The Southern Republic
In the galaxy of nations,
A nation’s flag’s unfurled,
Transcending in its martial pride
The nations of the world.
Though born of war, baptized in blood,
Yet mighty from the time,
Like fabled phoenix, forth she stood—
Dismembered, yet sublime.
And braver heart, and bolder hand,
Ne’er formed a fabric fair
As Southern wisdom can command,
And Southern valor rear.
Though kingdoms scorn to own her sway,
Or recognize her birth,
The land blood-bought for Liberty
Will reign supreme on earth.
Clime of the Sun! Home of the Brave!
Thy sons are bold and free,
And pour life’s crimson tide to save
Their birthright, Liberty!
Their fertile fields and sunny plains
That yield the wealth alone,
That’s coveted for greedy gains
By despots-and a throne!
Proud country! battling, bleeding, torn,
Thy altars desolate;
Thy lovely dark-eyed daughters mourn
At war’s relentless fate;
And widow’s prayers, and orphan’s tears,
Her homes will consecrate,
While more than brass or marble rears
The trophy of her great.
Oh! land that boasts each gallant name
Of JACKSON, JOHNSON, LEE,
And hosts of valiant sons, whose fame
Extends beyond the sea;
Far rather let thy plains become,
From gulf to mountain cave,
One honored sepulchre and tomb,
Than we the tyrant’s slave!
Fair, favored land! thou mayst be free,
Redeemed by blood and war;
Through agony and gloom we see
Thy hope—a glimmering star;
Thy banner, too, may proudly float,
A herald on the seas—
Thy deeds of daring worlds remote
Will emulate and praise!
But who can paint the impulse pure,
That thrills and nerves thy brave
To deeds of valor, that secure
The rights their fathers gave?
Oh! grieve not, hearts; her matchless stain,
Crowned with the warrior’s wreath,
From beds of fame their proud refrain
Was “Liberty or Death!”
“Is There, Then, No Hope for the Nations?”
Charleston Courier
Is there, then, no hope for the nations?
Must the record of Time be the same?
And shall History, in all her narrations,
Still close each last chapter in shame?
Shall the valor which grew to be glorious,
Prove the shame, as the pride of a race:
And a people, for ages victorious,
Through the arts of the chapman, grow base?
Greek, Hebrew, Assyrian, and Roman,
Each strides o’er the scene and departs!
How valiant their deeds ’gainst the foeman,
How wondrous their virtues and arts!
Rude valor, at first, when beginning,
The nation through blood took its name;
Then the wisdom, which hourly winning
New heights in its march, rose to Fame!
How noble the tale for long ages,
Blending Beauty with courage and might!
What Heroes, what Poets, and Sages,
Made eminent stars for each height!
While their people, with reverence ample.
Brought tribute of praise to the Great,
Whose wisdom and virtuous example,
Made virtue the pride of the State!
Ours, too, was as noble a dawning,
With hopes of the Future as high:
Great men, each a star of the morning,
Taught us bravely to live and to die!
We fought the long fight with our foeman,
And through trial—well-borne—won a name,
Not less glorious than Grecian or Roman,
And worthy as lasting a fame!
Shut the Book! We must open another!
O Southron! if taught by the Past,
Beware, when thou choosest a brother,
With what ally thy fortunes are cast!
Beware of all foreign alliance,
Of their pleadings and pleasings beware,
Better meet the old snake with defiance,
Than find in his charming a snare!