Army was not
“absolutely destitute of songs, it simply lacked a plentiful supply
of songs written especially for the moment.” This is far from being
the case. Indeed, the camp songs and marching ballads written in the
Confederate camps during the war, are legion. They vary in excellence
from “The Cavaliers’ Glee” by Captain William Blackford of Stuart’s
staff, to the extremely popular and delightful “Goober Peas,” by A.
Pender. For the camp catches there were certain stock tunes, such as
the “Happy Land of Canaan,” “Wait for the Wagon,” “We’ll Be Free in
Maryland,” “Gay and Happy,” which were used over and over, and to which
words were improvised to fit the occasion. Even the slender Confederate
Navy had her stock of ballads. “The Alabama,” by E. King, author of
“Naval Songs of the South,” is the best representative of this class.

It is not strange that during the chaotic days of the Confederacy,
poems that had been written by Southerners in antebellum days were
published in the South as of Confederate origin; and that poems of
the war period written in the North or abroad should be attributed
to Confederate authors. In the first category are verses such as
“My Wife and Child,” by Henry R. Jackson of Georgia, which he wrote
during the Mexican War, and in the second class, “The Soldier Boy,” a
widely popular poem which was really by the Englishman, Dr. William
Maginn (1793-1842), whom Thackeray satirized as “Captain Shalow” in
_Pendennis_, but which was assigned to “H. M. L.” of Lynchburg, and
even given the circumstantial date of May 18, 1861. Another poem that
was widely copied, but which was really written by T. Buchanan Read in
Rome in 1861, was “The Brave at Home.”

Two other poems whose origins have attracted much attention are “The
Confederate Note,” by Major S. A. Jonas of Mississippi, and “All Quiet
Along the Potomac Tonight,” by Mrs. Ethel Lynn Beers. Major Jonas seems
to have established unquestionable claim to his poem in a letter to
the Louisville _Courier_, under date of December 11, 1889. The poem
by Mrs. Beers was a long time claimed for Lomar Fontaine. Mrs. Beers
had written the verses in 1861, in which year they had appeared in
_Harper’s Weekly_. Late in ’62 they began to circulate in the South,
and for some unknown reason were assigned to Lomar Fontaine. He was at
once showered with praise and eulogy, but it is interesting to note
that in the Editor’s Table of the _Southern Literary Messenger_ for
June, 1863 (p. 375) at the end of verses by Henry C. Alexander “To
Lomar Fontaine, the author of the verses entitled ‘All Quiet Along the
Potomac Tonight,’ and if report be true, one of the unrewarded heroes
of the South” the Editor has subscribed the following discriminating
comment: “It is questionable whether Fontaine wrote the ‘All Quiet
Along the Potomac.’ There was no occasion to incite such a poem. Our
pickets along the Potomac were rarely if ever shot: those of the
Yankees were shot night after night.[23] We have heard that the author
of the lines attributed to Fontaine is an Ohioan. A brave man--a hero,
if you will,--Fontaine has yet to prove that he is a poet.”

One other poem whose origin has been questioned is “The Countersign,”
which, reprinted in the Philadelphia _Press_ in 1861, was declared
to have been written by a private in Company G, Stuart’s Engineer
Regiment, at Camp Lesley, near Washington. F. F. Browne, in _Bugle
Echoes_, cryptically adds: “But it may now be stated positively that it
was written by a Confederate soldier, still living. The third line of
the fifth stanza affords internal evidence of Southern origin.” This
Confederate soldier was Colonel W. W. Fontaine.

Metrical study of the Southern war poetry leads inevitably to the
conclusion that Southern temperament lent itself naturally to rhythmic
expression. The poets of the South, many of them untrained in the
technique of their art, wrote in every metrical arrangement that can be
imagined, from curious irregular unrhymed rhythms to ballad measure,
and to the long and intricate stanzaic forms used by Simms and Timrod.
In nearly every case, except, of course, with the cruder camp songs,
the verses flow felicitously, and the effect is melodious. Even in the
sonnet form[24] although the Southerner did not seem capable of writing
a true sonnet, the rhythm moves with ease and harmony. The verses may
infringe every rule of the sonnet form, but the result is effective.

Such is the achievement of the Southern war verse. It is a wonderfully
effective expression of sentiment, and becomes all the more remarkable
when one considers the conditions under which it was created. It was
written in a land first rich and prosperous, then through four weary
years ravaged and starved into ruin: by soldiers in the field and in
the prisons, and women suffering silently at home. Even the mediums
through which this poetry was published, shared the vicissitudes of the
land, and have been generally destroyed or scattered. Nevertheless the
war poetry of the Confederacy which remains to us today, stands as an
enduring memorial to the inherent nobility of the Southern heart and to
the fidelity of devotion to principle, which has always given the South
the admiration of those who, while they cannot agree with her point of
view, must nevertheless respect her courage and spirit. At the same
time it forms a notable contribution to the literature of our land.
Best of all, this poetry satisfies the function of those “Sentinel
Songs” of which Father A. J. Ryan wrote, on May sixth, 1867:

  When sinks the soldier brave
      Dead at the feet of Wrong,
  The poet sings, and guards his grave
      With sentinels of song.

         *       *       *       *       *

  When marble wears away
      And monuments are dust,
  The Songs that guard our soldiers’ clay
      Will still fulfill their trust.




FOOTNOTES:

[1] See _War Poetry of the South_, ed. by W. Gilmore Simms, Preface,
pp. v and vi.

[2] See _An American Anthology_, Introduction, p. xxii.

[3] See _An American Anthology_, Introduction, p. xxii.

[4] Noted in the Editor’s Table of The Southern Literary Messenger for
January, 1862.

[5] See _Biographical and Critical Studies of Southern Authors_, “Irwin
Russell,” p. 97.

[6] See The Creed of the Old South, pp. 24 and 25.

[7] See The Creed of the Old South, p. 38.

[8] See _Southern Prose and Poetry_, p. 15.

[9] See _Biographical and Critical Studies of Southern Authors_, “Irwin
Russell,” pp. 97 and 98.

[10] See “_To the South_,” stanza V, by James Maurice Thompson.

[11] See _South Songs_, p. vii.

[12] See _Photographic History of the Civil War_, vol. 9, pp. 86 and 88.

[13] See _War Poets of the South: Singers on Fire_, S. A. Link, p. 382.

[14] “_Butler’s Proclamation_” by Paul H. Hayne, occasioned by Butler’s
order to the effect: “It is ordered that hereafter when any female
shall by word, gesture or movement insult or show contempt for any
officer or soldier of the United States, _she shall be regarded and
held liable lo be treated as a woman of the town_, plying her vocation.”

[15] See _The Creed of the Old South_, by Basil L. Gildersleeve, p. 13.

[16] See “Shermanized” by L. Virginia French.

[17] “_Prayer for Peace_,” by S. Teackle Wallis of Maryland.

[18] In the present collection, eighty-one poems are definitely
concerned with the immediate circumstances of defeat.

[19] “_Virginia Capta_” by Mrs. Margaret J. Preston.

[20] See _South Songs_, edited by T. C. de Leon, note 11, p. 149.

[21] See _The South in History and Literature_, by Mildred Lewis
Rutherford, p. 254.

[22] See _Three Centuries of Southern Poetry_, by Carl Holliday, p. 112.

[23] This was probably due to the fact that the Southern slopes of the
river were wooded as compared with the rather bare Northern side.

[24] In the present collection there are seventeen sonnets.




REFERENCE BIBLIOGRAPHY


    _An American Anthology, 1787-1900._ Selections illustrating the
    editor’s critical review of American poetry in the nineteenth
    century. Edited by Edmund Clarence Stedman. Boston and New
    York: Houghton Mifflin Company. The Riverside Press, Cambridge,
    1900.

    _The Creed of the Old South, 1865-1915._ By Basil L.
    Gildersleeve. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins Press, 1915.

    _History of the Civil War, 1861-1865._ By James Ford Rhodes,
    LL.D., Litt.D.: with maps. New York: The Macmillan Company,
    1917.

    _The Photographic History of the Civil War_, Vol. IX. Poetry
    and Eloquence of the Blue and Gray: edited by Dudley H. Miles,
    Ph.D., Columbia, introduction by Dr. W. P. Trent, of Columbia.
    Appendix. Songs of the War Days--Soldier Songs and Negro
    Spirituals. New York: The Review of Reviews Co., 1911.

    _Poets of the South_: A series of Biographical and Critical
    Studies with typical poems, annotated by F. U. N. Painter,
    A.M., D.D. New York, Cincinnati, Chicago, 1903.

    _The South in History and Literature_: A Handbook of Southern
    Authors from the Settlement of Jamestown, 1607, to Living
    Writers. By Mildred Lewis Rutherford, Athens, Ga. Atlanta: The
    Franklin-Turner Co., 1907.

    _South Songs: From the Lays of Later Days._ Collected and
    Edited by T. C. De Leon. New York: Blelock & Co., No. 19
    Beekman Street, 1866.

    _The Southern Literary Messenger._ Dr. G. W. Bagby, Editor,
    January, 1862. Macfarlane & Fergusson, Proprietors, Richmond,
    Va.

    _Southern Prose and Poetry_: for Schools. By Edwin Mims and
    Bruce R. Payne. Charles Scribner’s Sons: New York, Chicago,
    Boston, 1910.

    _Southern Writers: Biographical and Critical Sketches_: “Irwin
    Russell.” By William Malone Baskerville. September, 1896.
    Barber & Smith, Agents, Nashville, Tenn.

    _War Poetry of the South._ Edited by William Gilmore Simms,
    LL.D. New York: Richardson & Company, 540 Broadway, 1867.

    _War Poets of the South: Singers on Fire._ By Samuel Albert
    Link. Nashville, Tenn: Barber & Smith, Agents, c. 1898.




BIBLIOGRAPHY OF COLLECTIONS EXAMINED


  Material from _Boston_          Boston Athenaeum.
                                         broadsides.

  Material from _New York_        New York Public Library anthologies,
                                         Confederate imprints.

  Material from _Philadelphia_    Library Co. of Philadelphia:
                                         Main branch.
                                             newspaper clippings.
                                         Ridgway branch.
                                             broadsides,
                                             songs,
                                             newspaper clippings,
                                             Mr. Samuel’s collection.

  Material from _Baltimore_       1. Maryland Historical Society.
                                          Scrap book of broadsides
                                             (Mr. Lennox Birkhead).
                                       2. Baltimore, City Librarian’s
                                            Office, City Hall.
                                         Ledger 1411,
                                            newspaper clippings.

  Material from _Washington_       Congressional Library.
                                          broadsides (MSS. Division).
                                          magazines,
                                          anthologies,
                                          Confederate imprints.

  Material from _Cleveland_        Western Reserve Historical Society.
                                          broadsides,
                                          anthologies,
                                          Confederate imprints.

  Material from _Private MSS._ and Miscellaneous Sources.




BIBLIOGRAPHY OF ANTHOLOGIES AND CONFEDERATE IMPRINTS


    _Abram_: A Military Poem. By A. Young Rebelle, Esq., of the
    Army. Richmond: Macfarlane & Fergusson, 1863.

    [“A string of smoothly running rhymes about Lincoln, Stonewall,
    McClellan, Pope, Burnside & Co., with a very droll preface
    in place of an appendix. The author is a Texan, and we doubt
    not his comrades of Hood’s old brigade will enjoy this little
    book nearly as much as they do a hard day’s fight after a long
    march.”--Review in _The Southern Literary Messenger_, for
    March, 1863.]

    _Allan’s Lone Star Ballads_: A collection of southern patriotic
    songs, made during Confederate times ... compiled and revised
    by Francis D. Allan. Galveston, Texas: J. D. Sawyer, 1874.

    _American War Ballads and Lyrics_: Edited by George Cary
    Eggleston. New York and London: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1889.

    _The Army Songster_: Dedicated to the Army of Northern
    Virginia. Published by George L. Bidgood, Richmond, Va., and
    printed by Macfarlane & Fergusson, 1864. (Reprinted by J. W.
    Fergusson & Son, 1902.)

    [“This is one of the almost numberless catalogues of
    ‘Songbooks,’ ‘Songsters,’ etc., which has been published during
    the War,--rejoicing in such patriotic titles as the ‘Rebel,’
    ‘Stonewall,’ ‘Soldiers,’ etc., which with a most refreshing
    contempt for consistency in name and date, embrace sprinklings
    from the lyric music of almost every age and clime. ‘No One to
    Love,’ ‘Rory O’More,’ ‘Kathleen Mavourneen,’ ‘Marseillaise,’
    etc., etc., of course, figure extensively. We suppose the ‘Army
    Songster’ is quite as good as the rest, and we are not quite
    sure this is extravagant praise.”--Review in _The Southern
    Literary Messenger_ for April, 1864.]

    _The Beauregard Songster_: Being a collection of Patriotic,
    Sentimental and Comic Songs, The Most Popular of the Day.
    Arranged by Hermann L. Schreiner. Published by John C.
    Schreiner & Son, Macon and Savannah, Ga., 1864.

    _Beechenbrook_: A Rhyme of the War, by Margaret J. Preston.
    Richmond: J. W. Randolph, 121 Main Street, 1865.

    _Same_: Baltimore, 1867.

    _Bugle-echoes_: A collection of poems of the Civil War,
    Northern and Southern. New York: White, Stokes & Allen, 1866.

    _The Cavalier Songster_: Containing a Splendid Collection of
    Original and Selected Songs, Compiled and Arranged Expressly
    for the Southern Public. Staunton, Va., 1865.

    _Confederate Scrap Book_: Copied from a Scrapbook kept by a
    young girl during and immediately after the war, with additions
    from war-copies of the “Southern Literary Messenger” and
    “Illustrated News” loaned by friends, and other selections as
    accredited. Published for the benefit of the Memorial Bazaar,
    held in Richmond, April 11, 1893. Richmond, Va.: J. L. Hill
    Printing Co., 1893.

    _Corinth, and Other Poems of the War_: By Cornelia J. M.
    Jordan. “Praeritorum Memoria Eventorum.” Lynchburg: Johnson &
    Schaffter, Printers, 60 and 62 Market Street, 1865.

    [“Publicly burnt on its appearance in 1865, by order of General
    Terry, as an objectionable and incendiary publication.” See
    Adams, _Dictionary of American Authors_ (1905), p. 213.]

    _Cullings from The Confederacy_: A Collection of Southern
    Poems, Original and Others, popular during the War between the
    States, and Incidents and Facts worth recalling. 1862-1866.
    Including the Doggerel of the Camp, as Well as Tender Tribute
    to the Dead. “From grave to gay, from reverend to severe.”
    Compiled by Nora Fontaine M. Davidson, Petersburg, Va.
    Washington, D. C.: the Rufus H. Darby Printing Co., 1903.

    _The General Lee Songster_: Being a collection of the most
    popular, sentimental, patriotic and comic songs. Arranged by
    Hermann L. Schreiner. Published by John C. Schreiner & Sons,
    Macon and Savannah, Ga., 1865.

    _Hopkins’ New Orleans 5c Song Book._ New Orleans, 1861.

    _Immortal Songs of Camp and Field._ By Rev. Louis Albert
    Banks, D.D. With portraits and illustrations. The B. B. Co.,
    Cleveland. The Burrows Brothers Company, Publishers, 1899.

    _Immortelles_: A tribute to “The Old South.” A Compilation by
    Sarah Robinson Reid. Little Rock, Ark.: published by the Brown
    Printing Company, 1896.

    _The Jack Morgan Songster._ Compiled by a Captain in General
    Lee’s Army. Raleigh, N. C. Branson & Farrar, Fayetteville St.,
    1864.

    _Original Collection of War Poems and War Songs of the American
    Civil War._ Compiled by Angie C. Beebe. Edited and Published by
    The Argus Press at Red Wing, Minnesota.

    _Our War Songs, North and South._ Cleveland, Ohio; S.
    Brainard’s Sons, c. 1887. (Words and music.)

    _Personal and Political Ballads._ Arranged and edited by Frank
    Moore. New York: George P. Putnam, 1864.

    _The Photographic History of the Civil War_, Vol. IX, Poetry
    and Eloquence of the Blue and Gray. Edited by Dudley N. Miles,
    Ph.D., Columbia. Introduction by Dr. W. P. Trent, of Columbia.
    Appendix: Songs of the War Days--soldier songs and negro
    spirituals. New York: The Review of Reviews Company, 1911.

    _Poetry, Lyrical, Narrative and Satirical, of the Civil War._
    Selected and Edited by Richard Grant White. New York: The
    American News Company, 1866.

    _Rebel Rhymes and Rhapsodies_: Collected and edited by Frank
    Moore. New York: George P. Putnam, 1864.

    _Richmond, Her Glory and Her Graves._ By Cornelia J. M. Jordan.
    Richmond: Medical Journal Printing Co., 1866.

    _The Royal Ape_: A Dramatic Poem. Richmond: West & Johnston,
    145 Main Street, 1863.

    _Songs and Ballads of the Southern People, 1861-1865._
    Collected and edited by Frank Moore. New York: D. Appleton &
    Co., 1, 3, and 5 Bond Street, 1886.

    _Songs of Love and Liberty._ Compiled by a North Carolina Lady.
    Raleigh, N. C.: Branson & Farrer, Fayetteville St., 1864.

    _Songs of the Confederacy and Plantation Melodies._ Compiled by
    Mrs. A. Mitchell. G. B. Jennings, 1907.

    _Songs of the South_: Choice selections from southern poets
    from Colonial times to the present day. Collected and edited by
    Jennie Thornley Clarke. Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott Company,
    1896.

    _Songs of the South._ J. W. Randolph, 121 Main Street,
    Richmond, Va., 1863.

    [There was an earlier edition in 1862.]

    _Songs Written by Capt. T. F. Roche, C. S. A., Prisoner of War
    at Fort Delaware, 1865._ Sung by the Fort Delaware minstrel
    troop, organized by the Confederate officers to aid sick
    comrades in hospital. Winchester, Va.: The Enterprise Printing
    Company.

    _South Songs_: From the Lays of Later Days. Collected and
    Edited by T. C. De Leon. New York: Blelock & Co., 19 Beekman
    Street, 1866.

    _The Southern Amaranth_: A carefully selected collection of
    poems growing out of and in reference to the late war. Edited
    by Miss Sallie A. Brock. New York: George S. Wilcox, Publisher,
    successor to Blelock & Co., 49 Mercer Street, 1869.

    _Southern and Miscellaneous Poems._ By Thomas Q. Barnes,
    Mobile, Ala., 1886.

    _Southern Odes_: By The Outcast, a gentleman of South Carolina.
    [C. B. Northrup.] Published for the benefit of the Ladies Fuel
    Society. Charleston: Harper and Calvo, 1861.

    _The Southern Literary Messenger_: Devoted to every department
    of Literature, and the Fine Arts. Edited by Dr. G. W. Bagby,
    1861-1864, and F. H. Alfriend, 1864. Richmond: Published by
    Macfarlane & Fergusson, Proprietors, 1861-1863, and Wedderburn
    & Alfriend, Proprietors, 1864. January, 1861-June, 1864.

    [Owing to war conditions, the magazine suspended publication
    after June, 1864.]

    _The Southern Poems of the War_: Collected and arranged by Miss
    Emily V. Mason. Baltimore: John Murphy & Co., Publishers, 182
    Baltimore Street, 1867.

    _Same._ Third edition revised and enlarged. Baltimore, 1869.

    _The Southern Songster_: A collection of the best original
    songs of the Confederate states. Published for sale at the
    Southern Bazaar, at Liverpool, October, 1864.

    _Southern War Songs._ Atlanta: Franklin Printing & Publishing
    Co., 1895.

    _Southern War Songs_: Camp Fire, Patriotic & Sentimental.
    Collected and arranged by W. L. Fagan. Illustrated. New York:
    M. T. Richardson & Co., 1890.

    _The Stonewall Song Book_: Being a collection of patriotic,
    sentimental and comic songs. Richmond: West & Johnston, 1865.

    _The Sunny Land, or Prison Prose & Poetry_: Containing the
    Productions of the Ablest Writers of the South, and Prison Lays
    of Distinguished Confederate Officers, by Colonel Beuhring
    H. Jones, 60th Virginia Infantry. Edited, with Preface,
    Biographies, Sketches and Stories by J. A. Houston, Baltimore,
    1868.

      “The land we love--a queen of lands,
  No prouder one the world has known;
  Though now uncrowned, upon her throne
      She sits with fetters on her hands.”

    _War_: A poem, with copious notes, founded on the revolution of
    1861-62. (Up to the battles before Richmond, inclusive) by John
    H. Hewitt ... Richmond, Va.: Weston & Johnston, 1862.

    _War Flowers_: Reminiscences of Four Year’s Campaigning.
    Respectfully dedicated to the Ladies of New Orleans. By F. B.
    1865.

    _War Lyrics and Songs of the South._ London: Spottiswoode &
    Co., 1866. “Printed of necessity in England, and not revised.”

    _War Poetry of the South._ Edited by William Gilmore Simms,
    LL.D. New York: Richardson & Co., 540 Broadway, 1867.

    _War Poets of the South and Confederate Camp Fire Songs._
    Compiled by Charles William Hubner. Atlanta, Ga.: Chas. P.
    Byrd, Printer.

    _War Songs & Poems of the Southern Confederacy, 1861-1865._
    Compiled by H. M. Wharton. Philadelphia: Winston, 1904.

    _War Songs of the Blue and the Gray_: As sung by the Brave
    Soldiers of the Union & Confederate Armies in camp, on the
    march, and in the garrison; with preface by Professor Henry L.
    Williams, etc. New York: Hurst & Co., Publishers, 1905.

    _War Songs of the South_: Edited by “Bohemian,” Correspondent,
    Bichmond Despatch. [W. G. Shepperson.] Bichmond: West &
    Johnson, 145 Main St., 1862.

    [“I said, I knew a very wise man so much of Sir Chr----’s
    sentiment, that he believed if a man were permitted to make all
    the ballads, he need not care who should make the laws of a
    nation.”--Fletcher’s _Political Works_, p. 372.]




ABBREVIATIONS USED FOR ANTHOLOGIES


  Alsb           _Allan’s Lone Star Ballads._
  Amaranth       _The Southern Amaranth._
  Army           _The Army Songster._
  Barnes         _Southern and Miscellaneous Poems._
  B. E.          _Bugle-Echoes._
  Beau.          _The Beauregard Songster._
  Beechenbrook   _Beechenbrook: A Rhyme of the War._
  Bohemian       _War Songs of the South._
  Cav.           _The Cavalier Songster._
  C. C.          _Cullings from the Confederacy._
  Cor.           _Corinth, and Other Poems._
  C. S. B.       _Confederate Scrap Book._
  E. V. M.       _Southern Poems of the War,’67._
  E. V. M. ’69   _Southern Poems of the War,’69._
  Fagan          _Southern War Songs._
  G. C. E.       _American War Ballads and Lyrics._
  Hopkins        _Hopkins’ New Orleans 5c Songbook._
  Hubner         _War Poets of the South and Confederate Camp Fire
                           Songs._
  Im.            _Immortelles._
  J. M. S.       _Jack Morgan Songster._
  L. & L.        _Songs of Love and Liberty._
  Lee            _The General Lee Songster._
  Outcast        _Southern Odes._
  P. & P. B.     _Personal and Political Ballads._
  Phot. Hist.    _Photographic History of the Civil War._
  Randolph       _Songs of the South._
  Richmond       _Richmond, Her Glory and Her Graves._
  Roche          _Songs Written on Capt. T. F. Roche._
  R. R.          _Rebel Rhymes and Rhapsodies._
  S. B. P.       _Songs and Ballads of the Southern People._
  S. B. Liv.     _Southern Songster._
  S. L. M.       _The Southern Literary Messenger._
  S. O. S.       _War Lyrics and Songs of the South._
  S. S.          _South Songs._
  Sunny          _The Sunny Land, or Prison Prose and Poetry._
  War            _War._
  W. B. G.       _War Songs of the Blue and the Gray._
  W. F.          _War Flowers._
  W. G. S.       _War Poetry of the South._
  W. L.          _War Lyrics and Songs of the South._




ABBREVIATIONS USED OF COLLECTIONS


  R. B. B.                 _Collection of Broadsides in Ridgway Branch
                             of Library Company of Philadelphia._

  R. B. M.                 _Collection of Music in Ridgway Branch of
                             Library Company of Philadelphia._

  R. N. S.                 _Collection of Newspaper Songs in Ridgway
                             Branch of Library Co., of Philadelphia._

  Md. Hist. Soc.           _Maryland Historical Society, Baltimore, Md._

  Wash’n                   _Collection of the Congressional Library,
                             Washington, D. C._

  West. Res.               _Collection of the Western Reserve Historical
                             Society, Cleveland, Ohio._

  N. Y. P. L.              _Collection of the New York Public Library._

  Priv.                    _Private MSS. or source._

  B. C. L., Ledger 1411    _Ledger 1411 in Baltimore City Librarian’s
                             Office._




INDEX OF SOUTHERN WAR POEMS OF THE CIVIL WAR

    [Note:--Round brackets at the end of the title indicate
    the volume or one of the volumes in which the poem may be
    found. Wherever the poem appears in several anthologies, that
    anthology easiest of access to the general reader, has been
    selected. Square brackets are used for the interpolation of
    explanatory matter.

    The first two lines of each poem are given to serve as a check
    since identical poems may appear under corrupted captions, or
    various titles.]


    _Abe’s Cogitations_: (Randolph.)

  “We ought to whip them rebel chaps,
  I think so, more and more”--


    _Abraham Lincoln: The Mohammed of the Modern Hegira._ New
    Orleans, March 5, 1861. (P. & P. B. from the New Orleans
    _Crescent_.)

  At midnight in the Keystone State
  Old Abe was dreaming of the hour--


    _Acceptation_: By Mrs. M. J. Preston. (E. V. M.)

  “We do accept thee, heavenly Peace!
    Albeit thou comest in a guise”--


    _Acrostic_ [_Davis_]: February 22, 1862. (R. N. S. from the
    Charleston _Courier_.)

  “Jehovah, mighty arbiter in earth below,
  Ere morning stars together sang, in heaven supreme,”--


    _Acrostic_ [_B. F. Butler_]: Baltimore, March 14, 1863. (R. B.
    B. 11½.)

  “Brutal by nature--a coward and knave,
  Famed for no action, noble or brave”--


    _Acrostic in Memory of O. Jennings Wise_: By Miriam. (S. L. M.
    Ed. Table, September, ’63.)

          “Over his cold brow
  Just touched by Time’s soft silver tracery,”--


    _Acrostic on Magruder_: By G. B. Milner, Harrisburg, Texas.
    (Alsb.)

  “Much hast thou suffered, bright Isle of the Wave!
  Ah! can anyone succor: can anyone save?”--


    _Addition to the Bonnie Blue Flag_: A Tribute to True
    Kentuckians. (W. L.)

  “And we will add another cheer for our Kentucky State,
  Her sons in the most glorious war have proved both brave and great;”--


    _Address_: Delivered at the opening of the New Theatre at
    Richmond: A Prize Poem, by Henry Timrod. (W. G. S. from
    _Southern Illustrated News_.)

      “A fairy ring
  Drawn in the crimson of a battle plain”--


    _Address to the Exchanged Prisoners_: On the 31st of July,
    1862, all the prisoners of war in Fort Warren, (about 250
    soldiers of the Confederate army) embarked for Fortress Monroe,
    to be exchanged. They left in Fort Warren, 14 gentlemen, who
    were imprisoned under the designation of “political prisoners.”
    These were all Marylanders by birth, all but one (Mr. Winder)
    were residents of that state when arrested. On their behalf the
    following lines were addressed to their departing friends: By
    T. S. Wallis, Fort Warren, July 31, 1862: S. L. M., July and
    August, 1862. (E. V. M.)

  “The anchors are weighed, and the gates of yon prison
  Fall wide, as your ship gives her prow to the foam,”--


    _Address to the Women of the Southern Troops_: Air--“Bruce’s
    Address:” By Mrs. J. T. H. Cross. (R. R.)

  “Southern men, unsheathe the sword,
      Inland and along the board;”--


    _After the Battle_: By Miss Agnes Leonard. (W. G. S. from the
    Chicago _Journal of Commerce_, June, 1863.)

  “All day long the sun had wandered,
  Through the slowly creeping hours”--


    _After the Battle of Bull Run_: July 21, [1861.] (W. L.)

        “Sadly and low,
  Hear how the fitful breezes blow!”--


    _Afraid of a Dead Baby_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “Keep here, my little baby: rest alone!
  Not in thy father’s tomb can’st thou be laid:”--


    _Alabama_: (Randolph).

  “Over vale and over mountain,
    Pealing forth in triumphal song,”--


    _The Alabama_: Respectfully dedicated to the Gallant Captain
    Semmes, His Officers and Crew and to the Officers and Seamen of
    the C. S. Navy: by E. King, author of Naval Songs of the South.
    Richmond, Va., George Dunn & Co. (R. B. M., 1864.)

  “The wind blow off yon rocky shore
      Boys! Set your sails all free”--


    _The Alabama Cottage_: A Homely Scene. (R. B. B.)

  “The Alabamian sat by the chimney side--
      His face was wrinkled and worn.”--


    _Albert Sidney Johnston_: (Im.)

  “Honor to him who only drew
      In Freedom’s cause his battle blade,”--


    _Albert Sidney Johnston_: By A. G. (E. V. M., ’69.)

  “I heard afar, the cannon’s roar,
  Its lightning flashed from shore to shore,”--


    _Albert Sidney Johnston_: Killed at Battle of Shiloh, April,
    1862. By Fleming James. (E. V. M.)

  “’Mid dim and solemn forests, in the dawning chill and gray
  Over dank, unrustling leaves, or through the stiff and sodden clay”--


    _Albert Sidney Johnston_: Dirge by Colonel A. W. Terrell.
    (Alsb.)

  “Hush the notes of exultation for a battle dearly won!
  Low the chief’s proud form is lying--Texas weeps another son!”--


    _All Is Gone_: By Fadette. (W. G. S. from the Memphis Appeal.)

  “Sister hark! Atween the trees cometh naught but summer breeze?
                                All is gone”--


    _All Over Now_: (Im.)

  “All over now! The trumpet blast,
      The hurried tramping to and fro,”--


    _All Quiet Along the Potomac Tonight_: By Mrs. Randolph
    Harrison. (C. S. B.)

  “All quiet along the Potomac tonight,
      No sound save the rush of the river”--


    _All Spice: Or Spice for All_: By Cola, Le Diable Boiteux.
    Baltimore, March 7, 1862: Baltimore, April 1, 1862. (R. B. B.)

  “The people endure all
  The Hydropaths cure all”--


    _All’s Noise Along the Appomattox_: Battle of the Crater, A.
    D., 1863. (C. C.)

  “All’s noise along the Appomattox tonight,
      For Grant, with his Whiteworth’s and Parrots”--


    _All’s Well_: By Mrs. Margaret J. Preston of Va. (Amaranth,
    from _The Land We Love_.)

  “‘All’s well!’ How the musical sound
      Is pleasantly smiting the ear,”--


    _All’s Well: Come to the Rescue._ (R. B. B.)

  “One night of late I chanced to stray
  Being in the pleasant sweet month of May dream.”--


    _Allons Enfants: The Southern Marseillaise_: Air “Marseillaise.”
    By A. E. Blackmar, New Orleans, 1861. (C. S. B.)

    [“This may be called the rallying song of the Confederacy.
    Composed early in 1861, it was sung throughout the South while
    the soldiers were hurried to Virginia with this, the grandest
    of martial airs, as a benediction.”]

  “Sons of the South, awake to glory,
      A thousand voices bid you rise”--


    _The American Star_: Air “Humors of Glen.” Published by Louis
    Bonsai, Baltimore and Frederic Streets, Baltimore. (R. B. B. p.
    7)

  “Come, striking the bold anthem, the war dogs are howling,
      Already they eagerly snuff up their prey”--


    _The Angel of the Church_: By W. Gilmore Simms. January, 1864.
    (W. G. S.)

  “Aye, strike with sacrilegious aim
      The temple of the living God;”--


    _The Angel of the Hospital_: By S. C. Mercer. (R. N. S. from
    the Louisville Journal.)

  “’Twas nightfall in the hospital. The day
  As though its eyes were dimmed with bloody rain”--


    _Another Flag: A Second Thought_: [By C. B. Northrup.]
    (Outcast.)

  “Whole we preserve the stars and stripes and blue
    Of freedom’s ancient flag, it will not do”--


    _Another Yankee Doodle_: (R. R.)

  “Yankee Doodle has a mind
  To whip the Southern traitors.”--


    _An Answer to the Poem Entitled “How They Act in Baltimore:”_
    By Redgauntlet. (Md. Hist. B.)

  “When our ladies on the street
  Yankee soldiers chance to meet,”--


    _An Appeal_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “Haste, Kentuckians! wait no longer;
  Rally, and you will be stronger.”--


    _An Appeal for Jefferson Davis To His Excellency, Andrew
    Johnson, President of the United States_: By a Lady of
    Virginia. (E. V. M.)

  “Unheralded, unknown, I come to thee,
  Who holdest in thy hands the scales of power;”--


    _An Appeal for Maryland_: By B. Baltimore, January 20, 1862.
    (R. B. B. 84.)

  “Of all the gems that gild the wreath
  Of freedom, the blue sky underneath,”--


    _Appeal to Maryland_: From a Dying Soldier at Manassas: by a
    Lady of Maryland. (S. L. M., Oct., 1861.)

  “Oh Mother! my Maryland! will you awake?
    Hear you not from Manassas the thunder of guns?”--


    _Appeal to the South_: (R. B. B.)

  “Southrons! since we boast that name;
  Southrons! since your blood we claim”--


    _An Appeal to the South_: By A Daughter of Dixie H. Baltimore,
    Jan. 24, 1862; also Norfolk, Va., Jan. 24, 1862. (R. B. B. 2 &
    41.)

  “Hark! o’er the Southern hills I hear
    The cannons and the rifles sound;”--


    _(The) Approaching Battle Hour_: By Kentucky. Richmond,
    Virginia, June, 1862. (S. O. S.)

  “Ah! hovers over them
    The gaunt war-demon fell;”--


    _April 26th_: In the ceremonies at Memphis, Tennessee, 26th
    April, “In Memory of the Confederate Dead,” Dr. Ford one of the
    speakers improvised the following appropriate lines: (E. V. M.)

  “In rank and file, in sad array
      As though their watch still keeping,”--


    _April Twenty-Sixth_: By Annie Chambers Ketchum. Memphis, Tenn.
    (E. V. M.)

  “Dreams of a stately land,
  Where rose and lotus open to the sun”--


    _Are We Free?_ By James R. Brewer. Annapolis, Oct. 22, 1861.
    (E. V. M.)

  “Are we free? Go ask the question
      In the cells of Lafayette,”--


    _Are You Ready?_ (Bohemian from the Macon _Telegraph_.)

  “Sons and brothers--near and far,
  Have you heard the tones of war?”--


    _Arise! Ye Sons of Freeborn Sires!_ By A. E. Morris, Company C,
    20th Infantry. (Alsb.)

  “Arise! ye sons of freeborn sires, arise! your country save!
  Kindle again the wonted fires that animate the brave:”--


    _Arlington_: By Margaret J. Preston. (E. V. M.)

    “You stand upon the chasm’s brink
  That yawns so deadly deep,”--


    _Arm for The Southern Land_: By General Mirabeau B. Lamar. (S.
    B. P.)

  “Arm for the Southern land,
    All fear of death disdaining;”--


    _The Army and Its Flag of Stars and Stripes_: [By C. B.
    Northrup] (Outcast.)

  “In Liberty’s great war”--


    _Arouse, Kentuckians!_ By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “Arouse, Kentuckians, or my heart will break!
  What though by thousands brethren may forsake”--


    _Ashby_: By John R. Thompson of Virginia. Richmond, June 13,
    1862: S. L. M., Editor’s Table, May, 1862. (S. S.)

  “To the brave all homage render!
    Weep, ye skies of June!”--


    _The Ashbys_: By D. B. Lucas, of Va. (E. V. M. ’69.)

  “And lo! there galloped through the gates of war
      Two brothers, riding side by side, with spurs,”--


    _Ashby’s Avengers_: Air “Annie Lyle.” (Cav.)

  “Down where the Southern army
    Near Virginia’s side,”--


    _Ashby’s Death_: Air: “Annie Laurie.” (Cav.)

  “A wail sweeps o’er the Valley,
      Virginia’s deep with woe.”--


    _Ashes of Glory_: By A. J. Requier. (W. G. S.)

  “Fold up the gorgeous silken sun,
    By bleeding martyrs blest,”--


    _At Fort Pillow_: By James R. Randall. (W. G. S. from the
    Wilmington _Journal_, April 25, 1864.)

  “You shudder as you think upon
    The carnage of the grim report”--


    _At Galveston, Texas_: By H. L. Flash. (Alsb.)

  “We parted, love, some months ago, in pleasant summer weather;
  You blamed the fates that you and I could not remain together;”--


    _Attention!_ By B. Baltimore, Oct. 16, 1861. (R. B. B. 7.)

  “Hearken, friends and foes now hearken
  See Abe Lincoln’s prospects darken;”--


    _Audax Omnia Perpeti_, etc. By B. (R. B. B. 4.)

  “Come pretty muse, give me your help,
  Keen make my pen as the teamster’s lash”--


    _Auld Lang Syne_: A supposed song of Morgan’s Cavalry on
    entering a Kentucky town. By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “Shall auld acquaintance be forgot,
    And not now be brought to mind?”--


    _Autumn Thoughts, 1862_: By Miss Mary A. Grason. (E. V. M. ’69.)

  “Our Autumn comes with tender glow;
    A golden haze is on the hills,”--


    _The Autumn Rain_: By Susan Archer Talley. Richmond, Va. (E. V.
    M.)

  “Softly, mournfully, slowly,
    Droppeth the rain from the eaves”--


    _The Avatar of Hell_: Sonnet, by “Pax.” (W. G. S. from the
    Charleston _Mercury_.)

  “Six thousand years of commune, God with man,
  Two thousand years of Christ, yet from such roots”--


    _Awake! Arise!_ By G. W. Archer, M. D. (W. G. S.)

  “Sons of the South, awake, arise!
      A million foes sweep down amain,”--


    _Awake in Dixie_: By H. T. S., Winchester, Va., February 24,
    1862. Air, “Dixie’s Land.” (R. B. B. 7.)

  “Hear ye not the sound of battle,
  Sabres’ clash and muskets’ rattle:”--


    _Away with the Dastards Who Whine of Defeat_: By Paul H. Hayne
    of S. C. Charleston, May 10, 1862. (E. V. M.)

  “Away with the dastards who whine of defeat
  And hint that the day of destruction draws near,”--


    _Away with the Stripes_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “Ho! away with the stripes, the despots’ fit flag!
  The stars and the stripes are the bully’s great “brag”:”--


    _A Ballad for the Young South_: By Joseph Brennan. S. L. M.,
    Feb., 1861, from the New Orleans _Crescent_. (S. S.)

  “Men of the South! Our foes are up
  In fierce and grim array;”--


    _The Ballad of the Right_: By J. W. Overall. (S. S. from the
    New Orleans _True Delta_.)

  “In other days our fathers’ love was loyal, full and free,
  For those they left behind them in the Island of the Sea;”--


    _A Ballad of the War_: By George Herbert Sass, of Charleston,
    S. C. (W. G. S., originally published in _Southern Field and
    Fireside_.)

  “Watchmen, what of the night?
  Through the city’s darkening street”--


    _Baltimore_: (West. Res.)

    “Hail, queen of cities, birthplace of the just,
  Oh how cast down! by Northern vandals crushed,”--


    _Baltimore_: By C. (Mr. Samuel’s Scrapbook: Ridgway Library.)

  “Hail, queen of cities, birthplace of the just,
    Oh how cast down! By Northern vandals crushed,”--


    _Baltimore Girls_: Air, “Dearest Mae.” (West Res.)

  “O the girls of dear old Baltimore,
  So beautiful and fair,”--


    _The Band in the Pines: Heard after Pelham died_: by John Esten
    Cooke. (W. G. S.)

  “Oh, band in the pine-wood, cease!
      Cease with your splendid call:”--


    _Banks’ Skedaddle_: (Alsb.)

  “You know the Federal General Banks,
  Who came through Louisiana with his forty thousand Yanks;”--


    _Banner Song_: Written and Expressly Dedicated to the Armstrong
    Guards. By Wm. H. Holcombe, M. D. (S. L. M., July 1861.)

  “See our banner floating high
  Stars in freedom’s shining sky;”--


    _The Banner-Song_: By James B. Marshall. (R. R.)

  “Up, up with the banner, the foe is before us,
  His bayonets bristle, his sword is unsheathed,”--


    _The Barefooted Boys_: (S. S.)

  “By the sword of St. Michael
      The old dragon through!”--


    _The Bars and Stars_: Air, “Star Spangled Banner:” by A. W.
    Haynes. (Randolph.)

  “Oh, the tocsin of war still resounds o’er the land,
      And legions of braves are now rushing to battle,”--


    _Le Bataille des Mouchoirs_: The Greatest Battle of the War:
    fought Feb. 20, 1863. By a young lady of 17, Eugenie. (S. L.
    M., Oct., ’63.)

  “Of all the battles, modern or old,
  By poet sung or historian told,”--


    _The Battle at Bethel_: Air, “Dixie.” (Bohemian from the
    Richmond _Whig_.)

  “Send out the news from West to South and spread it through the land,
  Our noble boys have met the foe at Bethel,”--


    _The Battle at Bull Run_: By Ruth. Louisville, Ky., July 24,
    1861. (R. R.)

  “Forward, my brave columns, forward!
      No other word was spoken;”--


    _Battle at Bull’s Run_: (R. B. B. 7.)

  “Oh be easy, don’t you tease me,
  While I sing a bit of fun,”--


    _Battle Before Richmond_: By G. B. S., 1862. (W. L.)

  “Slowly the great sun rose o’er Richmond’s hills,
          Calmly the noble river waved along,”--


    _Battle Call, Nec temere, nec timide_: Dedicated to her
    countrymen, the Cavaliers of the South, by Annie Chambers
    Ketchum. Dunrobin Cottage, May, 1861. (R. R.)

  “Gentlemen of the South!
    Gird on your flashing swords!”--


    _The Battle Call_: By Mrs. E. V. McCord Vernon, Richmond, Va.,
    Feb. 20, 1862. (C. C.)

  “Rise Southerner! the day of your glory,
        The hour of your destiny’s near”--


    _Battle Call to Kentucky, 1862_: By Walker Meriweather Bell.
    (Amaranth.)

  “Arouse thee, Kentucky! the graves of thy sires
    Are pressed by the foot of the foe.”--


    _Battle Cry of Freedom_: By Wm. H. Barnes. (Lee.)

  “Our flag is proudly floating on the land and on the main,
          Shout, shout the battle cry of freedom.”--


    _The Battle Cry of the South_: By James R. Randall. (W. G. S.)

  “Brothers, the thunder-cloud is black,
    And the wail of the South wings forth;”--


    _Battle Eve_: By Susan Archer Talley. S. L. M., Aug., 1861. (S.
    S.)

  “I see the broad red setting sun
    Sink slowly down the sky;”--


    _The Battle Field of Manassas_: By M. F. Bigney. (R. R.)

  “Fill, fill the trump of fame
            With the name,--
  Manassas,”--


    _Battle Hymn_: (W. G. S. from the Charleston _Mercury_).

  “Lord of Hosts, that beholds us in battle, defending
  The homes of our sires ’gainst the hosts of the foe”--


    _Battle Hymn: Columns Steady_: By Wm. Gilmore Simms. (Bohemian.)

  “Columns steady! make ye ready--with the steel and rifle ready!
  Wait the signal! wait the moment--soul and steel and weapon steady!”--


    _Battle Hymn of the Virginia Soldier_: (R. B. B. 8.)

  “Father of earth and heaven, I call thy name!
      Round me the smoke and shout of battle roll;”--


    _Battle Ode to Virginia_: (R. R.)

  “Old Virginia! virgin crowned
    Daughter of the royal Bess,”--


    _Battle of Belmont_: (Wash’n.)

  “I sing of the Battle of Belmont, ’twas near Columbus town
  The Yankees in great numbers from Cairo did come down.”--


    _Battle of Belmont_: By J. Augustine Signaigo. (W. G. S. from
    the Memphis _Appeal_, Dec. 21, 1861.)

  “Now glory to our Southern cause, and praises be to God
    That He hath met the Southron’s foe and scourged him with His
        rod:”--


    _Battle of Bethel_: (Randolph.)

  “Saw ye not the ruddy sunlight;
    Glancing o’er the hill-tops far,”--


    _The Battle of Bethel Church_: (C. C. from the New Orleans
    _Delta_, 10 June, 1861.)

  “As hurtles the tempest
  Proclaiming the storm,”--


    _Battle of Big Bethel_: (West Res.)

  “Though Butler be a hero,
  Who ne’er has powder smelt,”--


    _The Battle of Buena Vista_: Inscribed to Jefferson Davis: by a
    Mississippian. (E. V. M. from the Louisville _Courier_, April
    1866.)

  “It was upon the battle field
    Where lay the dead and dying”--


    _The Battle of Charleston Harbor_: April 7th, 1863: by Paul H.
    Hayne. (W. C. S.)

  “Two hours or more, beyond the prime of a blithe April day,
      The Northman’s mailed ‘Invincibles’ steamed up air Charleston
            Bay;”--


    _Battle of Galveston_: Air, “The Harp that Once Through Tara’s
    Halls:” by Mrs. E. L. Caplen, of Galveston. (Alsb.)

  “’Twas on that dark and fearful morn
    That anxious hearts beat high!”--


    _The Battle of Great Bethel_: Fought on Sunday, June 9, 1861.
    Dedicated to Magruder and his command: by “C.,” an American
    patriot not 14 years old. (Mr. Samuel’s Scrapbook, Ridgway
    Library.)

  “Brave Virginians! on this day
    Drive the Northern horde away!”--


    _Battle of Hampton Roads_: By Ossian D. Gorman. (W. G. S. from
    the Macon _Daily Telegraph_.)

  “Ne’er had a scene of beauty smiled
      On placid waters ’neath the sun.”--


    _The Battle of Hampton Roads_: By Tenella, [Mrs. Clarke of N.
    C.] (E. V. M.)

  “Now, once again, let Southern hearts unite in thankful praise,
  To the mighty God of battle, mysterious in his ways;”--


    _Battle of Manassas_: July 21, 1861. (W. L.)

  “The bridal of the earth and sky! the blessed Sabbath-morn,
  Brightens into the perfect day from its soft rosy dawn;”--


    _The Battle of Manassas_: Dedicated to General Beauregard, C.
    S. A.: by Mrs. Clarke, wife of Colonel Clarke, 14th Regiment,
    N. C. (E. V. M.)

  “‘Now glory to the Lord of Hosts!’ oh! bless and praise His name,
  That He hath battled in our cause, and brought our foes to shame.”--


    _Battle of Manassas (July 21, 1861)_: By Cornelia J. M. Jordan.
    (Corinth.)

  “Clear rises now, the glorious sun,
    No cloud bedims the sky,”--


    _The Battle of Manassas_: By Susan Archer Talley: Richmond,
    Aug. 3, 1861. S. L. M., Sept., 1861. (R. B. B. 61.)

  “Now proudly lift, of sunny South,
    Your glad triumphal strains,”--


    _The Battle of Richmond._ (_Psalm xliv. 3-4_): By George
    Herbert Sass, Charleston, S. C. (W. G. S.)

    “Now blessed be the Lord of Hosts through all our Southern land,
  And blessed be His holy name, in whose great might we stand;”--


    _The Battle of St. Paul’s (N. O.)_: Sung by a Louisiana
    Soldier. Conquered Territory of Louisiana, New Orleans, Aug.
    17, 1866. (C. C.)

  “Come boys and listen while I sing
      The greatest fight yet fought”--


    _Battle of Shiloh_: Louisville, Ky. (W. L.)

  “Quick, the cannon’s shot did pour
  Belching death at every roar,”--


    _Battle of Shiloh Hill_: Air, “Wandering Sailor,” by M. B.
    Smith, Company C, 2nd Regiment, Texas Volunteers. (Alsb.)

  “Come all you valiant soldiers, and a story I will tell,
  It is of a noted battle you all remember well;”--


    _The Battle of the Mississippi_: (R. R.)

  “The tyrants’ broad pennant is floating
  In the South, o’er our waters so blue;”--


    _The Battle of the Stove Pipes_: [By Nannie Lemmon (?).] (R. B.
    B. 86½.)

  “On Munson’s heights the Rebel Banners wave.
  Their hungry hosts, their ‘loyal’ legions brave,”--


    _The Battle Rainbow_: By John R. Thompson, of Va. S. L. M.,
    June, ’62. (W. G. S.)

  “The warm weary day was departing, the smile
      Of the sunset gave token the tempest had ceased.”--


    _Battle Song_: (C. S. B.)

  “Have you counted up the cost
  What is gained and what is lost”--


    _Battle Song_: Air, “Humors of Glen.” (Randolph.)

  “Come strike the loud anthem! Again must the story
  Of Freedom, down-trodden by tyrants, be told!”--


    _Battle Song_: Dedicated to Captain Ben Lane Posey, who
    commanded the Red Eagle Battery at Pensacola. (S. L. M., Ed.
    Table, June ’62, from the Montgomery _Mail_.)

  “Oh, give us a song, an Eagle’s Song--
    Our labor and toil rewarding,”--


    _Battle Song of the “Black Horsemen:”_ Air, “Dixie:” By C.
    Winchester, Va., Oct., 1861. (R. B. B. p. 8.)

  “We have come from the brave Southwest
  On fairy steeds, with throbbing breast,”--


    _Battle Song of the Invaded_: (R. R.)

  “The foe! They come! They come!
    Light up the beacon pyre;”--


    _Battle Song of the Maryland Line_: (R. B. B. 77.)

  “To arms! to arms! the fight’s begun
    Virginia sounds the call;”--


    _Battle Song of the South_: By P. E. Collins. (Fag.)

  “Land of our birth, thee, thee I sing,
    Proud heritage is thine,”--


    _Bay Blossom Cottage_: By Lieutenant H. C. Wright. (Sunny.)

  “Oh, how dear to the heart are these hours of bliss,
        Which ‘Bay-Blossom’ e’er brings to my view!”--


    _Baylor’s Partisan Rangers_: Air, “Dixie.” By Mary L. Wilson,
    of San Antonio. (Alsb.)

    “Hear the summons, sons of Texas!
  Now the fierce invaders nex us.”--


    _Bayon City Guard’s Dixie_: By the Company’s own poet. (Alsb.)

  “From Houston City and Brazos bottom,
  From selling goods, and making cotton,”--


    _Bayon City Guard’s Song in the Chickahominy Swamp_: (Alsb.)

  “Fighting for our rights now, feasting when they’re won,
  By the Cross and Stars, boys, fluttering in the sun”--


    _Beaufort_: By W. J. Grayson, of South Carolina. (W. G. S.)

  “Old home! what blessings late were yours:
    The gifts of peace, the songs of joy!”--


    _Beau-Regard_: Sung at the Montgomery Theatre on Friday night,
    by Mr. M. A. Arnold: by Baron, April 12, 1861. (R. N. S. from
    the Montgomery _Mail_.)

  “Flashing, flashing along the wires
  The glorious news each heart inspires,”--


    _Beauregard_: A Historical Poem: by Kate Luby F----. (P. & P.
    B.)

  “In Pavia’s bloody battle field
    As troubadours do sing,”--


    _Beauregard_: By Catherine A. Warfield of Mississippi: (W. G.
    S.)

  “Let the trumpet shout once more,
                Beauregard!”--


    _Beauregard_: Written after the Battle of Shiloh, when
    Beauregard became Commander-in-Chief: by C. A. Warfield of
    Kentucky. (E. V. M.)

  “Our trust is now in thee,
            Beauregard!”--


    _Beauregard at Shiloh_: Lines found on the dead body of a
    Confederate soldier after the battle of Williamsburg. (R. B. B.)

  “Now glory to the Lord of Hosts,
    And glory the reward”--


    _Beauregard’s Appeal_: By Paul H. Hayne. (S. S. from the
    Charleston _Courier_.)

  “Yea! though the need is bitter,
  Take down those sacred bells!”--


    _The Beleaguered City_: By Rosa Vertner Jeffrey. (E. V. M.)

  “There’s a beautiful city, far, far, away,
      In the land of myrtle and the rose,”--


    _Ben M’Culloch_: Air, “Something new comes every day.” (R. B.
    B. 65.)

  “Oh, have you heard of the brave old fellow
  He goes by the name of Ben McCulloch,”--


    _Ben M’Culloch--He Fell At His Post!_ By Ned Bracken. (Alsb.)

  “When the Northmen their war-banner spread; nor would give
            the right to secede,
  The cause of his country he wed, in this her great hour of need”--


    _Bentonville_: Written on the field, at the close of the first
    day’s fight: by T. B. Catherwood. (Hubner.)

  “Another battle has been fought, another victory won.
  We’ve fought this day from rising to the setting of the sun”--


    _Bethel_: (S. L. M. January, ’62.)

  “Hurrah for old Virginia! God bless the brave North State!
  For they first taught the Yankee curs to dread a freeman’s hate:”--


    _A Betrayal_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “Dallying on as fair a landscape
  As the skies in beauty drape,”--


    _Beyond the Potomac_: By Paul H. Hayne. (R. R. from the
    Richmond _Whig_.)

  “They slept on the fields which their valor had won!
  But arose with the first early blush of the sun,”--


    _Bill Hoosier’s Advice to the Hoosiers of Louisville_: Three
    days after the battle of Richmond, Kentucky. Air, “Sing, sing,
    Darkies, sing:” by Kentucky. Sept. 2, 1862. (S. O. S.)

  “Why should Hoosiers spill their blood
  To enrich Kentucky mud?”--


    _The Black Flag_: By Paul H. Hayne. (Alsb.)

  “Like the roar of the wintry surges, on a wild tempestuous strand
  The voice of the maddened millions comes up from an outraged land;”--


    _The Blessed Hand_: Respectfully dedicated to the Ladies of
    the Southern Relief Fair: by S. T. Wallis, Baltimore, April 8,
    1866: “There is a legend of an English Monk, who died at the
    monastery of Aremberg, where he had copied and illuminated many
    books, hoping to be rewarded in Heaven. Long after his death,
    his tomb was opened, and nothing could be seen of his remains
    but the right hand with which he had done his pious work, and
    which had been miraculously preserved from decay.” (E. V. M.)

  “For you and me, who love the light
      Of God’s uncloistered day,”--


    _The Blessed Heart_: Suggested by “The Blessed Hand.”
    Gratefully dedicated to the Ladies of the Southern Relief Fair
    by Mrs. M. M. of Columbia, S. C. (E. V. M.)

  “I sing not of ‘The Blessed Hand,’
        That has so well been sung,”--


    _The Blessed Union--Epigram_: (W. G. S.)

  “Doubtless to some, with length of ears,
    To gratify an ape’s desire,”--


    _The Blockaders_: Dedicated to A. Lincoln: by Paul H. Hayne.
    (Bohemian from the Charleston _Mercury_.)

  “Across this threatening ocean tide,
  I see the despot’s vessels ride,”--


    _A Bloody Day is Dawning_: By William Munford. July, 1864; In
    the trenches before Petersburg. (Newspaper clipping from _The
    Baltimore American_, c. 1895.)

  “Because I know by those sweet tears that gushed
      Fresh from thine eyes when, proffered to your beauty,”--


    _Blue Coats Are Over the Border_: Air, “Blue Bonnets are over
    the Border:” Inscribed to Captain Mitchell: by Kentucky. (S. O.
    S.)

  “Kentucky’s banner spreads
  Its folds above our heads;”--


    _The Blue Cockade_: By Mary Walsingham Crean: (R. R.)

  “God be with the laddie, who wears the blue cockade.
  He’s gone to fight the battle of our darling Southern land!”--


    _The Bold Engineer_: Air, “Young Lockinvar:” by O. H. S.
    Baltimore, Oct. 14, 1861. (R. B. B. 59.)

  “O bully George B. has come out of the West,
      Of all that wide border the scourge and the pest.”--


    _The Bold Privateer_: Published by Thomas G. Doyle, Bookseller,
    Stationer, and Song Publisher, No. 279 N. Gay St., Baltimore.
    (Wash. No. 29.)

  “It’s O! my dearest Polly
      You and I must part,”--


    _Bombardment and Battles of Galveston_: Air, “Auld Lang Syne.”
    June 1, 1862-January 1, 1863: by S. R. Ezzell, of Captain
    Daly’s Company. (Alsb.)

  “The Yankees hate the Lone Star State, because she did secede,
    At Galveston they’ve now begun to make her soldiers bleed.”--


    _The Bonnie Blue Flag_: By Annie Chambers Ketchum. (G. C. E.)

  “Come, brothers! rally for the right!
      The bravest of the brave.”--


    _The Bonnie Blue Flag_: By Harry Macarthy. (C. S. B.)

  “We are a band of brothers, and native to the soil,
  Fighting for our liberty, with treasure, blood and toil,”--


    _The Bonnie Dundee of the Border_: Inscribed to Colonel Wm. S.
    Hawkins, of the Western Army: by Clarine Rirnarde. (W. L.)

  “Oh, lightly his proud plume floats over the field,
      And the battle-god smileth his honors above him,”--


    _The Bonnie White Flag: Or the Prisoners’ Invocation to Peace_:
    Air, “Bonnie Blue Flag:” by Colonel W. S. Hawkins, C. S. A., in
    Camp Chase Ventilator, 1864. (Fag.)

  “Though we’re a band of prisoners,
  Let each be firm and true,”--


    _The Border Ranger_: The Mountain Partisan: by W. G. Simms. (S.
    L. M., Feb. March, ’62.)

  “My rifle, pouch and knife,
    My steed, and then we part,”--


    _Bouquet de Bal_: A Ballad dedicated to Miss J----: by F. B.
    (W. F.)

  “She stepped within the lighted hall
  And dimmed the lesser beauties all.”--


    _The Boy Picket: or Charley’s Guard_: By a Lady of Kentucky.
    (E. V. M.)

  “Wearily my footsteps their measured cadence keep,
  While my tired comrades are wrapped in slumber deep,”--


    _The Boy Soldier_: By a Lady of Savannah. (W. G. S. from the
    Richmond _Dispatch_.)

  “He is acting o’er the battle,
      With his cap and feather gay,”--


    _Boy Who Thinkest to Be Wed_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “Boy who thinkest to be wed,
  By remembrance of our dead,”--


    _Boys! Keep Your Powder Dry_: (Alsb.)

  “Can’st tell who lose the battle, oft in the councils-field?
    Not they who struggle bravely, not they who never yield.”--


    _Bowing Her Head_: (W. G. S.)

  “Her head is bowed downwards; so pensive her air,
    As she looks on the ground with her pale, solemn face,”--


    _Brave Deeds--Brave Fruits_: Sonnet: by Wm. Gilmore Simms. (Am.
    from _Southern Opinion_.)

  “The record should be made of each brave deed
  That brings us Pride and Freedom as its fruits,”--


    _A Brave Girl’s Fate_: By Miriam Erle. Charleston, S. C., A.
    D., 1864. (C. C.)

  “The battle riot raged without
    A city’s strong, defiant walls,”--


    _The Brass-Mounted Army_: Air, “Southern Wagon:” by ----, of
    Colonel A. Bucher’s Regiment. (Alsb.)

  “O Soldiers! I’ve concluded to make a little song,
  And if I tell no falsehood, there can be nothing wrong;”--


    _The Bridal Gift_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “Fair one, soon my bride to be,
  What shall be my gift to thee?”--


    _Brigadier General John H. Morgan in a Penitentiary!_ By
    Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “Hide him in a dark cell,
    And fame will crown him there!”--


    _The Brigand Brigade_: (Bohemian.)

  “When Abe called the Council together,
    Secession at large to discuss,”--


    _Broken Bench_: A Ballad: By F. B. Chattawa, August, 1862. (W.
    F.)

  “I stood upon the bridge of sighs,
    A wooden bench of common size”--


    _The Broken Mug_: Ode (So-called) on a Late Melancholy Accident
    in the Shenandoah Valley (so-called): by John Esten Cooke. (W.
    G. S.)

  “My mug is broken, my heart is sad!
      What woes can fate still hold in store!”--


    _The Broken Sword_: Suggested by an incident which occurred
    after the surrender of Fort Donaldson: by Walker Meriweather
    Bell. (W. L.)

  “No; never shall this trusty glaive,
      Which I so long have borne.”--


    _The Broker’s ‘Stamp Act’ Lament_: July, 1862: (R. B. B. 10.)

  “Lord save the South from Liberty (?)
        ‘Beast’ Butler and his masters!”--


    _The Brotherly Kindness of 1861_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “‘They’ would burst Southern hearts in twain,
  Nor care if so they could regain”--


    _Bugle Call_: By Colonel John Milledge, of Ga. (Im.)

  “I love to feel upon my bridle bit
    The champ of a thoroughbred,”--


    _Bugle Note_: By A. Lansing Burrows. (Bohemian from the
    Richmond _Dispatch_.)

  “Tramp! tramp! tramp! steadily on to the foe;
    With banners afloat in the stirring breeze,”--


    _Bull Run--A Parody_: (W. G. S.)

  “At Bull Run where the sun was low,
  Each Southern face grew pale as snow”--


    _Bull’s Run_: Air, “Wait for the Wagon.” (R. B. B. 11.)

  “Says Greely, to Scott, to Richmond, why not,
      These Southerns are only in fun,”--


    _Burial of Brigadier General M. Jenkins_: At Summerville,
    Whitsunday, May 15, 1864: by “C. G. P.” (Amaranth.)

  “Bring blossoms from the rosy beds of May,
  Bay from the woodland, myrtle from the bowers,”--


    _The Burial of Captain O. Jennings Wise_: Killed at Roanoke
    Island, Feb. 8, 1862: by Accomac. (E. V. M.)

  “Mournfully the bells are tolling,
  And the muffled drums are rolling,”--


    _The Burial of Latane_: By Jno. R. Thompson. S. L. M., July
    and August 1862. _Note_: The beautiful image in the including
    stanza is borrowed and some of the language is versified from
    the eloquent remarks of the Honorable R. M. T. Hunter, on the
    death of Ex-President Tyler. (E. V. M.)

  “The combat raged not long, but ours the day,
    And, through the hosts that compassed us around,”--


    _Burial of Lieutenant General Jackson_: Air, “Oporto:” by R. W.
    Kercheval, Esq. (Im.)

  “Comrades, advance! Your colors drape with mourning,
  Muffled your drums, and arms reversed, ye brave,”--


    _Burial of the Tough Beef in Galveston_: March 5, 1864. (Alsb.)

  “The Sabbath sun shone bright and fair,
    The earth rejoiced in gladness,”--


    _Burn the Cotton_: By Estelle, Memphis, Tenn., May 16, 1862.
    (R. R.)

  “Burn the cotton! burn the cotton!
      Let the solemn triumph rise,”--


    _Bury Me on the Field, Boys_: By Mary S. Grayson, of Md.
    (Amaranth.)

  “Bury me on the field, boys!
    When the deadly strife is over;”--


    _Bury Our Dead_: (Sunny.)

  “Bury our dead! From Rama’s shore!
    From every beauteous Southland vale,”--


    _Butler’s Proclamation_: By Paul H. Hayne, of S. C. (E. V. M.)

  “Aye, drop the treacherous mask! throw by
      The cloak which veiled thine instincts fell”--


    _By the Banks of Red River_: By E. E. Kidd. (Fag.)

  “Oh, gone is the soul from his wondrous dark eye,
      And gone is her life’s dearest glory.”--


    _By the Camp Fire_: By Fanny Murdaugh Downing. (E. V. M. ’69)

  “The sun has fallen: cool and deep
    The night wind moans in murmurs low.”--


    _By the Camp Fire_: By Viola. [Fannie M. Downing] (E. V. M.)

  “The snow has fallen thick and soft,
      The cold wind mourns in murmurs harsh”--


    _The Cadets at New Market_: By Cornelia J. M. Jordan. (Corinth.)

  “Onward they come, they come!
    ’Mid the wild battle-hum”--


    _The Call_: By A. B. Baltimore, Oct., 1862. (R. B. B. 71.)

  “Maryland! Maryland!
  Stainless in story”--


    _The Call_: To Editor _South Carolinian_. By Barhamville. Jan.,
    1861. (R. N. S.)

  “Hark, the shout! from shore to mountain
      Hark the war note raises high!”--


    _The Call!_ By Jennie. (B. C. L. Ledger 1411.)

  “Sons of Maryland, arouse!
    They who sealed your eyes in sleep,”--


    _Call All! Call All!_ By Georgia. (C. C. from the Rockingham,
    Va., _Register_.)

  “Whoop! The Doodles have broken loose
  Running around like the very deuce”--


    _The Call of Freedom_: Richmond, May 1, 1861. (R. A.)

  “Hark! To the rescue! Freedom calls,
  Where triumph’s banners brightly wave,”--


    _A Call to Kentuckians_: By a Southern Rights Woman.
    Louisville, Ky., June 24, 1862. (R. R.)

  “Sons of Kentucky! arise from your dreaming
    Awake and to arms! for the foe draweth nigh:”--


    _The Cameo Bracelet_: By James B. Randall, of Maryland. (W. G.
    S.)

  “Eva sits on the ottoman there,
  Sits by a Psyche carved in stone.”--


    _Campaign Ballad_: By Rev. J. E. Carnes. (Alsb.)

  “Young Florida sends for their clan--the old Dominion’s brave,
  With sons of Texas, lead the van, to glory or the grave;”--


    _Camp Douglas By the Lake_: A Prison Song. Air, “Cottage by the
    Sea.” (Fag.)

  “Childhood’s days have long since faded,
        Youth’s bright dreams like lights gone out,”--


    _Cannoneer’s Doom_: A legend of the 19th century: by F. B.,
    Cottage Hill, Ala., Sept. 7, 1863. (W. F.)

  “Oh, tell me not of trimmings red,
        Thus sighed a cannoneer,”--


    _Cannon Song_: (S. S.)

  “Aha! a song for the trumpet’s tongue!
  For the bugle to sing before us,”--


    _Captain Maffit’s Ballad of the Sea_: (W. G. S. from the
    Charleston _Mercury_.)

  “Though winds are high and skies are dark
  And the stars scarce show us a meteor spark;”--


    _The Captain’s Story_: (E. V. M.)

  “We rested on the battle field
    The busy day was o’er.”--


    _The Captain With His Whiskers_: (Alsb.)

  “As they marched through the town with their banners so gay
  I ran to the window just to hear the band play;”--


    _The Cap That Poor Henderson Wore_: By Willie Lightheart.
    Charleston, S. C. (C. C.)

  “Tattered and threadbare, greasy and torn,
    Faded and worn though it be,”--


    _Captives Going Home_: (W. G. S.)

  “No flaunting banners o’er them wave
  No arms flash back the sun’s bright ray.”--


    _The Captured Epaulette_: By M. J. P. [Mrs. M. J. Preston?] (P.
    & P. B.)

  “Oh! we’ve beaten them gallantly! back from our soil,
  We have hurled the invader and taken his spoil,”--


    _The Captured Flag_: By Kentucky. Jan. 29, 1862. (S. O. S.)

  “It is not strange that you should like to get
          Sight of the flag that waved”--


    _Capture of 17 of Company H., 4th Texas Cavalry_: Air, “Wake
    Snakes and Bite a Biskit.” (Alsb.)

  “’Twas early in the morning of eighteen sixty-three,
    We started out on picket, not knowing what we’d see:”--


    _Carmen Triumphale_: By Henry Timrod. (W. G. S. from the
    _Southern Illustrated News_.)

  “Go forth and bid the land rejoice,
      Yet not too gladly, oh my song!”--


    _Carolina_: By Mrs. C. A. B. (Fag.)

  “’Mid her ruins proudly stands,
      Our Carolina!”--


    _Carolina_: Inscribed to the Pee Dee Legion, General W. W.
    Harlee, New Orleans, Dec. 1, 1861: by Mrs. Anna Peyre Dennies.
    (E. V. M.)

  “In the hour of thy glory
      When thy name was far renowned,”--


    _Carolina_: By Henry Timrod. (W. G. S.)

  “The despot treads thy sacred sands,
  Thy pines give shelter to his bands,”--


    _Carolina_: April 14, 1861: by John A. Wagener, of S. C. (W. G.
    S.)

  “Carolina! Carolina!
    Noble name in State and story”--


    _Carolina’s Hymn_: For the _Courier_: by E. B. C., Jan. 1861.
    (R. N. S.)

  “Be merciful, O God; the crimson tide
    Of sanguinary war, a cooling flood,”--


    _Cavalier and Roundhead_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “Will he ne’er come again,
  Come into my waiting arms?”--


    _The Cavaliers’ Glee_: Air, “The Pirates’ Glee:” by Captain Wm.
    Blackford, of General Stuart’s staff. (S. S.)

  “Spur on! spur on! we love the bounding
    Of barbs that bear us to the fray:”--


    _The Cavalier’s Serenade_: By Colonel Wm. S. Hawkins. (Sunny.)

  “O, come to the heart that is beating for thee!
  By the hope of my freedom, my bride thou shalt be.”--


    _Charade_: [Jackson?] (E. V. M.)

  “My first is seen on a field of green
  And a lucky elf is he,”--


    _The Charge of the Georgia Eighth_: At the Battle of Manassas,
    July 21, 1861: by Marie Key Steele, of Md. (E. V. M., ’69.)

  “The rising sun shines gaily,
  On proud Manassas height,”--


    _Charge of Hagood’s Bridage_: Weldon Railroad, Aug. 21, 1864.
    (W. G. S.)

  “Scarce seven hundred men they stand
  In tattered, rude array,”--


    _Charge of the Louisiana Brigade at Atlanta_: July 28, 1864: by
    F. B., Atlanta, Aug. 17, 1864. (W. F.)

  “Thunders that roll along
  Mountains and rocks among,”--


    _Charge of the Night Brigade_: Baltimore, July 13, 1861. (E. V.
    M.)

  “At three o’clock, three o’clock,
  Three o’clock, onward”--


    _Charles B. Dreux_: By James R. Randall. (E. V. M.)

  “Weep, Louisiana, weep the gallant dead!
  Weave the green laurel o’er the undaunted head!”--


    _Charleston_: Written for the Charleston _Courier_ in 1863: by
    Miss E. B. Cheeseborough. (W. G. S.)

  “Proudly she stands by the crystal sea,
      Within the fires of hate around her,”--


    _Charleston_: By Paul H. Hayne. (W. G. S.)

  “What! still does the Mother of Treason uprear
    Her crest ’gainst the Furies that darken her sea?”--


    _Charleston_: By Paul H. Hayne. (Amaranth.)

  “Calmly beside her Tropic strand
    An Empress, brave and loyal,”--


    _Charleston_: By Henry Timrod: Jan., 1863. (E. V. M.)

  “Calm as that second summer which precedes
    The first fall of the snow,”--


    _Charlestonians and Yankees_: Dialogue between Yankees and the
    Charlestonians: by Kentucky. (S. O. S.) April, 1863.

  “Ho! heigho! for Charleston, ho!”--


    _Charmed Life_: (2 Kings vi, 16): by Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “Ah! ours is such a little, half-armed band
  Compared to those who fight to win our land!”--


    _Cheer, Boys, Cheer!_ [This was the favorite song of the
    Kentuckians, and was sung by Southern troops under General
    Basil Duke at the Battle of Shiloh. Several versions of adapted
    words were sung to the melody of this song. One of the versions
    was dedicated to Horace Greely and circulated throughout the
    North. The original “Cheer, Boys, Cheer,” has, however, always
    remained closely identified with Southern sentiment.] (Phot.
    Hist.)

  “Cheer, boys, cheer! no more of idle sorrow:
  Courage, true hearts shall bear us on our way,”--


    _Chickamauga_, “_The Stream of Death_:” (W. G. S. from the
    Richmond _Sentinel_.)

  “Chickamauga! Chickamauga!
  O’er thy dark and turbid wave”--


    _Chief Justice Taney_: Air, “The Days of Absence.” (R. B. B.,
    110.)

  “Hail, thou noble hearted lawyer,
  Advocate of human rights:”--


    _The Chimes of St. Paul’s_: by Tenella. [Mrs. M. B. Clarke of
    N. C.] (E. V. M.)

  “When first St. Paul’s, your sweet-voiced chimes
    Shed music on the air,”--


    _Chivalrous C. S. A._: Air, “Vive la Compagnie!” by B.
    Baltimore, Sept. 21, 1861. (R. R.)

  “I’ll sing you a song of the South’s sunny clime,
            Chivalrous C. S. A.”--


    _Christian Love in Battle_: An incident which occurred at
    Manassas. Waterproof, La., July 21, 1861: by Wm. H. Holcombe.
    (S. L. M., Sept., 1861.)

  “The Northern soldier reeled and fell
  Upon the bloody ground to die:”--


    _Christmas Carol, for 1862_: From “Beechenbrook:” by Mrs. M. J.
    Preston, of Va. (E. V. M.)

  “Halt, the march is over
    Day is almost done;”--


    _Christmas Day, A. D., 1861_: By M. J. H. (Bohemian.)

  “The day’s high festival is come,
    The time of careless mirth,”--


    _Christmas Eve_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “Christmas is here--time to be glad!
      Alas! I seldom am so sad”--


    _Christmas, 1863_: By Henry Timrod, of S. C. (E. V. M.)

  “How grace this hallowed day?
      Shall hallowed bells from yonder ancient spire”--


    _Christmas Night of ’62_: By W. G. McCabe. S. L. M., Jan., ’63.
    (B. E.)

  “The wintry blast goes wailing by.
      The snow is falling overhead.”--


    _Chronicle of Fort Sumter_: (Bohemian from the Charleston
    _Courier_.)

  “Night lingered over quiet shore and bay
  In grim repose where fort and battery lay,”--


    _The Church of the North_: Inscribed to Bishop Hopkins, of
    Vermont. Written during the General Convention, Oct., 1862: by
    Kentucky. (S. C. S.)

  “In the midst of raging billows
  Zion’s harp hung on the willows,”--


    _The Church of the South to the Church of the North_: Written
    on reading an article in the _Church Journal of New York_,
    which I cannot now find: by Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “We are not divided--no never! no! no!
  For the Church of the North cannot be our foe:”--


    _Civile Bellum_: [In many collections this poem is entitled
    “The Fancy Shot.” It was first published in London, in the
    paper called “Once A Week,” signed “From the Once United
    States,” and was there entitled “Civile Bellum.” It is
    believed to be the work of Charles Dawson Shavley, who died in
    1876.--_Editor._] (G. C. E.)

  “Rifleman, shoot me a fancy shot
    Right at the heart of yon prowling vidette,”--


    _Cleburne_: (Im.)

  “How far and fast the autumn blast
    Beats the dead leaves o’er the ground:”--


    _Cleburne_: “Another Star now Shines on High:” by M. A.
    Jennings of Alabama. (W. G. S. from the Selma _Dispatch_, 1864.)

  “Another ray of light hath fled, another Southern brave
  Hath fallen in his country’s cause, and found a laurelled grave,”--


    _The Clerk’s Lament_: By F. B., Dalton, March 26, 1863. (W. F.)

  “Give my companions back to me,
  My rock built hut so gray,”--


    _The Cliff Beside the Sea_: By Colonel W. W. Fontaine. (Sunny.)

  “Five summers bright have come and gone,
      A weary time to me,”--


    _Close the Ranks_: By John L. Sullivan. (W. G. S.)

  “The fell invader is before!
      Close the ranks! Close up the ranks!”--


    _Clouds in the West_: By A. J. Requier, of Alabama. (W. G. S.)

  “Hark! on the wind that whistles from the West
      A manly shout for instant succor comes”--


    _The Clouds of War_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “O God, the clouds of war press heavily!
  I pant and pant; now I can scarcely breathe,”--


    _Coast-Guard Cogitations_: By Carlos. (Bohemian from the
    Richmond _Dispatch_.)

  “On the cold, white sand
  Of a wave-washed strand,”--


    _Coercion_: A Poem for Then and Now: by John R. Thompson, of
    Va. S. L. M., March, 1861. (S. S.)

  “Who talks of Coercion? who dares to deny
  A resolute people the right to be free”--


    _Colonel B. F. Terry_: By J. R. Barrick, Glasgow, Ky. (Alsb.)

        “There is a wail
  As if the voice of sadness, long and deep,”--


    _The Colonel Gilbert_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “The petty Cromwell of our State oppressed
  Is Buckeye Gilbert, as must be confessed;”--


    _The Color-Bearer_: By Mrs. Margaret J. Preston. (E. V. M.,
    ’69.)

  “The shock of battle swept the lines,
  And wounded men, and slain,”--


    _Columbia_: By J. C. J. (W. L.)

  “On thy banks, in pride and beauty
    Stands the city, Congaree!”--


    _Coming at Last_: By Geo. H. Miles. Frederick Co., Md. (E.V. M.)

  “Up on the hill there,
    Who are they, pray,”--


    _Company A. Seventh Regiment, Texas Cavalry_: Air, “Bonnie Blue
    Flag:” by Mrs. Dr. M’Grew. Refugio, Texas, Feb. 3, 1863. (Alsb.)

  “Let genius bring, on silver wing, her richest best oblation,
  To crown thy brow, fair as the snow, young and potent nation!”--


    _Company L, 20th Regiment, T. V. I._: Air, “Root Hog or Die:”
    by a Private in said company. (Alsb.)

  “O here is our Company, the famous Company K
  They are always on the sick list unless it’s ration day”--


    _The Confederacy_: By Jane T. H. Cross. (W. G. S. from the
    Southern Christian Advocate, 1864.)

  “Born to a day, full grown, our Nation stood,
      The pearly light of heaven was her face,”--


    _The Confederate Dead_: By author of “Albert Hastings.” A.D.,
    1866. (C. C.)

  “O, not o’er these, the true and brave
  Whose mangled forms in many a grave”--


    _The Confederate Dead_: By Latienne. Enfala, Ala., June,
    (1866?) (E. V. M. from the Macon _Journal_.)

  “From the broad and calm Potomac,
    Is the Rio Grande’s waves,”--


    _The Confederate Dead_: (C. C.)

  “They sleep. Go not to Rome nor Greece
      For history knows no nobler race,”--


    _The Confederate Flag_: (E. V. M. ’69.)

  “No more o’er living hearts to wave,
    Its tattered folds forever furled,”--


    _The Confederate Flag_: By J. R. Barrick. Glasgow, Ky. (R. R.)

  “Flag of the South! Flag of the free!
    Thy stars shall cheer each eye,”--


    _The Confederate Flag_: Written by Mrs. C. D. Elder of New
    Orleans: music by Sig. G. George of Norfolk, Va. (R. B. B.,
    16½.)

  “Bright banner of freedom, with pride I unfold thee:
      Fair flag of my country, with love I behold thee,”--


    _The Confederate Flag_: By H. L. Flash. (Amaranth.)

  “Four stormy years we saw it gleam
    A people’s hope--and then refurled”--


    _The Confederate Flag_: Red, White and Blue. Composed and Sung
    by J. S. Prevatt, Co. E., 6th Ga. Regiment. (R. B. B., 16½.)

  “On the Banks of the Potomac, there’s an army so grand,
  Whose object’s to subjugate Dixie’s fair land”--


    _Confederate Land_: By H. H. Strawbridge. (R. R.)

  “States of the South! Confederate Land!
    Our foe has come--the hour is nigh;”--


    _The Confederate Note_: (E. V. M., also C. S. B. No. 25.)

  “Representing nothing on God’s earth now,
    And naught in the water below it:”--


    _Confederate Oath_: Air, “My Maryland;” circulated sub rosa in
    New Orleans. (Alsb.)

  “By the Cross upon our banner, glory of our Southern sky,
  Swear we now, a band of brothers, free to live, or free to die”--


    _A Confederate Officer to His Lady Love_: By Major McKnight
    (“Asa Hartz”), A. A. B., General Loring’s staff. Johnston’s
    Island. (E. V. M.)

  “My love reposes on a rosewood frame,
            A bunk have I:”--


    _Confederate Paradox_: “The falling debris now aids in
    strengthening Fort Sumter,” Telegram, Charleston, Nov. 6, 1863.
    (W. L.)

    “A seeming evil often is
  A great and glorious benefit,”--


    _The Confederate Soldier’s Wife--Parting from Her Husband._ (R.
    B. B., 17.)

  “Here is thy trusty blade!
  Take it, and wield it in a glorious cause;”--


    _Confederate Song_: Air, “Bruce’s Address.” Dedicated to the
    Kirk’s Ferry Rangers: by their captain, E. Lloyd Wailes. Sung
    by the Glee Club on July 4, 1861, at the Kirk’s Ferry barbecue,
    Catahoula, La. (R. R.)

  “Rally round our country’s flag!
  Rally, boys, nor do not lag,”--


    _The Confederate States_: (R. B. B., 16.)

  “Yankees may sing of their rank pork and beans,
    Their dollars and cents are but fabulous dreams”--


    _A Confederate Valentine_: To Miss Jewly Ann Pious: by Peter
    Barlow. Picked up, A. D., 1863. (C. C.)

  “When these lines you read
    Think not of him unkind”--


    _Confiscation_: A Wife to Her Husband: by Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “Let us go forth into the cold, cold snow!
  A tyrant says we must, or bow us low”--


    _Congressman Ely_: Air, “Hi Ho Dobbin.” (Wash’n, 44.)

  “As I rode down to Manassas one day,
  With heart light as air and spirit so gay,”--


    _Conquered_: By F. B. (W. F.)

  “Like the bird who sings at midnight,
        I am lone,”--


    _The Conquered Banner_: By Moina. [The Reverend J. A. Ryan,
    of Knoxville, Diocese of Nashville, Tenn.]: music by A. E.
    Blackmar. (E. V. M. from the Freeman’s Journal, June 24, 1865.)

  “Furl that banner for ’tis weary
  Round its staff ’tis drooping dreary;”--


    _The Conscription Bill_: (S. L. M., April, ’62.)

  “Let us hail in this crisis the prosperous omen
  That our Senate shows virtue higher than Roman;”--


    _Conscript’s Departure_: (Army.)

  “You are going far away, far away from your Jeanette,
  There is no one left to love me now, and you, too, may forget,”--


    _Contraband_: (Cav.)

  “Say, darkies, hab you seen ole massa
      Wif de mustach on his face,”--


    _Corinth._ (_April, 1862_): By Cornelia J. M. Jordan. (Corinth.)

  “Land of the Pioneer--behold! come
  To drink thy balmy airs enchanting West”--


    _The Cotton Boll_: By Henry Timrod. (W. G. S. from the
    Charleston Mercury.)

  “While I recline
  At ease beneath”--


    _The Cotton-Burners’ Hymn_: “On yesterday, all the cotton in
    Memphis, and throughout the country, was burned. Probably not
    less than 300,000 bales have been burned in the last three days
    in West Tennessee and North Mississippi.”--Memphis _Appeal_.
    (W. G. S.)

  “Lo! where Mississippi rolls
      Oceanward its stream,”--


    _Cotton Doodle_: Written by a lady on learning that Yankee
    Doodle had been hissed in New Orleans. San Antonio, Jan. 2,
    1861. (S. L. M., Ed. Table, Feb. 1861.) From the Galveston
    _Evening News_.

  “Hurrah for brave King Cotton!
      The Southerners are singing;”--


    _Cotton is King_: By N. G. R., [Dr. N. G. Ridgley] Baltimore,
    Jan. 1, 1862. (R. B. B., 18.)

  “All hail to the great King.
  Quick to him your tribute bring”--


    _The Cotton States’ Farewell to Yankee Doodle_: Atlanta, Ga.,
    Feb. 1, 1861. (C. S. B. from the Richmond _Dispatch_, copied
    from the Georgia papers.)

  “Yankee Doodle fare you well
  Rice and cotton float you;”--


    _The Countersign_: By Colonel W. W. Fontaine. (E. V. M.)

  “Alas! the weary hours pass slow,
      The night is very dark and still,”--


    _Country, Home and Liberty_: (R. B. B., 18.)

  “Freedom calls you! Quick be ready,--
  Rouse ye in the name of God,--”


    _Creation of Dixie_: 1861. (C. C.)

  “Created by a nation’s glee
  With jest and song and revelry”--


    _Crippled for Life_: By Leola. [Mrs. Loula W. Rogers of Ga.]
    “Mountain Home,” S. W. Virginia, Dec. 1, 1862. (S. L. M., Nov.
    and Dec., ’62.)

  “On a low couch as the bright day is dying
  Young, helpless and hopeless, a soldier is lying,”--


    _Cruci Dum Spiro, Fido_: By J. C. M. New York, March 20, 1866.
    (E. V. M.)

  “You may furl the gleaming star-cross
    That lit a hundred fields,”--


    _A Cry to Arms_: By Henry Timrod, New Orleans, March 9, 1862.
    (R. R.)

  “Ho! woodsmen of the mountain-side!
    Ho! dwellers in the vales!”--


    _The Darlings at Home_: By Colonel C. G. Forshey. (Alsb.):

  “The sentinel treads his martial round,
    Afar from his humble home”--


    _Da Vis!_: By Quien Sabe? Baltimore, Feb. 10, 1862. (R. B. B.
    73.)

  “Give us one chance, ’tis all we ask,
  Be retribution then our task:”--


    _The Dead_: (Randolph.)

  “On the field of battle lying,
  Was a youthful hero dying”--


    _Dead_: By C. C. (Amaranth from the Richmond _Examiner_.)

  “Dead! well I have written the word, and I gaze
      On it still and again,”--


    _Dead_: By Colonel W. S. Hawkins, C. S. A.; prisoner of war.
    Camp Chase, Ohio, March, 1865. (Sunny.)

  “Dead! with no loving hand to part
      The soft hair back from the pallid brow”--


    _Dead Jackson_: (E. V. M.)

  “A chaplet! as ye pause ye brave
  Beside the broad Potomac’s wave”--


    _Dead on Manassas Plain_: By J. Augustine Signaigo. (I. M.)

  “Close beside the broken grasses,
    Near the setting of the day,”--


    _The Dead Soldier_: (E. V. M., ’69.)

  “Go where the dying soldiers lie
  Eve blushing closes now her eye,”--


    _Dear Liberty: or Maryland Will Be Free_: Air, “Carry me back
    to old Virginny:” by Miss R. L., a Daughter of Dixie. (R. B.
    B., 73.)

  “Farewell dear Liberty, farewell for awhile,
  Ere long we’ll greet thee again.”--


    _Dear Mother I’ve Come Home to Die_: Music by Henry Tucker:
    words by E. Bowers. Geo. Dunn & Co., Richmond, Va. (R. B. M.)

  “Dear Mother, I remember well,
      The parting kiss you gave to me”--


    _Death-Bed of Stonewall Jackson_: By Colonel B. H. Jones.
    (Sunny.)

  “Stretched on his couch the Christian warrior lies;
        Cold perspiration beads his marble brow;”--


    _The Death of Ashby_: By J. A. Via. Richmond, June 16, 1862.
    (S. L. M., May, 1862.)

  “Wild rings the raging battle cry;
    It’s thunders echo in the sky,”--


    _The Death of General A. S. Johnston_: (S. O. S.)

  “A nation tolls his requiem;
  Bring forth the victor’s diadem,”--


    _Death of Albert Sidney Johnston_: By George B. Milnor,
    Harrisburg, Tex. (Alsb.)

  “The sun was sinking o’er the battle plain,
    Where the night winds were already sighing,”--


    _Death of Jackson_: By Cornelia M. Jordan. (Corinth.)

  “Brightly the moon o’er pallid corpses streaming,
    Mingled her soft rays with the cannon’s breath,”--


    _Death of William H. Mitchell_: Killed at Gettysburg: by
    Lieutenant J. E. Dooley. (Sunny.)

  “So bright in his genius--so bright in his youth
          Gone to his grave!”--


    _Death of Polk_: (W. L.)

  “We hear a solemn saddening sound,
      A mournful knell;”--


    _Death of Stonewall Jackson_: (Fag.)

  “On a bright May morn in ’sixty-three,
      And eager for the action,”--


    _Death of Stonewall Jackson_: By Thomas Q. Barnes. (Barnes.)

  “Southrons all bewail the loss
      Of a hero true and brave,”--


    _Death of the Lincoln Despotism_: Air, “Root, Hog, or Die:” (P.
    & P. B. from the Richmond _Times-Despatch_.)

  “’Twas out upon mid-ocean that the San Jacinta hailed
  An English neutral vessel, while on her course she sailed.”--


    _Death of the Young Partisan_: By Cornelia J. M. Jordan.
    (Richmond.)

  “He fell--not where numbers were falling
      Whose groans with the cannon peal blend,”--


    _The Debt of Maryland_: By H. Baltimore, Oct. 16, 1861. (R. B.
    B., 72.)

  “Remember, men of Maryland,
    You have a debt to pay.”--


    _De Cotton Down in Dixie_: (“These capital verses were found on
    board of the English barque ‘Premier’ in January, 1863, bound
    from Liverpool to Havana, sixty miles west of Madeira, by Lone
    Star, of Galveston, Texas.”) (Alsb.)

  “I’m gwine back to de land of cotton,
  Wid de ‘English Flag’ in an ‘English Bottom’”--


    _Dedicated to the Baltimore Light Artillery, C. S. A._: by
    Captain G. W. Alexander. (R. B. B. 81.)

  “The Maryland boys are coming
    Dost hear their stirring drums?”--


    _Dedication: To Mrs. Fanny S. Bears_: By F. B. Kingston, Feb.
    23, 1864. (W. F.)

  “To you, though known but yesterday, I trust
  These winged thoughts of mine”--


    _Dejected_: By G. W. Archer, M. D.: In the Field, Sept.’64. (E.
    V. M., ’69.)

  “Turmoil, never, never ending!
      Clamor, clangor, grasp and groan!”--


    _Desolated_: By Fanny Downing. (E. V. M. ’69.)

  “A weight of suffering my spirit seals
    As I stand of life’s sweetest joys bereft,”--


    _Despondency_: By Tenella. [Mrs. M. B. Clarke of N. C.] (E. V.
    M.)

  “The waters in life’s goblet sink,
  Which late were foaming to its brink”--


    _The Despot’s Song_: By Old Secesh. Baltimore, March 15, 1862.
    (R. R.)

  “With a beard that was filthy and red
  His mouth with tobacco bespread”--


    _Destruction of the Vandal Host at Manassas_: A Parody: by J.
    J. H. (R. R.)

  “Abe Lincoln came down like a wolf on the fold,
  And his cohorts were thirsting for silver and gold,”--


    _The Devil’s Delight_: By John R. Thompson. (Amaranth.)

  “To breakfast one morning the Devil came down,
  By demons and vassals attended:”--


    _The Devil’s Visit to Old Abe_: Written on the occasion of
    Lincoln’s proclamation for prayer and fasting after the battle
    of Manassas: by Reverend E. P. Birch, of La Grange, Ga., Feb.
    10, 1862. (Wash’n 52.)

  “Old Abe was sitting in his chair of state,
    With one foot on the mantel and one on the grate”--


    _Devotion_: Jan. 1863. (Md. Hist. B.)

  “Now that another year’s gone by
  And gushing tears have filled the eye”--


    _Died_: Arthur Robinson: Richmond, Dec. 23, 1863. (E. V. M.
    ’69.)

  “Gone from the tumult--gone from the strife,
  From the evil times that sadden life;”--


    _A Dirge_: by G. W. Archer, M. D., Harford Co., Md., June, ’61.
    (E. V. M. ’69.)

          “How can I rest?
  E’en in the quiet of this lonely wood”--


    _Dirge for Ashby_: by Mrs. M. J. Preston: (W. G. S.)

  “Hear ye that thrilling word--
        Accent of dread”--


    _Disgrace and Shame_: Air, “The Campbells Are Coming.” (R. B.
    B. 21.)

  “Hallo! what’s the matter?
    Indigo’s blue, why this clatter”--


    _Dixey’s Land_: Baltimore and Frederick Streets, Baltimore, Md.
    (Wash’n 54.)

  “Away down South in de fields ob cotton,
      Pork and cabbage in de pot.”--


    _Dixie_: (E. V. M.)

  “Dixie home of love and beauty; in the past supremely best,
  Now athwart thee, falling darkly, see, a funeral shadow rest.”--


    _Dixie_: By Richard W. Nicholls. (N. Y. P. L.)

  “Southron, your country calls you
      And in arms must now enroll you”--


    _Dixie_: By Albert Pike: (W. G. S.)

  “Southrons, hear your country call you!
  Up, lest worse than death befall you!”--


    _Dixie_: 1861: By Ina Marie Porter, of Greenville, Ala. (N. Y.
    P. L.)

  “In Dixie cotton loves to grow
  With leaf of green and boll of snow,”--


    _Dixie Doodle_: (Randolph.)

  “Dixie whipped old Yankee Doodle early in the morning
      So Yankeedom had best look out”--


    _Dixie the Land of King Cotton_: From the Highly Successful
    Musical Operetta “The Vivandiere.” Words by Captain Hughes of
    Vicksburg: music by J. H. Hewitt. (R. B. M.)

    “Oh, Dixie the land of King Cotton,
  The home of the brave and the free,”--


    _Dixie War Song_: By H. S. Stanton, Esq. (L. & L.)

  “Hear ye not the sounds of battle
  Sabres clash and muskets rattle?”--


    _Dix’s Manifesto_: Air, “Dearest Mae:” by “B.” Baltimore, Sept.
    11, 1861. (R. B. B. 23.)

  “Once on a time in Baltimore
  There reigned a mighty King.”--


    _Dodge’s Police_: Air, “Wait for the Wagon.” (R. B. B. 24.)

  “Come all ye Southern lassies
    That joined in our parade,”--


    _Doffing the Gray_: By Lieutenant Falligant of Savannah, Ga.
    (W. G. S.)

  “Off with your gray suits, boys--
    Off with your rebel gear”--


    _Do They Miss Me in the Trenches!_ Vicksburg Song. Air, “Do
    They Miss Me at Home.” (Alsb.)

  “Do they miss me in the trenches, do they miss me,
      When the shells fly so thickly round,”--


    _Do We Weep For the Heroes That Died for Us?_ By Father A. J.
    Ryan. (Sunny.)

  “Do we weep for the heroes who died for us,
  Who, living, were true and tried for us,”--


    _Down-Trodden Maryland_: Air, “Tom Bowling:” by B. [This is
    especially interesting because the poem, which is here of three
    stanzas, 1, 2 and 3, is to be found in R. B. B. 67, in its 3rd
    edition, expanded to 6 stanzas, 1+a+2+b+c+3, signed N. G. R.
    (Dr. N. G. Ridgely), dated Baltimore, March 4, 1862.] (R. B. B.
    64.)

  “Down-trodden, despised, see brave Maryland lie
    The noblest of all States”--


    _Do Ye Quail?_ By W. Gilmore Simms. (W. G. S.)

  “Do you quail but to hear, Carolinians,
  The first foot-tramp of Tyranny’s minions?”--


    _Dreaming_: By Fanny Downing. (E. V. M. ’69.)

  “Locked in deep and tranquil slumber,
    In a charmed trance she lies;”--


    _Dreaming in the Trenches_: By William Gordon M’Cabe.
    Petersburg Trenches, 1864. (C. C.)

  “I picture her there in the quaint old room
        Where the fading fire-light starts and falls,”--


    _A Dream Visit to the Battle Field of Sharpsburg_: By Leola
    [Mrs. Loula W. Rogers, of Ga.] (Amaranth.)

  “Hush’d was the inspiring strain of martial band,
  Which late had waked the slumbering hills to life;”--


    _Drinking Song_: Air, “We Won’t Go Home ’Till Morning.” By F.
    B. (W. F.)

  “I’ll tell you just what I think, boys,
  In troubles who wish to be gay,”--


    _The Drummer Boy_: By James R. Brewer. Annapolis, July 28,
    1862. (E. V. M.)

  “All pallid upon his couch he lay,
        As death fast dimmed his eye,”--


    _The Drummer Boy of Shiloh_: (Alsb.)

  “On Shiloh’s dark and bloody ground the dead and wounded lay,
  Amongst them was a drummer boy that beat the drum that day,”--


    _During a Snow Storm_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “Mists of beauty fill the air,
  With splendor rare:”--


    _Dutch Volunteer_: By Harry McCarthy. (1862.) (Fag.)

  “It was in Ni Orleans city
      I first heard der drums und fife,”--


    _Duty and Defiance_: By Colonel Hamilton Washington. (Alsb.)

  “Raise the thrilling cry, to arms!
      Texas needs us all, Texans!”--


    _The Dying Confederate’s Last Words_: By Maryland. [Note in
    pencil, by L. Katzenberger, Baltimore.] (R. B. B. 23.)

  “Dear Comrades, on my brow the hand of death is cast,
  My breath is growing short, all pain will soon be past.”--


    _The Dying Mother_: By Colonel B. H. Jones. Johnson’s Island,
    Ohio, March, 1865. (Sunny.)

  “Where Great Kanawha, ‘River of the Woods,’
  Flows tranquilly amid Virginia’s hills,”--


    _The Dying Soldier_: (R. B. B. 22.)

  “My noble commander! thank God, you have come!
  You know the dear ones who are waiting at home.”--


    _The Dying Soldier_: By R. R. B. 1861-1862. (C. C. from The
    _Southern Field and Fireside_.)

  “Lay him down gently where shadows lie still
      And cool, by the side of the bright mountain rill,”--


    _The Dying Soldier_: By James A. Mecklin. (S. B. P.)

  “Gather round him where he’s lying,
      Hush your footsteps, whisper low,”--


    _The Dying Soldier_: By Philula. (S. L. M., Nov. and Dec. ’63.)

  “I am dying, comrade, dying,
  Ebbs the feeble life-tide fast,”--


    _Dying Soldier Boy_: Air, “Maid of Monterey:” by A. B.
    Cunningham, of La. (Alsb.)

  “Upon Manassas’ bloody plain, a soldier boy lay dying!
  The gentle winds above his form in softest tones were sighing;”--


    _The Dying Soldier, or The Moon Rose O’er the Battle Plain_: An
    admired song composed for the pianoforte: published by J. W.
    Davis & Sons, Richmond, Va., 1864. (R. B. M.)

  “The moon rose o’er the battle plain
    And smiled from her dark throne,”--


    _Dying Words of Stonewall Jackson_: (Hubner.)

  “The stars of night contain the glittering Day
  And rain his glory down with sweeter grace,”--


    _1861_: (E. V. M.)

  “Virginia’s sons are mustering, from every hill and dale,
  The sound of fife and drum is borne upon the rising gale,”--


    _Eight Years Ago_: A Prison Lay: by W. E. Penn, of Tenn.
    (Sunny.)

  “Just eight years ago, I remember the day,
  When all was so happy, so joyous and gay;”--


    _Elegy on Leaving Home_: Air, “Good-bye:” by Major Webber, 2nd
    Kentucky Cavalry, Morgan’s Command. December, 1862. (W. L.)

  “Farewell! Farewell! my fair loved land,
      Where I hoped to live and die;”--


    _Ella Nocare_: By Dick. (S. L. M., Jan., ’64.)

  “Fair Ella Nocare--bright Ella Nocare,
      Was born of a wealthy sire”--


    _The Empty Sleeve_: By Dr. J. R. Bagby, of Virginia. (W. G. S.)

  “Tom, old fellow, I grieve to see
      The sleeve hanging loose at your side,”--


    _Encore et Toujours Maryland_: by Constance Cary: (Bohemian.)

  “A plea for Maryland!
  Outraged old Maryland!”--


    _The Enemy Shall Never Reach Your City_: Andrew Jackson’s
    Address to the people of New Orleans. (W. G. S. from the
    Charleston _Mercury_.)

  “Never, while such as ye are in the breach,
  Oh! brothers, sons and Southrons, never! never!”--


    _Enfants du Sud_: By R. Thomassy: for the _Courier_. Nouvelle
    Orleans, 2 Janvier, 1861. (R. N. S.)

  “Enfants du Sud, l’outrage et la menace
  Aux nobles coeurs ne laissent plus de choix.”--


    _England’s Neutrality_: A Parliamentary Debate, with notes by a
    Confederate Reporter: by John R. Thompson. (S. S.)

  “All ye who with credulity the whispers hear of fancy,
  Or yet pursue with eagerness Hope’s wild extravagancy,”--


    _Enigma_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “My whole forms a part of what means ‘no one knows,’
  My second’s a name oft given to my foes:”--


    _Enlisted Today_: (W. G. S.)

  “I know the sun shines, and the lilacs are blowing,
  And summer sends kisses by beautiful May.”--


    _The Ensign_: An Incident of the Battle of Gettysburg: by
    Robert. Camp 1st La. Regulars, Nicholl’s Brigade, Aug. 14,
    1863. (S. L. M., Nov. and Dec. ’63.)

  “The shrill bugle sounded--down the battle scarred front--
      Rang the music to many an ear,”--


    _Epistle to the Ladies_: By W. E. M., of General Lee’s Army.
    (W. L.)

  “Ye Southern maids and ladies fair,
  Of whatso’er degree,”--


    _Ethnogenesis_: Written during the meeting of the 1st Southern
    Congress, at Montgomery, Feb., 1861: by Henry Timrod of S. C.
    (W. G. S.)

  “Hath not the morning dawned with added light,
  and shall not evening call another star.”--


    _Eulogy of the Dead_: By B. F. Porter, of Alabama. (W. G. S.)

  “Oh! weep not for the dead
  Whose blood for freedom shed,”--


    _Evacuation of Manassas_: By Iris. Warrenton, April 5, 1862.
    S. L. M., Sept. and Oct., 1862, under title of _Rear Guard of
    Army_. (E. V. M.)

  “The hills were touched with sunset tints, and the sky was painted,
           too,
  When the rear guard of the army came marching into view,”--


    _Exchanged!_ By Major George McKnight (“Asa Hartz”). (Sunny.)

  “From his dim prison house by Lake Erie’s bleak shore,
      He is borne to his last resting place;”--


    _The Exiled Soldiers’ Adieu to Maryland_: By I. Camp near
    Manassas, July 5, 1861: printed in the C. S. Army. (R. B. B.
    79.)

  “Adieu my home! Adieu dear Maryland!
      For honor calls me now away from thee.”--


    _The Exodus_: II Kings, vii, 6, 7, 15 and Joel ii, 20: by Old
    Soldier. (R. B. B. 25.)

  “O bright eyed maidens of the South, your happy voices raise,
  And make your timbrels ring with sounds of triumphs and praise,”--


    _The Expected Texas Invasion_: The Bloody Twentieth, Galveston,
    Tex., March 22, 1865. (Alsb.)

  “What right have the Northmen our homes to invade--
  Could the scions of freemen admit?”--


    _Fable or History_: (Victor Hugo) by Tenella. [Mrs. M. B.
    Clarke of N. C.] (S. L. M.)

  “A hungry Ape one summer’s day
  Did idly through a forest stray,”--


    _The Fair and the Brave_: Flag Presentation to the “Jackson
    Hornets” by Eleven Young Ladies at Bellefonte, Ala. Written
    by a Tennessee poetess. (P. &. P. B. from the Charleston
    _Mercury_.)

  “First to rise against oppression
  In this glorious Southern band;”--


    _The Faith of The South_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “God is the weak man’s arm,
  We cannot feel despair;”--


    _The Fall of Sumter, April, 1861_: By A. L. D. of Raleigh, N.
    C. (E. V. M.)

  “’Twas in the early morning, all Charleston lay asleep,
  While yet the purple darkness was resting on the deep.”--


    _Farewell_: By F. B., Clinton, June 3, 1863. (W. F.)

  “Farewell! Stern duty calls me fast
      ’Gainst the foe,”--


    _Farewell, Forever, the Star Spangled Banner_: By Mrs. E. D.
    Hundley, May 14, 1862. (C. S. B.)

  “Let tyrants and slaves submissively tremble,
  And bow down their necks ’neath the ‘Juggernaut’ car,”--


    _Farewell to Brother Johnathan_: By Caroline. (R. R.)

  “Farewell! we must part: we have turned from the land.”--


    _Farewell to Johnson’s Island_: By Major George McKnight (Asa
    Hartz). (Sunny.)

  “I leave thy shore, O hated Isle,
    Where misery marked my days;”--


    _A Farewell to Pope_: By John R. Thompson, of Virginia. (W. G.
    S.)

  “‘Hats off’ in the crowd, ‘Present arms’ in the line,
  Let the standards all bow, and the sabres incline”--


    _Fast and Pray_: “I appoint Friday, Nov. 15th, a day of general
    fasting and prayer,” Jefferson Davis. (Bohemian.)

  “Soldier, on the whitened field,
  Resting on thy burnished shield,”--


    _Fast Day, Nov. 1861_: By Miss R. Powell of Virginia. (E. V. M.)

  “Hark to the silvery chiming
    That stirs the quiet air,”--


    _The Fate of the Republic_: (W. G. S. from the Charleston
    _Mercury_.)

  “Thus, the grand fabric of a thousand years--
    Reared with such art and wisdom by a race,”--


    _The Federal Vandals_: Micah iv, 13: by Senex. (Note by author:
    The writer has taken the liberty to vary and to apply to our
    Northern foes part of an original poem in MSS. written by
    himself.) (R. R. and under the title of _It is I!_ R. B. B.)

  “They come, they come,--a motley crew
      For rapine, rape and plunder met;”--


    _The Federal Vendue_: Abraham Auctionarius Loquitur. (R. B. B.
    27).

  “And going--going! Step up, friends,
  I’ve lots of lumber here to sell”--


    _Few Days_: (Alsb.)

  “Our country now is great and free, few days, few days;
  And thus shall it ever be, we know the way;”--


    _Fiat Justitia_: Dedicated to the Maryland Prisoners at Fort
    Warren: by a Lady of Baltimore, H. Rebel. (E. V. M., under
    title of _God Will Repay_ R. B. B.)

  “There is no day however darkly clouded
      But hath a brighter sun,”--


    _Field of Glory_: By J. H. Hewitt.

  “When upon the field of glory
      ’Mid the battle cry”--


    _The Field of Williamsburg_: To Eugene: by C. C. (S. L. M.,
    Aug. ’63.)

  “Back to the field, whence yestere’en
  The Vandal Horde were flying seen,”--


    _The Fiend Unbound_: (W. G. S. from the Charleston _Mercury_.)

  “No more with glad and happy cheer
    And smiling face, doth Christmas come”--


    _Fight On! Fight Ever!_ By Dr. D. M. Norfolk City Jail, Sept.
    7, 1863. (C. C.)

  “Still wave the stars and bars
    O’er Sumter’s battered walls;”--


    _The Fire of Freedom_: (W. G. S.)

  “The holy fire that nerved the Greek
    To make his stand at Marathon.”--


    _First Love_: By Colonel Wm. S. Hawkins. Johnson’s Island,
    Ohio, Jan., 1865. (Sunny.)

  “In the blithesome days of boyhood,
      In the unforgotten past;”--


    _Fishing in Troubled Waters_: (R. B. B. 87.)

    “In a dingy room of a mansion old, a solemn ‘council’ met.
  To discuss the many dangers, with which they were beset.”--


    _The Flag_: (R. B. B. 77.)

  “The Stars and Stripes! is that the flag the Northern army waves,
  To make ignoble races free and noble nations slaves?”--


    _The Flag of Secession_: Air, “The Star Spangled Banner:” [by
    Frederick Pinkney?] (R. B. B. 27.)

  “Oh say can’t you see by the dawn’s early light
  What you yesterday held to be vaunting and dreaming,”--


    _Flag of Our Country_: By a Lady of Winchester. (Broadside in
    possession of Editor.)

  “Flag of our country, we’re weeping for thee,
  Dimm’d are the stars round the Palmetto tree”--


    _Flag of the Free Eleven_: (Randolph.)

  “Over land and sea let it kiss the breeze,
    For the smile of approving Heaven”--


    _The Flag of the Lone Star_: By Tenella. [Mrs. M. B. Clarke of
    N. C.] (E. V. M.)

  “Hurrah for the Lone Star!
      Up, up to the mast,”--


    _The Flag of the South_: For the _Evening Star_: suggested by
    the raising of the flag in Kansas City: by Charles P. Lenox.
    (R. B. B. 26½.)

  “Let the flag of the South be thrown to the breeze,
    Over land, over sea, let her float at her ease.”--


    _Flag of the South_: For the _Evening Star_: by J. H.,
    Baltimore, Md. (R. B. B. 26½.)

  “Oh flag of the South, in the hues of thy splendor
        The emblems of right and of triumph we see.”--


    _Flag of the Southland_: Air, “I’m Afloat:” by Major E. W.
    Cave, of Houston: (Alsb.)

  “Flag of the Southland! Flag of the free!
  Ere thy sons will be slaves they will perish with thee!”--


    _Flag of Truce_: By Jay W. Bee, P. A. C. S., 2nd Kentucky
    Cavalry, Morgan’s Command. Johnson’s Island, Ohio, July, 1864.
    (W. L.)

  “Thou beautiful emblem of Peace--
      White sail upon war’s bloody seas.”--


    _Flight of Doodles_: (R. R.)

  “I come from old Manassas, with a pocket full of fun--
    I killed forty Yankees with a single-barrelled gun”--


    _The Foe at the Gates_: Charleston: by John Dickson Bruns, M.
    D. (W. G. S.)

  “Ring round her! children of her glorious skies
  Whom she hath nursed to stature proud and great,”--


    _Fold It Up Carefully_: A reply to the lines entitled “The
    Conquered Banner:” by Sir Henry Houghton, Bart. of England,
    Oct., 1865. (The following, written in England, comes to us
    from a friend in Virginia, who says it was sent by the author
    to a gentleman in that state, and that it has not yet appeared
    in print.) (E. V. M.)

  “Gallant nation, foiled by numbers,
      Say not that your hopes are fled;”--


    _Follow! Boys, Follow!_ By Millie Mayfield. (R. R.)

  “Follow, brave boys, follow!
      ’Tis the roll-call of the drum,”--


    _For Bales_: Air, “Johnny Fill up the Bowl.” (Fag.)

  “We all went down to New Orleans,
      For Bales, for Bales;”--


    _For Punch_: (Bohemian from the _Southern Literary Messenger_.)

  “For fifty years the world has rung
    With nothing strange or new, sir,”--


    _Forget? Never!_ By Mrs. C. A. Ball. (E. V. M.)

  “Can the mother forget the child of her love,
  Who was in her tenderest heartstrings woven,”--


    _Fort Donelson Falls_: Written in great agony, 3 p. m., Feb.
    17, [1862?]: by Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “Demons, hark! those cannon booming;
      Death howls over liberty,”--


    _Fort Donelson: The Siege_: Feb., 1862: by Mrs. C. A. Warfield.
    (E. V. M.)

  “I cannot look on the sunshine
      That breaks thro’ the clouds today”--


    _Fort Moultrie_: For the _Courier_: by Carolina. Jan., 1861.
    (R. N. S.)

  “Long the pride of Carolina,
  Cherished in our ‘heart of hearts,’”--


    _Forts Morris and Moultrie_: (Bohemian.)

  “Hark, the wind-storm how it rushes!
      List! methinks I hear the strain”--


    _Fort Sumter_: (R. R. from the Charleston _Mercury_.)

  “It was a noble Roman
  In Rome’s imperial day,”--


    _Fort Sumter_: By H. (Bohemian from the New Orleans _Delta_.)

  “Ask the Fort--let Peace prevail,
      Claim the Fort--but yet forbear”--


    _Fort Sumter_: [By C. B. Northrup.] (Outcast.)

  “Up through the water, towering high,”--


    _Fort Sumter_: A Southern Song. Air, “Dearest May:” by Dr.
    Barnstable, B. C. H. G. (R. B. B. 26.)

  “Come now and gather round me,
      A story I’ll relate,”--


    _Fort Wagner_: By W. Gilmore Simms. (W. G. S. from the
    Charleston Mercury.)

  “Glory unto the gallant boys who stood
  At Wagner, and unflinching, sought the van,”--


    _The 47th Va. Regiment_: At the Battle of Frazier’s Farm, June
    30, 1862: by S. D. D. (S. L. M., March, 1863.)

  “Virginians! let the foe now feel
      What vengeance ours may be;”--


    _The Four Brothers_: By Lieutenant E. C. McCarthy. (Sunny.)

  “In sadness, in sorrow, a soldier wept,
      O’er the form so cold and chill,”--


    _A Fragment_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “Why needst thou go away from me, my love?
  Thou wilt not fight for home or lands, but wilt,”--


    _A Fragment, Cabinet Council_: From the Charleston _Mercury_.
    (P. & P. B.)

  “Give me another Scotch cap; wrap me in a military cloak,
    Have mercy, Jeff. Davis! Soft--I did but dream!”--


    _Freedom’s Call_: Air, “God Save the South.” Baltimore, June 1,
    1862. (R. B. B. 28.)

  “Southrons, to arms!
  Justice with flaming sword,”--


    _Freedom’s Muster Drum_: By John H. Hewitt. (Lee.)

  “When Freedom from her dazzling home
    Looked down upon the breathing world,”--


    _Freedom’s New Banner_: By Dan E. Townsend. June 30, 1862.
    (Fag. from the Richmond _Dispatch_.)

  “When clouds of apprehension o’ershaded
      The banner that Liberty bore,”--


    _From the Rapidan, 1864_: (W. G. S.)

  “A low wind in the pines!
  And a dull pain in the breast!”--


    _From the South to the North_: By C. L. S. (R. R.)

  “There is no union when the hearts
      That once were bound together,”--


    _The Frontier Ranger_: By M. B. Smith, 2nd Texas. (Alsb.)

  “Come list to a Ranger, you kind-hearted stranger.
  A song, tho’ a sad one, you are welcome to hear,”--


    _The Funeral Dirge of Stonewall Jackson_: By Rosa Vertner
    Jeffrey, May 20, 1863. (E. V. M.)

  “Muffled drum and solemn bugle,
    Sound a dirge as on ye move,”--


    _Funeral of Albert Sidney Johnston_: (Fag.)

  “He fell, and they cried, bring us home our dead!
    We’ll bury him here where the prairies spread,”--


    _The Gallant Colonel_: (R. B. B. 32.)

  “There lived a man in Brooklin town
          An Abolition teacher”--


    _Gallant Second Texans_: Air, “Maid of Monterey:” by M. B.
    Smith, Company C., 2nd Texas: (Alsb.)

  “The gallant Second Texans are men that we hold dear,
  Thro’ out our loved Confederacy their praises you will hear,”--


    _Gather! Gather!_ By Robert Joselyn. (Bohemian.)

  “Gather around your country’s flag,
    Men of the South! the hour has come,”--


    _The Gathering of the Southern Volunteers_: Air, “La
    Marseillaise.” (S. L. M., June, 1861.)

  “Sons of the South! behold the morning
      God-like ascends his golden car,”--


    _Gay and Happy_: Camp Song of the Maryland Line as Sung by the
    Baltimore Boys in Richmond. Air, “Gay and Happy.” (C. S. B.)

  “We’re the boys so gay and happy
      Wheresoe’er we chance to be”--


    _Gendron Palmer, of the Holcombe Legion_: By Ina M. Porter of
    Alabama. (W. G. S.)

  “He sleeps upon Virginia’s strand
      While comrades of the Legion stand,”--


    _General Albert Sidney Johnston_: By Mary Jervey, of
    Charleston. (W. G. S.)

  “In the thickest fight triumphantly he fell
      While into Victory’s arms he led us on;”--


    _General Beauregard_: (R. B. B. 9.)

  “When war clouds gathered about our land
  And out of the North came a hostile band,”--


    _General Butler_: Air, “Yankee Doodle.” (R. B. B. 12.)

  “Butler and I went out from camp
      At Bethel to make battle,”--


    _General Hood’s Last Charge_: By Mary Hunt McCaleb. (Im.)

  “The twilight of death is beginning to fall.
  Death’s shadows are creeping high upon the wall,”--


    _A General Invitation_: By I. R. (S. S.)

  “Come! leave the noisy Longstreet,
    Fly to the Fields with me;”--


    _General Jackson in the Valley of the Shenandoah_: Air, “Dandy
    Jim:” by Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “The clouds were heavy o’er our land,
  And darkest o’er the brave true band”--


    _General J. E. B. Stuart_: By John R. Thompson. (E. V. M.)

  “We could not pause, while yet the noontide air
  Shook with the cannonade’s incessant pealing,”--


    _General Jeff Davis_: Air, “Kelvin Grove:” (West. Res.)

  “Who is this with noble mien
  Southern hearties, O!”--


    _General John B. Floyd_: By Eulalie. Woodlawn, Va., April,
    1866. (E. V. M.)

  “The noble hero calmly sleeps
      Unheeding all life’s surging woes,”--


    _General Johnston_: Air, “American Star.” (R. B. B. 50.)

  “Behold the brave son of the Good ‘Old Dominion’
  The Yankees for niggers, but Johnston for me”--


    _General Lee_: Air, “Oh, Carry Me Back to Old Virginny.” (R. B.
    B. 60.)

  “There is a man in Old Virginny
  His name is General Lee,”--


    _General Lee_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “I’ve tried to write of General Lee,
  But always stop, to bend my knee”--


    _General Lee At the Battle of the Wilderness_: By Tenella.
    [Mrs. M. B. Clarke of N. C.] (E. V. M.)

  “There he stood, the grand old hero, great Virginia’s god-like son
  Second unto none in glory: equal to her Washington.”--


    _General Price’s Appeal_: (Alsb.)

  “Come from the Western fountains,
    Come from the plains so wild and rough,”--


    _General Robert E. Lee_: By Tenella: [Mrs. R. B. Clark of N.
    C.] (E. V. M.)

  “As went the knight with sword and shield
  To tourney or to battle field,”--


    _General Tom Green_: By Mrs. Wm. Barnes, of Galveston. (Alsb.)

  “A warrior has fallen! a chieftain has gone!
    A hero of heroes has sunk to his rest!”--


    _Georgia, My Georgia!_: By Carrie B. Sinclair. (W. G. S.)

  “Hark! ’tis the cannon’s deafening roar,
  That sounds along thy sunny shore,”--


    _A Georgia Volunteer_: Written by Mrs. Townshend at the
    neglected grave of one who was a member of the 12th Georgia, a
    regiment whose gallantry was conspicuous on every field where
    its colors waved, and which won praise for peculiar daring,
    even among the ‘foot-cavalry’ of Jackson: by Xariffa. (C. C.)

  “Far up the lonely mountain-side
      My wandering footsteps led;”--


    _Gettysburg_: By Edward L. Walker, M. D., of North Carolina.
    (Amaranth.)

  “From the hills of the West to the shores of the sea,
  From the yellow Roanoke to the distant Pedee,”--


    _The Girl I Left Behind Me_: (Alsb.)

  “I’m lonesome since I crossed the hills and o’er the moor that’s sedgy
  With heavy thoughts my mind is filled, since parted I with Peggy.”--


    _The Girls of the Monumental City_: Written by a Confederate
    Prisoner. Baltimore, Md., March, 1862. (S. B. P.)

  “Daughters of the sunny South
    Where Freedom loves to dwell,”--


    _Give Them Bread!_ By G. L. R. (E. V. M.)

  “Have you heard the calls for succor,
    Cries of hunger that have come,”--


    _Give Up!_ By Colonel B. H. Jones. Johnson’s Island, 1865.
    (Sunny.)

  “Give up and plead, ’twas the fiat of fate
      That the blood which now reddens your veins,”--


    _Glen Roy: Sonnet_: By F. B. Gloucester Co., Va., Sept. 1861.
    (W. F.)

  “It is a curious world, this world of ours,
  Time but creates in order to destroy,”--


    _Glorious January 1, 1863_: Air, “Oaks of James Davis:” by M.
    B. Smith, Company C, 2nd Regiment Texas Volunteers. (Alsb.)

  “Come, all ye brave Texians, come join in my song
  Let joy and thanksgiving and praises abound,”--


    _God and Our Rights_: (Randolph.)

  “God and our Right, from every glen,
  Come marching ranks of fearless men,”--


    _God Be Our Trust_: Air, “Heaven Is Our Home: let not our
    courage fail.” (R. B. B. 37.)

  “God save our Southern land, God be our trust,
  Storms rage on every hand, God be our trust,”--


    _God Bless Our Land_: Anthem of the Confederate States: by E.
    Young, Lexington, Ga. (Bohemian from the _Southern Field and
    Fireside_.)

  “Oh God! our only King,
    To Thee our hearts we bring;”--


    _God Bless Our President_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “God bless our President,
      The hope of the Free!”--


    _God Bless Our Southern Land_: Air, “God Save the Queen.”
    Respectfully inscribed to Major General J. B. Magruder, and
    sung on the occasion of his public reception in the city of
    Houston, Texas, Jan. 20, 1863. (C. S. B.)

  “God bless our Southern land,
  God save our sea-girt land,”--


    _God Bless the South_: Air, “God Speed the Right.” (R. B. B.
    32.)

  “Now to heaven one prayer ascending,
    God bless the South”--


    _God Help Kentucky_: An Anthem: (R. B. B. 52.)

  “Lord from Thy heavenly throne
    Thy holy will be done;”--


    _God Save the South_: (R. R.)

  “God bless our Southern land!
    Guard our beloved land!”--


    _God Save the South_: By R. S. Agnew of Newfern. December,
    1861. (E. V. M.)

  “Wake every minstrel’s strain,
    Ring o’er each Southern plain,”--


    _God Save the South_: National Hymn: By George H. Miles of
    Frederick, Md.: music by C. W. A. Ellerbock, permission of
    A. E. Blackmar. [Note: This was the first song published in
    the South during the War.] S. L. M., Oct., 1863, from the
    Charleston _Mercury_. (C. S. B.)

  “God save the South,
    Her altars and firesides”--


    _God Save the Southern Land_: A Hymn. By S. Francis Cameron, of
    Md.: (Amaranth.)

  “Oh, let the cry awaken,
  From every hero-band”--


    _Going Home_: By M. L. M. (W. L.)

  “No flaunting banners o’er them wave,
  No arms flash back the sun’s bright ray,”--


    _Gone to the Battlefield_: By John Antrobus, Headquarters Ninth
    Va. Regiment Volunteers. (C. C.)

  “The reaper has left the field,
  The mower has left the plain,”--


    _Goober Peas_: By A. Pender. [One of the most widely known
    Confederate songs.] (Im.)

  “Sitting by the roadside, on a summer day,
  Chatting with my messmates, passing time away;”--


    _Good News From Dixie_: (R. B. B. 34.)

  “How the South’s great heart rejoices
  At your cannon’s ringing voices,”--


    _The Good Old Cause_: By John D. Phelan, of Montgomery, Ala.
    (W. G. S.)

  “Huzza! Huzza! for the ‘Good Old Cause,’
  ’Tis a stirring sound to hear,”--


    _Governor Hicks_: Air, “Money Musk.” (R. B. B. 65.)

  “Mister Hicks, full of tricks,
    Now prying, next time trying,”--


    _Grant’s Litany Changed to Suit My Feelings_: Air, “Spanish
    Hymn” by Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “Saviour, when in dust to Thee,
  Low we bow adoring knee,”--


    _Grave of A. Sidney Johnston_: By J. B. Synnott. (W. G. S.)

  “The Lone Star State secretes the clay
    Of him who led on Shiloh’s field,”--


    _The Grave of Ashby_: By Old Fogy. (Amaranth.)

  “Rest, soldier, rest! thy sword hath won
    A fadeless wreath of glory:”--


    _Grave of Washington_: (Cav.)

  “Disturb not his slumbers, let Washington sleep
  ’Neath the boughs of the willow that over him weep,”--


    _Graves for the Invaders_: A Fragment. Savannah, Ga., 1863. (R.
    B. B. 35.)

  “Graves for the invaders--graves
      Scoop’d from the reeking sod”--


    _Graves of Our Home-Heroes_: By Cornelia J. M. Jordan. March
    31, 1865. (Corinth).

        “Behold! they sleep,
  Our own defenders bold, who lately stood”--


    _Great Big Bethel Fight: Awful Calamity!_ Air, “Dixie.” (R. B.
    B. 35.)

  “I’ll tell you of a tale that lately befell
  And the place where it happened was big Bethel,”--


    _Great Cry and Little Wool_ or the leading Republicans
    described in verse: By Barnstable. Baltimore, July 2, 1861. (R.
    B. B. 34½.)

  “O dearest Muse, thy help I ask,
  Though mine is but a scurvy task”--


    _The Great Fast Day in the South_: June 13th: by B. Orange
    county. (S. L. M. August, ’61.)

  “From yonder high embattled grounds
    Where Harper’s Ferry stands,”--


    _Greek Fire: or, The Siege of Charleston_: By Eustanzia. New
    Orleans, Oct., 1863. (Wash’n 78.)

  “Hark! the battle! hark! the battle!
  Hark! the deadly cannons’ rattle”--


    _Greeting for Victory_: For the _Courier_: by C. G. P.
    Charleston, April 17, 1861. (R. N. S.)

  “Carolinians, ye have answered
    To our Mother’s thrilling call,”--


    _The Griffin_: (Alsb.)

  “’Tis said the Griffins of olden time
  Were strange and monstrous creatures,”--


    _Guerrilla_: Verses circulated among the scouting parties of
    rebel partisan horse in the Shenandoah Valley, in the summer of
    1864. (E. V. M. ’69 from the New York _Round Table_.)

  “Who hither rides so hard? A Scout--
  Just after the midnight he stole out,”--


    _The Guerrilla Martyrs_: (W. G. S. from the Charleston
    _Mercury_.)

  “Aye, to the doom--the scaffold and the chain,
  To all your cruel tortures, bear them on,”--


    _The Guerrillas_: [It may add something to the interest with
    which these stirring lines are read, to know that they were
    composed within the walls of a Yankee Bastile. They reached us
    in Mss. through the courtesy of a returned prisoner.--Richmond
    _Examiner_.] By S. Teackle Wallis. Fort Lafayette, 1862. S. L.
    M., July and Aug., 1862, dated Fort Warren Dungeon, 1862. (S.
    S.)

  “Awake and to horses! my brothers,
    For the dawn is glimmering gray,”--


    _Ha! Ha! The Fighting, Ha!_ Air, “Ha! Ha! the wooing, ha!” by
    Kentucky: sung after the battle of Richmond, Ky. (S. O. S.)

  “Kirby Smith came here to fight!
      Ha! ha! the fighting! ha!”--


    _Happy Land of Canaan_: (J. M. S.)

  “I sing you a song, and it won’t detain me long
  All about the times we are gaining;”--


    _Happy Land of Canaan_: A Texas Song. (Randolph.)

    “Oh, the Bayou City Guards, they will never ask for odds
  When the Yankees in a close place get them, ha! ha!”--


    _Hardee’s Defense of Savannah_: A Southern Ballad of the War.
    (R. B. B. 40.)

  “Have you heard of the brave Hardee
  The famous General Hardee?”--


    _Hard Times_: By M. B. Smith, Company C, 2nd Regiment, Texas
    Volunteers. August 13, 1862. (Alsb.)

  “Just listen awhile and give ear to my song
  Concerning this war, which will not take me long;”--


    _Hark! The Summons_: By B. Baltimore, Oct. 9, 1861. (R. B. B.
    41.)

  “Hark! in the South the thundering drum,
    The gathering myriads ceaseless hum”--


    _Hark! Hark! The War Bugle_: Air, “Hark! Hark! the Soft Bugle:”
    (Randolph.)

  “Hark! hark! the war bugle, the fife and the drum,
  Wake the hearts of the noble and brave:”--


    _Harp of the South_: A Sonnet: by Cora. (R. R.)

  “Harp of the South, awake! a loftier strain
  Than ever yet thy tuneful strings has stirred,”--


    _Harp of the South, Awake!_ A Southern war song dedicated to
    Captain Bradley T. Johnson, now in service in Virginia: by J.
    M. Kilgour, Frederick, Md., April 10, 1861. Music by C. L.
    Peticolas: published by George Dunn, Richmond, Va., 1863. S. L.
    M. Editor’s Table, June, 1861. (R. B. M.)

  “Harp of the South awake
    From every golden wire,”--


    _Headquarters in the Saddle_: (Mr. Samuel’s Scrapbook, Ridgway.)

  “Pope his ‘headquarters in the saddle’ places
      Where other mortals their hindquarters plant, sir:”--


    _Hearing Cannon_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “I feel as though in my own coffin laid,
  Listening to the last office that is paid,”--


    _The Heart of Louisiana_: By Harriet Stanton. (R. R. from the
    New Orleans _Delta_.)

  “Oh let me weep while o’er our land
    Vile discord strides, with sullen brow,”--


    _Heart Victories_: By a Soldier’s Wife. Front Royal, Virginia,
    Oct. 30, 1861. S. L. M., Editor’s Table, Jan., 1862. (E. V. M.)

  “There’s not a stately hall,
    There’s not a cottage fair,”--


    _He’ll See It When He Wakes_: By Frank Lee. (Im.)

  “Amid the clouds of battle smoke
    The sun had died away,”--


    _Here and There, A Contrast_: (E. V. M. from The _Sunny South_.)

  “There’s clashing of arms in the Sunny South,
      There’s hurrying to and fro,”--


    _Here’s Your Mule_: (Alsb.)

  “A farmer came to camp one day, with milk and eggs to sell,
  Upon a mule who oft would stray to where no one could tell,”--


    _A Hero’s Daughter_: (M. C. L.) by Mrs. M. J. Preston.
    (Beechenbrook.)

  “She boasts no Amazonian charms,
    Minerva’s helmet never crowned her.”--


    _The Hero’s Dream_: Brigadier General J. H. Morgan at
    Larmenesburg: by Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “Weary from his long toil
    To free his native land,”--


    _The Hero Without A Name_: By Colonel W. S. Hawkins, C. S. A.,
    Prisoner of War, Camp Chase, Oct., 1864. (E. V. M., also S. S.
    No. 7.)

  “I loved when a child, to seek the page
  Where war’s proud tales are grandly told,”--


    _Hicksie_: (Parody on “Dixie”.) (R. B. B. 66.)

  “Ets a mighty bad way dey’s got ole Hicks in
    Case things won’t stay de how he’s fixin”--


    _His Last Words_: (W. G. S.)

  “Come let us cross the river and rest beneath the trees,
  And list the merry leaflets at sport with every breeze;”--


    _Holly and Cypress_: By Mrs. Fanny Downing. (Amaranth.)

  “Merry old Christmas has come again,
  With plenty of pleasure,--naught of pain;”--


    _Home_: Dedicated to a Young Woman of Petersburg, Va. Composed
    by a Confederate Soldier, July 26, 1864. (C. C.)

  “What is the sound of sweetness that thrills the wondrous breast
  And brings with magic fleetness fond thoughts of peace and rest?”--


    _Home--After the War_: By M. E. H. Baltimore. (E. V. M.)

  “In the grassy lane as the sun went down,
  He slackened his fevered and weary feet,”--


    _Home Again!_ By Lieutenant Howard. (Sunny.)

  “Home again! Home again!
      From Lake Erie’s shore;”--


    _Home Again_: Written in Prison by Jeff. Thompson: (E. V. M.)

  “My dear wife awaits my coming,
    My children lisp my name,”--


    _Homespun_: (Bohemian.)

  “The air is balmy with the breath
      Of the early coming Spring,”--


    _The Homespun Dress_: Air, “Bonnie Blue Flag:” by Carrie Bell
    Sinclair. (C. S. B.)

  “Oh, yes I am a Southern girl
      And glory in the name,”--


    _Hood’s Old Brigade “On the March:”_ By Miss Mollie E. Moore.
    (Alsb.)

  “’Twas midnight when we built our fires--
  We marched at half-past three!”--


    _Hood’s Texas Brigade_: (Alsb.)

  “Down by the valley ’mid thunder and lightning,
  Down by the valley ’mid shadows of night,”--


    _Horse-Marines at Galveston_: Air, “The Barring of the Door.”
    (Alsb.)

  “It was on a New Year’s morn so soon,
      Before the break of day, O,”--


    _The Hour Before Execution_: By Miss Maria E. Jones. (Alsb.)

  “Hark! the clock strikes! All, all that now remains
  Is one short hour of this fast fleeting life,”--


    _How McClellan Took Manassas_: By Ole Napoleon. (West. Res.)

  “Heard ye how the bold McClellan,
  (He, the wether with the bell on,)”--


    _How the Soldiers Talk_: By Joseph Scrutchen, of Atlanta, Ga.
    (Im.)

  “We have heard the Yankees yell,
      We have heard the Rebels shout,”--


    _Hurrah!_ The first camp song: by S. B. K. of Mississippi.
    Invincibles, Mobile, March 31, 1861. (R. N. S. from the Mobile
    Register.)

  “Hurrah for the Southern Confederate States!
      With her banner of white, red and blue;”--


    _Hurrah for Jeff Davis_: Air, “Gum Tree Canoe.” (R. B. B. 22.)

  “Our country now calls, we’re up and away
      To meet the vile Yankee in battle array”--


    _Hurrah for Jeff Davis_: Air, “Hurrah for the Bonnets of Blue:”
    by a Lady Rebel. (R. B. B.)

  “Hurrah for Jeff Davis, hurrah
      And hurrah for brave Beauregard, too:”--


    _Hurrah for the Red and White_: a Prophecy for 1865: Air, “Oh,
    whistle and I’ll come to you, my lad:” by Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “Hurrah for the Red and White, boys, hurrah!
      Kentucky has leaped, boys, right into the war.”--


    _Hurrah for the South! Hurrah!_: Paraphrased by G. W. Hopkins.
    (Wash’n 86.)

  “Hurrah for the South, ’tis joy to see,
      Far in the misty dawn,”--


    _Hurrah, My Brave Boys_: (Randolph.)

  “Come, Southrons, and bare to the glorious strife,
      Your hearts without heaving a sigh;”--


    _Hurrying On_: Written in New Orleans, Oct. 23, 1861. (C. C.
    from the Charleston Mercury, also R. B. B. No. 3.)

  “Hurrying on the midst of excitement
        Pushing extravagant projects through”--


    _Hymn for the South_: To the Lone Star of Carolina: by Preston
    Davis Sill. Music composed by Mr. A. Koepper, to be published
    as soon as circumstances permit: Columbia, S. C. (R. N. S.)

  “Tho’ lone, how fair, how bright
    Thou shimmer’dst first, O Star!”--


    _Hymn to the Dawn_: By A. J. Requier. (Amaranth.)

  “From an ominous rift in the pitiless sky
        That has darkened our desolate land,”--


    _Hymn to the National Flag_: By Mrs. M. J. Preston. (E. V. M.)

  “Float aloft, thou stainless banner,
    Azure cross and field of light,”--


    _I Am Coming, Ella_: By Adjutant John N. Shuerter. (Sunny.)

  “I am coming, Ella, coming,
    Though the moment still be far:”--


    _I Am Sick, Don’t Draft Me, I Have Got a Doctor’s Certificate_:
    Air, “The Girl I Left Behind Me.” (West. Res.)

  “Of the Danger of exposure to a draft, we often read,
  That it generates disorders which are very bad, indeed:”--


    _I Am Not Sick, I Am Over Forty-Five, I Will Make My Wife Stay
    At Home And Give the Baby Catnip Tea_: Air, “I Wish My Wife Had
    No Crying Baby.” (West. Res.)

  “I’m exempt, I’m exempt, I vow and desire,
  I’m exempt, I’m exempt, from the draft I will swear,”--


    _The Icy Road to Niblet’s Bluff_: Air, “Shiloh Hill:” by J. C.
    H., Company H, 4th Texas Cavalry. (Alsb.)

  “Come, all you valiant Home Guard, a story I will tell,
    ’Tis of a noted journey we all remember well;”--


    _If a Soldier Meet a Soldier_: Air, “Coming Through the Rye:”
    by General M. Jeff. Thompson. (Sunny.)

  “If a soldier meets a soldier, ’mid the battle’s din,
  And the soldier kills the soldier,--surely ’tis no sin;”--


    _If You Belong to Dixie’s Land_: Air, “Gideon’s Band.” (R. B.
    B. 42.)

  “To bring you this good news I’ve come
  You’ll always find yourself at home,”--


    _If You Love Me_: By J. Augustine Signaigo. (W. G. S.)

  “You have told me that you love me,
  That you worship at my shrine,”--


    _Ignivomus Cotton’s Letters to His Relatives in Kentucky_: III,
    He Glorifieth Cotton. For the Louisville _Journal_. Charleston,
    S. C., Jan. 1862. (R. N. S.)

  “Dear Uncle: I’m certain you never have thought on
  The omnipotent greatness and glory of cotton:”--


    _I’m Conscripted, Smith, Conscripted_: By Albert Roberts of
    Nashville, Tenn. (Hubner.)

  “I’m conscripted, Smith, conscripted!
    Ebb the subterfuges fast”--


    _I’m Going Home to Dixie_: (Alsb.)

  “There is a land where cotton grows,
  A land where milk and honey flows”--


    _Imogen_: By Major General J. B. Magruder. (C. S. B.)

  “Awake, dearest, awake! ’tis thy lover who calls, Imogen;
  List! dearest! list! the dew gently falls, Imogen;”--


    _Impromptu_: By Dr. Barnstable, B. C. H. G. (R. B. B. 42.)

  “The South, the South, the glorious South,
  Now calls forth all her men,”--


    _I’m Thinking of the Soldier_: By Mary E. Smith, of Austin.
    (Alsb.)

  “O, I’m thinking of the soldier as the evening shadows fall,
  As the twilight fairy sketches her sad pictures on the wall;”--


    _Independence Day_: (E. V. M.)

  “Oh! Freedom is a blessed thing!
  And men have marched in stricken fields,”--


    _Independence Hymn_: By A. J. Requier. (Bohemian.)

  “True sons of the South, from whose militant sires
    The still-crested charter of Liberty sprung,”--


    _In Divina Catena_: (E. V. M. ’69.)

  “Chain the eagle and veil his eyes!
      Torture him dumb and dim!”--


    _In Death United_: By G. A. M. Richmond, Va., 1861. (S. L. M.,
    Jan. ’62.)

  “Surely in life’s final moments
      Ere the spirit takes its flight,”--


    _Information Wanted_: Of my son ----. He was known to be
    engaged in last ----s fight and cannot now be found. Was a
    private in Company --, ---- Regiment, ---- Volunteers. Any
    tidings of him will be gratefully received by his anxious
    father at ---- House. (E. V. M.)

  “Oh! stranger, can you tell me where,
    Where is my boy--my brave bright boy!”--


    _In His Blanket on the Ground_: By Caroline Howard Gervais, of
    Charleston. (Bohemian.)

  “Weary, weary lies the soldier
      In his blanket on the ground,”--


    _In Hollywood--A Slumber Song_: By Gillie Cary. (C. S. B.)

  “O ye starry night skies
  With your thousand bright eyes,”--


    _In Memoriam Aeternam--My Brother_: By Colonel B. H. Jones.
    Johnson’s Island, July 8th, 1865. (Sunny.)

  “When first the clarion blast of civil war
  Broke on the stillness of the mountain height;”--


    _In Memoriam of Colonel Benjamin F. Terry_: Inscribed to
    General William J. Kyle: by W. M. Gilleland. Austin, Jan. 4,
    1862. (Alsb.)

  “The war steed is champing his bit with disdain,
    And wild is the flash of his eye,”--


    _In Memoriam, Our Right Reverend Father in God, Leonidas Polk_:
    by Fanny Downing. (Amaranth.)

  “Peace, troubled soul! The strife is done,
  This life’s fierce conflicts and its woes are ended;”--


    _In Memory of Ashby_: By Iris. (S. L. M., Nov. and Dec., ’63.)

  “Weep, women of the Valley--weep, Virginia women, weep,
  Ho! warriors of the Southland, let not your vengeance sleep.”--


    _In Memory of Captain James Earwood_: By Robin Reid.
    Clarksville, Ark. (Im.)

  “In a quiet valley in Arkansas
      You may find that lonely grave,”--


    _Inscribed to the Memory of Captain Courtland Prentice
    (Morgan’s Cavalry)_: By Kentucky. Sept. 27, 1862. (S. O. S.)

  “O noble spirit! not in vain
  Thy long three hours of direst pain!”--


    _In the Dark_: By Isa Craig, of England. (E. V. M. ’69.)

  “He is down! He is struck in the dark
    By command of his own;”--


    _In the Fortress by the Sea_: A fragment by W. E. Cameron. (C.
    C.)

  “Silence, Oh mocking sea
  Hush thy tone, for it angers me;”--


    _In the Land Where We Were Dreaming_: By Daniel B. Lucas, of
    Jefferson County, Va. (C. C.)

  “Fair were our visions! Oh! they were as grand
  As ever floated out of Fancy Land:”--


    _In the Soldiers’ Grave-Yard_: By F. B. Atlanta, Ga., Aug. 21,
    1864. (W. F.)

  “Shoulder to shoulder there they rest.
  In lind of battle forever drest,”--


    _In the Trenches_: By F. B. Buzzard’s Boost, May 10, 1864. (W.
    F.)

  “The rain is pouring with remorseless drops,
      The dampened breezes sigh,”--


    _Invocation_: By Colonel W. S. Hawkins. (Sunny.)

  “Come, thou sweet friend, and cheer awhile
    The brooding gloom of prison walls,”--


    _The Invocation_: By B. W. W. (R. R.)

  “God bless the land of flowers
  And turn its winter hours,”--


    _I Remember the Hour When Sadly We Parted_: (Companion Song to
    _When This Cruel War Is Over_). (Fag.)

  “I remember the hour when sadly we parted,
  The tears on your pale cheeks glist’ning like dew,”--


    _The Irish Battalion_: (R. R.)

  “When old Virginia took the field,
      And wanted men to rally on”--


    _The Irrepressible Conflict_: Sonnet: by Tyrtaeus. (W. G. S.
    from the Charleston _Mercury_.)

  “Then welcome be it, if indeed it be
      The Irrepressible Conflict!”--


    _I Shall Not Die_: By a Prisoner in Solitary Confinement at
    Fort Delaware. (W. L.)

  “I felt the power of intellect,
    I had the power of conscious strength;”--


    _Is There Nobody Hurt_: Air, “Cocachelunk.” (R. B. B. 47.)

  “Hark! the cries of widowed mothers,
  Coming from the Northern states:”--


    _Is There, Then, No Hope for the Nations?_ (W. G. S. From the
    Charleston _Courier_.)

  “Is there, then, no hope for the nations?
    Must the record of time be the same?”--


    _Is This a Time to Dance?_ (W. G. S.)

  “The breath of evening sweeps the plain
  And sheds its perfume in the dell,”--


    _It Matters Little Whether Grief or Glee_: By Kentucky. (S. O.
    S.)

  “It matters little whether grief or glee
  Is life’s, short portion set apart for me:”--


    _The Jacket of Gray--To Those Who Wore It_: By Mrs. C. A. Ball.
    (E. V. M.)

  “Fold it up carefully, lay it aside,
  Tenderly touch it, look on it with pride,”--


    _Jackson_: By H. L. Flash, of Galveston, formerly of Mobile.
    (W. G. S. from the Mobile _Advertiser and Register_.)

  “Not midst the lightning of the storm fight
    Not in the rush upon the vandal foe,”--


    _Jackson_: Sonnet: by Mrs. M. J. Preston. (Beechenbrook.)

  “Thank God for such a hero! Fearless hold
    His diamond character beneath the sun.”--


    _Jackson, The Alexandria Martyr_: By Wm. H. Holcombe, M. D., of
    Virginia. S. L. M., Aug., 1861. (W. G. S.)

  “’Twas not the private insult galled him most
  But public outrage of his country’s flag,”--


    _Jackson’s Fool-Cavalry_: By Hard-Cracker. Camp of the
    “Used-Ups,” Sept. 26, 1862. (C. S. B.)

  “Day after day our way has been
    O’er many a hill and hollow”--


    _Jackson’s Requiem_: Air, “Dearest Mae.” (Md. Hist. B.)

  “That noted burglar, Ellsworth,
      We all remember well,”--


    _Jackson’s Resignation_: By Tenella. [Mrs. M. B. Clarke of N.
    C.] (Fag. from the _Southern Illustrated News_, April, 1863.)

  “Well, we can whip them now, I guess,
    If Jackson has resigned,”--


    _Jeff Davis in the White House_: Air, “Ye Parliaments of
    England:” by a Lady, Daughter of One of the Old Defenders.
    (West. Res.)

  “Ye Northern men in Washington,
      Your administration, too,”--


    _Jefferson Davis_: By Walker Meriweather Bell. (Amaranth.)

  “Calm martyr of a noble cause,
    Upon thy form in vain,”--


    _Jefferson Davis_: By Mollie E. Moore. (E. V. M. from the
    Houston _Telegraph_.)

      “Mercy for a fallen chief!
  The angel, Peace, hath stilled the mighty storm;”--


    _Jefferson Davis_: By Wm. Munford. Dernier Resort, Montgomery
    Co., Va., Jan. 22, 1866. (E. V. M.)

  “For spirit ever quick
    With sword or rhetoric,”--


    _Jefferson Davis_: By A Southern Woman. (E. V. M.)

  “The cell is lonely and the night
    Has filled it with a darker gloom;”--


    _John Bell of Tennessee_: Air, “Auld Lang Syne.” (R. B. B. 13.)

  “There is a man of noble heart
      In Tennessee does dwell,”--


    _John Brown’s Entrance Into Hell_: C. T. A., printer.
    Baltimore, March, 1863. (R. B. B. 10.)

  “And now O! John on earth oppressed,
  You are with us a welcome guest,”--


    _John Bull Turned Quaker_: By M. W. Burwell. (S. L. M. April,
    ’63.)

  “I’m much surprised to hear it, John,
            I am, upon my life,”--


    _John Merryman_: Air, “Old Dan Tucker.” (R. B. B. 64.)

  “John Merryman, the Marylander
    Would not stoop to Lincoln’s pander,”--


    _John Morgan’s Credentials_: (E. V. M.)

  “John Morgan’s credentials--
  The very essentials,”--


    _John Morgan’s Grave_: April 6, 1865. (W. L.)

  “Beneath the sward in old Virginia
      Where the willow sheds its dew,”--


    _John Pegram_: Fell at the head of his Division, Feb. 6, 1865,
    aged 33: by W. Gordon M’Cabe. (E. V. M.)

  “What shall we say now of our gentle knight,
  Or how express the measure of our woe,”--


    _John Pelham_: By James R. Randall. Kelley’s Ford, March 17,
    1863. (E. V. M.)

  “Just as the spring came laughing through the strife,
      With all its gorgeous cheer,”--


    _Johnny B. Magruder_: By a Texian. (Alsb.)

  “Come listen to my lay, of a man who came this way,
  You may never see a bolder, or a ruder;”--


    _Johnson’s Island_: By Lieutenant E. A. Holmes of Va. (Sunny.)

  “Oh, who has not heard of that isle in Lake Erie,
      So guarded today--so unheeded before,”--


    _Joseph Bowers_: (Alsb.)

  “My name it is Joe Bowers; I’ve got a brother Ike,
  I come from old Missouri; yes, all the way from Pike:”--


    _Joy, My Kentucky!_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “Joy, my Kentucky, thy night turns to morning,
  Eager thou risest at Liberty’s dawning;”--


    _Just Before the Battle, Mother_: To “Phoby Stubbs,” A. D.,
    1864. (C. C.)

  “Just before the battle, Mother--
          I was drinking mountain dew”--


    _Justice Is Our Panoply_: By De G. (R. R.)

  “We’re free from Yankee despots,
      We’ve left the foul mud-sills.”--


    _Keep Me Awake, Mother_: Ballad: words by Mrs. Stratton: music
    by Joseph Hart Denck. (R. B. M., 1863.)

  “Forward, oh forward! time stays not his flight.
    I’m older and sadder and wiser tonight;”--


    _Kentuckians, To Arms!_: Louisville, Ky., 1861. (R. B. B. 52.)

  “Kentuckians, arise!
  You have lain too long in a stupor deep;”--


    _Kentucky_: By Estelle. (R. R.)

  “Then, leave us not, Kentucky boys,
    Though thick upon thy border,”--


    _Kentucky, April, 1861_: By Aletheia. (W. L.)

  “It is time for action, not ‘for memory and tears,’
  Then hush this childish wailing and banish craven fears.”--


    _Kentucky, My Mother_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “Kentucky, my mother,
      I lay my heart on thee!”--


    _The Kentucky Partisan_: By Paul H. Hayne. Charleston, March
    29, 1862. S. L. M., April, 1862. (E. V. M.)

  “Hath the wily Swamp Fox
    Come again to earth?”--


    _Kentucky Required to Yield Her Arms_: By ---- Boone. (W. G. S.
    from the Richmond _Dispatch_.)

  “Ho! will the despot trifle
    In dwellings of the free”--


    _Kentucky, She Is Sold_: By J. H. Barrick, of Kentucky. (W. G.
    S.)

  “A tear for ‘the dark and bloody ground,’
    For the land of hills and caves”--


    _Kentucky to the Rescue_: Air, “I’ve Something Sweet to Tell
    You:” by Kentucky. June 7, 1862. (S. O. S.)

  “Kentucky to the rescue,
    For we are needed now;”--


    _Kentucky Woman’s Song of the Shirt_: Air, “The Dumb Wife:” by
    Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “We work for brave and true
  ’Tis but little we can do,”--


    _Kentucky’s Motto_: On Her Seal: by Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “‘United We Stand, Divided We Fall’
  Rally, Corncrackers! Kentucky doth call”--


    _Killed--Wounded--Missing_: (E. V. M. ’69.)

  “’Tis midnight on the battle field
  The dark field of the dead,”--


    _King Cotton_: (S. L. M. Editor’s Table. April ’63.)

  “Yes, Cotton is King, but I oftentimes fear
  The King he resembles is possibly--Lear”--


    _King Cotton_: (R. B. B. 52.)

  “Old Cotton is King, boys, ha! ha!
    With his locks so massive and white;”--


    _King Scare_: New Orleans, Oct. 16, 1861: (R. R.)

  “The monarch that reigns in the warlike North
  Ain’t Lincoln at all, I ween,”--


    _Kiss Me Before I Die, Mother_: (J. M. S.)

  “Kiss me before I die, Mother, oh press thy lips to mine,
  And twine thy loved arms around me, e’er life’s bright day decline,”--


    _The Knell Shall Sound Once More_: (W. G. S., from the
    Charleston _Mercury_.)

  “I know that the knell shall sound once more,
    And the dirge be sung o’er a bloody grave,”--


    _Knitting For the Soldiers_: By Mary J. Upshur. Norfolk, Va.,
    Oct. 8, 1861. (Fag.)

  “Knitting for the soldiers,
    How the needles fly!”--


    _Lady Caroline’s Tea Party_: By Hermine. (Bohemian from New
    Orleans _Catholic Standard_.)

  “Long years ago he wooed her--she was shy of being won--
  Sure upon haughtier maiden ne’er shone the golden sun:”--


    _The Lament_: By a Missourian. (W. L.)

  “Where is the flag that once floated so proudly?
    Where the bright arms that once rang out so loudly?”--


    _Land of King Cotton_: Air, “Red, White and Blue:” by J.
    Augustine Signaigo. This was the favorite song of the Tennessee
    troops, but especially of the 13th and 154th Regiments. (W. G.
    S. from the Memphis _Appeal_, Dec. 18, 1861.)

  “Oh! Dixie the land of King Cotton,
    The home of the brave and the free,”--


    _The Land of Texas_: Air, “Dixie:” by M. B. Smith, Company C.,
    2nd Regiment Texas Volunteers. (Alsb.)

  “Texas is the land for me;
  On a winter morning the wind blows free;”--


    _Land of the South!_ Air, “Happy Land.” (R. B. B. 53.)

  “Land of the South!
  Whate’er my fate in life may be,”--


    _Land of the South_: Air, “Friend of My Soul:” by R. F.
    Leonard. (R. R. from the Mobile _Evening News_.)

  “Land of the South! the fairest land
      Beneath Columbia’s sky!”--


    _Land of Washington_: Air, “Annie Laurie.” (Cav.)

  “Virginia’s sons are valiant,
      Our courage none deny,”--


    _The Last Martial Button_: By a Marylander, a staff officer of
    Stonewall Jackson’s Command. (C. C.)

  “’Tis the last martial button left drooping alone,
  All its honored companions are cut off and gone”--


    _Last Night at Fort Donelson_: Inscribed to Colonel Charles
    Johnson, of General Buckner’s Staff: by Kentucky. March 8,
    1862. (S. O. S.)

  “Night falleth, grieve, on the exhausted men
  Who’ve won three battles in four days:”--


    _The Last of Earth_: A Prison Scene: by Colonel W. S. Hawkins.
    (S. S.)

  “Last night a comrade sent in haste
    For me to soothe his fearful pain,”--


    _Last Race of the Rail-Splitter_: (R. B. B. 54.)

  “When Xerxes and when Cyrus led,
    When Bonaparte and Washington,”--


    _The Last Request_: Lines found on the body of a S. C.
    Volunteer, killed at the Battle of Drainsville, 20 Dec., ’61,
    and sold by the Federal soldier who rifled the dead body to a
    Southern sympathiser. (S. B. P.)

  “Oh! carry me back to my own loved Carolina shore;
  If on the battle field I fall, oh! take me home once more.”--


    _Last Request of Henry C. Magruder_: Louisville, Oct. 20, 1865.
    (E. V. M.)

  “O! wrap me not, when I am dead,
    In the ghastly winding sheet,”--


    _Lays of the Corn Exchange_: Number 1. (West. Res.)

  “Secession triumphant! then each Rebel Imp
  Shall rue it, or I’m not a government pimp.”--


    _The Lay of the Disgusted Yankee_: On Hearing the News from
    Vicksburg. Dedicated to General B. F. Butler: by S. P. E. (Mr.
    Samuel’s Scrapbook, Ridgway.)

  “In these modern days of liberty as by Abe & Co. defined,
  It’s becoming rather dangerous to even have a mind,”--


    _Leave It. Ah, No! The Land Is Ours_: By Mrs. Mary J. Young.
    (Alsb.)

  “Leave it, ah no! the land is our own,
  Though the flag that we loved is now furled!”--


    _Lee_: Sonnet: by A. J. Requier. (S. L. M., Nov. and Dec., ’63.
    Editor’s Table, from the _Magnolia Weekly_.)

  “First of a race of heroes, whom the Fates--
  Wielding the wonders of an Iron age,”--


    _Lee at the Wilderness_: By Miss Mollie E. Moore. (Alsb.)

  “’Twas a terrible moment!
  The blood and the rout!”--


    _Lee to the Rear_: By John R. Thompson. (E. V. M. from the
    _Crescent Monthly_.)

  “Dawn of a pleasant morning in May
  Broke through the Wilderness cool and gray,”--


    _The Legion of Honor_: By H. L. Flash. (W. G. S.)

  “Why are we forever speaking,
      Of the warriors of old,”--


    _Leonidas Polk, Priest and Warrior_: By E. C. McCarthy. (Sunny.)

  “We hear a solemn saddening sound--
      A mournful knell,”--


    _Let Him Be Free_: A. D., 1865. (C. C.)

  “Let him be free--his prison bars
      Are shadows on our fame”--


    _Let Me Kiss Him For His Mother_: By J. P. Ordway. (L. & L.)

  “Let me kiss him for his mother,
      Let me kiss his dear youthful brow,”--


    _Let the Bugle Blow!_ By W. Gilmore Simms. (Bohemian.)

  “Let the bugle blow along the mountains!
      Shrilly blow! shrilly blow!”--


    _Let the Drum’s Deep Tones_: By G. B. S., Cottage Home. (W. L.)

  “Let the drum’s deep tones be muffled
      Put the bugle far away,”--


    _Let Us Cross Over the River and Rest Under the Shade of the
    Trees_: By James. (E. V. M.)

  “‘Over the river,’ a voice meekly said,
  Whose clarion tones had thousands obeyed,”--


    _Letter_: (Amaranth from the _Maryland Mail Bag_, 1863.)

  “What! clasp your red hands and with brotherly trust
      Give our faith to the cheat you called Union, before?”--


    _Liberty or Death_: Same as _Southern Song of Liberty_. (R. B.
    B., 54):

  “On! on! to the just and glorious strife
    With your swords your freedom shielding;”--


    _Liberty or Death_: By Lutha Fontelle. (S. L. M., June, ’62.)

  “Fair Liberty, the peerless high-born maid
  Nursed in Olympus sacred, classic shade,”--


    _The Liberty Tree_: (West. Res.)

  “In the clearest of light from the regions of day,
  The Goddess of Liberty came,”--


    _Life in Prison_: Air, “Louisiana Lowlands:” by Captain T. F.
    Roche, C. S. A. Fort Delaware, 1865. (Roche.)

  “Come listen to my ditty, it will while away a minute,
  And if I didn’t think so I never would begin it,”--


    _A Life on the Vicksburg Hills_: Air, “A Life on the Ocean
    Wave.” Vicksburg Song. (Alsb.)

  “A life on the Vicksburg hills, a home in the trenches deep,
  A dodge from the Yankee shells, and the old pea bread won’t keep.”--


    _Lilies of the Valley_: Inscribed to the friends who sent them:
    by Rosa Vertner Jeffrey. Rochester, May, 1864. (E. V. M.)

  “Lady,--the fairy blossoms you have culled for me today,
  Modest, dainty vestal lilies, clustering on the path of May,”--


    _Lincoln Going to Canaan_: (Hopkins.)

  “At Pensacola Landing the South has made a standing,
    To resist an invasion they’re preparing,”--


    _Lincoln On a Raid_: Air, “Sitting on a Rail.” (R. R. B., 60.)

  “Come all you fellows that love a joke,
  And fun at each other love to poke,”--


    _Lincoln’s Inaugural Address_: By A Southern Rights Man. (R. R.
    from the Baltimore _Republican_, Baltimore, April 23, 1861.)

  “I come at the people’s mad-jority call,
  To open the North’s quaternary ball,”--


    _Lincoln’s Royal Reception_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “First Caesar came, and bowed the knee to one
  Who reigns in Washington:”--


    _Lines_: (E. V. M.)

  “He lay among the dying, and the battle raged near by,
  Upon the moist sod lying he was left to bleed and die,”--


    _Lines_: By Florence Anderson. (E. V. M.)

  “They fell on the march, while Hope was bright,
    Before the clouds of Disaster’s fright,”--


    _Lines_: By Cyrille Merle, Columbia, 1863. (E. V. M., ’69.)

  “‘I am the resurrection,’
  Read the priest in solemn tone,”--


    _Lines After Defeat_: By Paul H. Hayne. (S. S. from the
    Charleston _Mercury_.)

  “We have suffered defeat, as the bravest may suffer;
  Shall we leave unavenged our dead comrades’ gore?”--


    _The Lines Around Petersburg_: By Samuel Davis, of N. C. (W. G.
    S.)

  “Oh, silence, silence! now when night is near,
      And I am left alone,”--


    _Lines by a Volunteer_: (Im.)

  “Do not think that the volunteer selfishly pines
    At the hardships that fall to his share;”--


    _Lines, General Otho F. Strahl_: By F. (Amaranth.)

  “Amid a scene of carnage,
    Where the dead and wounded lay,”--


    _Lines on Captain Beall_: By Colonel Hawkins, C. S. A. (E. V.
    M.)

  “Make not my grave in the valley yet,
    ’Neath the sod of an alien let it be,”--


    _Lines on the Death of Annie Carter Lee_, daughter of General
    Robert E. Lee, C. S. A.: died at Jones’ Springs, Warren County,
    N. C., October 20, 1862: by Tenella. [Mrs. M. B. Clarke, of N.
    C.] (S. L. M., Editor’s Table, November and December, 1862.)
    (E. V. M.)

    _Lines on the Death of Colonel B. F. Terry_: By J. R. Barrick.
    Glasgow, Ky. Dec. 18, 1861. (E. V. M.)

  “There is a wail
  As if the voice of sadness long and deep,”--


    _Lines on the Death of Lieutenant General T. J. Jackson, C. S.
    A._: (R. B. B. 51.)

  “Cold is his brow, and the dew of the evening
      Hangs damp o’er that form so noble and brave”--


    _Lines On the Death of Lieutenant John B. Bowles_: By Florence
    Anderson. (W. L.)

  “Never again! ah, never again
  Shall he march proudly o’er the plain,”--


    _Lines On the Death of Major General E. Van Dorn, C. S. A._:
    (R. B. B. 113.)

  “The bold and noble Earle van Dorn
  The good old Southern brave,”--


    _Lines On the Death of Major H. S. McConnell_: (Im.)

  “In thy young manhood thou art slain,
    Shot! dead! it must be so;”--


    _Lines On the Death of Major Hall S. McConnell_: By Mattie
    Lewis. (Im.)

    “He has fallen, the patriot, brother and son,
  The pride of his comrades. He who to victory led on,”--


    _Lines On the Death of Stonewall Jackson_: Philadelphia, May,
    1863. (E. V. M.)

  “The city stirs this morn;
  From careless or from eager lips there flits,”--


    _Lines On the Death of the Confederate General Albert Sidney
    Johnston, of Kentucky_, who fell at the battle of Shiloh,
    Miss., Sunday, April 6, 1862. (R. B. B. 51.)

  “Thou art gone to thy rest
    Thou brave fearless soldier,”--


    _Lines On the Death of W. H. H. Parry_, who died at Gloucester
    Point, Sept. 19, 1861: by Mary. (S. L. M., Editor’s Table,
    Dec., ’61.)

  “The cannon may roar but he hears not the sound,
  For he ‘sleeps his last sleep’ in the cold damp ground:”--


    _Lines On the Presentation of a Confederate Flag_: (W. L.)

  “Our banner hidden from the light of day,
  Where tyrant minions hold a despot sway,”--


    _Lines On the Proclamation--Issued by the Tyrant Lincoln_,
    April First, 1863: by a Rebel. (R. B. B. 54.)

  “We have read the tyrant’s order,
    And the signet to the rule,”--


    _Lines Sacred to the Memory of Captain Henry C. Gorrell, of
    Greensborough, N. C._, of the 2nd N. C. Regiment, who fell in
    an attack which he led against the Federal Batteries in the
    battle of Fair Oaks, June 14, 1862. May He Rest in Peace: by a
    Friend of the Cause. (R. B. B. 34.)

  “They laid him away in the cold damp ground
      On the banks of a Southern stream.”--


    _Lines Suggested By the Death of Dr. Kane_: For the Baltimore
    _American_. (B. C. L., Ledger 1411.)

  “Forever gone, thou glorious chief,
    Not of embattled hosts the head,”--


    _Lines To A Confederate Flag_: By F. H. Hotel du Louvre, Nov.
    21, 1863. (E. V. M. ’69.)

  “Dear Flag of my country! all hail to thy bars!
  All hail to thine azure field, circled with stars!”--


    _Lines To General N. B. Forrest_: By Rosalie Miller,
    Montgomery, Ala., July, 1864. (Amaranth.)

  “Brave Forrest, like a storm-king sweeps
    O’er the vile invaders’ path;”--


    _Lines To Lee_: Written at the time of Hooker’s invasion: by
    Mrs. C. A. Warfield, of Kentucky. (E. V. M.)

  “They are pouring down upon you,
  Gallant Lee,”--


    _Lines To the Southern Banner_: (R. R.)

  “Dear flag! that wooes the morning air
  That floats upon the midnight breeze,”--


    _Lines To the Tyrant_: By Henry C. Alexander. S. L. M., Dec.,
    1861: (Bohemian.)

  “The legion is armed for the battle,
      The charger is hot for the fray,”--


    _Lines Written During These Gloomy Times, To Him Who Despairs_:
    By Professor J. H. Hewitt. Spoken at the Richmond “Varieties”:
    by Mr. Ogden, Wednesday night, May 7, 1862. (E. V. M.)

  “Though our roofs be on fire, though our rivers run blood,
    Though their flag’s on the hill, on the plain, on the flood,”--


    _Lines Written in Fort Warren_: By a Captive. S. L. M. Editor’s
    Table, Jan., 1862. (R. R.)

  “See ye not that the day is breaking,
  Freemen from their slumbers waking,”--


    _Lines Written in Fort Warren_: By G. W. B. Fort Warren, Sept.
    3, 1862. (E. V. M.)

  “Wild flowers gathered from the hills
  Sunlit clouds on evening sky”--


    _Lines Written July 15, 1865_, the day the Confederate soldiers
    in N. C. were ordered to take off their uniforms: by A. L. D.
    Raleigh, N. C. (E. V. M.)

  “Let others sing of conquerors great,
        Far famed in minstrel story,”--


    _Lines Written on Receiving Some Pressed Leaves and Flowers
    From Home_: By Jay W. Bee, P. A. C. S. Johnson’s Island, Ohio,
    Oct., ’64. (W. L.)

  “Bright leaves and flowers from Vernon’s bowers,
    Ye call to mind home memories sweet,”--


    _Listening_: By Lieutenant E. C. McCarthy: (Sunny.)

  “Under the evening shadows,
  Ere the long day was done,”--


    _A Litany for 1861_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “O God, our God, in this our hour of dark
  And bitter dread, we flee to Thee.”--


    _Little Footsteps_: By Mary J. Upshur of Norfolk, Va. (E. V. M.)

  “I sit in the summer moonlight,
      And watched the flecked floor,”--


    _Little Giffen_: By Francis O. Ticknor. (C. S. B.)

  “Out of the focal and foremost fire,
  Out of the hospital walls as dire,”--


    _Little Sogers_: (R. B. B. 56.)

  “What’s the matter, little sogers,
  Why run up and down the land,”--


    _The Little White Glove_: By Paul H. Hayne of S. C. (Amaranth
    from the _Southern Illustrated News_.)

  “The early Springtime faintly flushed the earth,
  And in the woods, and by their favorite stream,”--


    _Living and Dying_: By Major George McKnight (“Asa Hartz”).
    (Sunny.)

  “I would not die on the battle field,
    Where the missiles are flying wild;”--


    _The London Times Courier_: A Ballad, not by Campbell: by P. H.
    D. (P. & P. B. from the New Orleans _Picayune_.)

  “A horseman from Manassas bound
      Cries, ‘Soldier, noble soldier’”--


    _The Lonely Grave_: By Mrs. C. A. Ball. Charleston, June 7. (E.
    V. M.)

  “In a sheltered nook on Potomac’s shore,
  Where the earth is crimsoned with Southern gore,”--


    _The Lone Sentry_: By James R. Randall. (S. S.)

  “’Twas as the dying of the day,
  The darkness grew so still;”--


    _Lone Star Banner of the Free_: Air, “Rule Britannia:” by Major
    E. W. Cave. (Alsb.)

  “When first from out a sky of gloom
  The Lone Star lit a nation’s way,”--


    _The Lone Star Camp Song_: As sung by Joe Cook, the American
    Comedian. Published in Baltimore, 19 April, 1861. (R. B. B. 59.)

  “Our rifles are ready, and ready are we,
  Neither fear, care, nor sorrow in this Company,”--


    _The Lone Star Flag_: On the Secession of Texas: by H. L.
    Flash. (Bohemian.)

  “Up with the Lone Star banner!
    Its hues are still as bright,”--


    _Lone Texas Star_: Air, “American Star:” by M. B. Smith. (Alsb.)

  “Come, all ye brave Texians! your country is calling,
  Come, take up your arms, and let’s hasten away!”--


    _Louisiana_: (E. V. M.)

  “Ho! Louisiana
    There is no clime like thine,”--


    _Louisiana_: A Patriotic Ode. (R. B. B. 59.)

  “Louisiana! dear Pelican mother, arise
  Seize the lightnings that ’lumine the vault of the skies,”--


    _Loved and Lost_: By Colonel B. H. Jones. (Sunny.)

  “I have a rose--a faded rose,
    Sweeter than many a fairer flower;”--


    _Love Letter_: By Major L. G. Levy. (Sunny.)

  “I promised once to write thee, and I write:
    What can I tell thee, dear, thou dost not know?”--


    _Major General S. B. Buckner’s Chivalry: An Imagination_: Air,
    “Allen Percy.” By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “A Southern woman bowed in weeping, stood,
  Amid a crowd, unfeeling, selfish, rude,”--


    _Manassas_: By A Rebel, Hanover Co., Va., July 30, 1861. (R. R.)

  “Upon our country’s border lay
  Holding the ruthless foe at bay,”--


    _Manassas_: By Mrs. C. A. Warfield, July 1861. (E. V. M.)

  “They have met at last, as storm clouds
      Meet in heaven,”--


    _Manassas Races_: Popular Newspaper Version. (W. L.)

  “The mighty army of the North is whipped. And its remains
    Are scattered in confusion o’er Virginia’s sandy plains,”--


    _Manassas, 21 July, 1861_: By Mrs. Mary S. Whitaker. (S. L. M.
    August, 1861, from the Richmond Despatch, August 12, 1861.)

  “Brightly gleamed the dazzling summer sky,
  Wide waved the forests vast and green,”--


    _Mansfield Run_: (Alsb.)

  “Come, good folks, and listen to a ditty
  Of the year sixty-four:”--


    _The March_: By John W. Overall. (R. R.)

  “Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp!
  Go the Southern braves to battle,”--


    _The March of the Maryland Men_: (R. B. B.)

  “There’s many a son of old Maryland’s soil
  In the South who have rushed to the field:”--


    _March of the Southern Men_: Air, To an old Scotch Air: printed
    by Geo. Dunn & Co., Richmond, Va. (R. B. M. 1863.)

  “There are many brave men in this Southern land
  Who have hurried away to the field,”--


    _The March of the Spoiler_: (Amaranth.)

  “One by one the leaves are shaken
        From the tree”--


    _March on! Carolinians, March on!_ By Mrs. Farley, Louisville,
    Nov. 20, 1861. (E. V. M.)

  “March on, Carolinians; our hearts leap so high
    When the young and devoted so martyr-like die;”--


    _Marching to Death_: By J. Herbert Sass, South Carolina, 1862.
    (W. G. S.)

  “The last farewells are breathed by loving lips,
  The last fond prayer for darling ones is said,”--


    _The Marseilles Hymn--Translated and Adapted as an Ode_: By E.
    F. Porter of Alabama. (R. R. from the Nashville _Gazette_.)

  “Sons of the South, arise! awake! be free!
  Behold! the day of Southern glory comes,”--


    _The Martyr of Alexandria_: By James W. Simms, Indianola,
    Texas. (Bohemian, from the New Orleans _Crescent_.)

  “Revealed as in a lightning flash,
        A hero stood!”--


    _Martyrs of Texas_: Air, “He’s Gone from the Mountain.” By Col.
    H. Washington. (Alsb.)

  “They’ve gone from the prairies; its groves and wild flowers,
  They’ve gone from the forest--its wild tangled bowers;”--


    _The Martyrs of the South_: By A. B. Meek, Alabama. (Sunny.)

  “Oh, weep not for the gallant hearts
    Who fell in battle’s day;”--


    _Maryland!_ (B. C. L. Ledger 1411.)

  “Maryland, Maryland!
  Stainless in story”--


    _Maryland_: By Rev. John C. McCabe, D.D. (Late of Md., Chaplain
    C. S. A.) November, 1861. (S. L. M.)

  “Up, men of Maryland nor sleep,
  While foemen bind your limbs in chains,”--


    _Maryland: A Fragment_: (R. B. B. 73.)

  “Refreshed in wonted might
  By the passing hours of night,”--


    _Maryland In Chains_: By Mrs. O. K. Whitaker, South Carolina.
    (R. B. B. 73 from the Richmond _Examiner_, May 14, 1861.)

  “Oh vain is the splendor of blue-curtained skies,
  The pomp of tall forests that round one arise:”--


    _Maryland in Fetters!_ (R. B. B. 82.)

  “How beautiful in tears!
    Dear noble state:”--


    _The Maryland Line_: By J. D. McCabe, Jr. (W. G. S.)

  “By old Potomac’s rushing tide,
      Our bayonets are gleaming,”--


    _Maryland, Lost Maryland_: (S. L. M., January, ’63, Ed.’s Table
    from the Raleigh _Standard_.)

  “The despot’s heel thou dost adore,
  Maryland, fie! Maryland,”--


    _The Maryland Martyrs_: (R. B. B. 79.)

  “They bore them to a gloomy cell,
    And barred them from the light,”--


    _Maryland, Our Mother: Written at the Request of Many Exiled
    Marylanders_: By Rev. John Collins McCabe, D.D. Richmond, Va.,
    November 24, 1861. (S. L. M., Dec. 1861.)

  “O Maryland, dear Maryland! our hearts still turn to thee!
    We often, weeping, ask and say ‘when, when wilt thou be free?’”--


    _Maryland, My Home_: By Louis Bonsal. (R. B. B.)

  “Sweet Maryland, thy groves are green,
        And sparkling as thy rills,”--


    _Maryland, My Home_: (R. B. B.)

  “Come listen while I sing to you,
    Of Maryland, my Maryland,”--


    _Maryland: Zouaves’ Own_: Respectfully dedicated to the 1st
    regiment Maryland Zouaves by their friend G. W. Alexander,
    Adjutant of the regiment. (R. B. B.)

  “We are bound all hands for the land of cotton,
  Old seventy-six is not forgotten,”--


    _The Marylander at Manassas: A Fact_: By N. G. R. [Dr. N. G.
    Ridgely.] Baltimore, December 16, 1861. (R. B. B. 64.)

  “Dusty and weary I laid me down
  To take my rest on the blood-wet ground”--


    _The Marylander’s Good-Bye_: Air, “The White Rose:” by B. (R.
    B. B.)

  “Adieu! Adieu! dear Maryland,
      I arm at freedom’s call”--


    _Maryland’s Appeal_: Air, “The Harp That Once Through Tara’s
    Halls.” (R. B. B. 84.)

  “Oh Maryland, enslaved, opprest,
    Insulted in thy woes,”--


    _Maryland’s Lament for Jackson_: By Baltimore, June, 1863. (R.
    B. B.)

  “Gone from us--gone from us,
    Hero and friend;”--


    _The Massachusetts Regiments_: A Prose, not a prize poem,
    dedicated (without permission) to the “Mutual Admiration
    Society” of the Modern Athens, of which the Atlantic Monthly is
    at once the trumpet and organ. By Oats, of Virginia. (S. L. M.,
    June 1861.)

  “Here they come! Here they come, to the roll of the drum,
  Zigzag tagrag, bobtail, hobnail, all in martial array,”--


    _Maxcy Gregg_: By C. G. P. (E. V. M., ’69.)

  “Long have I lingered by the lovely mount,
  Where our great hero lies,”--


    _Major Brown_: Air, “Rosseau’s Dream.” (R. B. B. 68.)

  “Gather round all friends and neighbors,
      Citizens of this good town,”--


    _McClellan’s Soliloquy_: By a Daughter of Georgia. (P. & P. B.
    from the Charleston _Mercury_.)

  “Advance or not advance, that is the question
  Whether ’tis better in the mind to suffer,”--


    _Melt the Bells_: By F. V. Rocket, in the Memphis _Appeal_. (W.
    G. S.)

  “Melt the bells, melt the bells,
        Still the tinkling on the plains,”--


    _The Men_: By Maurice Bell. (W. G. S.)

  “In the dusk of the forest shade,
  A sallow and dusty group reclined,”--


    _Men in Lace and Braid_: By An Old Maid. (C. C.)

  “Standing on the corner
  Decked in braid and lace,”--


    _Men of the South!_ By G. B. J. (S. L. M., May, 1861.)

  “Awake ye, awake, Freedom’s band!
    See ye not the flaming brand,”--


    _The Merrimac_: By Paul H. Hayne. (Bohemian from the Charleston
    _Courier_.)

  “We listened to the thunder
  Of her mighty guns for hours,”--


    _The Merry Little Soldier_: John Hopkins, Printer. New Levee
    St., 4th D. (Wash’n. 123.)

  “I’m a merry little soldier,
  Fearing neither wound nor scar,”--


    _The Midnight Ride_: By William Shepardson. (Bohemian.)

  “I ride the cold and dark night through
  No moon or stars to point the way,”--


    _Minding the Gap_: By Mollie E. Moore. (E. V. M., from the
    Houston _Telegraph_.)

  “There is a radiant beauty on the hills,
      The year before us walks with added bloom,”--


    _The Minstrel and the Queen_: By Col. W. S. Hawkins. (Sunny.)

  “I think of the pleasures that once were mine,
      In the beautiful days that shall be no more,”--


    _Missing_: (W. G. S.)

  “In the cool sweet hush of a wooded nook,
  Where the May buds sprinkle the green old mound,”--


    _Missing_: By Mrs. F. A. Moore. (E. V. M., ’69.)

  “Not among the suffering wounded;
  Not among the peaceful dead;”--


    _Missouri Massacre_: (S. L. M., Jan. ’63.)

  “He heard the children’s plaintive wrath,
    He heard the wife, with frantic cry,”--


    _Missouri, Or A Voice from the South_: By Harry Macarthy.
    (Alsb.)

  “Missouri, Missouri! bright land of the West,
  Where the way-worn emigrant always found rest;”--


    _A Modern Knight-Errant_: By Kentucky, September, 1861. (S. O.
    S.)

  “This morn a little blackamoor
  Brought me a funny thing, she said;”--


    _Monody on Jackson_: By The Exile. (S. S.)

  “Ay, toll! toll! toll!
  Toll the funeral bell!”--


    _Monody on Major W. L. Thornton_: By Col. C. G. Forsbey. (Alsb.)

  “Toll, toll, for the gallant Thornton! give sighs for the noble dead!
  Let tears but flow, like the torrent of life for his country shed,”--


    _Moral of Party: Sonnet_: By W. G. Simms. S. L. M., February
    and March, 1862. (W. G. S. from the Charleston _Mercury_.)

  “The moral of a party, if it be
  That healthy States need parties, lies in this,”--


    _Morgan’s Cavalry and The Girls_: Air, “Coming through the
    Rye.” By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “If brave Southron meet our Morgan
  Coming through Kentuck,”--


    _Morgan’s War Song_: (Alsb.)

  “Cheer, boys, cheer! we’ll march away to battle,
    Cheer, boys, cheer! for our sweethearts and our wives,”--


    _Morgans War Song_: By General B. W. Duke, C. S. A. Knoxville,
    Tenn., July 4, 1862. (W. L.)

  “Ye sons of the South, take your weapons in hand,
  For the foot of the foe hath insulted your land!”--


    _Morris Island_: By W. Gilmore Simms. (W. G. S.)

  “Oh! from the deeds well done, the blood well shed
    In a good cause springs up to crown the land,”--


    _Mosby and His Men_: By Phoenix. Selma, Alabama. October 31,
    1866. (C. C.)

  “When the historic muse shall seek
        The themes of future song,”--


    _Mother Is the Battle Over: Ballad_: Arranged by Jos. Hart
    Denck. (R. B. M.)

  “Mother is the battle over?
    Thousands have been slain, they say,”--


    _Mother Lincoln’s Melodies_: S. L. M., Ed. Table, July and
    August, 1862. (S. S. B.)

  “Little Be-Pope
  He lost his hope,”--


    _The Mother of the Soldier Boy_: (Lee.)

  “Why daily goes yon matron forth,
  As ’twere to trace the dead?”--


    _A Mother to Her Son in Prison_: Written in the rail car to
    beguile the time on her way to visit him. By H. W. B., January,
    1865. (E. V. M., ’69.)

  “Shine, silver moon, o’er land and water,
  Shine o’er valley, plain and hill;”--


    _The Mother to her Son in the Trenches at Petersburg_: By W. D.
    Porter. (E. V. M.)

  “The winter night is dark and still
  The winter rains the trenches fill,”--


    _Mother Would Comfort Me_: (C. C.)

  “Wounded and sorrowful, far from my home,
  Sick, among strangers, uncared for, unknown,”--


    _The Mother’s Farewell_: Air, “Jeannette and Jeanot.” (J. M. S.)

  “You are going to leave me, darling,
  Your country’s foes to fight;”--


    _A Mother’s Prayer_: (E. V. M.)

  “Father, in the battle fray
    Shelter his dear head, I pray!”--


    _A Mother’s Prayer_: By Mrs. Margaret Piggott. Baltimore,
    Friday Night, April 19th, 1861. (E. V. M., ’69.)

  “God of Nations, God of Might,
  In the stillness of the night,”--


    _The Mother’s Trust_: By Mrs. G. A. H. McLeod. (S. S.)

  “Far away are our beloved,
    Where resounds the battle cry;”--


    _Mumford, the Martyr of New Orleans_: By Ina M. Porter, of
    Alabama. (W. G. S.)

  “Where murdered Mumford lies
  Bewailed in bitter sighs,”--


    _Munson’s Hill_: Air, “Call me Pet Names.” (R. B. B., 88.)

  “Oh call us hard names, call us mere tools
    In the hands of the North, to be made such fools,”--


    _Music in Camp_: By John R. Thompson. (C. S. B., from the
    Louisville _Journal_.)

  “Two armies covered hill and plain,
  Where Rappahannock’s waters,”--


    _My Dream_: By L. F. East Baton Rouge, November 7, 1861. (R. R.)

  “Lo! in my dream I saw the dove
  Just hovering o’er the troubled sea,”--


    _My Father_: By Brig. General Henry R. Jackson. (E. V. M.)

  “As die the embers on the hearth
  And o’er the hearth the shadows fall,”--


    _My Friend: To Infedelia_: By Colonel W. S. Hawkins, C. S. A.
    prisoner of war at Camp Chase, December 1861. (C. C.)

  “Your letter came, but came too late,
  For Heaven had claimed its own,”--


    _My God, What is All This For?_ Air, “Rosseau’s Dream.” (R. B.
    B.)

  “Oh my God! what vengeful madness,
  Brother against brother rise:”--


    _My Little Volunteer_: By Joe Brentwood. (Im.)

  “Say, have you seen my Harry, my little volunteer?
  As fine a lad as ever lived upon the Tennessee:”--


    _My Love_: By F. B. Dalton, May 6, 1864. (W. F.)

  “My love is the fairest,
  The sweetest, the dearest,”--


    _My Maryland_: By James R. Randall. Written at Point Coupee,
    La. April 26, 1861. First published in the New Orleans _Delta_.
    (W. G. S.)

  “The despot’s heel is on thy shore, Maryland!
  His torch is at thy temple door, Maryland!”--


    _My Mother Church_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “My Mother Church, on thee I call!
  Although my home in ruins fall,”--


    _My Mother-Land_: By Paul H. Hayne. (W. G. S.)

  “My Mother-land! thou wert the first to fling
  Thy virgin flag of freedom to the breeze,”--


    _My Native Land_: December, 1864. (W. L.)

  “Where is my Native Land?
  Not on Kentucky’s conquered soil,”--


    _My Native Land_: (Randolph.)

  “Land of the South! imperial land!
    How proud thy mountain’s rise:”--


    _My Noble Warrior, Come!_ Air, “The Rock Beside the Sea.” By
    Mrs. Col. C. G. Forshey. (Alsb.)

  “O, tell me not that earth is fair, that spring is in its bloom,
  While young hearts, hourly, everywhere, met such untimely doom,”--


    _My Only Boy_: By Ellen A. Moriarty. (Bohemian.)

  “O, let me weep! who would not weep?
    He was my only boy;”--


    _My Order_: By W. Gordon McCabe: Richmond, Va. First published
    in S. L. M., May, 1863, “Chats Over My Pipe.” (E. V. M.)

  “This flower has set me adreaming,
  Of the future for you and for me,”--


    _My Prison Drear_: By Lieut. D. T. Walker, of Mississippi.
    (Sunny.)

  “Alas, how slow the moments go,
    As fettered on this friendless Isle;”--


    _My Soldier_: Monday night, April 14th, 1862. (S. L. M., Ed.
    Table, April, ’62)

  “Is my darling sadly dreaming,
  On his lonely watch tonight,”--


    _My Soldier Boy_: By T. E. Grayson, near Benton, Mississippi,
    October 1861. (Im.)

  “I am dreaming ever dreaming of a silver sanded shore,
  Where the blue waves softly murmur as they roll forevermore”--


    _My Soldier Boy_: By W. D. Porter, Charleston, South Carolina.
    (Amaranth.)

  “The winter night is dark and chill,
  The winter rains the trenches fill;”--


    _My Southern Home (Psalm CXXVII)_: By Col. B. H. Jones.
    Johnson’s Island, September, 1864. (Sunny.)

  “If Judean captives sat and wept, by Babel’s rivers sides,
  As memories of Zion far came flowing as the tides;”--


    _My Southern Land_: Dedicated to the Widow of Stonewall
    Jackson. Air, “My Maryland.” By Mrs. Mary L. Wilson, of San
    Antonio. (Alsb.)

  “On the crimson battle field,
  Southern land, my Southern land,”--


    _My Texas Land_: Air, “My Maryland.” By D. W. M. (Alsb.)

  “The Yankees are upon thy coast,
  Texas land, my Texas land!”--


    _My Warrior Boy_: (Im.)

  “Thou has gone forth, my darling one,
  To battle with the brave,”--


    _National Hymn_: By Capt. E. Griswold. (Fag.)

  “Now let the thrilling anthem rise
  O’er all the glorious land,”--


    _National Song--The Magnolia_: By Albert Pike. (Im.)

  “What, what is the true Southern symbol
  The symbol of Honor and Right;”--


    _Navasota Volunteers_: Air, “Susannah, don’t you cry.” By
    William Neely, of Durant’s Cavalry. (Alsb.)

  “We’re the Navasota Volunteers, our country is named Grimes,
  O come along, my conscript boys, we can’t leave you behind,”--


    _Nay, Keep the Sword_: By Carrie Clifford. (W. G. S.)

  “Nay, keep the sword which once we gave,
  A token of our trust in thee;”--


    _The New Ballad of Lord Lovell_: (R. N. S., from the New
    Orleans _Delta_.)

  “Lord Lovell he sat in the St. Charles Hotel,
  In the St. Charles Hotel sat he,”--


    _A New Excelsior_: By Mary I. Upshur. (S. L. M., November,
    1861.)

  “O banner with the strange device, soar upward to the sun
  And greet him there right gallantly for the work of Sixty-one!”--


    _The New Fashion_: Air, “Rory O’Moore.” By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “Make way there! Look out! A hare-brained hero comes,
  Your loudest bugles sound! and beat, oh, beat your drums!”--


    _A New Red, White and Blue_: Written for a Lady: by Jeff.
    Thompson. (A. R.)

  “Missouri is the pride of the nation,
  The hope of the brave and the free”--


    _The New Star_: (Same as _Hail to the South_): By B. M.
    Anderson. S. L. M., April, 1861. (W. G. S.)

  “Another star arisen; another flag unfurled;
  Another name inscribed among the nations of the world”--


    _The Next Time That Bragg Comes This Way_: By Kentucky,
    November 27, 1864. (S. O. S.)

  “The next time that Bragg comes this way
  I hope that he will come to stay,”--


    _Niggers in Convention: Sumner’s Speech_: (R. B. B. 88.)

  “Welcome my bredren here you is
  I greets you wid delight”--


    _Nil Desperandum--To the Southern Soldier_: By Ikey Ingle.
    Richmond, Virginia, January 18th, 1864. (E. V. M.)

  “Wheel in the rut? then shoulder to the wheel;
  Make muscle and sinew nerve force feel;”--


    _Nil Desperandum_: Inscribed to our Soldier Boys: by Ada Rose.
    Pine Bluff, Arkansas. March 10th, 1862. (R. N. S. from the
    Memphis _Avalanche_.)

  “The Yankee hosts are coming,
  With their glittering rows of steel,”--


    _Nil Desperandum_: By Mrs. C. A. Warfield. (E. V. M., ’69.)

  “Yield! never! while a foothold
    Is left on Southern soil”--


    _The 9th of April, 1865_: From the London Spectator. (C. S. B.)

  “It is a nation’s death cry! Yes, the agony is past,
  The stoutest race that ever fought today hath fought its last,”--


    _No Land Like Ours_: By J. R. Barrick, of Kentucky. (W. G. S.)

  “Though other lands may boast of skies
    Far deeper in their blue,”--


    _No Surrender_: Published by Geo. Dunn and Co., Richmond,
    Virginia. (R. B. M., 1864.)

  “Ever constant, ever true,
    Let the word be ‘No Surrender!’”--


    _No Union Men_: By Millie Mayfield. (R. R.)

  “‘Union Men’ O thrice-fooled fools,
      As well might ye hope to bind”--


    _North Carolina Call to Arms_: Air, “The Old North State:” by
    Luola. [Mrs. Loula W. Rogers of Ga.] Raleigh, 1861. (R. R.)

  “Ye sons of Carolina! awake from your dreaming,
  The minions of Lincoln upon us are streaming!”--


    _North Carolina’s War Song_: Air, “Annie Laurie.” (R. R.)

  “We leave our pleasant homesteads,
  We leave our smiling farms,”--


    _A Northern Mother After a Battle_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “Throb, my heart, throb! for thy dear country throb!
  There’s nothing else left thee, for Death did rob thee of thy joy”--


    _Not Doubtful of Your Fatherland!_ (W. S. G. from the
    Charleston _Mercury_.)

  “Not doubtful of your fatherland
    Or of the God who gave it”--


    _Notice to the North!_ (R. N. S., from _Charivari_. December 7,
    1861.)

  “Yankees beware! we are averse,
    But not afraid to fight,”--


    _Now’s the Day, and Now’s the Hour!_ Inscribed to Lt. Col. J.
    W. Bowles, 2nd Reg. Kentucky Cavalry by request of a friend of
    his boyhood. Air, “Bruce’s Address,” some lines of it retained
    by Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “Old Kentucky, whose sons have bled,
      Where the bravest men have led”--


    _Nuts to Crack for Uncle Sam_: By Janet Hamilton. Langloan. (W.
    L.)

  “Have ye come to your senses yet, Sammy my man,
  For ye was just red-mad when the war it began;”--


    _The Oath for Liberty_: By W. G. Simms. (S. L. M., February and
    March, ’62.)

  “Only one oath may the freeman take,
  To sacrifice all for freedom’s sake”--


    _The Obsequies of Stuart_: By John R. Thompson. (S. S.)

  “We could not pause, while yet the noontide air,
  Shook with the cannonade’s incessant pealing,”--


    _Ode to a Body Louse_: By F. B. In the field near Marietta,
    Georgia, June 15, 1864. (W. F.)

  “Let others sing of strife and war’s alarms
    And waste their breath;”--


    _The Officer’s Funeral_: (J. M. S.)

  “Hark! to the shrill trumpet calling,
    It pierceth the soft summer air!”--


    _Officers of Dixie_: By a Growler: (Alsb.)

  “Let me whisper in your ear, sir,
  Something that the South should hear, sir,”--


    _Oh! Abraham, Resign!_ By a New Contributor. (R. B. B. 57.)

  “The days are growing shorter,
  The sun has crossed the line,”--


    _Oh! Hasten Back, My Soldier Boy!_ By J. P. H. Charlottesville,
    Virginia. (Cav.)

  “How oft have I sighed for my soldier boy, gone
          To battle with our cruel and merciless foe:”--


    _Oh, He’s Nothing But a Soldier_: Air, “Annie Laurie.” By A.
    Young Rebelle, Esq. (Im.)

  “Oh, he’s nothing but a soldier,
  But he’s coming here tonight”--


    _Oh, Jeff, Why Don’t You Come?_ Air, “Willie We Have Missed
    You.” (R. B. B. 80).

  “Jeff Davis are you coming? We’ll be glad to see you here!
  We’ll give you hearty greeting! you’ll be welcome everywhere:”--


    _Oh! No, he’ll Not Need Them Again_: To Rev. A. J. Ryan, of
    Knoxville, Tennessee. (E. V. M.)

  “Oh! no, he’ll not need them again
    No more will he wake to behold”--


    _Old Abe Lincoln_: (R. B. B. 58.)

  “My name it is Abe Lincoln
    I lead a wretched life”--


    _Old Abe’s Lament_: Air, “The Campbells are Coming.” (R. B. B.
    57.)

  “Jeff Davis is coming oh! dear! oh! dear!
    Jeff Davis is coming, oh dear!”--


    _Old Betsy_: By John Killum. (W. G. S.)

  “Come with the rifle so long in your keeping,
    Clean the old gun up and hurry it forth”--


    _The Old Brigade_--Virginia’s 1st-7th-11th and 17th: by Maurice
    D’Bell. (E. V. M.)

  “Behold yon throng of heroes!
  Their eyes are heavy and dim,”--


    _Old Dixie’s Soldiers_: By J. P. H. Charlottesville, Virginia.
    (Cav.)

  “Mid war’s alarms fair Dixie stands,
  Arrayed against rude Northern bands,”--


    _Old Jim Ford_: Air, “Carry Me Back to Old Virginny.” (Alsb.)

  “When I reflect on what I am and who my master was,
  I think I’ve run away from home without sufficient cause;”--


    _Old John Brown: A Song for Every Southern Man_: (Wash’n,
    unclassified Mss.)

  “Now all you Southern people, just listen to my song,
    It’s about the Harper’s Ferry affair, it is not very long”--


    _The Old Mammy’s Lament for Her Young Master_: By Hermine. (S.
    L. M., Nov. and Dec., ’63.)

  “My dear young massa’s gone to war,
    Gone from missus, home, and me”--


    _Old Moultrie_: By Catherine Gendron Poyas, of Charleston. (W.
    G. S. from the Charleston _Mercury_.)

  “The splendor falls on bannered walls,
    Old Moultrie, great in story”--


    _The Old Negro at Calhoun’s Grave_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “Who comes with tottering step and slow,
    Bowed not so much by years, as woe,”--


    _The Old Rifleman_: By Frank O. Ticknor, M. D., of Georgia. (R.
    R.)

  “Now, bring me out my buckskin suit!
    My pouch and powder, too!”--


    _The Old Sergeant_: (B. E., First appeared as the Carrier’s New
    Year Address of the Louisville _Courier-Journal_, 1863.)

  “The carrier cannot sing tonight the ballads, etc.”--

  “Come a little nearer, Doctor--thank you, let me take the cup.”--


    _Old Stonewall_: By C. D. Dasher. (Fag.)

  “Oh, don’t you remember old Stonewall, my boys,
  Old Stonewall, on charger so gray,”--


    _An Old Texian’s Appeal_: By Reuben E. Brown. (Alsb.)

  “Come all ye temper’d hearts of steel--come quit your flocks and
            farms--
  Your sports, your plays, your holidays, and hark, away to arms!”--


    _On! Advance!_ By W. G. Simms. (S. L. M., Feb. and March, ’62.)

      “Esperance!
      On! advance!
  Southrons with the bolt and lance!”--


    _On a Raid_: By Ikey Ingle. Richmond, Virginia, 1862. (E. V. M.)

  “We must move tonight, my men, brisk marching’s to be done!
  For a stout blow must be struck, and true, by the morrow’s sun”--


    _On Ash Wednesday, 1862_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “The six weeks’ Sabbath has begun;
    A little while, my soul, be done”--


    _On Guard_: Words respectfully inscribed to Miss S. E. B. by
    Wallace Rowe. Music from an old German Melody. (R. B. M., 1864.)

  “At dead of night when on my beat,
    And naught but darkness meets my view,”--


    _On Reading a Proclamation for Public Prayer_: Sonnet: by South
    Carolinian: (W. G. S.)

  “Oh! terrible, this prayer in the market place,
  These advertised humilities, decreed”--


    _On! Southron, On!_ By W. B. L. (R. R.)

  “On! Southron, on!
    Your flag’s unfurled”--


    _On the Death of Brig.-General Charles H. Winder, of Maryland_:
    Killed by a cannon shot in battle of Slaughter’s Mountain,
    Virginia, June 9, 1862. By J. R. Trimble, Major General C. S.
    A., Johnston’s Island. September, 1864. (W. L.)

  “The fight is o’er, the victory’s won,
      We pause to count the cost;”--


    _On the Death of General Stonewall Jackson_: By Lillian Rosell
    Messenger, Tuscumbia, Alabama. May 13th, 1863. (Im.)

  “The leaf has perished in the green;
  And while we breathe beneath the sun,”--


    _On the Death of Lieut.-General Jackson: A Dirge_: By Mrs. C.
    A. Warfield of Kentucky. (E. V. M.)

  “Go to thy rest, great chieftain,
    In the zenith of thy fame”--


    _On the Flank_: By R. B. Witter, Jr. (S. L. M., May ’63.)

  “’Twas a glowing Sabbath morning,
  Bright the golden sunbeams fell,”--


    _On the Heights of Mission Ridge_: By J. Augustine Signaigo.
    (W. G. S.)

  “When the foes, in conflict heated,
    Battled over road and bridge,”--


    _On to Glory_: (J. M. S.)

  “Sons of freedom, on to glory,
      Go where brave men do or die:”--


    _On to Richmond_: After Southey’s _March to Moscow_: by John R.
    Thompson of Virginia. (E. V. M. from the _Richmond Whig_.)

  “Major General Scott
  An order had got
  To push on the column to Richmond,”--


    _On to the Battle_: By Miss Marie E. Jones. (Alsb.)

  “On to the battle! though the foe be before you,
  Though the death-hail rattle!--God watches o’er you;”--


    _One Cause of the War_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “The man who trusts not God betrays himself
  Weak victim he to that foul harpy, wealth;”--


    _Only a Common Soldier_: Confederate States Almanac, 1862, (N.
    Y. P. L.)

  “He was only a common soldier,
    But a monarch proud and grand”--


    _Only a Soldier_: By Major Lamar Fontaine. (Fag.)

  “‘Only a soldier!’ I heard them say,
  With a heavy heart I turned away,”--


    _Only a Soldier’s Grave_: By S. A. Jones. Aberdeen,
    Mississippi. (W. G. S.)

  “Only a soldier’s grave! Pass by,
  For soldiers, like other mortals, die”--


    _Only One Fell_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “‘Only one fell,’ and his name was told,
  ‘Only one fell,’ but him death could not hold,”--


    _Only One Killed_: By Julia L. Keyes, Montgomery, Alabama. (W.
    G. S. from the Southern _Field and Fireside_.)

  “Only one killed in company B
  ’Twas a trifling loss--one man!”--


    _O Here’s to the Soldier So Gay_: By Captain M. G. Davidson, of
    Gen. M. L. Smith’s Signal Corps. (Alsb.)

    “O here’s to the soldier so gay! who shoulders his musket all day,
  With wearisome feet he faces the beat, still keeping the Yankees
          away:”--


    _O! I’m a Good Old Rebel_: Respectfully dedicated to Thad.
    Stevens, 1862. Sung by Harry Allen, Washington Artillery, New
    Orleans, La. (C. C.)

  “O! I’m a good old Rebel
      Now that’s just what I am”--


    _O Johnny Bull, My Jo John_: Air, “John Anderson, my Jo.” (R.
    R.)

  “Oh Johnny Bull, my Jo John! I wonder what you mean,
  By sending all these forgates out, commissioned by the Queen:”--


    _O Lovely Dixie’s Land_: By M. J., Baltimore, April, 1861. (R.
    B. B. 90.)

  “O! lovely Dixie’s Land,
      Where fruits and flowers grow;”--


    _O, Sweet South_: By W. Gilmore Simms. (S. L. M., January,
    1861.) (R. R.)

  “O the Sweet South! the sunny South!
        Land of true feeling, land forever mine!”--


    _O, Tempora! O, Mores!_ By John Dickson Bruns, M. D. (W. G. S.
    from the Charleston _Mercury_, 1864.)

  “‘Great Pan is dead!’ so cried an airy tongue
    To one who drifting down Calabria’s Shore,”--


    _The Ordered Away_: Dedicated to the Oglethorpe and Walker
    Light Infantry, Atlanta, Ga. By Mrs. J. J. Jacobus. April 2,
    1861. (R. R.)

  “At the end of each street, a banner we meet,
    The people all march in a mass,”--


    _Our Braves in Virginia_: Air, “Dixie Land.” (R. R.)

  “We have ridden from the brave Southwest
    On fiery steeds, with throbbing breast,”--


    _Our Boys Are Gone_: Air, “The Minstrel Boy:” by Col. Hamilton
    Washington. (Alsb.)

  “Our boys are gone ’till the war is o’er,
  In the ranks of death you’ll find them,”--


    _Our Cause_: (C. C.)

  “Oh, story long and sad to tell,
  Of how we fought and how we fell,”--


    _Our Cherished Dead_: (E. V. M.)

  “What tho’ no stately column,
  Their cherished names may raise:”--


    _Our Chief_: By the author of “_Southrons_” [Mrs. C. A.
    Warfield.] Beechmore, January 10, 1866. (E. V. M.)

  “No! not forgotten, though the halls
    Of state no more behold him,”--


    _Our Christmas Hymn_: By John Dickson Bruns, M. D., Charleston,
    South Carolina. (W. G. S.)

  “‘Goodwill and peace! peace and goodwill!’
      The burden of the Advent song,”--


    _Our City by the Sea_: By W. Gilmore Simms. (W. G. S.):

  “Our city by the sea
  As the rebel city known”--


    _Our Confederate Dead_: What the heart of a young girl said to
    the dead soldier: by a Lady of Augusta, Georgia. (W. G. S.)

  “Unknown to me, brave boy, but still I wreathe
    For you the tenderest of wildwood flowers,”--


    _Our “Cottage By the Sea:”_ Lines written in Fort Lafayette by
    a Prisoner. (E. V. M.)

  “I dreamed that I dwelt in marble halls,
    And ’tis not so, you see,”--


    _Our Country’s Call_: By H. Walter. (Randolph.)

  “To arms! oh, men in all our Southern clime,
    Do you not scent the battle from afar,”--


    _Our Dead_: By Col. A. M. Hobby. Galveston _News_, Texas. Jan.,
    1866. (E. V. M.)

  “Vile, brutal man! and darest thou
  In God’s anointed place to preach”--


    _Our Departed Comrades_: By J. Marion Shirer, a Soldier in the
    Field. (W. G. S.)

  “I am sitting alone by a fire
    That glimmers on Sugar Loaf’s height,”--


    _Our Dixie_: By a Lady of Augusta, Georgia, 1865. (Im.)

  “I heard long since a simple strain,
      It brought no thrill of joy or pain,”--


    _Our Failure_: By the Author of “_Southrons_,” [Mrs. C. A.
    Warfield]. Beechmore, Kentucky, June 1, 1866. (E. V. M.)

  “Yes, we have failed! That iron word
  Drove never home its bolt of fate,”--


    _Our Fallen Brave_: By Cornelia J. M. Jordan. January 22, 1862.
    (Corinth.)

  “They fell! in Freedom’s cause they fell,
      The noble patriot band,”--


    _Our Faith in ’61_: By A. J. Requier. (W. G. S.)

  “Not yet one hundred years have flown
        Since on this very spot,”--


    _Our Flag_: By Mr. K. of Hampshire Co., Virginia. (E. V. M.,
    ’69.)

  “Our battle-flag! behold it wave,
    In the young morning’s roseate light,”--


    _Our Glorious Flag_: Air, “Her Bright Smile Haunts Me Still.”
    Vicksburg Song. (Alsb.)

  “There is freedom on each fold, and each star is freedom’s throne,
  And the free, the brave, the bold, guard thine honor as their own:”--


    _Our Hope_: Third Edition: by Le Diable Baiteux. (R. B. B. 91.)

  “God save our Southern land,
        God be our trust,”--


    _Our Killed in Battle: Sonnet_: New Orleans, 1861. (E. V. M.,
    ’69.)

  “As swift, glad brooks run towards the mighty sea,
  And in its heart are lost forevermore,”--


    _Our Left_: By Francis O. Ticknor, M. D., Georgia. (B. E.)

  “From dark to dawn they stood
    That long midsummer day”--


    _Our Marshal Kane_: Air, “Roseas’ Dream.” (R. B. B., 51)

  “Come and listen to my story
  From all lies I will refrain,”--


    _Our Martyrs_: By Paul H. Hayne. (W. G. S.)

  “I am sitting lone and weary,
    On the hearth of my darkened room,”--


    _Our Mothers Did So Before Us_: Air, “My Mother Did So Before
    Me:” by Augusta Foster. Foster’s Settlement, Alabama, January
    22, 1862. (S. L. M., Ed. Table, Jan. ’62.)

  “We are a band of brothers bold,
      Now fighting for our nation,”--


    _Our Nameless Heroes_: Inscribed to the author of the
    “Haversack.” (E. V. M., ’69.)

  “Our nameless heroes--glorious band--
  That for our dear, dear Southern land,”--


    _Our Noble Dead_: By John E. Hatcher of Alabama. (C. C.)

  “We will not wander to the gloomy years,
    Through whose dark scenes we have so lately passed”--


    _Our President_: By Fanny Downing. C. S. A., ’64. (E. V. M.,
    ’69.)

  “A people spring to being, in whose bounds,
  Lie mightiest elements of glory,”--


    _Our Rights_: Song. (West. Res.)

  “The stars and stripes, Oh lovely cloth,
    To hide the tricks of crafty knaves,”--


    _Our Southern Dead_: By A. Baltimore, October 6, 1862. (R. B.
    B., p. 91.)

  “Mourn for our glorious dead,
      Gallant men and leaders brave,”--


    _Our Southern Land_: By Patria Dolorosa. (C. C.)

  “The mountains lift aloft their hoary peaks,
      The rivers to the ocean proudly run,”--


    _Our Starry Cross_: (Cav.)

  “Our starry Cross was first unfurled,
    On Manassas’ bloody plain,”--


    _Our Stonewall’s Grave_: By Esperanza. July 4, 1863. (C. C.)

  “Stranger, pause at this mound of clay,
  See it is fresh, and was made today;”--


    _Over the (Mississippi) River_: By Miss Maria E. Jones. (Alsb.)

  “Over the River there are fierce stern meetings,
  No kindly clasp of hand, no welcome call;”--


    _Over the River_: By Jane T. H. Cross. (W. G. S. from the
    Nashville _Christian Advocate_, 1861.)

  “We hail your ‘stripes’ and lessened ‘stars’
  As one may hail a neighbor,”--


    _Over the River_: By J. Daffore. (E. V. M.)

  “Over the river--over the river--
  There where the soft lying shadows invite,”--


    _Over the River_: By E. De Mondion. (Amaranth.)

  “The camp was hushed, the midnight passed,
    But the warriors their vigil kept,”--


    _Over the River_: (The Mississippi): By Rev. J. E. Carnes.
    (Alsb.)

  “Over the river,
  Our country is massing her band”--


    _The Paean of the Coffinless Dead_: Douglas, Arkansas, March 6,
    1864. (C. C.)

  “The paean I sing of the coffinless dead--
      The heroes who wore the gray”--


    _Pardon and Peace_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “Pardon and peace! what music in those words,
      Meet for the angel’s song!”--


    _Patience, Patience, O My Spirit!_ By Kentucky. Oct. 20, 1862.
    (S. O. S.)

  “Patience, patience, O my spirit!
    Only patience doth inherit”--


    _Patriotic Song_: Air, “Gathering of the Clans:” by Dr. John W.
    Paine, of Lexington, Virginia, June 30, 1862. (Fag. from the
    Richmond _Despatch_.)

  “Rise, rise, mountain and valley men,
    Bald sire and beardless son, each come in order,”--


    _Patriotism_: (R. R.)

  “The holy fire that nerved the Greek,
    To make his stand at Marathon,”--


    _Patriotism, or Love?_ (S. O. S.)

  “Like a child tossed on the waves in scorn,
    Without a compass, I float on.”--


    _A Patriot’s Death the Sign of a Brighter Morrow_: Air, “Tom
    Moore:” by Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “In blood the sun is setting,
    That this morn arose in clouds;”--


    _Peace_: By L. Burroughs of Savannah, Georgia, April, 1865. (E.
    V. M.)

  “They are ringing Peace on my weary ear,
    No Peace to this heavy heart,”--


    _The Pelican Flag_: (Bohemian from the New Orleans _Sunday
    Delta_.)

  “Fling to the Southern wind
      The banner with its type of motherhood;”--


    _Pensacola_: By M. Louise Rogers. (Im.)

  “O night wind! gently, softly blow
  Over the loved ones lying so low,”--


    _Pensacola: To My Son_: By M. S., New Orleans, Louisiana. (R.
    R.)

  “Beautiful the land may be
    Its groves of palm, its laurel trees,”--


    _The People in Grey_: By Col. B. H. Jones. Johnson’s Island,
    May 12, 1865. (Sunny.)

  “A noble people were the People in Grey,
    However derided or slandered;”--


    _Picayune Butter_: Air, “All on hobbies.” (West. Res.)

  “Old Fuss and Feathers, as we knew before,
      Sent away from down East to sack Baltimore.”--


    _A Picture_: (E. V. M. from the Savannah _Morning News_.)

  “We were sitting round the table
      Just a night or two ago”--


    _A Pledge to Lee: Written for a Kentucky Company_: By Mrs. C.
    A. Warfield, of Kentucky. (E. V. M.)

  “We pledge thee, Lee!
    In water or wine,”--


    _Poem on the Death of Jackson_: (Killed by a New York Zouave in
    Alexandria, Virginia. May 24, 1861.) (E. V. M.)

  “Not where the battle red,
  Covers with fame the dead,”--


    _A Poem Which Needs No Dedication_: By James Barron Hope. (R.
    R.)

  “What! you hold yourselves as freemen?
    Tyrants love just such as ye!”--


    _Polk_: By H. L. Flash. (E. V. M.)

  “A flash from the edge of a hostile trench,
  A puff of smoke, a roar”--


    _The Poor Soldier_: A popular camp song of the sixty-second
    Alabama Regiment (The Boy Regiment). (C. S. B.)

  “Little do rich people know
  What we poor soldiers undergo”--


    _Pop Goes the Weasel_: (J. M. S.)

  “King Abraham is very sick,
    Old Scott has got the measles,”--


    _Pope_: To the tune of Bo-Peep. (C. S. B.)

  “Poor Johnnie Pope,
  Has lost his coat,”--


    _Praeterita_: By S. D. D. In Camp, December 28th, 1863. (S. L.
    M., Feb., ’64.)

  “I see in the shadows nightly,
    The dream of a girlish face,”--


    _Pray, Maiden, Pray!_ A Ballad for the Times: Respectfully
    dedicated to the patriotic women of the South: by A. W.
    Kercheval, Esq., music by A. J. Turner; published by Geo. Dunn
    & Co., Richmond, Va. (R. B. M., 1864.)

  “Maiden, pray for thy lover now,
    Thro’ all this starry night,”--


    _Prayer_: (These verses were written by a deaf and dumb girl of
    Savannah, Georgia, on the occasion of a fast day.) (E. V. M.)

  “Before thy throne, O God!
  Upon this blood-wet sod,”--


    _Prayer_: By Fadette. (Amaranth.)

  “Lord God of Hosts! we lift our hearts to thee!
    Our streaming eyes lift daily toward thy Throne”--


    _Prayer for Maryland_: The National Prayer slightly altered
    from the original of Bishop Whitingham, to suit the present
    highly favored condition of the people of Maryland. (R. B. B.
    82.)

  “From Lincoln to Hick’s
    From Dodge and old Dix,”--


    _Prayer For My Only Son, Aged Fifteen, Now in the Service of
    His Country_: Memphis, July 26, 1864. (Amaranth.)

  “God bless my daring, venturous boy,
    Where’er his feet may stray,”--


    _A Prayer for Peace_: By Major S. Yates Levy: (Sunny.)

  “Almighty God! Eternal Sire and King!
  Ruler Supreme! who all things didst create,”--


    _A Prayer for Peace_: By G. H. S. Charleston, South Carolina.
    (S. L. M., Nov. and Dec., 63). (From the _Record_.)

  “Look forth, look forth, from the pale hills of time,
  Which, deepening in the distance, rise and swell,”--


    _A Prayer for Peace_: By S. Teackle Wallis, of Maryland. (S. S.)

  “Peace! Peace! God of our fathers, grant us Peace!
        Unto our cry of anguish and despair,”--


    _A Prayer for the South_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “Oh God! my heart goes up to Thee
      For our brave men on land and sea,”--


    _Prayer of the South_: By Father Abram J. Ryan. (Sunny.)

  “My brow is bent beneath a heavy rod!
  My face is wan and white with many woes,”--


    _President Davis_: By Jane T. H. Cross. (W. G. S., published in
    the New York _News_, 1865.)

  “The cell is lonely and the night
    Has filled it with a darker light,”--


    _The President’s Chair_: Air, “Star Spangled Banner.” (West.
    Res.)

  “Ye Southrons arouse, and do battle, nor yield
  To the black northern hordes now infesting your borders,”--


    _The Price of Peace_: By Luola. [Mrs. Loula W. Rogers, of Ga.]
    (E. V. M.)

  “A woman paced with hurried step, her lone and dreary cell--
  The setting sun, with golden ray upon her dark hair fell,”--


    _The Printers of Virginia to “Old Abe:”_ By Harry C. Treakle,
    Norfolk, Virginia, April 4, 1862. (R. R.)

  “Though we’re exempt, we’re not the metal
        To keep in when duty calls:”--


    _Prison on Lake Erie_: By Asa Hartz, [Major George McKnight]
    Johnson’s Island, February 1864. (W. L.)

  “The full round moon in God’s blue bend
  Glides o’er her path so queenly,”--


    _Prison Reveries--Storm_: By H. W. B., of Kentucky. Johnson’s
    Island, August, 1863. (E. V. M., ’69.)

  “The storm-capped waves are fiercely breaking
  With sullen roll and snowy crest,”--


    _The Prisoner’s Dream_: By Col. B. H. Jones, Johnson’s Island,
    November, 1864. (Sunny.)

  “I dreamed ’twas the Sabbath day, Letitia,
  The sky serene and blue,”--


    _A Prisoner’s Fancy_: By Col. W. S. Hawkins. (Sunny.)

  “Though I rest in a Prison, and long miles between us be,
  Past the guards and through the distance, sweet, my soul
            goes out to thee”--


    _Prisoner’s Lament_: By Captain Clarkson of Missouri. Set to
    music by D. O. Booker of Tennessee, while both were prisoners
    of war on Johnson’s Island. (Hubner.)

  “My home is on a sea-girt isle,
  Far far away from thee”--


    _The Prisoner of State_: A. D., 1865. (C. C.)

  “I see him in his loathsome cell
    The martyr of a ruined cause,”--


    _A Private in the Ranks_: Suggested by a chapter in “Macaria.”
    By C. E. McC. Dauphin Island, May 5, A. D. 1864. (C. C.)

  “No tinselled bar his collar bears;
  No epaulette or star,”--


    _Privates in the Ranks_: By Lieut. E. C. McCarthy. (Sunny.)

  “No golden bar his collar wears,
    No epaulette or star,”--


    _Private Maguire_: (Alsb.)

  “Ach, its nate to be Captain or Colonel,
    Divil a bit would I want to be higher;”--


    _Pro Aris et Focis_: Song of the Spartan Rifleman: 1861. (R. N.
    S. from the Spartansburg _Express_.)

  “Our banner the gift of the gentle and fair,
  How proudly it floats in the morning air,”--


    _Pro Memoria_: Air, “There is rest for the weary.” By Ina M.
    Porter, of Alabama. (W. G. S.)

  “Lo! the Southland Queen, emerging
      From her sad and wintry gloom,”--


    _Prometheus Vinctus_: By Fanny Downing. (E. V. M. ’69.)

  “Prometheus on the cold rock bound,
    The vulture at his heart,”--


    _Promise of Spring_: (W. G. S.)

  “The sun-beguiling breeze,
  From the soft Cuban seas,”--


    _Prosopopeia--Virginia’s Call to Arms_: March, 1861. (S. L. M.,
    April, 1861.)

  “Come from your mountain regions,
  Come from your plains afar,”--


    _Quam diu tandem abutere patientia no_: By B., Baltimore, June
    30, 1861. (R. B. B. 4.)

  “Come gentle muse, give me your aid,
  Keen make my pen as Ashby’s blade”--


    _Quantrell’s Call_: Air, “Pirate’s Serenade.” (Im.)

  “Up, comrades up, the moon is in the west,
  And we must be gone at the dawn of the day,”--


    _Rachel of Rama, St. Matthew II, 18_: By Christopher Waife. S.
    W. Virginia, January 4, 1863. (S. L. M., August ’63.)

  “When the river floweth,
  Floweth to the sea,”--


    _Rally Around the Stars and Bars_: By Robert Lamp, 51st Georgia
    Vols. (R. B. B. 94.)

  “Rally round your country’s flag, ye freemen of the South,
  Gird on your armor for the fray, go ye to battle forth,”--


    _Rally of the South_: [By C. B. Northrup]. (Outcast.)

  “Gallant men of Southern blood,”--


    _Rally Round the Flag, Boys!_ (Army.)

  “We are marching to the field, boys, we are going to the fight,
              Shouting the battle cry of Freedom.”--


    _Rally Round the Standard, Boys_: (R. B. B. 94.)

  “My heart is in the South, boys, my heart is not here,
  We will rally round the South, boys, for liberty, so dear,”--


    _Rallying Song of the Virginians_: Air, “Scots, wha hae:” By
    Susan Archer Talley. S. L. M., Ed. Table, June, 1861. (E. V. M.)

  “Now rouse ye, gallant comrades all,
    And ready stand, in war’s array,”--


    _Ranger’s Farewell_: By ----, of Col. Wm. H. Parson’s Regiment.
    (Alsb.)

  “Come fathers, sons and brothers! it is your country’s call!
  If you’ve the heart and courage to face a cannon ball!”--


    _Ranger’s Lay_: Air, “I’ll hang my harp on the willow tree.” By
    Mrs. Mary L. Wilson. (Alsb.)

  “Here, for the cause that the valiant love, we claim the right
        to die!
  On the battle field shall our sabres prove that right is valued
        high,”--


    _Ranger’s Parting Song_: By G. W. Archer, M. D. (E. V. M., ’69.)

  “A mystic spell lures men to dwell
    Far far from wilds away,”--


    _Rappahannock Army Song_: By John C. McLemore. (W. G. S., from
    the Richmond _Enquirer_.)

  “The toil of the march is over--
  The pack will be borne no more”--


    _Raden-Linden_: By Col. B. H. Jones, Prisoner of War, Johnson’s
    Island, November 3, 1864. (C. S. B.)

  “In prison, when the sun was up,
  Each ‘reb’ licked clean his plate and cup”--


    _Reading the List_: (W. G. S.)

  “Is there any news of the war? she said--
  Only a list of the wounded and dead,”--


    _The Reaper_: Fort Taylord, N. C. (E. V. M.)

  “The apples are ripe in the orchard,
  The work of the reaper’s begun,”--


    _The Reason Why_: By Col. B. N. Jones. (Sunny.)

  “From streets and alleys float afar,
  The moanings of this famine war,”--


    _The Reason “Why:”_ By Rev. John Collins McCabe, D.D. Richmond,
    1862. (S. L. M., Nov. and Dec., 1862.)

  “Is it ‘beyond all wonder’ how amid the battle thunder,
  They can fight, those ‘ragged wretches,’ while your well dressed
               soldiers fly,”--


    _Rebel Prisoner_: (Alsb.)

  “One morning, one morning, one morning in May,
  I heard a poor soldier lamenting, and say:”--


    _The Rebel Sock_: By Mrs. M. B. Clarke. (E. V. M., ’69.)

  “In all the pomp and pride of war
      The Lincolnite was dressed,”--


    _A Rebel Soldier, Killed in the Trenches Before Petersburg,
    Va., April 15, 1865_: By A Kentucky Girl. (W. G. S.)

  “Killed in the trenches! How cold and bare
  The inscription graved on the white card there”--


    _Rebel Toasts: Or Drink It Down!_ (Alsb.)

  “O, here’s to South Carolina! drink it down,
  Here’s to South Carolina! drink it down,”--


    _Rebel’s Dream_: By A. F. Leovy. (Fag.)

  “Softly in dreams of repose,
    A vision so pure and so sweet,”--


    _Rebel’s Requiem_: By Col. M. V. Moore of Auburn, Alabama.
    (Hubner.)

  “Oh, give him a grave when the victory’s won
      In the dust of his own dear clime,”--


    _Rebel’s Retort_: Air, “Cocachelunk.” (R. B. B., 96.)

  “Tell us not we will make blunders,
  That our hopes are but a dream,”--


    _Rebels! ’Tis a Holy Name_: By Rev. Mr. Garesche, of St. Louis.
    (E. V. M. from the Atlanta _Confederacy_.)

  “Rebels! ’Tis a holy name,
      The name our father’s bore,”--


    _Recapture of Galveston_: Air, “Happy Land of Canaan.” By M. E.
    Beaver. (Alsb.)

  “Now all you girls and boys
  Open your ears and hush your noise,”--


    _Recognition of the Southern Confederacy_: Air, “Rosseau’s
    Dream.” (West. Res.)

  “Recognize us, recognize us,
      From the South the noble cry,”--


    _The Recompense_: By Captain J. B. Clarke, 18th Miss. Infantry.
    (Sunny.)

  “From out the Irish peasant’s hut
    There came a doleful wail,”--


    _The Recruiting Sergeant_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “I am a Southern Recruiting Sergeant, oho!
  The way that the ranks can be filled up I know”--


    _Redeemed!_ By a Prisoner in solitary confinement, May 31,
    1865. (W. L.)

  “What, though the wrong, I have defied
    And smote it with the fleshy sword;”--


    _The Red Zouave_: (S. L. M., Nov., 1861.)

  “The stars were bright, the breeze was still
      The cicada and the whippoorwill”--


    _Reddato Gladium!_ Virginia to Winfield Scott. By E. W. S. L.
    M., November and December, 1862. (W. G. S. from the Richmond
    _Whig_.)

  “A voice is heard in Ramah!
      High sounds are in the gale!”--


    _Re-Enlist_: By Mrs. Margarita J. Canedo. (S. B. P.)

  “What! shall we now throw down the blade,
    And doff the helmet from our brows?”--


    _Regulus_: By Margaret J. Preston. (E. V. M.)

  “Have ye no mercy? Punic rage
    Boasted small skill in torture, when”--


    _Requiem for 1861_: By H. C. B. (Bohemian from the _Southern
    Field and Fireside_.)

  “Year of terror, year of strife
  Year with evil passions rife,”--


    _Retreat of the Grand Army from Bull Run_: Air, “Sweet
    Evelina.” By Ernest Clifton, (Mr. Piersol of Baltimore,)
    Baltimore, Maryland. (R. B. B., 11.)

  “Way down in Virginia,
  That glorious old State,”--


    _Retreat of the 60,000 Lincoln Troops_: July 15, 1861. (R. B.
    B., 95.)

  “’Twas a clear and a beautiful day,
  And the sun was in the sky,”--


    _The Return_: (W. G. S.)

  “Three years! I wonder if she’ll know me?
        I limp a little, and I left one arm”--


    _The Return Home_: Philadelphia, July, 1865. (W. L.)

  “Aye, give them welcome home, fair South!
  For you they’ve made a deathless name;”--


    _Rich Mountain_: By William H. Holcombe, M.D. (S. L. M., Nov.,
    1861.)

  “The clash of arms, the tread of hurrying feet,
  Shoutings and groans, and victory and retreat,”--


    _A Richmond Heroine_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “A pretty girl, through whose soft hair
  Daintily played warm Southern air,”--


    _Richmond is a Hard Road to Travel_: Air, “Jordan is a Hard
    Road to Travel.” Dedicated to General A. E. Burnside. (C. S. B.)

  “Would you like to hear my song--I’m afraid it’s rather long,
  Of the famous ‘On to Richmond’ double trouble;”--


    _Richmond on the James_: By Anna Marie Welby, Louisville,
    Kentucky, July, 1862. (E. V. M.)

  “A soldier boy from Bourbon, lay gasping on the field,
  When the battle’s shock was over and the foe was forced to yield;”--


    _Riding a Raid_: Air, “Bonny Dundee.” (E. V. M.)

  “’Tis old Stonewall the Rebel that leans on his sword,
  And while we are mounting prays low to the Lord:”--


    _Rode’s Brigade Charge at Seven Pines_: By W. P. C., of
    Virginia. (E. V. M.)

  “Down by the valley, ’mid thunder and lightning,
    Down by the valley, ’mid jettings of light,”--


    _Root Hog or Die_: The Camp Version. (J. M. S.)

  “Abe Lincoln keeps kicking up a fuss,
  Think he’d better stop, for he’ll only make it worse,”--


    _A Rumor of Peace_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “I think a voice divine hath stirred the air;
        I do not breathe so heavily,”--


    _Rum Raid at Velasco_: Air, “Dixie.” By Waul’s Legion, written
    by one of the Bucket-eers. (Alsb.)

  “One night when we were getting dry,
  A little old whiskey was the cry:”--


    _The Run from Manassas Junction_: (P. P. B.)

  “Yankee Doodle went to war
    On his little pony”--


    _Run Yanks, or Die!_ Air, “Root Hog, or Die.” By T. W. Crowson.
    (Alsb.)

  “Now if you all will listen while I relate
  About the cause of Freedom you’re here to calculate:”--


    _Sabbath Bells_: (E. V. M. from the Charleston _Mercury_.)

  “Those Sabbath bells! Those Sabbath bells!
  No more their soothing music tells.”--


    _Sabine Pass_: Dedicated to the Davis Guards--the Living and
    the Dead. By Mrs. M. J. Young. (Alsb.)

  “Sabine Pass in letters of gold
    Seem written upon the sky today”--


    _Sacrifice_: (W. G. S. from the Charleston _Mercury_.)

  “Another victim to the sacrifice!
    Oh! my own mother South,”--


    _St. John, the Baptist, Patron of South Carolina_: [By C. B.
    Northrup]. (Outcast.)

  “Eternal glory to our patron saint”--


    _The Salkehatchie_: Written when a garrison at or near
    Salkehatchie Bridge were threatening a raid up in the Fort of
    Big and Little Salkehatchie. By Emily J. Moore. (W. G. S.)

  “The crystal streams, the pearly streams,
    The streams in sunbeams flashing,”--


    _The Santa Fe Volunteer_: Air, “Mary’s Dream.” (Alsb.)

  “O when I went away from you, it filled my heart with grief and woe;
  You gave to me the parting hand, wishing me safe in yonder land:”--


    _The Saucy Little Turtle_: Air, “Coming through the Rye.” (R.
    B. B., 99.)

  “Down in Mississippi river,
      The other day,”--


    _Savannah_: By Alethea S. Burroughs. (W. G. S.)

  “Thou hast not drooped thy stately head,
  Thy woes a wondrous beauty shed”--


    _Savannah Fallen_: By Alethea S. Burroughs, of Georgia. (W. G.
    S.)

  “Bowing her head to the dust of the earth,
    Smitten and stricken is she,”--


    _Scenes_: By Paul H. Hayne. (Amaranth from the _Southern
    Illustrated News_.)

  “Oh, God! if gifted with an angel’s flight,
  And somewhat of an angel’s mystic sight,”--


    _Scene in a Country Hospital_: By Paul H. Hayne. (Amaranth,
    from the _Southern Illustrated News_.)

  “Here, lonely, wounded and apart,
    From out my casement’s glimmering round,”--


    _The Sea-Kings of the South_: By Edward C. Bruce, of
    Winchester, Virginia. (W. G. S. from the Richmond _Sentinel_,
    March 30, 1863.)

  “Full many have sung of the victories our warriors have won,
  From Bethel, by the eastern tide, to sunny Galveston”--


    _Sea-Weeds: Written in Exile_: By Annie Chambers Ketchum. (W.
    G. S.)

  “Friend of the thoughtful mind and gentle heart!
        Beneath the citron-tree”--


    _Secession, or Uncle Sam’s Troublesome Daughters_: 1862. (C. C.)

  “Waking up one lovely morning,
  In the Autumn’s rarest prime”--


    _Semmes’ Sword_: By Mrs. Margaret J. Preston. Beechmore, 1866.
    (E. V. M.)

  “Into the sea he hurled it,
    Into the weltering sea,”--


    _The Sentinel_: Hanover County, Virginia, January 1, 1862.
    (Bohemian.)

  “When the curtains are drawn and the candles are lit,
  And cozy and warm by the fire-side I sit,”--


    _The Sentinel’s Dream of Home_: By Col. A. M. Hobby, Galveston,
    February 1, 1864. (Alsb.)

  “’Tis dead of night, nor voice, nor sound breaks on the stillness
            of the air,
  The waning moon goes coldly down on frozen fields and forests bare.”--


    _The Sentinel’s Reverie_: By Mrs. Margaret Piggot. Petersburg,
    March 25, 1863. (S. L. M., April, ’63.)

  “I face my dull round by the bank of the river,
  About me the night, and before me the foe;”--


    _Sentry’s Call_: “Half-past ten o’clock and all is well!” By W.
    L. Sibley. Prisoner, Johnson’s Island, 1865. (W. L.)

  “Silence, deep, profound, mysterious,
  Gains her way with subtle power,”--


    _The Serenade of the 300,000 Federal Ghosts_: Respectfully
    dedicated to Old Black Abe. (R. B. B., 58.)

  “From the battle field afar, where the wounded and the dying,
    Are lying side by side, while serried hosts are flying,”--


    _1776-1861_: Air, “Bruce’s Address.” (E. V. M.)

  “Sons of the South! from hill and dale,
  From mountain top, and lowly vale,”--


    _Seventy-Six and Sixty-One_: By John W. Overall, of Louisiana.
    (W. G. S.)

  “Ye spirits of the glorious dead!
  Ye watchers in the sky!”--


    _Shades of Our Fathers_: An Ode. By W. Gilmore Simms. (S. L.
    M., Feb. and March, ’62.)

  “Shades of our Fathers! Shall it be,
  That we whose sires were ever free,”--


    _Shell the City! Shell!_ By W. Gilmore Simms. (W. G. S.)

  “Shell the city! shell!
  Ye myrmidons of Hell;”--


    _The Shenandoah Sufferers_: By A Voice from New England. A. D.,
    1864. (C. C.)

  “The Shenandoah Valley, the garden of earth
  When beauty and plenty sprang joyously forth”--


    _Shermanized_: By L. Virginia French. (E. V. M.)

  “In this city of Atlanta, on a dire and dreadful day,
      ’Mid the raging of the conflict, ’mid the thunder of the fray,”--


    _Sherman’s Bummers_: Parody on the “Knickerbocker Line” and
    respectfully dedicated to the Bummers of Sherman’s Army. By H.
    H. C., 6th No. V. V. I. (R. B. B., 98.)

  “Come listen to my good old Song,
  About a Bum m-e-r”--


    _Shiloh!_ Louisiana, June, 1862. (Alsb.)

  “Night brooded o’er the Federal camp,
    And the breeze blew soft and free,”--


    _Shiloh_: By Margaret Stilling: (Bohemian, from the Richmond
    _Enquirer_.)

  “Golden lights on the purple hills,
      A rosy blush on the valleys fair,”--


    _The Ship of State_: Sonnet. (W. G. S., from the Charleston
    _Mercury_.)

  “Here lie the peril and necessity
  That need a race of giants--a great realm”--


    _The Ship of State_: By Mrs. C. A. Warfield. (E. V. M.)

  “A good ship o’er a stormy sea,
  Before the gale is driving,”--


    _Short Rations_: A Song--dedicated to the Cornfed Army of
    Tennessee. In the field near Dalton, Georgia. December 22,
    1863. (W. F.)

  “Fair ladies and maids of all ages,
    Little girls and cadets howe’er youthful”--


    _Shot!_ By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “O Brain, come quickly with your art,
      Show me some scenes to calm my heart,”--


    _Shot through the Heart_: By Ina M. Porter. (B. E.)

  “Across the brown and wintry morn,
  Borne on the soft wind’s wing,”--


    _Sic Semper_: By a Virginian. (R. B. B., 98.)

  “Enthroned in obloquy, Abe Lincoln sits,
  And with his weighty axe, a rail he splits,”--


    _Sic Semper Tyrannis_: By Fanny Downing. (Amaranth.)

  “They have torn off the crown from her beautiful brow,
  Yet she never seemed half so majestic as now,”--


    _Sic Semper Tyrranis!_ By Wm. M. Holcombe, M.D. (S. L. M.,
    Oct., ’61.)

  “When the bloody and perjur’d usurper called forth
  His minions and tools--to the shame of the North!”--


    _Silence_: By Lieut. J. E. Dooley. (Sunny.)

  “There’s silence in the prison,
  There’s silence on the shore,”--


    _The Silent March_: By Walker Meriweather Bell. (W. L.):

  “O’ercome with weariness and care
    The war-worn veteran lay,”--


    _The Single Star and The Palmetto Banner_: [By C. B. Northrup].
    (Outcast.)

  “Alone the single star
  Of our clear state is gleaming,”--


    _Slap_: By Klubs (James R. Randall). (S. L. M., Ed. Table,
    January, 1862, from the New Orleans _Delta_ of 1861.)

  “Ho, gallants! brim the beaker bowl,
    And click the festal glasses, oh!”--


    _The Soldier_: (Army.)

  “’Tis not on the battle field
      That I would wish to die,”--


    _Soldier, I Stay to Pray for Thee_: By J. S. Thorrington. (Fag.)

  “Lady, I go to fight for thee,
    Where gory banners wave,”--


    _The Soldier in the Rain_: By Julia L. Keyes. (W. G. S., from
    the _Patriot and Mountaineer_.)

  “Ah me! the rain has a sadder sound
      Than it ever had before,”--


    _A Soldier-Name Unknown_: By F. B., Atlanta, August 19, 1864.
    (W. F.)

  “What is glory? A perfume whose own exhalations
            Itself must exhaust in the end;”--


    _The Soldier of the Cross_: Suggested by Bishop Polk’s
    appointment in the rebel army. (P. & P. B. from the Savannah
    _News_.)

  “Down from the hill where earthly dross
    Ne’er stained the sacred feet,”--


    _The Soldier Who Died Today_: Macon, Georgia, A. D., 1863. (C.
    C.)

  “Only a humble cart
    Threading the careless crowd,”--


    _The Soldier’s Amen_: (Alsb.)

  “As a couple of good soldiers were walking one day,
  Said one to the other, ‘Let’s kneel down and pray’!”--


    _The Soldier’s Battle Prayer_: (Selected.) (S. L. M., April,
    ’62.)

  “Father, I trust thee!
  Life, was thy gift, thou can’st now shield it,”--


    _Soldier’s Dear Old Home_: By Rev. Mr. Joyce, Chaplain Arizona
    Brigade. (Alsb.)

  “We are a band of brothers,
  Wild and fearless will we roam”--


    _The Soldier’s Death_: By A. B. Cunningham. (Alsb.)

  “The night cloud had lowered o’er Shiloh’s red plain,
    And the blast howl’d sadly o’er wounded and slain,”--


    _A Soldier’s Dream_: (C. S. B.)

  “Last night as I toasted
  My wet feet and roasted”--


    _The Soldier’s Dream_: (Lee)

  “Our bugles sand truce, for the night cloud had lowr’d,
    And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky,”--


    _Soldier’s Dream_: By Fr. Sulzner. (Fag.)

  “I am dreaming of thee,
  Dearest, I am dreaming still of thee,”--


    _Soldier’s Farewell_: Air, “Rosin the Bow,” (Randolph.)

  “Hark! the tocsin is sounding, my comrades--
    Bind your knapsacks, away let us go,”--


    _Soldier’s Farewell_: By John H. Hewitt: (Lee.)

  “The bugle sounds upon the plain,
      Our men are gath-ring fast;”--


    _The Soldier’s Farewell to his Wife_: By Wm. K. Campbell,
    Greenville, S. C. James Island, 1862. (E. V. M.)

  “Side by side and hand in hand,
          Silently we sit;”--


    _The Soldier’s Grave_: (J. M. S.)

  “Oh stranger, tread lightly, ’tis holy ground here,
  In death’s cold embrace, the soldier sleepeth there,”--


    _The Soldier’s Grave_: By Pearl. (E. V. M. from the Victoria
    Advocate.)

  “’Tis where no chisel’s tracing tells
  The humble sleeper’s name,”--


    _The Soldier’s Heart_: By F. P. Beaufort. (S. B. P.)

  “The trumpet calls, and I must go,
  To meet the vile, invading foe;”--


    _Soldier’s Lament_: By Wm. Lewis, Kauffman Co., Texas. (Alsb.)

  “Last Christmas day I left my home, my children and my wife,
    Far, far away I had to go, and lead a soldier’s life;”--


    _The Soldier’s Last Combat_: By Mrs. Elizabeth E. Harper,
    October, 1861. (E. V. M.)

  “The soldier girded his armor on,
  The fire of hope in his bright eye shone,”--


    _Soldier’s Letters_: (E. V. M., ’69.)

  “The mail! the mail!
  And sun-burned cheeks and eager eyes”--


    _The Soldier’s Mission_: By A. W. Morse. (Fag.)

  “Haste thee, falter not, noble patriot band,
  Bravely meet thy lot, firm maintain thy stand,”--


    _The Soldier’s Return_: By Anna Ward. January, 1862. (Im.)

  “Did he come in the pride of manhood,
    Flushed with a soldier’s fame?”--


    _Soldier’s Song of Pass Cavallo_: By Col. C. G. Forshey, C. S.
    Eng. Fort Esperanza, Pass Cavallo. March, 1862. (Alsb.)

  “Down the Matagorda Bay, flow the waters smooth and shallow,
  Gaining fleetness on the way, hurrying down to Pass Cavallo;”--


    _Soldier’s Suit of Gray_: By Carrie Belle Sinclair. (Alsb.)

  “I’ve seen some handsome uniforms deck’d off with buttons bright,
  And some that are so very gay they almost blind the sight;”--


    _The Soldier’s Sweet Home_: Air, “Home, Sweet Home.” By Mrs.
    Mary L. Wilson, San Antonio. (Alsb.)

  “The soldier who o’er the lone prairie doth roam,
  Oft sighs for the far distant pleasures of home”--


    _A Solemn Dirge_: Placarded in Charleston, 186--, on the
    removal of Gen. Sickles. (Mr. Samuel’s Scrapbook, Ridgway.)

  “King Dan is dead--he breathed his last,
  We ne’er see him more,”--


    _Soldier Talk_: To the tune of “Walk-In, Walk-In, Walk-In, I
    Say and Hear My Banjo Play.” By Captain T. F. Roche, C. S. A.
    1865, Fort Delaware. (Roche.)

  “One very funny habit when this cruel war am done,
  Will common as the devil be, to each and every one,”--


    _Somebody’s Darling_: By Miss Marie Lacoste, of Savannah,
    Georgia. (E. V. M. from the _Southern Churchman_.)

  “Into a ward of the whitewashed walls
  Where the dead and dying lay”--


    _Song_: Air, “Faintly Flow Thy Falling River.” (E. V. M.)

  “Here we bring a fragrant tribute,
    To the bed where valor sleeps,”--


    _Song_: Air, “Happy Land of Canaan.” (R. B. B., 40.)

  “You Rebels come along and listen to my song
    The subject of the same is not worth naming,”--


    _A Song_: Written by an inmate of the Old Capitol Prison in
    Washington City, and sung by his fellow prisoners. (R. R. from
    the Richmond _Sentinel_.)

  “Rebel is a sacred name,
  Traitor, too, is glorious;”--


    _Song, Bull’s Run_: (R. B. B., 13.)

  “Come gentle muse, give me your aid,
      Sharp make my pen as Ashby’s blade”--


    _A Song for Dogs_: 1864. (West. Res.)

  “Our fathers were men in the days that are past--
    What a pity it is that our fathers are dead!”--


    _Song for the Irish Brigade_: By Shamrock of the Sumpter
    Rifles. (R. R.)

  “Not now for the songs of a nation’s wrongs,
  Nor the groans of starving labor,”--


    _Song for the South_: (Randolph)

  “A shout! a wild glad shout of joy!
  Ho! all ye sons of freedom, rise”--


    _Song for the South_: (R. R.)

  “Of all the mighty nations, in the East or in the West,
  Our glorious Southern nation is the greatest and the best;”--


    _Song of Hooker’s Picket_: (Fag. from the _Southern Illustrated
    News_, February 21, 1863)

  “I’m ’nation tired of being hired
    To fight for a shilling a day;”--


    _Song of our Glorious Southland_: By Mrs. Mary Ware. (W. G. S.
    from the _Southern Field and Fireside_.)

  “Oh, sing of our glorious Southland,
    The pride of the golden sun!”--


    _Song of Spring (1864)_: By John A. Wagener of South Carolina.
    (W. G. S.)

  “Spring has come! Spring has come!
    The brightening earth, the sparkling dew”--


    _Song of the Baltimore Rebels_: Air, “Wait For the Wagon.” (R.
    B. B., 77.)

  “Let us join the army,
  Let us join the army, and drive the Hessians home,”--


    _Song of the “Bloody Sixth” at Camp Chase, Ohio_: (Alsb.)

  “We have sung of Benny Havens and Camp McCullough, O--
  When cups were filled with good old Rye in happy days of yore;”--


    _Song of the C. R.’s of M._: Air, “Villikins and his Dinah.” By
    F. B. (W. F.)

  “Our motto is fun and though dark be the hour
  His heart is a craven’s who lets it go sour;”--


    _The Song of the Drum_: (R. B. B., p. 100.)

  “Oh, the drum, it rattles so loud,
  When it calls me, with its rattle,”--


    _The Song of the Exile_: Air, “Dixie.” By B. Martinsburg,
    Virginia, December 10, 1861. (C. S. B.)

  “O here I am in the land of cotton,
  The flag once honored is now forgotten”--


    _Song of the Fifth Texas Regiment_: Air, “Happy Land of
    Canaan.” (Alsb.)

  “O! the Bayou City Guards, they will never ask for odds,
    When the Yankees in a close place get them, ha! ha!”--


    _Song of the First Virginia Cavalry_: (Amaranth from the
    _Southern Illustrated News_.)

  “Mount! Mount! and away!
  Stay not to entwine”--


    _Song of the Freedmen_: By A. R. Watson, Atlanta, Georgia. (E.
    V. M.)

  “A freedman sat on a pile of bricks,
      As the rain was pattering down”--


    _Song of the Privateer_: By Quien Sabe? Baltimore, October 10,
    1861. (R. B. B.)

  “Away o’er the boundless sea
    With steady hearts and free”--


    _Song of the Privateer_: By Alexander H. Cummins: (R. R.)

  “Fearlessly the seas we roam,
      Tossed by each briny wave;”--


    _Song of the Rebel_: By Esten Cooke, Camp “No Camp.” December
    1, 1862. (W. L.)

  “Oh! not a heart in all our host
    But feels a noble thrill,”--


    _Song of the Sentinel_: (Bohemian from the Richmond _Dispatch_)

  “Sleep, comrade! sleep in slumbers deep!
    No foe across our line shall creep;”--


    _Song of the Sergeant of the Guard_: Written by the Guard Fire,
    Vienna, Virginia, August 1, 1862. (July and August, ’62, S. L.
    M.)

  “I think of you, my child,
    While the long hours move slow;”--


    _The Song of the Snow_: By Mrs. M. J. Preston, Lexington,
    Virginia. (C. S. B.)

  “Halt! the march is over
      Day is almost done”--


    _Song of the South_: (Bohemian, from the New Orleans Sunday
    Delta.)

  “The genius of the Western world,
  Stood silent by the sea;”--


    _The Song of the South_: (R. R.)

  “Hurrah for the South, the glorious South! the land of
           song and story--
  Her name shall ring and the world shall sing her honor,
           fame and glory;”--


    _Song of the South: Choir_: (Amaranth from _The Land We Love_.)

  “Sing us a song of the South we love!
      O! minstrel sing us a song!”--


    _Song of the Southern Soldier_: Air, “Barclay and Perkin’s
    Drayman.” By P. E. C. (C. C., from the Richmond _Examiner_.)

  “I’m a soldier, you see, that oppression has made,
    I don’t fight for pay or for booty,”--


    _Song of the Southern Women_: By Julia Mildred. (P. & P. B.)

  “O Abraham Lincoln! we call thee to hark
  To the song we are singing, we Joans of Arc.”--


    _The Song of the Sword_: Suggested at seeing a sick and wounded
    Confederate soldier left to die at the Crater farm, near
    Petersburg, Virginia, May 26, 1866 [1864?]. (C. C.)

  “Weary and wounded and worn,
    Wounded and ready to die,”--


    _Song of the Texas Rangers_: Inscribed to Mrs. John H. Wharton.
    Air, “Yellow Rose of Texas.” By Mrs. J. D. Young. (E. V. M.)

  “The morning star is paling,
    The camp fires flicker low,”--


    _Song of the Times_: (Hopkins.)

  “Let hard times assail us,
    Let poverty nail us”--


    _Song of the Washington Volunteers_: (Randolph.)

  “When war’s fierce trumpet notes resounded,
    Whose bold, defiant shouts were sounded?”--


    _Song on General Scott_: Tune, “Poor Old Horse, Let Him Die.”
    By N. B. J. (P. & P. B.)

  “Virginia had a son
    Who gathered up some fame”--


    _Song Written for the “Gilmer Blues” of Lexington, Georgia_:
    Air, “Dixie.” By E. Young. (Bohemian.)

  “Comrades, come and join the chorus,
  Sing for the land whose flag waves o’er us,”--


    _Sonnet_: (W. G. S. from the Charleston _Mercury_.)

  “Man makes his own dread fates, and these in turn
  Create his tyrants. In our lust and passion”--


    _Sonnet_: (W. G. S. from the Charleston _Mercury_.)

  “Democracy hath done its work of ill,
  And, seeming freemen, never to be free,”--


    _Sonnet_: By Paul H. Hayne. (W. G. S.)

  “Rise from your gory ashes stern and pale,
  Ye martyred thousands!”--


    _Sonnet to Mrs. Isabella Quinnell_: By F. B., Globe Hospital,
    Richmond, May, 1862. (W. F.)

  “The soldier lays upon his helpless bed
  Far from his home, reft of maternal care;”--


    _Sonnet: To Resistance_: By W. H. P. (S. L. M., May, ’62 from
    the New Orleans _Delta_.)

  “Shriek out hoarse guns into the startled air!
  A nation’s Liberty! a Nation’s Peace,”--


    _Sonnet Written in 1864_: (W. G. S. from the Charleston
    _Mercury_.)

  “What right to freedom when we are not free?
  When all the passions goad us into lust;”--


    _Sons of Freedom_: By Nanny Gray. (Bohemian from the Richmond
    _Whig_.)

  “Sons of Freedom, on to glory,
  Go, where brave men do or die,”--


    _Sons of Kentucky_: (Randolph.)

  “Kentucky’s Sons! and will ye serviles be,
  While Southrons rise their honor to defend?”--


    _Sons of the South_: Air, “Bruce’s Address.” (Randolph.)

  “Sons of the South! from hill and dale,
  From mountain top and lowly vale,”--


    _Sons of the South, Arise!_ By W. G. Simms. (S. L. M., February
    and March, ’62.)

  “Sons of the South, no longer sleep, Arise,
  The foeman’s foot is planted on your shores,”--


    _Souls of Heroes_: (W. G. S. from the Charleston _Mercury_.)

  “Souls of heroes, ascended from fields you have won.
  Still smiles on the conflict so greatly begun;”--


    _Soul of the South, an Ode_: By Wm. Gilmore Simms. (S. L. M.,
    February and March, ’62.)

  “’Twas a goodly boon that our fathers gave,
  And it fits but ill to be held by the slave,”--


    _The South_: (Md. Hist. B.)

  “The South I wonder every heart,
      Don’t with emotion beat;”--


    _The South (1865)_: By G. Savannah, Georgia, August 17, 1865.
    (W. L.)

  “Her head is bowed downwards: so pensive her air,
  As she looks on the ground with her pale, solemn face,”--


    _The South_: By Father Ryan. (C. S. B.)

  “Yes, give me the land
    Where the ruins are spread,”--


    _The South_: By Charlie Wildwood. Music by John H. Hewitt,
    published by Julian A. Selby, Columbia, South Carolina, (R. R.
    and R. B. M., 1863.)

  “The bright rose of beauty, unnurtur’d by art,
  And purity’s lily doth thrive in thy heart”--


    _The South and North_: (R. B. B., 101.)

  “The Southrons and the Northers, oh
      Have got into a fight,”--


    _The South for Me_: (R. R.)

  “The South for me! the sunny clime,
    Where earth is clothed in beauty’s hue”--


    _The South in Arms_: By Rev. J. B. Martin. (R. R.)

  “Oh! see ye not the sight sublime,
  Unequalled in all previous time”--


    _The South is Up_: By P. E. C. (R. R.)

  “The South is up in stern array--
  Chasseurs and Zouaves and Gallic Guard”--


    _The South; Or, I Love Thee the More_: (Alsb.)

  “My heart in its sadness turns fondly to thee,
  Dear land where our loved ones fought hard to be free”--


    _The South Our Country_: By E. M. Thompson. (Fag.)

  “Our country, our country, oh where may we find,
  Amid all the proud relics of legion or story,”--


    _Southern Carolina, A Patriotic Ode_: Charleston, South
    Carolina, 1861. (Md. Hist. B.)

  “Land of the Palmetto tree
      Sweet home of liberty”--


    _South Carolina_: By S. Henry Dickson. December 20, 1860. (W.
    G. S.)

  “The deed is done! the die is cast;
  The glorious Rubicon is passed”--


    _South Carolina_: By Gossipium. (W. G. S. from the Charleston
    _Mercury_.)

  “My brave old Country! I have watched thee long,
  Still ever first to rise against the wrong;”--


    _South Carolina_: By Willie Lightheart: (Bohemian from the
    Charleston _Courier_.)

  “My land, my Carolina, dear!
  My warm, bright sunny home”--


    _South Carolina Hymn of Independence_: Air, “The Marseillaise.”
    [By C. B. Northrup]. (Outcast)

  “South Carolinians! proudly see
  Our state proclaimed to all the world”--


    _The South Banner_: By Col. W. S. Hawkins, C. S. A., Camp
    Chase, Ohio. (Fag.)

  “Sing ho! for the Southerner’s meteor flag
  As ’tis flung in its pride to the breeze,”--


    _A Southern Battle Hymn_: May 25, 1861. (C. C.)

  “God of our fathers! King of Kings!
    Lord of the earth and sea!”--


    _Southern Battle Song_: Air, “Bruce’s Address.” (R. R.)

  “Raise the Southern flag on high!
    Shout aloud the battle cry!”--


    _Southern Battle Song_: By C. [James Cahill?] Baltimore,
    October, 1862. (R. B. B., 102.)

  “Come gallant sons of noble sires,
    Whose bosoms glow with patriotic fires!”--


    _Southern Border Song_: Air, “Blue Bonnets over the Border.”
    (S. L. M., July, 1861.)

  “March! March! Southerners fearlessly march!
    Have ye not heard of the ruthless marauder?”--


    _Southern Captives_: By Captain Sam Houston. (Alsb.)

  “Softly comes the twilight, stealing softly through my prison bars;
  While from out the vault of heaven gently glimmering come the
               stars;”--


    _Southern Chant of Defiance_: By Mrs. C. A. Warfield of
    Kentucky. Music by A. E. Blackmar. (E. V. M.)

  “You can never win them back;
      Never, never;”--


    _The Southern Cross_: (R. R.)

  “Fling wide each fold, brave flag, unrolled,
  In all thy breadth and length!”--


    _The Southern Cross_: To His Excellency President Davis, from
    his fellow citizens, Ellen Key Blunt, and J. T. Mason Blunt, of
    Maryland and Virginia. Paris, 1862. (S. L. M., September and
    October, 1862.) (R. R.)

  “In the name of God! Amen!
  Stand for our Southern rights!”--


    _The Southern Cross_: By St. George Tucker, of Virginia. (S. L.
    M., March, 1861.) (W. G. S.)

  “Oh! say can you see through the gloom and the storm,
  More bright for the darkness, that pure constellation?”--


    _The Southern Flag_: Air, “A Wet Sheet and a Flowing Sea.”
    (Fag.)

  “Three cheers for the Southern flag,
    That floats upon the gale,”--


    _Southern Flag_: By Lt. Sam Houston. (Alsb.)

  “Flag of the South! whose golden folds
    Shine with a nation’s stars new-born,”--


    _A Southern Gathering Song_: Air, “Hail Columbia.” By L.
    Virginia French. (R. R.)

  “Sons of the South, beware the foe!
  Hark to the murmur deep and low”--


    _Southern Girl and Parody_: The Homespun Plaid: (R. B. B., 104.)

  “Oh, call me not a Southern girl,
    I’m weary of the name;”--


    _A Southern Girl’s Song_: Air, “Come away, love.” By Kentucky.
    (S. O. S.)

  “Come away, love, from our foes, love;
    Come and seek a nobler cause”--


    _The Southern Homes in Ruin_: By R. B. Vance, of North
    Carolina. (W. G. S.)

  “Many a gray-haired sire has died
  As falls the oak--to rise no more,”--


    _Southern Land_: Air, “Dixie’s Land.” (C. S. B. from the
    Charleston _Courier_.)

  “We dwell where skies are bright above us,
  Cheered by smiles from all who love us,”--


    _Southern Marseillaise_: Air, “Marseilles Hymn.” (Randolph.)

  “Soldiers, rouse ye to the battle,
    Arm, arm ye at your country’s call,”--


    _Southern Marseillaise_: (J. M. S.)

  “Sons of the South! awake to glory,
  A thousand voices bid you rise,”--


    _Southern Marseillaise_: (Beau.)

  “Ye men of Southern hearts and feeling,
  Arm, Arm! your struggling country calls”--


    _The Southern Matron to Her Son_: Air, “Oh, No, My Love, No.”
    (R. B. B., 105.)

  “I weep as I leave you, with bitter emotion,
  Yet view me in kindness, refraining from blame;”--


    _Southern Mother’s Lament_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “The head that lay upon my breast--
  O God! elsewhere it findeth rest,”--


    _The Southern Oath_: By Rosa Vertner Jeffry. July 22, 1862. (E.
    V. M.)

  “By the cross upon our banner,
    Glory of one Southern sky,”--


    _Southern Patriotism_: January, 1861. (R. N. S. from the
    Spartansburg _Express_.)

  “Love thy country, thus each sire
      With the lesson undefined,”--


    _The Southern Patriot’s Lament_: Written in Fort Warren Prison
    in 1864. (Amaranth.)

  “I am a captive on a hostile shore,
      Caged like the falcon from its native skies,”--


    _Southern Pleiades_: By Laura Lorrimer. (Bohemian from the
    Nashville _Patriot_.)

  “When first our Southern flag arose,
  Beside the heaving sea,”--


    _Southern Prisoner Gives His Thanks to the Baltimore Ladies_:
    Air, “American Boy.” (R. B. B., 72.)

    “I left Winchester Court House, all in the month of May,
  And from this great starvation I was glad to get away”--


    _The Southern Republic_: By Olive Tully Thomas, Mississippi.
    (W. G. S.)

  “In the galaxy of nations
    A nation’s flag unfurled,”--


    _A Southern Scene, 1862_: (E. V. M.)

  “‘Oh Mammy have you heard the news?’
  Thus spake a Southern child,”--


    _Southern Sentiment_: By Rev. A. M. Box. (Alsb.)

  “The North may think the South will yield,
    And seek for a place in the Union again;”--


    _Southern Sentiment_: (Same as _The Northern Hordes_). Air,
    “Let Haughty Gaul Invasion Threat.” By B., Baltimore, October
    6, 1861. (R. B. B., 106.)

  “The Northern hordes invasion threat,
  But we are not alarmed;”--


    _The Southern Soldier Boy_: As sung by Miss Sallie Partington
    in the “Virginia Cavalier” at the Richmond New Theatre. Air,
    “The Boy with the Auburn Hair.” By Capt. C. W. Alexander, R. A.
    C. and A. P. M. (R. B. M., 1863.)

  “Bob Roebuck is my sweetheart’s name,
    He’s off to the wars and gone,”--


    _Southern Soldier Boy_: By Father A. J. Ryan. (Fag.)

  “Young as the youngest who donned the gray,
  True as the truest who wore it,”--


    _Southern Song_: Tune, “Wait for the Wagon.” (R. R. from the
    Raleigh _Register_.)

  “Come all ye sons of freedom,
  And join our Southern band,”--


    _A Southern Song_: By Miss Maria Grason, Queen Anne Co., Md.
    (E. V. M., ’69.)

  “While crimson drops our hearthstone stains,
  And Northern despots forge our chain,”--


    _Southern Song_: By L. M. (R. R. from the Louisville _Courier_.)

  “If ever I consent to be married,
  (And who would refuse a good mate?)”--


    _A Southern Song_: Address to her Maryland lover by a Virginia
    Girl. Air, “Fly to the Desert.” By M. F. Q. Richmond, May 3,
    1861. (R. B. B.)

    “Fly to the South, come fly to me
  In Richmond there’s a home for thee;”--


    _A Southern Song_: Reply to the Virginia Girl’s Address to her
    Maryland Lover. By O. H. S. ---- Cola. Baltimore, 1861. (R. B.
    B., 2.)

  “Farewell to submission
  Whoever may crave,”--


    _Southern Song of Freedom_: Air, “The Minstrels’ Return.” By J.
    H. H. (R. R.)

  “A Nation has sprung into life
    Beneath the bright Cross of the South”--


    _Southern Union_: (Randolph.)

  “Hail to the new-born nation! hail!
      Shout till our plaudits reach the sky,”--


    _The Southern Wagon in Kentucky_: Air, “Wait for the Wagon.” By
    Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “Some Southern wit, deriding, said they must take up behind,
  The old Corncracker State, because at first she was too blind”--


    _Southern War Cry_: Air, “Scots Wha Hae.” (R. R. from the New
    Orleans _Picayune_.)

  “Countrymen of Washington!
  Countrymen of Jefferson!”--


    _Southern War Song_: Air, “Scots Wha Hae.” By Baltimore. (Md.
    Hist. B.)

  “Southrons, lo! thy tyrant’s hand,
  Stained with blood, pollutes your land,”--


    _Southern War Song_: Air, “I’m Afloat.” (R. B. B., 108.)

  “We shall win! we shall win! for our cause it is just,
  Our arms ever ready, and in God is our trust,”--


    _A Southern War Song_: By P. H. (R. B. B.)

  “Arise ye Southern heroes, and gird your armor on,
    The battle of your liberty is shortly to be won,”--


    _Southern War Song_: By N. P. W. (R. R. from the Louisville
    _Courier_.)

  “To horse! to horse! our standard flies,
  The bugles sound the call;”--


    _Southern Wife_: By Walker Merriweather Bell, of Kentucky.
    (Amaranth.)

  “A price is on my darling’s head,
      Outlawed and hunted down;”--


    _Southern Woman’s Song_: (R. R. from the New Orleans
    _Picayune_.)

  “Stitch, stitch, stitch
    Little needle swiftly fly,”--


    _Southern Women_: By Jay W. Bee, P. A. C. S., Johnson’s Island,
    Ohio, December, 1864. (W. L.)

  “God bless our women, brave and true!
      For them stern death we Southrons dare;”--


    _Southern Yankee Doodle_: (Randolph.)

  “The Yankee bigots say they’ll tear
    Our Southron Flag asunder,”--


    _Southern Yankee Doodle_: Air, “Yankee Doodle.” (R. B. B., 107.)

  “The gallant Major Anderson!
  A bold and fearless Ranger,”--


    _Southland_: The Prize Song. Awarded prize in prize song
    contest conducted in 1864 by Mr. W. F. Wisely of Mobile,
    Alabama. (S. B. P.)

  “They sing of the East
  With its flowery feast,”--


    _The Southland Fears No Foeman_: By J. W. M. Anniesdale, near
    Murfreesboro, North Carolina. (S. L. M., February, 1861.)

  “The Southland fears no foeman,
    Her eagles yet are free;”--


    _The Southron Mother’s Charge_: By Thomas B. Hood, New Orleans,
    Louisiana. (R. R.)

  “You go, my son, to the battle field--
      To repel the invading foe;”--


    _Southrons O!_ (W. L.)

  “By the cross upon our banner,
    Glory of our Southern sky,”--


    _The Southron’s War Song_: By J. A. Wagener of South Carolina
    (E. V. M. from the Charleston _Courier_, June 11, 1861.)

  “Arise! Arise! with main and might,
    Sons of the sunny clime!”--


    _Southron’s Watchword_: (In Imitation of an English Song of the
    Crimean War.) By M. F. Bigney, 1861. (Fag.)

  “What shall the Southron’s watchword be,
  Fighting for us on land and sea?”--


    _Southrons! Yield Not to Despair!_ (Written by a young lady of
    Baltimore, immediately after a late reverse of our cause.) (S.
    L. M., Feb., ’64.)

  “Southrons! yield not to despair--
  Weep not, mothers, wives forlorn;”--


    _The South’s Appeal to Washington_: (C. C.)

  “Say, would’st thou tamely stand?
    Say, would’st thou see”--


    _Spare Us, Good Lord!_ Written while ---- was playing “Lurlei.”
    By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “By thy sad Passion, hear us,
  Send living hope to cheer us;”--


    _Spirit of 1861_: By C. S. A. (R. B. B., 109.)

  “Arise Confederates! hear your country’s call!
  The hour is come, the hour to do or die,”--


    _The Spirit of ’60_: (Bohemian from the Columbus _Times_.)

  “Sons of the South arise,
  Your insulted country cries,”--


    _The Spirits of the Fathers_: By Henry Lomas. (R. R.)

  “We are watching that land when Liberty awoke,--
  Like beams of the morning through darkness it broke,”--


    _Spring_: By Henry Timrod. (W. G. S.)

  “Spring with that nameless pathos in the air--
  Which dwells with all things fair,”--


    _Stack Arms_: Written in the prison of Fort Delaware, Delaware,
    on hearing of the surrender of General Lee. By Jos. Blyth
    Alston. (W. G. S.)

  “‘Stack arms!’ I’ve gladly heard the cry
  When, weary with the dusty tread,”--


    _Stand By Your Flag_: (Randolph.)

  “Stand by your flag, ye Southrons brave,
    You hold it as fair Freedom’s trust,”--


    _The Standard Bearer_: Respectfully dedicated to Miss Belle B.
    Taylor of Richmond, Virginia. By Major J. N. P. Music by N. S.
    Coleman. Published by Geo. Dunn & Co., Richmond, Virginia. (R.
    B. M., 1864.)

  “A shout, a shout for Victory!
      A cheer from the blood-red field,”--


    _Star of the South_: (S. L. M., April, ’61.)

  “Star of the South! Break forth on the nation!
  Break forth o’er the land, beam out of the sea!”--


    _Star of the West_: (R. R.)

  “I wish I was in de land o’ cotton,
    Old Times dair ain’t not forgotten”--


    _Star of the West: or The Reinforcement_: [By C. B. Northrup.]
    (Outcast.)

  “Glory be to God on high!
    Glory be to the God of right!”--


    _Starry Cross of the Sunny South_: A vision. (W. L.)

  “The great Architect now erects in the skies
      A new constellation that dazzles our eyes:”--


    _The Stars and Bars_: (Fag.)

  “Oh, the South is the queen of all nations,
  The home of the brave and the true,”--


    _The Stars and Bars_: (S. B. W.)

  “Young stranger, what land claims thy birth?
  For thy flag is but new to the sea,”--


    _The Stars and Bars_: (R. R.)

  “’Tis sixty-two!--and sixty-one,
    With the old Union, now is gone,”--


    _The Stars and Bars_: Air, “Star Spangled Banner.” (R. B. B.,
    110.)

  “Oh! say do you see now so vauntingly borne
    In the hands of the Yankee, the Hessian, and Tory,”--


    _The Stars and Bars_: By A. J. Requier. (Bohemian from the
    Sunday _Delta_.)

  “Fling wide the dauntless banner--
      To every Southern breeze,”--


    _The Stars and The Bars_: (Randolph.)

  “Above us our banner is waving,
    The hope of the brave and the free,”--


    _The Star Spangled Banner_: Baltimore. Published by Louis
    Bonsal. (R. B. B., 109.)

  “Oh say can you see by the dawn’s early light--
    On the shore dimly seen through the mists of the deep,”--


    _The Star Spangled Cross and the Pure Field of White_: Written
    and composed by Subaltern. Richmond, Virginia. Geo. Dunn and
    Co., Publishers. (R. B. M., 1864.)

  “The Star Spangled Cross and the pure field of white
    Is the banner we give to the breeze:”--


    _The State and the Starling_: By A. (B. C. L., Ledger 1411.)

  “Starling! starling! airy of wing,
    Wherefore a lonely prisoner there.”--


    _Steady and Ready_: (E. V. M.)

  “Steady, when fortune’s dark shadows surround us,
  Calm, when the winds of adversity blow;”--


    _Stonewall_: (E. V. M.)

  “Weep for the mighty dead,
  The nation’s joy and pride:”--


    _The Stonewall Cemetery_: Lines written by Mrs. M. B. Clark
    of North Carolina (“Tenella”) in behalf of the “Stonewall”
    Cemetery, Winchester, Virginia. (E. V. M.)

  “The storm of war which swept our country wide,
  Like snow-flakes, scattered graves on every side,”--


    _Stonewall Jackson_: Air, “Star Spangled Banner.” (J. M. S.)

  “Oh, say, who is he, through the wilderness dark,
    With his warrior legions advancing to battle?”--


    _Stonewall Jackson_: Air, The “Coronack.” (Fag.)

    “Unmoved in the battle,
  Whilst friends and foes swerved,”--


    _Stonewall Jackson_: By H. L. Flash, May 10, 1863. (E. V. M.)

  “Not midst the lightning of the stormy fight,
  Not in the rush upon the vandal foe”--


    _Stonewall Jackson_: By L. H. M., Huntsville, Alabama, May 18,
    1863. (Im.)

  “He sleeps ’neath the soil that the hero loved well,
    In the land of his birth, his own sunny South,”--


    _Stonewall Jackson_: “Canada pays a tribute to the Lion of
    the Valley. The following appeared originally in the Montreal
    _Advertiser_.” (S. L. M., Ed. Table. September and October,
    ’62.)

  “Not in the dim Cathedral,
  Filled with the organ’s tones,”--


    _Stonewall Jackson_: By the Kilkenny Man (Dublin Nation).
    [Irish?] (Amaranth.)

  “God rest you! Stonewall Jackson--
  Now your gallant heart is still,”--


    _Stonewall Jackson: In Memoriam_: May 20, 1863. (W. L.)

  “Oh! weep, our gallant chief’s among the dead!
    Cold lies the sod above his noble head,”--


    _Stonewall Jackson_: Mortally Wounded--“The Brigade must not
    know, sir.” (W. G. S.)

  “‘Who’ve ye got there?’ ‘Only a dying brother,
  Hurt at the front just now,’”--


    _Stonewall Jackson_: A Dirge. (W. G. S.)

  “Go to thy rest, great chieftain!
      In the zenith of thy fame,”--


    _Stonewall Jackson on the Eve of Battle_: By Mrs. Catherine A.
    Warfield. (E. V. M., ’69.)

  “In the camp the waning watch-fire,
    Throws a dim and lurid glare,”--


    _Stonewall Jackson’s Grave_: By Mrs. M. J. Preston of
    Lexington, Virginia. (E. V. M.)

  “A simple sodded mound of earth,
  With not a line above it,”--


    _“Stonewall” Jackson’s Way_: By John Williamson Palmer, M.D.
    Oakland, Md., September 17, 1862. S. L. M., Ed. Table, Feb.,
    ’63. (E. V. M.)

  “Come, stack arms, men! Pile on the rails;
      Stir up the camp fire bright;”--


    _Stonewall Song_: Air, “Wait for the Wagon.” (Randolph.)

  “Come, Louisiana soldiers, and listen to my Song,
  And if you’ll just be patient, I won’t detain you long:”--


    _Stonewall’s Sable Seers_: By Mrs. C. A. Warfield. Beechmore,
    Oldham County, Kentucky. (E. V. M.)

  “‘I’ll tell you wat, ole Cato,’
  Quoth Cuff by the bright camp fire,”--


    _Story of the Merrimac_: As told to the Watt’s Creek Picket.
    By Susan Archer Talley. Fort McHenry, April, 1862. (S. L. M.,
    Sept. & Oct., 1862.)

  “Calm was the earth and calm the air,
      And calm the water’s flow,”--


    _The Stranger’s Death_: (E. V. M.)

  “No mother bends with tender care,
      To kiss his burning brow,”--


    _Strike for the South_: (S. B. Liv.)

  “Strike for the South! let her name ever be
  The boast of the true and the brave,”--


    _Stuart_: By W. Winston Fontaine, of Virginia, May, 1864. (E.
    V. M.)

  “Mourn, mourn along thy mountains high!
  Mourn, mourn along thine ocean wave!”--


    _Stuart_: By Mrs. Henry J. Vose. (Fag.)

  “Oh! mother of states and of men,
      Bend low thy queenly head,”--


    _Stuart: A Ballad_: By Paul H. Hayne. (Amaranth from the
    _Southern Illustrated News_.)

  “A cup of your potent ‘mountain dew,’
  By the camp fire’s ruddy light”--


    _The Substitutes_: Dramatic Dialogue. By Paul H. Hayne. (Sunny
    from the _Southern Illustrated News_.)

  “How says’t thou? die tomorrow? Oh My Friend!
    The bitter, bitter doom!”--


    _Sumter: A Ballad of 1861_: By E. O. Murden. (Bohemian from the
    Charleston _Courier_.)

  “’Twas on the twelfth of April,
        Before the break of day,”--


    _Sumter In Ruins_: By W. Gilmore Simms: (W. G. S. from the
    Charleston _Mercury_.)

  “Ye batter down the lion’s den,
    But yet the lordly beast goes free;”--


    _A Sunday Reverie_: By James R. Randall. (E. V. M.)

  “Beyond my dingy window-pane,
    This beaming Sunday morn,”--


    _Sunny South_: (R. B. B., 109.)

  “To arms, to arms and old Abe shall see,
      That we have a Southern Confederacy,”--


    _Surrender of the A. N. Va., April 10, 1865_: By Florence
    Anderson, Kentucky. (Amaranth.)

  “Have we wept till our eyes were dim with tears,
    Have we borne the sorrows of four long years,”--


    _Sweethearts and the War_: (R. R.)

  “Oh, dear! it’s shameful, I declare,
      To see the men all go,”--


    _The Sword of Harry Lee_: By James D. McCabe, Jr. Vicksburg,
    Miss. (P. &. P. B.)

  “An aged man all bowed with years,
    Sits by his hearthstone old,”--


    _The Sword of Robert Lee_: Words by Moina [Rev. A. J. Ryan].
    Music by Armand. (C. S. B.)

  “Forth from its scabbard, pure and bright,
    Flashed the sword of Lee,”--


    _Taking of Munson’s Hill, Virginia_: (B. C. L., Ledger 1411.)

  “One morning, just before the break of day,
  A Major called his men to march away,”--


    _Tear Down That Flag_: By Theodore H. Hill. (Bohemian.)

  “Tear down the flag of constellated stars!
      Blot out its field of blue!”--


    _Tell the Boys the War is Ended_: By Emily J. Moore. (W. G. S.)

  “‘Tell the boys the war is ended,’--
  These were all the words he said,”--


    _Tennessee! Fire Away_: (Md. Hist. B.)

  “Black Republican bandits
      Have crossed to our shore,”--


    _Tennessee!_ Written for _The Avalanche_. (Im.)

  “Farewell, oh Union! once beloved
      So tenderly by me;”--


    _The Tennessee Exile’s Song_: By P. V. P. (S. S.)

  “I hear the rushing of her streams,
    The murmuring of her trees,”--


    _Tennessee’s Noble Volunteers_: (Randolph.)

  “Brave men! thou’rt going forth to face
        A bold unsulting foe”--


    _Terry’s Texas Rangers_: Air, “When the Swallows Homeward Fly.”
    By Estelle. (Alsb.)

  “Where the battles fiercest rage, and the red blood thickest lies,
  Where the gauntlet and the gage are caught up ’neath burning skies,”--


    _The Texan Marseillaise_: By James Haines, of Texas. (W. G. S.
    from the _Southern Confederacy_.)

  “Sons of the South, arouse for battle!
    Gird on your armor for the fight!”--


    _Texas and Virginia_: Air, “Annie Laurie.” By Capt. P. M.
    Salor. (Alsb.)

  “The Texas boys are valiant, their courage none deny,
  And for their country’s freedom they lay them down and die.”--


    _Texas Land!_ Air, “My Maryland.” By John Shearn, Esq., of
    Houston. (Alsb.)

  “When first war’s clarions sounded loud,
          Texas land, Texas land,”--


    _Texas Marseillaise_: By G. B. Milnor. (Alsb.)

  “O ye sons of Freedom! now arise!
        ’Tis your Country that calls on you”--


    _The Texas Ranger_: Air, “Dixie.” By R. R. Carpenter, Debray’s
    Regiment. (Alsb.)

  “Away down South, where the Rio Grande
    Rolls its tides thro’ the post-oak sandy,”--


    _Texan Rangers_: Published by M. Morgan, Galveston, Texas.
    Confederate States, 1861. (R. B. B., 112.)

  “They come! they come! see their bayonets bright,
  They sparkle and flash across hollow and height,”--


    _Texas Rangers at the Battle of Chickamauga--the Stream of
    Death_: Dedicated to Capt. Dave Terry, of General Wharton’s
    staff. Air, “American Star.” (Alsb.)

  “Stand firm, Texas Rangers! the foe is advancing,
  We’ll drive back the ruffians, or die on the field”--


    _Texas Sentinel in Virginia_: By G. B. Milnor. (Alsb.)

  “Luna shone in royal splendor,
  Effulgent o’er the Texian tent”--


    _The Texas Soldier Boy_: By a lad fifteen years old, of the
    Arizona Brigade. (Alsb.)

  “Come all you Texas soldiers, wherever you may be,
  I’ll tell you of some trouble that happened unto me”--


    _Texian Appeal_: Air, “Bonnie Blue Flag.” By Col. Washington
    Hamilton. Cold Springs, Polk Co., Texas. (Alsb.)

  “Dissevered from her sister states, begirt by foes around,
  And with her best and bravest bands afar on kindred ground,”--


    _Texians, To Your Banner Fly_: Air, “Scots wha’ hae.” By S. P.
    R. of Galveston, Texas. August 4, 1863. (Alsb.)

  “Texians, to your banner fly,
  Texians, now your valor try,”--


    _Thanksgiving for Victory_: Air, “The Watcher.” By Kentucky.
    (S. O. S.)

  “Let the church bells anthems peal,
          Glad but low;”--


    _That Bugler: Or the Upidee Song_: As sung by the Washington
    Artillery, New Orleans, 1862. By Sergeant A. G. Knight, 2nd
    Co., Bat., Washington Artillery, New Orleans. (Alsb.)

  “The shades of night were falling fast, tra-la-la-tra-la-la,
    The bugler blew that well known blast, tra-la-la-tra-la-la,”--


    _Them Saucy Masked Batteries_: Air, “Bobbin Around.” (R. B. B.,
    112.)

  “The Yankee soldiers went down south,
      Bobbin around,”--


    _Then and Now_: Written on returning to my home which had been
    burned and desolated by Sherman’s army. By J. C. J. (W. L.)

  “I saw a scene at sunrise,
    A year or two ago,”--


    _There is Life in Old Maryland Yet_: By Cola. Baltimore, March
    25, 1862. (R. B. B. 75.)

  “Again a smothered voice speaks out,
  In accents bold and strong,”--


    _There is No Peace_: By G. B. S. Cottage Home, 1865. (W. L.)

  “They tell us that glad Peace once more has smiled,
    Upon this land from out the summer sky;”--


    _There is Nothing Going Wrong_: Dedicated to Old Abe. By A. M.
    W. New Orleans, March 4, 1861. (R. R.)

  “There’s a general alarm.
  The South’s begun to arm”--


    _There’s Life in the Old Land Yet_: By J. B. Baltimore, March
    25, 1862. (R. B. B., 77½.)

  “There’s life in the land that gave Carroll his birth,
  Its presence is felt throughout the wise earth”--


    _There’s Life in the Old Land Yet_: By Frank Key Howard. (S. S.)

  “Through the soil of old Maryland echoes the tread
      Of an insolent soldiery now”--


    _There’s Life in the Old Land Yet_: Words by James R. Randall.
    (Music by Edward O. Eaton.) (C. S. B. from the New Orleans
    _Delta_, September 1, 1861.)

  “By blue Patapsco’s billowy dash
        The tyrant’s war-shout comes,”--


    _There’s Nobody Hurt_: (R. B. B., 111.)

  “There lives a man in Washington,
    A narrow-minded squirt,”--


    _They Are Not Dead_: By Fanny Downing. 1865. (C. C.)

  “They are not dead! they do but keep
    That vigil, which shall never know,”--


    _They Cry Peace, Peace, When There is No Peace_: By Mrs.
    Alethea S. Burroughs, of Georgia. (W. G. S. from a Charleston
    Broadside.)

  “They are ringing peace on my heavy ear--
    No peace to my heavy heart!”--


    _Thinking of the Soldiers_: November 24, 1861. (R. R. from the
    Richmond _Dispatch_.)

  “We were sitting around the table
    Just a night or two ago”--


    _The Thirty-Seventh Congress_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “Now, isn’t this Congress of ours something rare?
  It wants to see how much poor fools can bear”--


    _Thou and I_: By Fanny Downing. (E. V. M., ’69.)

  “Dewy night has fallen, love!
  All around lies hushed in sleep”--


    _Thou Art Dead, My Mother!_ By Gen. M. Jefferson Thompson.
    (Sunny.)

  “I’ve stood ’mid many a battle blast,
  And braved the shock of charging horse,”--


    _Three Cheers for Our Jack Morgan_: By Eugene Raymond. (J. M.
    S.)

  “The snow is in the cloud,
  And night is gathering o’er us”--


    _The Times_: Inscribed to all “God’s Freemen.” By Kate. Fairfax
    Court House, Va. (R. R.)

  “Come, list to my song,
    It will not be long,”--


    _’Tis Midnight in the Southern Sky_: By Mrs. M. J. Young.
    (Alsb.)

  “’Tis midnight in the Southern sky--
  See the starry cross decline!”--


    _To A Company of Volunteers--Receiving Their Banner at the
    Hands of the Ladies_: By Cora. (S. L. M., July, 1861.)

  “Soldiers, hail, ye gallant band,
  Marshalled at your Country’s call,”--


    _To a Dear Comforter_: By B. H. Jones. (Sunny.)

  “Musing o’er my gloomy fortune--
    Thinking of a world so drear”--


    _To A Mocking Bird_: On being waked by its song, near the
    camp, in the dusk of morning. By E. F. W. (Amaranth, from the
    _Southern Illustrated News_.)

  “Sweet bird that thrill’st with early note
        The hedge-row charred and sere,”--


    _The Toast of Morgan’s Men_: By Capt. Thorpe, of Kentucky. (E.
    V. M.)

  “Unclaimed in the land that bore us,
    Lost in the land we find,”--


    _A Toast to Virginia_: Tune: “Red, White and Blue.” (R. B. B.,
    113.)

  “A toast to Virginia, God bless her!
  The Mother of heroes and states!”--


    _To Brother Jonathan, on the Dictatorship of Abe Lincoln_: By
    J. I. R., of Richmond. (S. L. M., Ed. Table, April, ’63.)

  “Oh, Jonathan! you little thought, when all your hills, and vales
  Rang with the cheers for ‘Honest Abe,’ the splitter of the rails,”--


    _To Colonel John H. Morgan, 2d Regiment, Kentucky Cavalry_: By
    Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “Our hero-chief, Kentucky’s pride,
  To whom she gladly doth confide”--


    _To Exchange-Commissioner Ould_: By Major George McKnight. “Asa
    Hartz.” (Sunny.)

  “Dear Uncle Bob: I fear your head
  Has gone a-thinking I am dead;”--


    _To General Beauregard_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “Rouse thee my sad hero! rouse thee now to the fray!
  In the Yankee ranks scatter wild fear and dismay”--


    _To General Winfield Scott_: By William H. Holcombe,
    Waterproof, Louisiana, August, 1861. (S. L. M., Sept. ’61.)

  “Old Man! I pity thee; but not because,
  Too shallow for deep thought and falsely great,”--


    _To Go or Not to Go_: By Exempt. (Hubner.)

  “To go or not to go! that is the question,
  Whether it pays best to suffer pestering”--


    _To Him_: Who was our President, and who is and ever will be
    our honored and beloved. By Fanny Downing. (E. V. M., ’69.)

  “From out your prison by the sea,
  Your thoughts at least may wander free,”--


    _To Johnston’s Name_: In Memory of General A. S. Johnston.
    Air, “Roy’s Wife of Aldavallach.” By Judge Tod Robinson, of
    California. (Alsb.)

  “We’ll stop the flow of festive mirth--
  From social joys a moment borrow”--


    _To Kentuckians_: On the Dispersion of the Convention at
    Frankfort, by Col. Gilbert. (W. L.)

  “If in your ‘ashes live their unwonted fires,’
  If ye are sons of your heroic sires”--


    _To Kentucky_: By an advocate of State’s Rights. By Kentucky.
    (S. O. S.)

  “I lay my hand upon thy breast,
    They who strike thee must pierce me first”--


    _Toll and Peal: To the Memory of Charles D. Dreux_: By Mrs.
    Marie B. Williams. (E. V. M., ’69.)

  “Toll for the warrior! toll!
      A requiem sad, yet high”--


    _To Madame Therese Pulsky_: Who with her husband, followed
    General Kossuth in his Exile. By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “I’m gazing on the pleasant face,
  And thinking of the time,”--


    _To Maryland--Friends are Nigh_: By William Gilmore Simms.
    (Bohemian.)

  “Friends are nigh; despair not,
      Though fast in the despot’s chain!”--


    _To Miss ----, of Virginia_: By Stella. Alabama, August 1,
    1866. (E. V. M.)

  “Hail gentle patron of our stricken land!
      Thrice welcome to our ever grateful shore;”--


    _To Miss C. P. B. of Athens, Tennessee_: By Col. B. H. Jones.
    Johnson’s Island, July, 1865. (Sunny.)

  “Musing lonely, sadly musing,
    Is my Island prison drear,”--


    _To Miss K. A. S. of Alexandria, Virginia_: By Col. B. H.
    Jones. (Sunny.)

  “Maiden, through death’s gloomy portal,
  In the far cerulean blue,”--


    _To Mr. Lincoln_: (Randolph.)

  “Old honest Abe, you are a babe,
      In military glory;”--


    _To Mr. Vallandigham_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “O Chatham of our day, to thee I turn
  While my sick heart with freshened strength doth burn,”--


    _To Mrs. Rosanna Osterman_: By Col. A. M. Hobby. (Alsb.)

  “Amidst the deep corruption of the age,
  Where Vice and Folly universal rage,”--


    _To My Soldier Brother_: By Sallie E. Ballard of Texas. (W. G.
    S.)

  “When softly gathering shades of ev’n,
  Creep o’er the prairies broad and green,”--


    _To My Soldier: May God Love Thee, My Beloved, May God Love
    Thee!_ (S. L. M., Ed. Table. April, ’63.)

  “Warm from my bosom I send you this,
  Deep in my heart these thoughts were nursed,”--


    _To My Sons in Virginia_: (Randolph.)

  “My children, I have sent ye forth
  To battle for the right”--


    _To Our Dead of New Hope_: Corporal W. H. Brunet and Private R.
    A. Beidgens. By F. B. Kennesaw Ridge, June 16, 1864. (W. F.)

  “They sleep the deep sleep ’neath the sanctified sod,
      Made holy by patriot gore;”--


    _Too Young to Die_: By John B. Smith, Nashville, Tennessee,
    December, ’64. (E. V. M., ’69.)

  “On the hard fought field where the battle storm
    Had echoed its sullen thunder,”--


    _The Tories of Virginia_: (R. R. from the Richmond _Examiner_.)

  “In the ages gone by, when Virginia arose
  Her honor and truth to maintain,”--


    _To Sauerwein_: Air, “My Maryland.” By a Member of the
    Baltimore Corn Exchange. Baltimore, June, 1862. (R. B. B., 86.)

  “The Union men have left the flour
      Sauerwein! Poor ‘Sour Wine’”--


    _To the Baltimore Poet--Thomas H. M-rr-s_: Author of “How They
    Act in Baltimore.” By Mephistopheles K. G. S. Baltimore, June
    10, 1862. (R. B. B., 86.)

  “So Tom has turned a poet, what a dear
    Dull, stupid trait’rous ass’”--


    _To the Beloved Memory of Major General Tom Green_: By Captain
    Edwin Hobby. Galveston, May 28, 1864. (Alsb.)

  “In the land of the orange groves, sunshine and flowers,
        Is heard the funereal tread,”--


    _To the Confederate Dead_: By Col. W. W. Fontaine. Johnson’s
    Island, June, 1863. (Sunny.)

  “Comrades, sleep your sleep of glory,
    In your narrow soldier graves,”--


    _To the Confederate Flag Over Our State House_: Air, “Oh, saw
    ye the lass?” By Kentucky. September 6, 1862. (S. O. S.)

  “Float proudly o’er Frankfort, thou flag of my heart!
    The dread of oppressors and hirelings thou art,”--


    _To the Congress of the C. S. A._: With the design of a Flag.
    [By C. B. Northrup]. (Outcast.)

  “Dishonor not our great and ancient flag,
      That banner which, through fields of blood,”--


    _To the Davis Guards_: By Lt. W. P. Cunningham. (Alsb.)

  “Soldiers! raise your banner proudly,
        Let it pierce our Texan sky”--


    _To the Front_: By James Barron Hope. (Bohemian.)

  “Hark! now I hear the distant fire,
      Our pickets on the line return”--


    _To the Governor of Ohio_: Dedicated to Lieut. T. Bullitt, 2d
    Reg., Ky. Cavalry. By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “Put them in a convict’s cell!
    That’s the worst that you can do!”--


    _To the Ladies of Baltimore_: By Mrs. Bettie C. Locke.
    Shenandoah Valley, May, 1866. (E. V. M.)

  “For those so fair and kind and true, who felt for others grief,
  We of the South would now entwine fame’s bright undying wreath!”--


    _To the Ladies of Virginia_: By Col. W. W. Fontaine. (Sunny.)

  “Mothers, wives and maidens fair!
  Mournful, with disheveled hair,”--


    _To the Maryland Sons of Revolutionary Sires!_ Dedicated to
    Miss M. H. Air, “Auld Lang Syne.” (R. B. B., 77.)

  “Ye sons of Sires, of manly deeds, who died for love of right,
  Again the despot spoils your lands and justice bids you fight”--


    _To the Memory of Col. Thos. S. Lubbock_: Dedicated to Gov. E.
    F. R. Lubbock. By Col. Alfred M. Hobby. (Alsb.)

  “Drape in gloom our Southern Ensign! Gently fold its crimson bars,
  While cypress wreaths around it twine, and dim with tears its burning
                stars”--


    _To the Memory of General Thomas S. Jackson_: By K., White’s
    Battalion, May 17, 1863. (Private Mss.)

  “Give me the death of those
  Who for their country die”--


    _To the Memory of Jackson of Alexandria, Virginia_: Air, “Scots
    wha’ hae wi Wallace bled.” By Andrew Devilbiss. (Wash’n 91.)

  “Here’s to Jackson brave and true,
  Whom the base invaders slew,”--


    _To the Parents of the Youthful Patriot, Melzar G. Fiske_,
    who fell mortally wounded at the battle of Malvern Hill, near
    Richmond, July 1, 1862. By their friend and Pastor, Rev. I. W.
    K. Handy, D. D. (S. L. M., Ed. Table, March, ’63.)

  “Father! Mother! dry your tears;
  Cease your noble boy to mourn,”--


    _To The Rappahannock_: By James D. Blackwell. (E. V. M., ’69.)

  “Flow on, thou bright river, flow on to the deep,
  And soothe with thy murmurs the dead in their sleep”--


    _To The Sons of the Sunny South_: Written by a lad only twelve
    or thirteen years old. March 20, 1862. (S. L. M., Ed. Table,
    April, ’62.)

  “O that I were a man, that I could grasp the sword,
  By love of country and high hopes of victory lured,”--


    _To the Southern Cross_: By Henry C. Alexander. (S. L. M.,
    August, ’63.)

  “Celestial cross, that with such steady gaze,
    Dost beam upon the tossing Southern main,”--


    _To the Victor Belong the Spoils_: Suggested by the edifying
    spectacle of an officer exhibiting publicly on the cars, to his
    delighted wife, a carpet-sack filled with silver plate robbed
    from Southern homes, and marked with the owner’s names. By
    Walker Meriweather Bell. (W. L.)

  “Oh, twine me a garland of laurel, my love!
  To rest and recruit from my wounds.”--


    _The Tree, The Serpent and The Star_: By A. P. Gray, of South
    Carolina. (W. G. S.)

  “From the silver sands of a gleaming shore,
  Where the wild sea-waves were breaking”--


    _The Trees of the South_: By Rev. A. J. Ryan. (Amaranth):

  “Old trees, old trees, in your mystic gloom,
      There is many a warrior laid,”--


    _Tribute to the Ladies of New Orleans_: By F. B. Dalton,
    Georgia, March 25, 1864. (W. F.)

  “There was a city fabulously grand;
  The riches of the world were in her hand,”--


    _The Triple-Barred Banner_: By Col. W. S. Hawkins. (Sunny.)

  “Oh, Triple-Barred Banner! the badge of the free!
  What coward would falter in duty to thee”--


    _The Trooper to His Steed_: By Susan Archer Talley of Virginia.
    (Amaranth, from the _Southern Illustrated News_.)

  “Away! my steed in thy joyous pride,
  With thy flashing eye, and thy bounding stride!”--


    _True-Heart Southrons_: Air, “Blue Bonnets over the Border.”
    (R. R.)

  “For trumpet and drum, have the soft voice of maiden;
  For the trumpet of armed men, have the maze of the dance;”--


    _True Irish Valor_: By Miss Mollie E. Moore. Sabine Pass,
    Texas, September 8, 1863. (Alsb.)

  “Thank God! there’s one chord in all men’s hearts
  That is tuned alike, the one”--


    _True Southern Hearts_: By E. S., Baltimore County, August 19.
    (R. B. B., 113.)

  “It is evening of a sultry day,
  And my darlings two, on the steps at play”--


    _True to His Name_: (R. R., from the New Orleans _True Delta_.)

  “In ancient days, Jehovah said,
    In voice both sweet and calm,”--


    _True to the Gray_: By Pearl Rivers. A. D., 1865. (C. C.)

  “I cannot listen to your words,
  The land is long and wide”--


    _True to the Last_: By Col. W. S. Hawkins. (E. V. M.)

  “The bugles blow the battle call,
  And through the camp each stalwart band,”--


    _A Truth Spoken in Jest_: Inscribed to Private ----, 2d Ky.
    Cav., who was wounded in a fight at Paris, Kentucky. Air, “Old
    Rosin the bow.” By Kentucky, July 31. (S. O. S.)

  “The tune was, I said, ‘I won’t marry,’
  But oh! how could I then have e’er thought”--


    _The Turtle_: (E. V. M.)

  “Caesar, afloat with his fortunes!
    And all the world agog!”--


    _The Twelfth Star_: Kentucky seceded in convention assembled at
    Mayfield. By Kentucky, October, 1861. (S. O. S.)

  “Kentucky’s the twelfth Star. Now she is great,
    Greatest in her forgetfulness of self;”--


    _A Twilight Prayer_: Written in the dark, Whitsunday morning,
    after Beast Butler’s infamously famous order had been
    promulgated in New Orleans. By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “God of Battles, hear and save us,
  From the foes who would enslave us!”--


    _The Two Armies_: By Henry Timrod. (W. G. S. from the _Southern
    Illustrated News_.)

  “Two armies stand enrolled beneath,
    The banner with the starry wreath”--


    _Two Years Ago_: By a drafted Wide-Awake. (R. B. B., 113.)

  “I was a glorious Wide-Awake,
  All marching in a row;”--


    _The Tyrant’s Cap_: (R. B. B., 71.)

  “The galling chain has fettered now,
    Our free and noble state:”--


    _Uncle Abe, or a Hit at the Times_: Air, “Villikins and His
    Dinah.” 1861. (R. B. B., 71.)

  “In the town of Chicago as you know very well,
    Lived a man who aspired in the White House to dwell”--


    _Uncle Jerry_: By William H. Holcombe, M.D. (Bohemian.)

  “Why Jerry, what means all this sadness and fear?
  Here’s your bitter man! why do you cry?”--


    _Uncle Sam_: Air, “Nelly Bly.” By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “Uncle Sam! Uncle Sam! De way you take is wrong;
  You’ll neber bring us back agin by cruel war and long”--


    _Uncle Snow_: (R. B. B., 113.)

  “Oh, my name is Uncle Snow, and I’d have you all to know,
  I’m an artist wid de brush by profession;”--


    _The Unforgotten_: By W. Winston Fontaine, Virginia. (Amaranth
    from the Richmond _Inquirer_.)

  “When golden lines of evening light
  Along the tops of mountains rest;”--


    _Uniform of Gray_: By Evan Elbert. (S. B. P.)

  “The Briton boasts his coat of red,
    With lace and spangles decked”--


    _The United States Eagle_: By Kentucky, April 29. (S. O. S.)

  “Straws show the way the wind blows,
  And I’ve often thought an emblem grows:”--


    _The Unknown Confederate Soldier_: (C. C.)

  “In a little lonely hillock
  Where the South wind softly sighs”--


    _The Unknown Dead_: To Maj. David Bridgford, C. S. A., as sung
    by Miss Ella Wren: Written and composed by John H. Hewitt.
    Savannah, Ga. John C. Schreiner & Son. (R. B. M., 1863.)

  “Where the mountain ash nods to the tempest’s wild howling,
  Where the echo shrinks in the wall dark and deep”--


    _The Unknown Dead_: By Henry Timrod. (W. G. S.)

  “The rain is splashing on my sill,
    But all the winds of Heaven are still,”--


    _An Unknown Hero_: By Wm. Gordon McCabe, Camp near Richmond,
    1862. (Amaranth, from the _Southern Illustrated News_.)

  “Sweet Malvern Hill is wreathed in flame,
    From serried ranks the steel is gleaming”--


    _The Unreturning_: (S. S.)

  “The swallow leaves the ancient eaves,
  As in the days agone;”--


    _Uprise, Ye Braves!_ By G. H. M., of the Washington Artillery.
    S. L. M., November and December, 1863. (Bohemian, from the
    Richmond _Despatch_.)

  “Uprise, ye braves of Southern birth!
    Uplift your flag on high,”--


    _Up! Up! Let the Stars of our Banner_: Respectfully Dedicated
    to the Soldiers of the South: By M. F. Bigney. (R. R.)

  “Up, up, let the stars of our banner,
      Flash out like the brilliants above,”--


    _Up With the Flag_: Composed and respectfully dedicated to
    the 4th N. C. Troops. By Dr. Wm. B. Harrell. Arranged for
    pianoforte by Mrs. Harrell. Richmond, Virginia. George Dunn and
    Co. (R. B. M., 1863.)

  “Oh come boys, come with a merry heart and will; up with the flag,
               up with the flag
  And bear it onward to victory still, up with the flag and away”--


    _Valentine_: By F. B. Macon, February 14, 1865. (W. F.)

  “Love dwells within your sunny smiles,
    And heaven in your heart”--


    _The Valiant Conscript_: (Lee.)

  “How are you, boys, I’m just from camp,
      And feel as brave as Caesar;”--


    _The Valley of the Shenandoah_: By a soldier of the Army of
    Northern Virginia. (E. V. M.)

  “The peace of the valley is fled,
    The calm of its once happy bowers”--


    _Vanguard of our Liberty._ Air, “Boy’s Wife.” By Kentucky. (S.
    O. S.)

  “The Yanks were sure that we were theirs,
  Submissive prey of the Northern bears,”--


    _The Vanquished Patriot’s Prayer_: (E. V. M.)

  “Ruler of nations! bow thy ear,
    I cannot understand”--


    _Vengeance Is Mine_: Saith the Lord, “I will repay.” By Walker
    Meriweather Bell. (Amaranth.)

      “It is not always dark!
  When night’s black shades are round us chill”--


    _The Very Latest From Butler_: (R. B. B., 11½.)

  “Some generals love the battle’s roar,
  And laurels red and gory;”--


    _Vicksburg--A Ballad_: By Paul H. Hayne, Columbia, South
    Carolina, August 6, 1862. (W. G. S.)

  “For sixty days and upwards
    A storm of shell and shot”--


    _Victory_: Written on hearing of the victory of Gen. Morgan at
    Hartsville, Tenn. By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “Oh, how I thrill in ev’ry nerve!
      I, who for tyrants never swerve”--


    _The Victory of Truth_: A Story of the Olden Time. By Col. W.
    S. Hawkins. (Sunny.)

  “At the trumpet’s blast the gates flew open wide,
  And thousands packed the court”--


    _Vidi Ami Plorare_: By Lieut. J. E. Dooley. (Sunny.)

  “Methinks I see him even now,--
  His smiling lips and soft blue eyes;”--


    _Violets in Lent_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “Light is breaking from the clouds,
  Wintry snow no more enshroud”--


    _Virginia_: (R. B. B., 113.)

  “Three cheers for Virginia, the home of the free,
      The birthplace of Washington, the land of liberty”--


    _Virginia_: By Catherine M. Warfield. (W. G. S.)

  “Glorious Virginia! Freedom sprang,
  Light to her feet at thy trumpets’ clang:”--


    _Virginia: A Sonnet_: By Mrs. M. J. Preston. (Beechenbrook.)

  “Grandly thou fillest the world’s eye today,
  My proud Virginia. When the gage was thrown”--


    _Virginia_: By a Virginia Woman. (W. L.)

  “The mother of States! In song and in story,
  Virginia’s the proudest name ever enrolled”--


    _Virginia_: A Battle Song. Dedicated to the Virginia
    Volunteers. By Mrs. C. J. M. Jordan. (Bohemian.)

  “The cloud is dark,--the storm is nigh,
    The foeman’s step advances,”--


    _Virginia and Her Defenders_: Air, “Carolina, Carolina.” (Cav.)

  “Virginia, Virginia! your children of glory,
  Are wedded forever to historic story”--


    _The Virginia and The Blockaders_: By W. S. Forrest. (S. L. M.,
    June ’63.)

  “The sun looked forth in glory;
    A day of joy it seemed;”--


    _Virginia Capta_: By Mrs. Margaret J. Preston, April 9, 1866.
    (E. V. M.)

  “Unconquered captive, close thine eye,
    And draw the ashen sackcloth o’er,”--


    _Virginia Desolate_: By Col. W. Winston Fontaine, of Virginia.
    (Sunny.)

  “O Virginia, fair Virginia, queen of all our sunny land,
  Of the warlike Southern sisters, thou the chosen of the band”--


    _Virginia, 1861_: (W. L.)

  “Land of my birth! my love, my pride, all honor to thy name,
  Thy children have no cause to blush, though jealous of thy fame!”--


    _Virginia Fuit_: By John R. Thompson. (Amaranth.)

  “Consummatum--the work of destruction is done,
  The race of the first of the States has been run”--


    _Virginia in 1863: A Dialogue_: (C. C.)

  “Child--‘See that blue line, Mother,
      Coming ’round the hill’”--


    _The Virginia Ladies_: A tribute to Miss Mary Batte, Assistant
    Linen Matron, Poplar Lawn Hospital, Georgia, A. D. 1863. (C. C.)

  “Go thou and search the archives,
      Of all recorded time”--


    _Virginia--Late But Sure_: By William H. Holcombe, M.D. (S. L.
    M., Ed. Table, May ’61.)

  “The foe has hemmed us round, we stand at bay,
  Here will we perish or be free today!”--


    _Virginia to the Rescue_: By Virginia. (Bohemian from the
    Richmond _Dispatch_.)

  “‘Virginia to the rescue!’ ’tis her children’s battle cry,
  Whose name is it they join with hers, and what echoes fill the sky?”--


    _Virginian Marseillaise_: With French and English Versions.
    Arranged for pianoforte by F. W. Rosier. (R. B. M.)

  “Virginia hears the dreadful summons,
  Sounding hoarsely from afar”--


    _The Virginians of the Shenandoah Valley_: “Sic Jurat.” By
    Frank O. Ticknor, M.D. Torch Hall, Georgia. (W. G. S.)

  “The knightliest of the knightly race,
  Who, since the days of old,”--


    _Virginia’s Dead_: (E. V. M.)

  “Proud Mother of a race that reared--
  The brave and good of ours,”--


    _Virginia’s Jewels_: By Miss Rebecca Powell of Virginia. (E. V.
    M.)

  “‘These are my jewels,’ said a Roman dame,
  Long years ago.--Virginia says the same,”--


    _The Virginia’s Knocking Around_: By M., Baltimore, March 30,
    1863. (Md. Hist. B.)

  “’Twas on a windy night in March,
  In a chamber lone at Washington”--


    _Virginia’s Message to the Southern States_: (R. R.)

  “You dared not think I’d never come,
  You could not doubt your Mother;”--


    _Virginia’s Rallying Call_: By Louise Elemjay. (Bohemian.)

  “Come, to my side, my gallant children come,
  Heard ye that edict of yon caitiff scum:”--


    _Virginia’s Tribute to Her Daughters_: By Cora. January, 1863.
    (S. L. M., March, ’63.)

  “Ye daughters of Virginia a joyous anthem raise,
  Your Mother State doth honor you with richest meed of praise,”--


    _A Voice from the Old Maryland Line_: Air, “Maryland, My
    Maryland.” By N. G. R. (Dr. N. G. Ridgley.) Baltimore, October
    27, 1861. (R. B. B., 70.)

  “The Old Line’s foot is on thy shore, Maryland,
  Returned triumphant as of yore! Maryland”--


    _A Voice from the South_: Inscribed to Queen Victoria. By Rosa
    Vertner Jeffrey, January, 1863. (E. V. M.)

  “From our ancient moss-veiled forests,
  Jasmine bowers, savannahs green”--


    _The Voice of the South_: By Tyrtaeus. (W. G. S., from the
    Charleston _Mercury_.)

  “’Twas a goodly boon that our fathers gave,
  And fits but ill to be held by the slave;”--


    _Voices of the Winds_: By Major S. Yates Levy, of Georgia.
    (Sunny.)

  “Folded in the thoughtful mantle,
  Night around the wretched binds;”--


    _The Volunteer_: Air, “The Girl I Left Behind Me.” (C. S. B.)

  “The hour was sad, I left the maid,
  A lingering farewell taking”--


    _The Volunteer, or, It is My Country’s Call_: By Harry
    McCarthy. (C. S. B.)

  “I leave my home and thee, dear, with sorrow in my heart,
  It is my country’s call, dear, to aid her I depart”--


    _Volunteer Mess Song_: John Hopkins, Printer, New Levee St.,
    4th D. (Wash’n, 216.)

  “Here’s to our Generals brave, who we know will well behave,
  With their officers and soldiers to sustain em! ha! ha!”--


    _Volunteer Song_: Written for the Ladies’ Military Fair held
    at New Orleans, 1861. Published in the New Orleans _Picayune_,
    April 28, 1861, and sung by the regiments departing for
    Virginia. (Phot. Hist.)

  “Go soldiers, arm you for the fight,
  God shield the cause of Justice, Right:”--


    _Volunteered_: (S. S.)

  “I know the sun shines, and the lilacs are blowing,
  And the summer sends kisses by beautiful May”--


    _The Volunteer’s Return_: By Lieut. Howard C. Wright. (Sunny.)

  “’Tis just three years this morning,
    Since last I viewed this spot;”--


    _The Volunteers to the “Melish:”_ By William C. Estres. (R. R.)

  “Come forth, ye gallant heroes,
    Rub up each rusty gun,”--


    _Wait For the Wagon_: New Song Revised by Dr. Hopkins.
    (Hopkins.)

  “South Carolina, a fiery little thing,
  Said she wouldn’t stay in a government
    Where Cotton wasn’t King;”--


    _Wait till the War, Love, is Over_: Words by A. J. Andrews,
    Music by C. W. Burton. Richmond, Virginia. (R. B. M., 1864.)

  “’Twas gentle spring, the flowers were bright,
      The bird’s sweet song was lovely”--


    _Waiting_: By William Shepardson. (Bohemian.)

  “All day long beside the window,
  Gazing through the mist and rain,”--


    _Waiting For a Battle_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “As one oppressed who feels the coming of
    A storm, insensible to splendor of”--


    _The War, by Walt Whitman_: (By John R. Thompson): (S. L. M.,
    Ed. Table, January, 1862.)

            “I sing of war--
  Grim-visaged, bloody-handed, rough-shod War, striking out from the
            shoulder”--


    _The War Chief Magruder_: Air, “Hail to the Chief.” By Col. H.
    Washington. (Alsb.)

  “Hail to the Chief! who in triumph has scatter’d
  The clouds that o’er Texas so gloomily press’d”--


    _The War-Christian’s Thanksgiving_: Respectfully dedicated
    to the War-Clergy of the United States, Bishops, Priests and
    Deacons. Jeremiah xxxxviii, 10. By S. Teackle Wallis, Fort
    Warren, 1863. (E. V. M.)

  “O God of battles! once again,
  With banner, trump and drum,”--


    _War-Shirkers_: By Teke, of Travis County. (Alsb.)

  “A brood of skulkers are ye all!
  As deaf as adders to the call”--


    _War Song_: (R. R.)

  “Come! come! come!
  Come, brothers, you are called,”--


    _War Song_: (Randolph.)

  “Now is the hour, men of the South,
  To strike for life or death”--


    _War Song_: Air, “March, March, Eltrick and Teviotdale.” (R. R.
    from the Charleston _Mercury_.)

  “March, march, on brave ‘Palmetto’ boys”--


    _War Song_: Tune, “Bonnie Blue Flag.” By J. H. Woodcock. (R. R.)

  “Huzza! huzza! let’s raise the battle cry,
  And whip the Yankees from our land,”--


    _War Song (Manassas Hymn)_: Air, “Liberty Duet” in “Il
    Puritani.” (S. L. M., Feb. and March, ’62.)

  “Awake! arise my warriors!
  Liberty, your mother calls to you!”--


    _A War Song for Virginia_: (R. R.)

  “Sound, Virginia, sound your clarion!
  From your serried ranks of war!”--


    _War Song of The Partisan Ranger_: Dedicated to Captain John H.
    Morgan. Air, “McGregor’s Gathering.” By Benjamin F. Porter. (J.
    M. S. from the Greenville, Alabama, _Observer_):

  “The forests are green by the homes of the South
  But the hearth stones are red with the blood of her youth;”--


    _The War Storm_: By C. J. H. (R. R.)

  “Often, by a treacherous sea-side,
  I have heard the ocean’s roar,”--


    _War-Waves_: By Catherine Gendron Poyas, of Charleston. (W. G.
    S.)

  “What are the war-waves saying,
  As they compass us around?”--


    _The Warrior’s Steed_: By Mrs. V. E. W. (McCord) Vernon,
    Richmond, March 22, 1862. (C. C.)

  “A day of wrath, was that which shone,
  Upon Manassas’ plain”--


    _The Waste of War_: (E. V. M.)

  “Give me the gold that war had cost,
  Before this peace-expanding day”--


    _Wearing of the Grey_: By O. K. P. (Wash’n. 218.)

  “Our cannon’s mouths are dumb--no more
  Our volleyed muskets peal,”--


    _Wearing of the Grey_: By a Mississippian. (E. V. M.)

  “Oh, have you heard the cruel news?
  Alas! it is too true;”--


    _Wearin’ of the Gray_: By Tar Heel. (Fag.)

  “Oh! Johnny, dear, and did you hear the news that’s lately spread,
    That never more the Southern cross must rear its stately head;”--


    _We Come! We Come!_ Dedicated to the Crescent Regiment, of New
    Orleans, Col. M. J. Smith. By Millie Mayfield. (R. R.)

  “We come! we come, for Death or life,
  For the Grave, or Victory!”--


    _We Conquer or Die_: Composed by James Pierpont. (J. M. S.)

  “The war drum is beating, prepare for the fight,
  The stern bigot Northmen exalts in his light,”--


    _Weep, Weep_: By Refugee, May, 1865. (E. V. M.)

  “Weep! for a fallen land,
  For an unstained flag laid low;”--


    _We Know That We Were Rebels, or Why Can We Not Be Brothers_:
    By Clarence Prentice. (Alsb.)

  “Why can we not be brothers? the battle now is o’er,
  We’ve laid our bruised arms on the field, to take them up no more;”--


    _Welcome “Jeff” to Baltimore_: Air, “Annie of the Vale.” (R. B.
    B., 71.)

  “In charms now we slumber, and insults in number
  We hear from our insolent foes;”--


    _A Welcome to the Invader_: “An Ode,” addressed to the picked
    men of Col. Wilson’s New York command. (R. R. from the
    _Charleston Courier_.)

  “What! have ye come to spoil our fields,
  Black hearts and bloody hands!”--


    _We Left Him on the Field_: By Miss Marie E. Jones, of
    Galveston. (Alsb.)

  “We left him on the crimson’d field,
  Where battle storms had swept,”--


    _We’ll Be Free in Maryland_: Air, “Gideon’s Band.” By Robert E.
    Holtz, January 30, 1862. (R. R.)

  “The boys down South in Dixie’s land,
    Will come and rescue Maryland”--


    _Western Dixie_: By Mrs. Virginia Smith. (Im.)

  “Come along, boys, we’ll go off to the wars,
  Never mind the times, we’ll all march cheerily,”--


    _We Swear_: (C. S. B. from the Louisville _Courier_.)

  “Kneel, ye Southrons, kneel and swear,
  On your bleeding country’s altar,”--


    _What are Trumps?_ By James B. Randall. (S. L. M., Ed. Table,
    December, ’61.)

  “Not Diamonds: Mason breaks bedight,
  Beyond their leprosy of light,”--


    _What! Have Ye Thought?_ (W. G. S., from the Charleston
    _Mercury_.)

  “What! have ye thought to pluck
  Victory from chance and luck”--


    _What The Bugles Say_: Inscribed to Captain Ben. Lane Posey. By
    A. B. Meek. (Bohemian.)

  “Hark! the bugles on the hill!
  Tarala! Tarala!”--


    _What the South Winds Say_: (R. R. from the Richmond
    _Dispatch_.)

  “Faint as the echo of an echo born,
  A bugle note swells on the air,”--


    _What the Village Bell Said_: By John C. M’Lemore of South
    Carolina (mortally wounded at the battle of Seven Pines). (W.
    G. S.)

  “For many a year in the village church,
  Above the world have I made my home;”--


    _What Tho’ These Limbs_: Written by Col. Benjamin Anderson of
    Louisville, Kentucky, on the prison wall in Cincinnati, shortly
    before committing suicide. (W. L.)

  “What tho’ these limbs be bound with iron cords.
  Still am I free!”--


    _What Time is This for Dreaming?_ By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “What time is this for dreaming,
  When hearts are breaking round?”--


    _When Peace Returns_: By Olivia Tully Thomas. (W. G. S.,
    Published in the Granada _Picket_.)

  “When ‘war has smoothed his wrinkled front,’
  And meek-eyed peace returning,”--


    _When Pleasure’s Flowery Paths_: By a prisoner in solitary
    confinement, May 28th, 1865. (W. L.)

  “When pleasure’s flowery paths I trod,
  My eyes were bent on earth alone,”--


    _When That Cruel War Began_: By Thomas Q. Barnes. (Barnes.)

  “The tocsin of war it sounded its knell
  O’er the length and breadth of our sunny land”--


    _When the Boys Come Home_: (Fag.)

  “The boys are coming home again,
  This war will soon be o’er,”--


    _When the War is Over: A Christmas Lay_: By Margaret J.
    Preston. (Beechenbrook.)

  “Ah, the happy Christmas times,
  Times we all remember,”--


    _When This Cruel War is Over_: Ballad. Words by Charles C.
    Sawyer, Richmond, Va. Music by Henry Tucker. George Dunn and
    Co. (R. B. M.)

  “Dearest one, do you remember,
  When we last did meet?”--


    _When Will the War be Over?_ (Alsb.)

  “When will the war be over? asked a veteran whose sun-brown’d face
  Implied in the ranks of the gallant he’d early sought a place,”--


    _Where Are You Going, Abe Lincoln?_ Air, “Lord Lovell.” (Alsb.)

  “Abe Lincoln he stood at the White House Gate,
  Combing his milk-white steed,”--


    _Where is the Rebel Fatherland_: By Mrs. M. J. P. [Mrs.
    Margaret J. Preston]. (C. C.)

  “Where is the Rebel Fatherland--
  Is it Maryland, dear Maryland”--


    _Where My Heart Is_: Air, “My Heart’s in the Highlands.” By
    Kentucky: (S. O. S.)

  “My heart’s with our brave men, my heart is not here,
  For wherever I look, there Dutch soldiers appear;”--


    _Who Will Care for Mother, Now?_ (Alsb.)

  “Why am I so weak and weary? see how faint my heated breath!
  All around to me seems darkness--tell me, comrades, is this death?”--


    _Why Should the South Rejoice_: By A. Moise, Jr. Richmond,
    Virginia, July 4, 1866. (C. C.)

  “Rejoice for what? For fields destroyed, for homes in ashes laid?
  For maiden at the altar slain--victim of fiendish raid?”--


    _The Wide-Awakes_: (R. B. B., 116)

  “O, what is all this noise about,
  This midnight confusion?”--


    _Will No One Write to Me?_ By Major George McKnight (“Asa
    Hartz”) Johnson’s Island, January 1, 1864. (Sunny.)

  “The list is called, and one by one
  The anxious crowd now melts away,”--


    _William Price_: Member of the Maryland “State” Senate and
    author of the infamous Treason Bill. Air, “John Todd.” (R. B.
    B., 94.)

  “Your Sharp Treason Bill, William Price”--


    _William Courtland Price_: By Julia Pleasants Creswell. (S. L.
    M., November and December, 1862.)

  “He came with youth and hope and swelling heart;
  And freely cast them in the unequal scale;”--


    _Will You Go!_ By Estelle. (R. R.)

  “Will you go? will you go?
  Where the foeman’s steel is bright”--


    _A Wind from the South_: Written for the _Fair Journal_,
    Southern Relief Fair of Baltimore, April 2, 1866. By C. C. (E.
    V. M.)

  “--I sing of the South,
  Not as she was in her pride of yore,”--


    _Woman’s Love_: By Lieut. H. C. Wright. (Sunny.)

  “Wildly raging were the billows,
  Wildly heaving was the sea,”--


    _Woman’s Prayer_: Dedicated to Colonel Lane’s Regiment, Texas
    Cavalry. (Alsb.)

  “O Soldier, is thy weary heart with care and woe, oppress’d?
  Is courage failing? hope departing from thy weary breast?”--


    _The Word_: October, 1861. (R. N. S., from the Louisville
    _Journal_.)

        “Arm!
  Arm without any words!”--


    _A Word with the West_: By John R. Thompson. Richmond, December
    1, 1862. (S. S., appearing originally in the _Southern
    Illustrated News_.)

  “Once more to the breach for the land of the West,
  And a leader we give of our bravest and best,”--


    _The Work of an Ironclad_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “Come, my fair one, sit thee down,
  And sing for me thy sweetest song”--


    _Worthier_: ---- was shot in trying to escape from Rock Island.
    By Kentucky (S. O. S.)

  “My best friend dead! yes; shot that he did try,
          From prison to escape”--


    _Would’st Thou Have Me Love Thee_: By Alexander B. Meek. (W. G.
    S., from the Richmond Dispatch: also under title of _War Song_.)

  “Would’st thou have me love thee, dearest,
  With a woman’s proudest heart,”--


    _Woven Fancies_: By Mrs. Fanny Downing, North Carolina, 1862.
    (Amaranth.)

  “I sit before my loom, today,
  And with untiring fingers ply,”--


    _The Wreck of the Florida’s Boat_: 16th July, 1864. (In memory
    of M’d’m Wm. Beverley Sinclair of Virginia.) By Luola. (E. V.
    M.)

  “Oh! many a youth has fallen,
  Out on the battle plain;”--


    _Written Before the Secession of Virginia_: By Mrs. Rebecca
    Tabb, of Gloucester, Virginia. (E. V. M.)

  “Weep! yes, we will weep; but not from coward fears,
  Poor woman! what has she to give her country save her tears?”--


    _The Yankee Devil_: Cave Spring, Georgia, April 11, 1863. (R.
    R.)

  “Hurrah! Hurrah! good news and true,
      Our woes will soon be past;”--


    _Yankee Doodle_: (“An absurd thing, which came to us all the
    way from Canada, where we have plenty of friends.”) (S. L. M.,
    Ed. Table, January, ’62.)

  “Yankee Doodle ran away,
    Dixie he ran after”--


    _Yankee Doodle’s Ride to Richmond_: By Rev. E. P. Birch, of La
    Grange, Georgia. (Bohemian.)

  “I sing of Yankee Doodle’s ride to famous Richmond town,
  A gallant knight in truth was he, of valour and renown,”--


    _Yankee Joke in Texas_: By Ned Bracken. (Alsb.)

  “Messrs. Yankees came one day,
    To stroll upon our beach;”--


    [_Yankee Money_]: Air, “Little More Cider, Cider Do.” By
    Captain T. F. Roche, C. S. A., Fort Delaware, 1865. (Roche.)

  “Now when dis war is over, and all de fighting done,
  And every hungry rebel will leave at once for home”--


    _The Yankee President_: By Dr. Gilbert, of Houston, January 13,
    1863. (Alsb.)

  “I’ll sing you a new-made song, made by a modern pate,
  Of a real Yankee President, who took the helm of State,”--


    _Yankee Vandals_: Air, “Gay and Happy.” (R. B. B., 117.)

  “The Northern Abolition vandals
  Who have come to free the slave”--


    _Ye Batteries of Beauregard_: By J. C. Barrick of Kentucky. (W.
    G. S.)

  “Ye batteries of Beauregard!
  Pour your hail from Moultries Wall”--


    _Ye Cavaliers of Dixie_: By Benjamin F. Porter of Alabama. (W.
    G. S.)

  “Ye Cavaliers of Dixie
  That guard our Southern shores”--


    _Ye Flight of Ye Rayl Splitter: A Ballad_: (P. & P. B. from the
    New Orleans _Crescent_.)

  “Of all ye flyghts that ever were flown
  By several persons, or one alone”--


    _Ye Gallant Sons of Carolina_: (Randolph.)

  “Ye gallant sons of Carolina,
  Listen to your country’s call,”--


    _Ye Men of Alabama_: Air, “Ye Mariners of England.” By John D.
    Phelan of Montgomery, Alabama. (W. G. S. from the Montgomery
    _Advertiser_ of October, 1860.)

  “Ye men of Alabama,
  Awake, arise, awake!”--


    _Ye Shall Be Free_: By Kentucky. (S. O. S.)

  “Ye shall be free,
  For with our guns we will stand o’er you,”--


    _Yes, Build Your Walls_: (W. G. S. from the Charleston
    _Mercury_.)

  “Yes, build your walls of stone or sand,
  But know when all is builded--then”--


    _Yes, Call us Rebels! ’Tis the Name_: By Albert Pike of
    Arkansas. (E. V. M., from the New Orleans _Picayune_, May,
    1861.)

  “Yes, call us rebels! ’tis the name
  Our patriot fathers bore,”--


    _You Are Going to the Wars, Willie Boy_: By John H. Hewitt.
    (Beau.)

  “You are going to the wars, Willie Boy, Willie Boy,
  You are going to the wars far away”--


    _You’ll Tell Her, Won’t You?_ (E. V. M.)

  “You’ll tell her, won’t you? Say to her I died
  As a brave soldier should--true to the last;”--


    _Young Dodger Vs. Old Croaker_: Dialogue. (Alsb.)

  “These croakers all I really hate, and love to hate them, too,
  Convention men, submissionists, disloyal and not true;”--


    _A Young Girl’s Foreboding_: By Kentucky, August 2, 1862. (S.
    O. S.)

  “Ah! it is very hard
  To think my home may go”--


    _Young Recruit_: (Randolph.)

  “See! there’s ribbons gaily streaming.
  I’m a soldier now, Lizette:”--


    _Young Volunteer_: By John H. Hewitt. (Beau.)

  “Our flag is unfurl’d and our arms flash bright,
  As the sun wades up the sky;”--


    _Your Mission_: (S. S., from the Charleston _Courier_.)

  “Fold away all your bright-tinted dresses,
  Turn the key on your jewels today”--


    _Zollicoffer_: Killed in the Battle of Somerset, Kentucky,
    January 19, 1862. By H. L. Flash. S. L. M., Ed., April, 1862.
    (E. V. M.)

  “First in the fight, and first in arms,
  Of the white-winged angels of glory,”--




Transcriber’s Notes

Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. Variations
in hyphenation and accents have been standardised but all other
spelling and punctuation remains unchanged.

Italics are represented thus _italic_.

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 69681 ***