Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1862-04-15
A Noble and Prophetic ballad.


A Noble and Prophetic Ballad.
The following stirring piece of poetry wa
1ritten several years since, but poor Joe Brena
i'd not live to see his prophecy fulfilled. b
led of the effects of yellow fever in New Oh
cans, where he was associate Editor of the Delfs
lie was an accomplished scholar, fine poet,
lever prose writer, a kind and genial friend, an
true patriot. In the following nervous effusior
'e see the spirit of brave man, appealing to b
rethren of the South, by every considerable
hat can fire the patriotic heart, to struggle f.
"a triumph or shtoud.' In these days when, j
is own glowing language,
ssThe hour has come for manly Deeds,
And not for pulling words"
he fiery invocation of poor Brennan will strike
ympathetie chord in the hearts Of thousands
o longer insensibIe to the ssomens in the sky. ,
A BALLAD FOR THE YOUNG SOUTH.
By JOSEPH Brennan.
Men of the Soulful our foes arc up
In fierce and grim array;
Their sable banner laps the air.
An insult to the day.
The saints of Cromwell rise again
In sanctimonious hordes,
Hiding behind the garb of peace
a million ruthless swords.
From North from East and West they seek
The same disastrous goal,
With Christ upon the lying lip,
And Satan in the soul.
Mocking with ancient Shibboleth,
ALI wise and just restraints
ITO the saints of Heaven was Empire given
And zoe alone are Saints!'
Men of the South, look up-behold
The deep and sullen gloom
Which darkens Ger your sunny land
With thunder in its womb
Are ye SO blind ye cannot see
The ems in the sky!
Are ye so deaf We cannot hear
The tramp of foemen nigh?
Are ye SO dull We will endure
The whips and scorn of men?
Who hide the heart of Titus Oates
Beneath the words of Penn?
Are We 80 base that, foot to foot,
Y VIII not gladly stand
For land and life, for child and wife,
With naked steel in hand?
Apreacher TO the pulpit comes,
And calls upon the crowd, e. ~ a.s
For Southern creed and Southern hopes,
10 weave piO0Qy 6lrOuQ.
Beside the prayer book on bis desk
The bullet mould is seen,
And near the Bibles golden clasp
The dagger steaithy sheen : ~ 8
The SIMPLE tale of Bethlehem -
No more is fondly told,
For every priestly surptice drags-
Too heavily with gold;
The blessed Cross of Cavalry
Becomes sign Of Baal,
Like that which played when chieftains raised
The clansmen of the Gael. So
"Down With the laws our fathers madei
They bind our hearts no more;
Down with the stately edifice
Cemented by their gore
Forget the legends of our race
Ettace each wise decree
Americans must kneel as slaves
Till Africans are freel
Out on the mere Caucasian blood
OF Teuton, Celt or Gaul-
The stream which springs from Myers source
Must triumph over alp
So speaks a solemn Senator
Within those halls to-day,
Which echoed erst the thunderburst
Of Webster and of Clay.
Hark to the bowling demagogues-
A fierce and ravenous pack
With nostrlls prone, end bark and bay
Which run upon our track
The waddling bull pup Hale-the eur
OF Massachusetts breed
The moping mongrel sparsely crossed
With Puritanic seed i-
The Boston bards who Join the chase
With genuine beadle chime,
And Sumner, snarling poodle pet
OF Virgins past their Prime;
And cen the SUITS Of Women's Rights
Tray, Blanch, and Sweetheart, all
Are yelplng shrill against US still,
And hunger for our fall
Look North, look East, look West-the scene
Is blackening ali around
The Negro Gordon, year by year,
Is fast and faster bound;
The black lines crossed-the sable flag,
Surrounded by host
Our outpost forced, our sentinels
Asleep upon their post;
Our brethren S lfe-blood flowing free
To stain the Kansas soil,
And shed in vain, while pious thieves
Are fatteniDg on our toll!
Look North, look West, the ominous sky
Is mooness. starless, black, 9'
And from the East comes hurrying up
A sweeping thunder racki
Men of the South ye have no kin H
With fanatics or fools;
You are not bound by breed or birth
To Massachusetts, rules.
hundred nations give their blood s
To feed their heaithtul springs,
Which bear the seed of jacques Bonhamme, -
With that of Bourbon kings.
The Danish pluck and sailor craft,
The Huguenotic will,
The Norman grace and chivalry,
The German steady skill; s.
The hery Celts impassloned thought
Inspire the Southern heart;
Who have no rooG for bigot-gIoom,
Or pious plumbers art
VIII.
Sons of the brave! the time has come
To bow the naughty crest;
stand alone despite the threats IS
Of North, or East, or West!
The hour has come for manly Deeds
And not for pulling words -
The hour has passed for platform prste--
1t is the time for swords;
And by the fame of John Calhoun,
To honest truth be true, $50
And by old Jackson iron will,
Now do what you can dol
Affairs in Nashville. -
IN - = .